Chapter 107: Survived Despite Several Stabs

Qingluojattered on like a nursemaid, lecturing Qiao Qingyun until her ears were practically calloused. Unable to take it anymore, Qiao Qingyun surrendered, calling for a halt again and again.

"Alright, alright, dear Qingluo, say no more. You’ve repeated these words dozens of times today; my ears are going to develop callouses soon."

With that, Qiao Qingyun looked down at the makeup vanity, where a pair of pure silver nail guards lay ready. She slid them onto her ring and pinky fingers. Qingluo carefully took her hand, applying a tiny dab of olive oil—just enough to protect her skin without being excessive.

"My Lady, the Emperor seemed to imply yesterday that you might be permitted to leave the palace, provided your health has sufficiently recovered."

As Qingluo decorated her hair with silver pins, gazing at Qiao Qingyun’s reflection in the mirror, the two spent a full half-hour getting ready before they were finally finished.

"Princess, the Crown Prince has arrived."

Just as Qiao Qingyun was planning to spar with Hong Ying and Zhong Shi, a clever palace maid who had been assigned to her rushed over, bowing to report.

"Oh?"

The woman paused, turned her head, and sure enough, there was Yuan Zaichun standing at the entrance, accompanied by Liufu, who was carrying something in his hands. He looked entirely out of place in the modest Zijing Palace.

"No need. Tell the Crown Prince that I am unwell and do not wish to see anyone."

"Yes."

The maid looked at Qiao Qingyun, bewildered. They had already seen him, and now she claimed she didn't want to see him—wasn't that a direct slap to the Crown Prince’s face? Yet, she knew better than to interfere in her master’s affairs. She hurried back to Yuan Zaichun, breathless. "Your Highness, our Princess says she is feeling unwell and does not wish to see anyone."

"But just a moment ago..." Liufu began to protest, but Yuan Zaichun stopped him with a gesture. His eyes lingered on Qiao Qingyun’s back as she headed toward the dining quarters, a sense of inexplicable loss washing over him.

"Tell your Princess that I have something important to discuss."

"Yes."

The poor maid scurried back and forth until finally, Qiao Qingyun relented and allowed Yuan Zaichun to enter. The master and servant were visibly relieved.

"My Lord, does this mean the Princess is finally ready to have a proper conversation with you?" This was Liufu’s greatest fear; if she refused, he knew that when the time for retribution came, he would have to stand still and let Qiao Qingyun strike him down. After all, he owed her.

***

"Princess, you cannot eat spicy food in the morning. Even though your wounds have healed, your digestion is still weak."

"Oh, Zhong Shi, please, just let me have some!"

"Absolutely not. Your health is at stake."

"Hong Ying! Look at your brother—scold him!"

"Princess... my brother is right."

"You! Oh, honestly!"

Before Yuan Zaichun even entered, he heard the voices of the group. Zhong Shi’s tone was particularly stern, stirring a strange sense of familiarity in Yuan Zaichun. In a daze, he recalled the time he had slapped Qiao Qingyun—he had been just as stern then, as if everything were her fault.

"My Lady, please don't make things difficult for Zhong Shi. She only does this for your own good." Qingluo was trying to be the peacemaker, but she was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Yuan Zaichun.

"Greetings, Your Highness." The group bowed properly, and Qiao Qingyun rose with practiced courtesy, waving a handkerchief. "Greetings, Your Highness."

"Sit, sit. I didn't realize you were dining so late. Qingyun, I brought you some dishes you used to love back at the manor. Try them." Yuan Zaichun had done his homework; he had barely slept two hours the previous night, determined to find out from the imperial chefs exactly what she liked.

"Oh? I didn't realize Crown Prince Brother was so thoughtful." Qiao Qingyun arched an eyebrow, her expression one of disdain. She glanced at the porridge and side dishes on the table. It was obvious she couldn't eat most of them, especially the oily ones. Even the plain porridge and pickles were a concession; otherwise, she would be restricted to rice water.

"It’s a pity, though. My wounds haven't healed yet, and I can't even have spicy pickles. I fear I must disappoint your good intentions, Brother." With that, Qiao Qingyun drank a spoonful of porridge with a pout, glaring at Zhong Shi. The typically stoic woman couldn't help but smile. "Princess, even if you glare at me until I die, I still won't give it to you."

"Hmph, you’re all bullying me." Qiao Qingyun wiped her mouth with a wronged expression, but all of this served to keep Yuan Zaichun at arm's length. He was an outsider, and now, he felt even more like an intruder.

***

"I brought you some snacks and pastries. See if you like them. If you do, I shall have the imperial chef sent to your service."

As he spoke, Yuan Zaichun gestured for Liufu to set the table. The exquisite dishes clearly showed he had put in a lot of effort, but... he had chosen the wrong person to please.

"Hmm? I don't like any of these. If you like them, Brother, feel free to eat them yourself. I have to go see my uncle and leave the palace soon." Qiao Qingyun spoke without hesitation, her eyes fixed on her porridge. She finished it in one go, much to Qingluo’s alarm. "My Lady! What if you choke?" Qingluo patted her back anxiously.

"It’s fine. My body is quite resilient; I didn't die even after being stabbed several times."

These words were meant for Yuan Zaichun. Perhaps struck by guilt, the man’s face clouded over, and his voice dropped low, as if suppressing some deep emotion. "I know you will never return to the Crown Prince’s mansion with me. But since we are family, it is only right that I look after you."

"Many thanks, Crown Prince Brother, but I don't need anyone to look after me. With so many people around me now, are you perhaps worried that someone might come to assassinate me?"

Qiao Qingyun’s glistening eyes made Yuan Zaichun tremble. She had looked at him with those same eyes before. And those tears—they had all been because of him.

"How could that be? I am merely concerned. If you do not wish to eat them, then throw them away."

Yuan Zaichun knew Qiao Qingyun wasn't truly heartless; even after he had divorced her, she had still saved his life. And now...

"Very well. Zhong Shi, throw it away."

"Yes."

Zhong Shi’s movements were swift and efficient. She immediately fetched a bag, dumped all the exquisite dishes into it, and handed it to a servant. "Throw it away."

"Yes."

Right before Yuan Zaichun’s eyes, he was treated with such cold indifference—a reality he had never imagined possible.