Chapter 110: Before You, I Am Only Xiao Yan

Perhaps it was because she had slept too long in the afternoon; though the night was deep, she felt not the slightest trace of drowsiness. Shen Nanyuan sighed softly as she rose from the soft couch and slowly walked toward the inner chamber, intending to lie on the bed, hoping that sleep might eventually come.

Just then, a shadow flickered past the window so quickly that Shen Nanyuan turned her head in an instant, but she saw nothing. Shen Nanyuan frowned, a strange unease stirring in her heart. She pressed her lips together and walked to the bedside, her gaze sweeping over the window once more; finding nothing amiss, she lifted the quilt and was about to climb onto the bed when footsteps sounded outside, clear and distinct, echoing in her ears and halting her movements, filling her with sudden tension.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and stepped lightly toward the door, her voice uncertain, “...Qingrui?”

There was no reply. Shen Nanyuan walked to the door, opened it, and cautiously leaned her head out. Outside, there was no one—only the faint glow of candlelight lingering in the night, leaving her somewhat confused.

The Duke's residence was guarded by sentinels who patrolled at night, but their rounds were restricted to the outer courtyards; they never entered the inner gardens. The only possibility was that the footsteps belonged to someone within Shaohua Court. The night was late; she wondered who could still be awake.

She was about to close the door when suddenly, a figure flashed before her—clad entirely in black, appearing without warning, confronting her directly. Shen Nanyuan did not even catch a glimpse of his face before she was abruptly silenced and pushed back into the room. The door closed with a thud. Before her was the stranger’s chest; her waist was held tightly, pressed against him, with the cold wall behind her, leaving her no room to resist. A subtle, clean fragrance enveloped her, making her heart pound wildly and her mind go blank.

A deliberately low, deep voice sounded above her, “Don’t scream. I’ll let go.”

Shen Nanyuan nodded frantically, so nervous that she failed to recognize the familiar voice. The hand on her mouth suddenly released her; she drew a deep breath, her eyes lowered, hesitated a moment, and was about to cry out—only to have her mouth covered once more.

The man laughed quietly, his voice returning to its usual magnetic depth, tinged with a hint of indulgence. “It seems the young lady has been frightened.”

Shen Nanyuan froze at the sound.

The hand left her mouth again. Xiao Yan gazed down with a gentle smile, the softness in his arms making him reluctant to let go; his hand at her waist only tightened.

Shen Nanyuan trembled as she raised her head, meeting a pair of familiar, dark, lustrous eyes.

Gone was the cold, distant demeanor of daylight; now his gaze was warm and gentle, flecked with starlight, making her breath catch.

“...Xiao...” The name hovered at her lips; she suddenly recollected his daytime demeanor and paused, lowering her voice, “Your Highness.”

The wall behind her gave no room to retreat; she was so close to Xiao Yan that she could see the sweep of his lashes clearly.

His hand at her waist was searing, refusing to release even as she tried to pull away, instead drawing her closer. Her heart raced; she quickly lowered her eyes and bit her lip.

The light in Xiao Yan’s eyes flickered, his voice calm and clear, “Don’t call me ‘Your Highness.’”

His long lashes drooped, and under the dim glow of the candlelight, he seemed so gentle that she wondered if the man she saw by day had been only an illusion. “I am Xiao Yan.”

The space between them was so narrow that the heat of his breath made Shen Nanyuan’s cheeks flush with agitation.

Suppressing the tremor in her heart, she dared not meet his gaze, only replied quietly, “Your Highness, isn’t this improper?”

“Though we are not yet married, I am already betrothed to the Second Prince. Your Highness should not behave so.”

At her words, Xiao Yan’s brows furrowed.

This time, Shen Nanyuan slipped easily from his arms, quickly stepping aside to put some distance between them, only then daring to look Xiao Yan in the eye. “Your Highness, visiting the Duke’s residence so late—what brings you here?”

Xiao Yan said nothing.

She was angry.

He turned toward her with some helplessness, his eyes dark yet haloed with a faint light, making Shen Nanyuan purse her lips and steel herself as she watched him.

“In the palace, I did not treat you that way by choice,” Xiao Yan said. “I had just returned; every palace was full of spies watching me, and one was lurking nearby that day. I had no choice.”

He continued softly, “So now, I have come to apologize to you personally, haven’t I?”

Shen Nanyuan’s eyes flickered, her expression steady, as if his words stirred no ripple within her. “You are a prince, the Third Prince. What fault could you ever have?”

She was about to continue when she frowned, realizing her words sounded like she was quarreling with him.

Xiao Yan took a step closer, his tall figure eclipsing the candlelight, casting his shadow entirely over Shen Nanyuan and filling her with a strange sense of oppression.

The once frail and pitiable girl now possessed such presence.

She instinctively stepped back, and Xiao Yan paused, sighing softly. “Miss.”

His eyes were pitch-black, yet extraordinarily earnest, reminiscent of his demeanor in Shaohua Court years ago. “Before you, I am simply Xiao Yan.”

Never the Third Prince.

He was only Xiao Yan.

Shen Nanyuan’s gaze lingered on him for a moment; Xiao Yan approached, and this time she did not retreat.

“My origins—I never meant to hide them from you,” he said, lowering his gaze. “There are reasons.”

Reasons he could not name.

Partly because he wished to stay by her side a little longer.

And partly because of a fear buried deep within him, unknown to others: seeing her wary avoidance of palace people, he worried she would treat him the same if she knew, so he dared not tell her.

The thought was almost laughable.

That he could fear such a thing.

“But, no matter what, before you, in this Shaohua Court, I am not the Third Prince. I will always be Xiao Yan.”

He spoke solemnly, his gaze fixed upon her, his features clear and composed.

He was Xiao Yan.

The Xiao Yan she had known in Shaohua Court.

Shen Nanyuan’s throat tightened inexplicably; she murmured, “I know.”