Volume 1, Chapter 4: The Third Prince Wants to Feed Me?

“Absolutely impossible!” Yu Mingyue’s face changed drastically. She clenched her teeth, her eyes sharp and venomous. “What do you think you are?”

Wen Shiyan signaled for the secret guards to withdraw, then took a few steps forward and bent down to look her in the eye.

“What… what do you want?” Yu Mingyue swallowed nervously, a cold chill creeping through her heart.

Wen Shiyan knew that no matter how he punished her today, it wouldn’t relieve the frustration bottled up inside him. So he extended his hand and wiped the nearly dried blood on his palm against the little seductive face before him.

Before she could react, he grasped her chin, leaned close to her ear, and whispered, “Fortunes turn like the wind, young lady. Blood debts demand blood repayment. Don’t bring death upon yourself.”

With that, Wen Shiyan flicked his sleeve and left.

Even from a distance, Yu Mingyue’s angry and humiliated screams could still be heard.

The daylight had dimmed without anyone noticing, and the street lamps were lit.

At the Eight Treasures Studio.

Secluded from the lively clamor of the first floor, the elegant private rooms upstairs felt like a world apart.

A bronze crane-feather incense burner emitted swirling wisps of smoke, and by the wall, a jade rockery trickled clear water, creating a serene and peaceful atmosphere.

The round “Ruyi” table in the center was already laden with exquisite dishes, their enticing aromas awakening the appetite.

Wen Shiyan sat alone at the table, poured himself a glass of wine, then quickly mixed a potent aphrodisiac he had prepared beforehand into the wine pot, swirling it twice.

He listened carefully as faint scolding voices drifted from outside the door.

It seemed Liang Jiang was reprimanding the secret guards who had chosen to watch coldly out of fear of the Prime Minister’s mansion.

The noise suddenly stopped, and the door was pushed open.

Wen Shiyan hurriedly resumed pouring another glass, pretending nothing had happened.

“Ayan, come, try the drunken chicken first.”

Liang Jiang sat beside her, picking up a piece of chicken thigh and placing it on a small dish.

“Okay.”

Wen Shiyan’s right hand was wrapped in bandages over ten times, so she awkwardly held her chopsticks with her left hand.

After several attempts, she still couldn’t grasp the slippery slice of meat.

Liang Jiang watched her persistent struggle with interest.

Silently repeating the motions without complaint or asking for help, she showed remarkable determination.

“Would you rather suffer in silence?” Finally, he couldn’t help but lightly tap her forehead. “Ayan, you really disappoint me.”

Just then, the piece of meat she had painstakingly picked up slipped to the floor.

“…”

She lowered her gaze in defeat.

The next moment, a piece of drunken chicken dipped in rich broth was brought to her lips.

Liang Jiang held the chopsticks. “What are you waiting for? Open your mouth.”

“Third Prince wants to feed me?” Wen Shiyan instinctively recoiled, her whole body screaming resistance.

But Liang Jiang gave her no chance to refuse. As she retreated an inch, he advanced another.

“No need to be shy. It’s just the two of us brothers here.”

With nowhere left to retreat, Wen Shiyan closed her eyes and put the meat into her mouth.

She chewed vigorously twice and swallowed.

“How does it taste?” Liang Jiang rested his chin on his hand, watching her with a lazy, casual air that sparked the imagination.

Seeing her barely perceptible nod, he shifted his tone. “Too bad it can’t be paired with the wine you brewed yourself.”

“It accidentally broke,” Wen Shiyan’s eyes flickered evasively. “This place’s wine smells better anyway.”

She subtly indicated the wine glasses on the table with her fingers.

“Oh?” Liang Jiang picked up a glass but didn’t hurry to taste it.

“Is that so?” He casually countered as if in idle chat. “Are you sure it was just an accident?”

Wen Shiyan could clearly have dodged Yu Mingyue’s slap but pretended to be caught off guard.

And when she fell, her palm was deliberately grazed against broken porcelain shards.

“Third Prince, please don’t jump to conclusions.” Wen Shiyan frowned, growing anxious. “I…”

“Ayan.” Liang Jiang interrupted her, unwilling to force her into a sudden explanation. “Why hurt yourself?”

A suffocating silence hung between them.

