Chapter One Hundred: He Will Only Be the Third Prince

"Yuan, go back and rest now."

Shen Nanyuan nodded, her gaze lingering on Shen Sinian, whose expression was clouded with gloom. She wanted to say something, but in the end, the words caught in her throat and she swallowed them. She knew that, while Shen Sinian's heart ached for her, he was also angry.

The emperor’s order for her to enter the palace had finally made Shen Sinian realize the depth of the emperor’s hidden wariness. He was angry, and also helpless. The Duke of Zhenguo's household had always been loyal, devoted wholly to the country, yet was still subject to suspicion. But he also understood that this was inevitable.

All emperors are suspicious by nature.

What grieved him most was that, even though the emperor knew Shen Nanyuan was Shen Yi’s most beloved daughter, whom he wished to live unbound by the strictures of etiquette, he still compelled her to enter the palace.

Perhaps it was precisely because the emperor knew how dearly Shen Yi cherished Shen Nanyuan that he chose her for the palace.

Yet, even so, his loyalty to the emperor and the court could not waver, even as his own sister was to be sent into the palace as a hostage, utterly beyond his power to prevent it.

This was what left Shen Sinian feeling so powerless.

As a subject, he owed loyalty to the emperor. But the one about to be sent into the palace as a hostage was his own sister.

No matter how much he resented it, as a subject, he could only obey the emperor’s command and send his sister into the palace.

People said that the stability of the court and the peaceful lives of the people were all thanks to the Grand General of Zhenguo, which deterred foreign threats and discouraged the ill-intentioned from disturbing the realm. Yet in the end, the general’s cherished daughter was to become a hostage in the palace.

Shen Sinian could not find peace in his heart.

Ever since he learned of the imperial marriage decree yesterday, he had been restless, unable to sleep through the night.

The Shen family had always been loyal and devoted to the court, but now, a chill had settled in their hearts.

Now, seeing Shen Nanyuan, seeing her act as if nothing had happened, he felt an unbearable ache at the core of his being.

Shen Nanyuan turned and left the old madam’s courtyard, a heavy weight pressing on her heart, impossible to expel. The pressure grew, as if she were trapped in a thicket of thorns, unable to escape. Her vacant gaze drifted to the ground, and after a moment, she spoke softly, “Qingrui.”

She felt that only by speaking could she find some relief.

“Miss,” Qingrui replied, “I’m here.”

“Do you think Xiao Yan and the others have eaten yet?”

“Today is your birthday, miss. They’re surely all waiting for you.”

Qingrui paused, her gaze falling to the ground. “If you don’t go, they won’t eat.”

A faint smile touched Shen Nanyuan’s lips. “Then they’ve been waiting a long time. Jin Zhu must be starving by now, probably drooling at the edge of the table, trying not to give in.”

Not far ahead lay Shaohua Courtyard, where she had spent almost a year since arriving here, growing attached to its familiarity. Uncle Li, Qingrui, Jin Zhu, and Xiao Yan were all here. She had passed the four seasons with them, and now, she didn’t know how much longer she could remain.

Shen Nanyuan stepped inside, only to see Uncle Li and Jin Zhu hurrying toward her, worried expressions on their faces.

“Miss, it’s so late, and Xiao Yan still hasn’t returned.”

Her face tensed, brows knitting in concern. “He hasn’t come back?”

“No, miss. You were dining with the old madam, so I didn’t dare disturb you. But we’ve waited so long, and there’s still no sign of Xiao Yan. I was just about to go find you when you returned.”

A surge of anxiety rose within Shen Nanyuan.

“It’s so late—could something have happened to Xiao Yan outside?” Qingrui bit her lip. “Miss, should we send someone out to look for him?”

Hearing this, Shen Nanyuan’s eyes shifted, her gaze landing on a dark, unlit side room not far away. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. “Send someone to search for him.”

But just then, a voice came from the distance, drawing nearer. It was Shen Sinian’s deep tone.

“There’s no need to search,” he said, appearing before Shen Nanyuan, his eyes dark as still water, his voice so heavy that Shen Nanyuan’s heart suddenly sank.

“Father has just returned,” Shen Sinian stood a little apart, his voice wrapped in the night, carrying a chill. “Today, the third prince, who had lived in exile since childhood, has returned to the palace.”

Shen Nanyuan felt as though struck by a heavy blow. Her pupils widened involuntarily, her heart seeming to stop mid-beat.

A ringing filled her ears; she could only see Shen Sinian’s lips moving, his words laced with a chilling coldness that swept through her, leaving her frozen, unable to move.

“The third prince is Xiao Yan—the servant in your Shaohua Courtyard.”

A thunderclap seemed to explode in her mind, her body swaying as if she might collapse, a splitting pain tearing through her head.

“Miss!” Qingrui rushed to support her. Shen Sinian, seeing the shock on everyone’s faces in the courtyard, loosened his clenched fists for a moment, then tightened them again, taking a shuddering breath, falling silent, unable to speak.

Shen Nanyuan’s head throbbed with numb pain.

She had thought Xiao Yan would only return to the palace after some time, but everything had happened so suddenly—no wonder Shen Yi had been summoned to the palace.

She closed her eyes briefly, recalling all the oddities in Xiao Yan’s behavior that day, and abruptly understood.

He must have known his identity all along.

“You must wait for me.”

“I will come back.”

So, was that his farewell to her?

She had thought of making a few new sets of clothes for Xiao Yan in the coming days, but never imagined he would never return.

A strange ache and emptiness welled up inside her.

She had imagined countless times the scene when he would return to the palace, and what she would do afterward. But when the moment finally came, there was no joy or relief—only endless melancholy and hollowness.

From now on, Xiao Yan would be Gu Shengyan, the third prince.

But the Xiao Yan who had always been by her side would never return.

Shen Nanyuan bit her lower lip, a bitter smile touching her face.

This birthday, she would remember forever; every year, she would recall it with piercing clarity.

So much had happened.

Yet now that Xiao Yan had returned to the palace, the balance of power in the realm was bound to shift dramatically.

Shen Sinian sighed softly. “Rest now. You must be tired. We can talk about the rest tomorrow.”

Shen Nanyuan nodded. After watching Shen Sinian leave, she thought for a moment, then suddenly walked toward the side room.

She opened the door. The inside was pitch black. Qingrui lit a lamp, and the room filled with a gentle, flickering glow—empty, desolate.

Shen Nanyuan’s gaze paused. She saw a sheet of paper on the table.

The handwriting was bold and forceful. For the first time, she realized how beautiful Xiao Yan’s script was.

“Miss, I have gone.”