Inside the carriage, Lang Huan wrapped her arms around Feng Yao, who sat close beside her. It had only been a week since they last saw each other, but to Lang Huan, it had felt like an eternity.
She leaned in, her voice gentle despite the slight furrow between her brows. "What were you thinking, showing that employment contract to my father? Are you trying to get me thrown out of the Duke's mansion?"
Feng Yao turned to face her, lips pressed into a thin line. "What are you so afraid of? If your father kicks you out, then—" she paused, her tone softening as her gaze lingered on Lang Huan, "I'll support you."
Lang Huan let out a faint smile as she met Feng Yao's gaze. "Support me? If he disowns me, I won't inherit a single coin of his legacy. Not even the Dragon Stallion Army. "My rich lady, are you really ready to give that up?"
Feng Yao leaned her head against Lang Huan's shoulder and spoke seriously. "Lang Huan… if I can't have it, I'd rather burn it all down. No one else gets it either."
A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped Lang Huan. "Tsk, tsk… don't be so cruel." She pressed a kiss into Feng Yao's hair.
The carriage wheels clattered softly over cobblestones, the rhythm lulling them into a warm silence. Then Lang Huan spoke again, her eyes gently studying Feng Yao's face.
"Hmm," she said lightly, "why did Your Highness suddenly decide to join the journey to Bai Yuan Mount? Worried about me?"
"Not exactly," Feng Yao replied, trying to sound casual. "I heard the Eighth Princess has returned and will be joining the expedition. I thought… why not join the fun?"
Lang Huan raised a brow. "What an interesting reason." Her gaze slid down to the men's robes Feng Yao wore. "You do realize this journey is dangerous. Please reconsider before we reach the palace. You even dressed like a man just to come along."
Feng Yao's expression darkened slightly. "So what—should I wear a skirt and a phoenix crown instead?" she snapped, her voice edged with defensiveness. "Do you think I look bad in this?"
It was the first time she had worn men's clothing, and despite her bravado, the eldest princess couldn't quite hide her uncertainty.
Lang Huan chuckled softly, reaching up to smooth a strand of hair from Feng Yao's cheek. "Your Highness has a stunning figure. Women's clothes suit you better."
"It's not convenient to wear women's clothes," Feng Yao muttered, leaning into her shoulder again.
Lang Huan wanted to persuade her not to join, but seeing the effort Feng Yao had put into this—how determined she was—a warmth bloomed in her chest.
"I don't want you risking yourself for my sake," Lang Huan murmured. "I know you're worried. But I can take care of myself."
"If this journey is dangerous," Feng Yao said softly, "then I want to face it with you."
"Is it really worth suffering for me?"
Feng Yao didn't hesitate. "It's worth it."
Lang Huan gently brushed her fingers through Feng Yao's hair.
"Then nothing will happen," she said, voice steady. "I'll use my life to protect Your Highness."
Feng Yao smiled, a gentle curve of her lips as she closed her eyes. "I believe in you," she whispered.
—
By the time their carriage arrived at the outer gates of the palace, everyone had already gathered. The Emperor, dressed in simple blue robes, stood beside the Eighth Princess, speaking quietly with the royal advisor and Gao Fei.A short distance away, the Eldest Prince was briefing his troops. Not far from him stood Wei Yanzhou, the Prime Minister's son. He had come on behalf of his father, and it was no secret that he sought to win the favor of the Emperor's favorite daughter—the Eighth Princess.
General Wu stood tall and unmoving beside them, flanked by twenty elite soldiers from the Black Tortoise Army, personally selected to guard the Emperor on this secret expedition.
When Lang Huan stepped down from the carriage with Feng Yao at her side, all eyes turned toward them. Several faces showed visible surprise at the Eldest Princess's unexpected presence on the journey.
Lang Huan and Feng Yao approached and bowed respectfully to the Emperor. The Emperor, in good spirits, glanced at them with a faint smile. "You've come just in time," he said. His gaze swept over the gathered officials and soldiers."We'll be setting off shortly."
Lang Huan cast a quick glance at the Eighth Princess—the one Duke of Huguo often spoke of. Then her gaze shifted to Feng Yao. There were some similarities between the two: both had the Emperor's high nose bridge and dignified features. But to Lang Huan, Feng Yao was far more beautiful. Her strength, fierce pride, and the fire burning in her eyes made her glow in a way no one else could.
A quiet smile tugged at Lang Huan's lips as pride warmed her heart.
