The breeze outside was warm and gentle. Di Ronghua held Jiang Jiang’s hand, walking for nearly half an hour. Though she was exhausted from the long journey, her heart felt as if all its creases had been smoothed out, leaving behind a soft calm.
“Wow, a little fox!”
Jiang Jiang suddenly let out a soft exclamation.
Di Ronghua followed her pointing finger and saw an eight-tailed fox approaching them.
She froze for a moment, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t you refuse to let my daughter play with it?”
The little fox bared its teeth. “That stingy Xiao Hanjin ordered everyone in the palace to keep Feng Hua out!” Too lazy to climb walls, it had transformed into its fox form—after all, Xiao Hanjin didn’t know Feng Hua was Xiao Jiu.
Di Ronghua’s mouth twitched. “Then why are you back so soon? Didn’t you say it’d take half a month?”
“Oh, about that…”
Xiao Jiu’s expression suddenly turned serious. “It’s strange. When I got there, the Man Yue flowers were gone, and the Flame Beast was dead.”
Di Ronghua stared at him in shock. “How’s that possible?”
The Man Yue flower bloomed once every ten years—not as rare as ginseng or lingzhi, theoretically. But Manduo Mountain was shrouded in mist and guarded by a Flame Beast with unparalleled martial prowess, immune to all techniques.
For years, despite the flower’s miraculous effects on damaged heart, lungs, and organs, it rarely appeared on the market. The occasional stalk or two came from fearless martial experts who risked their lives to pluck them.
Xiao Jiu had gone this time because he’d devised a way to lure the Flame Beast away, planning to steal a few stalks for her recovery.
But now…
The Flame Beast was dead, and the Man Yue flowers were gone?
Her brows furrowed tightly. Then, as if struck by a realization, her face paled. “The taste of Man Yue flowers… is it sour and bitter?”
Xiao Jiu blinked in surprise. “How’d you know?”
…
In the Dragon Chant Palace.
Xiao Hanjin untied the bright yellow golden dragon belt at his waist, about to shed his dragon robe, when the door was abruptly kicked open.
He frowned briefly, then relaxed.
Over the years, only one person would dare do this.
The woman stormed in with fierce momentum. Xiao Hanjin watched her, calmly retying his belt. “Ronghua, I’m changing.”
“Take it off.”
Xiao Hanjin thought he’d misheard. “What did you say?”
Di Ronghua stared at him, her gaze carrying a hint of confrontation. “I barge in while you’re changing—what a perfect chance to let me see everything and then guilt me into taking responsibility. Why put it back on?”
Xiao Hanjin’s face stiffened almost imperceptibly.
After a brief pause, he gave a half-smile. “You want to see?”
Di Ronghua didn’t answer, instead countering, “Where’d the Man Yue flowers come from?”
The amusement in his eyes faded, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Does it matter?”
“Are you injured?”
“You’re worried about me?”
“Xiao Hanjin.” Di Ronghua shut her eyes briefly. “Don’t dodge the question. External injuries are one thing, but you know a blast from the Flame Beast’s fire can kill, right?”
Xiao Hanjin studied her tightly knit brows, her restrained yet tense demeanor hinting at concern—though she probably just didn’t want to owe him. Even so, being cared for by her stirred a long-forgotten thrill in his chest.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he said evenly, “The bird’s nest did have Man Yue flowers, but when I want something, countless people deliver it to me. Why would I go myself?”
“Oh, really?”
Before he could nod, she took a sudden step forward and yanked at his collar.
His pupils constricted, and he grabbed her hand instantly. “Princess.”
A title unused for years—distant yet tender, laced with a deep, suppressed emotion.
His voice rasped, “Are you really ready to take responsibility for me?”