The fragile peace on the surface was easily shattered.

Wen Shiyan fiddled with her bandaged thumb, racking her brain for a reason that could fool him. Finally, she gave up and admitted, “I didn’t.”

As long as she denied it, that would suffice.

Liang Jiang shook his head and pressed on. “Was that madwoman framing you, and you wanted to deal with her?”

“No.”

Ignoring her denial, he guessed further, “But you’re worried that if you hadn’t suffered such a great injustice, I wouldn’t have intervened, and this matter would have just slipped away lightly?”

Wen Shiyan swallowed hard.

Indeed.

One reason she had smashed the wine jar was because she felt he didn’t deserve to drink it.

Liang Jiang grasped her shoulder with one hand. “Am I so untrustworthy in your heart?”

“If not, then what?” Wen Shiyan could no longer keep up the pretense. “Do you really think you’d risk offending Young Lady Yu for someone like me?”

In the previous life, he had deliberately cultivated relations with Yu Mingyue for power.

Otherwise, why would the Prime Minister’s Mansion, a faction loyal to the Crown Prince, betray him at a critical moment?

“Heh.” Liang Jiang laughed bitterly.

He stood up. “What do you mean ‘someone like you’? Ayan, you underestimate yourself.”

Wen Shiyan refused to be outdone and stood as well.

“On the contrary, I see myself all too clearly.”

She stared coldly at him. “Just because you casually call yourself my brother, do I have to gratefully cling to you?”

“And what am I then?” she bit her lip. “Someone you tease when you’re in a good mood, and when you’re not, I’m just a nobody who doesn’t even deserve a decent burial!”

Liang Jiang was at a loss for words for a long time.

He didn’t understand why the conversation was spiraling so out of control—he only wanted to care for her.

“Shut up.”

For the first time, he felt helpless in the face of misunderstanding.

“What?” Wen Shiyan sneered. “Did I hit the mark?”

Liang Jiang knew explanations were useless and tried to find out the cause. “You’ve been acting strange all day. What’s wrong? Was it something I did?”

Her eyes and tone had changed completely.

She was still herself, yet somehow not.

Bang!

He looked so wounded, so humbled, that Wen Shiyan, fearing her own soft heart, slammed the table.

“You’re royal blood, perfect in every way. I am lowly and ungrateful.”

She raised her wine glass. “Third Prince, drink to this. Consider the past charity fed to dogs. Let us never meet again.”

“Have you thought it through?” Liang Jiang’s eyes reddened. He couldn’t bear her self-deprecation and nonsense.

Wen Shiyan’s unmoving posture spoke for her.

“Fine,” Liang Jiang gritted out a word.

He picked up the wine pot, lifted the lid, and drank deeply.

Wen Shiyan watched the clear liquid spill from the corner of his mouth, trickle down his slender neck, his defined Adam’s apple rising and falling rhythmically. A complex bitterness swelled in her heart.

Before long, the pot was empty.

There was no turning back now. She didn’t want to stay any longer and drained her glass in one gulp. “I’m leaving.”

Unexpectedly, just as she moved, her arm was fiercely grabbed.

Liang Jiang’s breath was close to her ear. “Leaving? Dream on.”

“What?” Wen Shiyan turned angrily. “You drank a parting drink; you shouldn’t go back on your word.”

A fierce glint appeared in Liang Jiang’s deep eyes. “What I drank was the oath of brotherhood with Wen Shiyan.”

“Who wants to be sworn brothers with you?!” She struggled desperately to break free.

But the more she resisted, the tighter the grip became.

Liang Jiang understood—someone outside must have said something, and she had listened.

His tone was gentle but laced with steel. “Ayan, you care about our social gap, don’t you? Tonight, we swear brotherhood. No matter prince or commoner, no regard for pedigree or prejudice. You’ll move into the prince’s mansion. From now on, no one dares speak ill of you in front of me.”

Wen Shiyan’s eyes widened in shock. The words “move into the prince’s mansion” echoed in her ears.

“No…” Her blood seemed to reverse.

How was this the opposite of what she expected?

Wasn’t Liang Jiang supposed to hate betrayal the most?

He should never want to see her again.

The next moment, Wen Shiyan was forcibly pulled outside.

“Back to the mansion.”