"Royal Sister!" The Eighth Princess, Feng Xiyan, called out sweetly, slipping her arm through Feng Yao's with practiced affection. Though they had never openly clashed, Feng Yao returned only a cold, polite smile.
She couldn't bring herself to be warm to Feng Xiyan—after all, she was the daughter of the Empress, the woman she despised most.
Feng Xiyan pretended not to notice and let her gaze drift toward Lang Huan.
Her mother had told her to get close to the son of the Duke of Huguo, the newly risen hero of Great Qi. But as Feng Xiyan looked at Lang Huan, a faint trace of disappointment passed through her.
Lang Huan seemed... too delicate. Everything about this man gave the impression of beauty rather than strength. Even Wei Yanzhou, the scholar, looked more formidable.
Feng Xiyan couldn't understand it. How could her proud, battle-hardened Royal Sister be interested in someone like that? She didn't believe it—perhaps Lang Huan was merely a plaything.
The royal advisor, Bai Han, glanced at Lang Huan with an odd expression. Lang Huan noticed and furrowed her brow; she didn't recognize the old man. As the Emperor gave the signal to set off, Lang Huan and Bai Han exchanged lingering looks. Feng Yao noticed and leaned in quietly, asking, "What happened?"
"I don't know… why does Bai Han always look at me like that?" Lang Huan whispered.
Feng Yao replied calmly, "Ignore him. He's just a shaman."
Lang Huan nodded and began walking toward the carriage with Feng Yao, but suddenly Bai Han grabbed her hand, causing her to stumble backward.
Annoyed, Lang Huan pushed him away and demanded, "What do you want?" A strange unease settled over her because of his behavior.
Then Bai Han spoke words that shocked her. "You're not from this world."
Lang Huan's eyes widened in disbelief, but she quickly masked her surprise with calm. "What do you mean?"
"You're not from this world…" Bai Han repeated in a low, mysterious voice. Without another word, he turned and walked toward his own carriage, leaving Lang Huan standing there.
She hurried after him and grabbed his arm.
Feng Yao, sensing tension, thought they might come to blows. Quickly, she ordered Qiu Yue to step in and separate them. With the Emperor present, she could not risk any trouble.
"Why do you say that?" Lang Huan asked Bai Han, suspicion sharp in her voice.
Qiu Yue gently stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Bai Han's shoulder and pulling him away from Lang Huan, putting a safe distance between them.
At the same time, Feng Yao reached for Lang Huan's arm. "Just stay calm," she whispered.
Bai Han's eyes narrowed as he spoke,
"Who are you, child? Where is your spirit's root? Even wandering ghosts leave a shadow—but you? You are blank. Unwritten."
Lang Huan snorted, then laughed mockingly. "Blank?!" her eyes narrowing slightly. "If you can read my life, then why don't you know I had amnesia when I was nine years old? I can't remember anything before that."
Bai Han's frown deepened, troubled by her answer. But Lang Huan didn't give him a chance to respond. She turned, took Feng Yao's hand, and led her back to their carriage without another word.
The moment the curtain fell shut behind them, the color drained from Lang Huan's face. Her fingers were cold in Feng Yao's grasp. The eldest princess watched her closely, noting the distant look in her eyes.
She reached out, pulling Lang Huan into her arms and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, hoping to bring her back from the painful memories that haunted her.
"Lang Huan," she whispered. "Do you remember the tragedy that happened to your mother nine years ago?"
Lang Huan hesitated. "Hmm… no," she replied softly.
There was a beat of silence. Then, Feng Yao asked again, more cautiously. "Will you…take revenge on your mother's killer?"
Her voice trembled slightly—she wasn't sure if she feared the hatred that might appear in Lang Huan's eyes or the answer itself.
But Lang Huan only shook her head. "I don't know," she said. Her voice was calm, but there was something unreadable beneath it.
How could she answer that?
It wasn't her mother who had died. She had only taken Ye Langhuan's identity.
Lang Huan turned to Feng Yao. "What about you?" she asked. "If you were me, would you seek revenge?"
Feng Yao looked away. After a moment, she gave a small nod. "Yes," she said. "I would."
Though a part of her selfishly wished Lang Huan would never hate her—or worse, seek revenge.
"My mother's death was caused by my father… and the empress. I will make them pay for it."
Lang Huan, sensing the sorrow behind her words, gently lifted Feng Yao into her arms and laid her across her lap.
"Don't think about sad things anymore," she murmured.
Then she leaned in and kissed her—slow and deep. As if, just for a moment, they could escape everything else and lose themselves in each other.