Qi Rong’s sour face and the sharp tang of jealousy in the air made Yunxi feel a wash of helplessness—and with it, a streak of anger.
Of all times for him to be jealous.
“I only care about the Crown Prince because of you!” she snapped. “If anything happens to him in the manor, how are you going to explain it to the world?”
No matter how powerful Qi Rong was, the Crown Prince was not an ordinary man—and there was still the Eighth Princess watching. Even if Qi Rong himself didn't fear death, could he please not drag her into it?
Before, when the Crown Prince had coughed up blood, Yunxi had feared the poison hadn’t been fully cleansed—she worried his illness might bring disaster to the Prime Minister’s household. But now her fear was simpler and more immediate: she was afraid Qi Rong would have Qi Yu’s head taken off.
Seeing Yunxi’s face, earnest and unflinching, chipped away at Qi Rong’s anger a fraction. He scoffed at her concern and, with cold black eyes, turned to the bloodied man slumped on the floor.
“That punch of mine—was only to jar him awake,” he said.
Then, forcing Yunxi closer, he claimed her as one does a prize. “You’re my woman. From now on, he can’t even dream of anything else.”
Qi Rong’s possessive words landed heavily in Yunxi’s chest. She dared not meet Qi Yu’s eyes. By then the Eighth Princess had recovered enough to flare with fury. Pointing at Yunxi, she accused loudly on Qi Yu’s behalf.
“Seventh Brother, you beat your own nephew over a lowly concubine—was that worth it?”
Before Qi Rong could reply she turned her venom on Yunxi. “You harlot! Even as a concubine to my brother, you still lure at Yu—and set uncle and nephew at each other’s throats! Don’t think you’re safe—you wait. I will deal with you myself!”
To the Eighth Princess, the unity of the royal family was sacred. In Yunxi she now saw a cancer on that unity. She’d assumed that once Yunxi became Seventh Prince’s concubine, she’d no longer trouble Qi Yu. But today’s scene convinced her Yunxi was dangerous—and if given the chance, she would remove her.
Yunxi let the threats slide off her like rain. Qi Rong, however, went suddenly stone-cold.
“Qi Wan’er,” he said—the name sharp as a blade. “You’d better not be making empty threats. If I find a single hair out of place on her—there will be consequences, and you’ll answer for it.”
His gaze fastened on the Eighth Princess like a predator’s. For a breath she saw fangs and felt fear curl through her limbs. Still, royal pride would not let her be cowed before Yunxi.
“Seventh Brother, she’s nothing but trouble,” she spat. “If you keep sheltering her, you’ll bring disaster on yourself.”
She looked at the Crown Prince’s near-broken state and then at the man who had once risked everything to save her—Qi Rong. Her eyes hardened.
“I advise you: kill her now, before anything worse happens. Otherwise the whole Prince Xian household will suffer for it.”
Yunxi knew the Eighth Princess disliked her, but those words still stung. This hatred went beyond a passing dislike; it wanted her erased. When had Yunxi earned such ire? Had she unknowingly offended the princess, or did the princess know something Yunxi did not?
Lost in those questions, Yunxi didn’t notice Qi Yu grasp the Eighth Princess’s arm and force himself to speak.
“Aunt,” he said, voice strained, “this isn’t Yunxi’s fault. You mustn’t hurt her.”
He blinked hard, looking at Yunxi with painful tenderness. “It was me… I was the one who clung to her. I won’t anymore. Please, don’t make things difficult for Yunxi.”
He had only been poisoned and gravely ill; during that time, the woman he loved had become the Seventh Prince’s concubine and he had been kept in the dark. The betrayal cut him to the bone. But he would not let his stubbornness endanger her life. If she could be happy, he would bury his love.
Wiping blood from his lip, the Crown Prince forced himself to his feet and stepped forward to Qi Rong. His voice was earnest, almost pleading.
“Seventh Uncle, Yunxi is a good girl. I believe your feelings for her are real. I beg you—grant her a title. She will be the rightful Lady of Prince Xian.”
“Your Highness, you needn’t—” Yunxi began, alarmed by his humility. Here was the Crown Prince, beaten and sick, yet pleading—with the very man who had struck him—on her behalf. It made the bitterness in her throat twist. He did not deserve to abase himself for her sake.
And Qi Rong had chosen her as his concubine. That decision would not be overturned on a whim.
Qi Rong’s face darkened further as he watched the Crown Prince’s sincere appeal and Yunxi’s pained glance. He released Yunxi’s arm and stalked forward. In one swift motion he grabbed Qi Yu by the collar and hauled him close, his voice like winter wind.
“Does the Crown Prince forget whose turf this is?” he hissed. “You come here bargaining? You’d best check whether you have the right to make demands.”
This was his manor, his woman. No one could just speak as they pleased.
“Seventh Brother!” the Eighth Princess cried, alarmed by his aggression. She grabbed his wrist and tried to steady him. “Do not be rash! Don’t wreck the harmony of the imperial family—that will not end well for you.”
Her voice trembled with a mixture of fear for her nephew and dread of whatever punishment might fall on her brother.
Yunxi watched Qi Rong’s predatory eyes and felt her heart climb into her throat. This time she kept her hands clasped tightly at her sides. She knew better than to speak for the Crown Prince; any intervention would only further enrage Qi Rong.
At that precise moment a guard hurried in, breathless. He had been one of the replacements after two men were flogged; he approached with obvious caution and prostrated himself before Qi Rong.
“My lord,” the guard stammered, “someone outside is asking to see the madam. He calls himself Pajiao Jing Yao. Shall I admit him?”
Yunxi froze, then her face bloomed. “Jing Yao? Yao’s here!”
“Where is she? Take me to her at once!”
She nearly danced with relief, thrilled that the person she’d longed for had arrived at last. In her eagerness she ran toward the manor gates, not noticing the guard’s strange expression at saying the visitor’s name.