The little boy stared fixedly. Though he appeared no older than thirteen or fourteen, his eyes held a faint wildness, like a wolf's.
Shen Yue found the boy interesting and had Fu An take out all the sweets she had. Though reluctant, Fu An obeyed Shen Yue more readily and handed them over.
The boy's gaze then shifted to Shen Yue's hands, or more precisely, to the sweets in her palm.
"You want them?" Shen Yue asked softly.
The boy nodded vigorously, unable to suppress a gulp, the sound of his swallowing clear.
The person before him had noble features, a face like white jade, and fingers like green onions, exuding an aura of nobility. She pursed her lips and asked, "What's your name?"
The boy's eyes were dark, like uncanny creatures that could discern human nature. He merely stared at the sweets. Perhaps sensing the person before him was not to be trifled with, he dared not snatch them, only gazing with impatient greed.
He even managed to divide his attention to answer Shen Yue's question.
"I, I don't, have a name."
The boy spoke word by word, not lying. He had been abandoned in the mountains at one or two years old, later taken by a wolf, and grew up with the wolf pack. After the wolf died, he came down the mountain.
The youth suddenly smiled. She had exceedingly beautiful eyes, as black as obsidian beads, reflecting the last rays of the setting sun, shimmering with a clear golden light.
The boy's gaze finally fell upon Shen Yue's face. Faced with that smile, he froze.
Her voice was luxuriously husky, possessing a dreamlike gentleness.
"How interesting."
The boy's pupils flickered. In extremely broken language, he asked, "Can, can I, follow, you?"
Those eyes, as bright as sharp blades, were filled with an unpredictable ferocity, like a wolf cub.
He felt that by following the person before him, he would get sweets.
Her eyelashes drooped slightly, her full, vibrant lips still curved in a smile. "Wait until you get through this, then come find me."
Shen Yue placed the sweets on the ground, looked down at the boy, and turned to leave.
Who would have thought that years later, the renowned and mighty God of War would be lured away by a few sweets?
—
That little boy was Huo Dao.
Shen Yue herself gave him the name.
He was adopted by the Fourth Prince and meticulously nurtured for several years. While not living in pampered luxury, he was treated with no less than utmost benevolence. Yet, in the end, he turned and struck her from behind.
She taught Huo Dao to speak and write.
She taught Huo Dao how to be a person.
It could be said that without Shen Yue, there would be no Huo Dao. Perhaps Huo Dao would still be like a wolf, competing with stray dogs for food, living a life neither human nor ghost.
But Huo Dao, under the banner of eliminating a scourge, removing a corrupt official, and rectifying the court's discipline, sought to take Shen Yue's life.
Anyone could say Shen Yue was wicked, cruel, cold-blooded, and deserved to die.
But Huo Dao could not.
Yet, Huo Dao did precisely that. At that time, Shen Yue had cornered Shen Yaojin, and everything was almost within her grasp.
At the most critical moment, the person she trusted most plunged a sword into her. Half of her men turned against her, nearly costing her life.
Huo Dao's resolute, rugged face was still stained with her blood. His eyes remained as dark and profound as ever, truly like uncanny creatures.
Without even blinking, as if he were not killing his nominal master but a stray cat or dog.
"The Fourth Prince intended to offend, harm his siblings, and plot against loyal officials. This crime warrants death without mercy."
His deep, resonant voice, amplified by internal energy, spread throughout the grand hall.
Perhaps it was like raising a dog; after raising it for so long, one would develop feelings. And this was a person, after all.
Did she hate him?
Perhaps not.
She only felt foolish, incredibly stupid, and utterly pathetic.
—
Sunlight streamed through the thin clouds, illuminating the earth and reflecting golden light. The golden rays filtered through layers of leaves, casting gentle, swaying halos on the ground.
The plague had been largely brought under control. The streets were no longer as desolate as before. Porridge stalls remained open, and Shen Yue had little else to do, coming out daily for inspections. She was unlike the Crown Prince, who would go to care for the refugees.
Shen Yue, however, remained the most leisurely and at ease.
Since that incident, Shen Yue's relationship with Cheng Qian Gong had become rather peculiar. Logically, the two were adversaries, yet Shen Yue frequently sent people with ointments and tonics.
After all, Cheng Qian Gong had suffered an injury to his forehead, and this could be seen as a reasonable gesture. But it felt wrong when it came from Shen Yue.
Cheng Qian Gong was someone close to the Crown Prince. Shen Yue had even clashed with the Crown Prince, so what of Cheng Qian Gong?
Sending expensive ointments and precious tonics—wasn't this a blatant display of weakness and an attempt to curry favor?
Even the Crown Prince harbored some suspicion. Had Cheng Qian Gong not thrown away everything Shen Yue sent, the Crown Prince might have truly believed there was something amiss.
Shen Yue also knew that Cheng Qian Gong wished to avoid her and tried her best not to appear before him. Only during discussions and decision-making would she glance at Cheng Qian Gong's forehead.
After inspecting the situation outside, Shen Yue returned to the courtyard. The courtyard was vast; both the Crown Prince and Cheng Qian Gong resided there.
Cheng Qian Gong's sleeping quarters were quite close to Shen Yue's, and Shen Yue happened to pass by. As she walked through a bamboo grove, Shen Yue unexpectedly encountered Yun Ran.
That incident had left a deep shadow on Yun Ran. The moment she saw Shen Yue, she almost jumped as if startled by a bowstring. Realizing who it was, she quickly bowed.
Her deep blue fitted attire accentuated her slender and graceful figure. With lowered eyes, she looked at Yun Ran unhurriedly, her expression one of indifference.
Shen Yue remained silent, and Yun Ran continued to hold her bowing posture, daring not to rise, her head bowed so low she wished she could bury it in her chest.
The sun was strong, the temperature scorching. After wearing the position for a while, Yun Ran broke out in a sweat, her arms aching. Just as Yun Ran couldn't help but subtly shift, a luxurious, languid voice sounded in her ear.
Lightly, not heavy, it made her entire body freeze.
"Don't move."
These two simple words caused Yun Ran to become as stiff as a statue, completely immobile.
A flash of cold light, the sound of flesh being cut, and the rich smell of blood sprayed onto her face. Yun Ran's pupils contracted, her legs went weak, and she collapsed directly onto the ground.
Trembling, her eyes instantly reddened, the smell of blood in her nostrils almost nauseating.
"Fourth, Fourth Highness..."
Shen Yue's feathered lashes lifted slightly, her jawline taut, rendering the line connecting her collarbone to her neck strikingly clear.
Crimson blood dripped from the tip of the cold, gleaming dagger. Shen Yue took a step forward and, as she slightly raised her hand, was suddenly grabbed by the wrist with force. With a twist, the blood-stained dagger fell to the ground. The sound of dislocated bones echoed. Shen Yue's face paled, and she was violently pushed back, stumbling several steps before she could regain her balance.
Looking up, she saw Cheng Qian Gong's usually calm and gentle face contorted with anger.
Cheng Qian Gong's aura was low and heavy. He bent down and helped Yun Ran, who was weakly kneeling on the ground, to her feet. Yun Ran's legs were limp and without strength, her entire body leaning into Cheng Qian Gong's embrace.
He cast a cold glance at Shen Yue, then lowered his head to examine Yun Ran's injuries. However, considering the differences between men and women, he only took a brief look. Seeing bloodstains on Yun Ran's face and shoulder, he quietly asked Yun Ran how she felt.
Her wrist bone throbbed and felt powerless; it was dislocated.
Shen Yue's face was pale. With a crack, she snapped the bone back into place. Her eyelids lowered, a red mole alluring, her skin pale and sickly.