Chapter Eighty-Eight: Unsuitable for Entering the Palace

Such thoughts sent a chill down Shen Nanyuan’s spine, and cold sweat prickled along her back. She pursed her lips and glanced cautiously at Xiao Yan, hesitating. “You…”

Hearing her voice, Xiao Yan turned to look at her, his pitch-black eyes meeting hers. For a moment, Shen Nanyuan found herself at a loss for words, unsure of what to ask him. She turned her head away, hiding her inner panic, and cleared her throat lightly. “It’s nothing. I’m tired. I’ll go rest now.”

She stood up. “You should rest early, too.”

Xiao Yan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her retreating figure, her departure almost like a flight. His gaze was dark and inscrutable.

Lying in bed, Shen Nanyuan’s unease surged like a tidal wave, engulfing her senses inch by inch and leaving her anxious and helpless. She squinted her eyes, and after a long moment of agitation, pulled the quilt over her head.

No, she thought. Tomorrow, I must find an excuse to call Meng Chuyue over. I need to see for myself.

—

The next day.

Shen Nanyuan didn’t need to summon Meng Chuyue; she came on her own, apparently having heard about Shen Nanyuan’s fall into the water and especially came to visit her.

It had only been a few days since they last met, but Meng Chuyue now seemed far more commanding than before. After taking charge of all the affairs in the Prime Minister’s residence’s rear courtyard, her demeanor had grown markedly more mature and authoritative. Perhaps only such presence could subdue the servants of the household, yet facing Shen Nanyuan, she restrained herself somewhat, behaving much as she always had.

“Someone must have tried to harm you!” Meng Chuyue exclaimed, unable to contain her anger. “The palace is a complicated place. Fortunately, you’re unharmed, and thankfully your eldest brother is handling the investigation. He’ll surely uncover who was behind this!”

Shen Nanyuan smiled and nodded. “I trust my brother.”

“I do too,” Meng Chuyue agreed.

She paused, lowered her voice, and leaned in closer to Shen Nanyuan. “I heard from my father that perhaps someone saw you frequently with the Second Prince and wanted to hurt you to provoke discord between the Duke of Zhen’s household and the Second Prince?”

“I don’t know,” Shen Nanyuan replied. “We must wait for my brother’s investigation to understand the cause.”

In truth, she still harbored suspicions about the Second Prince for reasons she couldn’t explain.

So everything had to wait for Shen Sinian.

Shen Nanyuan raised her eyes and glanced discreetly at Xiao Yan, who stood silently by her side, exchanging idle words with Meng Chuyue as if waiting for something.

After a short while, a maid entered from outside the Hall of Splendor, bowed, and said, “Miss, Madam requests your presence.”

“Alright,” Shen Nanyuan replied with a smile. “I’ll go right away.”

She stood, cleared her throat lightly. “I’ll be back soon, Chuyue. Wait for me here.”

She walked a few steps, only to find Xiao Yan following closely behind, seemingly intent on accompanying her. Hastily, she continued, “You wait here as well. I’m just going to my mother’s courtyard. It’s close.”

Xiao Yan’s brows furrowed, but Shen Nanyuan seized the moment before he could speak, swiftly leaving, taking Qingrui with her and leaving only Xiao Yan, Meng Chuyue, and her maid in the courtyard.

Meng Chuyue pursed her lips, feeling a subtle anxiety as she faced Xiao Yan. An awkward silence settled around them. She didn’t speak, but picked up her teacup, took a sip, and lowered her eyes before finally breaking the silence.

“Your Highness, how much longer will you stay here?”

She already knew Xiao Yan’s identity, yet wondered why he didn’t return to the palace and instead remained at the Duke of Zhen’s residence as a servant, showing no sign of leaving.

Meng Chuyue’s gaze fell upon her own hands, a faint suspicion rising within her that startled her.

“Your Highness stays here… is it for Nanyuan?”

Xiao Yan’s gaze grew cold, icy as it swept over her. “Miss Meng, it seems you have quite a lot to say.”

Meng Chuyue was unsettled by his stare, but after a moment’s pause, she mustered her courage. “Your Highness, forgive my frankness, but Nanyuan’s temperament is not suited for palace life.”

She boldly raised her head to meet Xiao Yan’s narrowed, cold gaze and continued, “The palace is full of intrigue and danger. One misstep and one may lose even their life, surrounded by those who wish you harm. Nanyuan is kind by nature. Surely Your Highness wouldn’t want to see her bullied and framed by others?”

“I have my own plans and the ability to protect those I wish to protect. There’s no need for Miss Meng to worry about such matters.”

A mocking smile traced Xiao Yan’s lips. “Miss Meng should mind her own affairs.”

His gaze was sharp as a blade. “After all, the power in your hands did not come easily.”

Meng Chuyue was stunned for a moment, then clenched her hands tightly.

She understood the deeper meaning in Xiao Yan’s words.

He knew how she’d gained her current authority—perhaps even from within the Duke of Zhen’s residence. Her father’s guards, once given to Xiao Yan, had likely become his loyal confidants, quietly watching over the Prime Minister’s household for him.

Such a thought sent chills down Meng Chuyue’s spine.

Outside the Hall of Splendor, Shen Nanyuan pressed herself against the wall, peering inside through the crack of the door, her brows knitted in concern.

Their distance made it impossible to hear what Xiao Yan and Meng Chuyue were saying; she could only vaguely see the two conversing. Xiao Yan’s expression was particularly cold, his gaze toward Meng Chuyue chilling and intimidating—a sign they were anything but familiar.

Shen Nanyuan nearly coughed up blood.

Damn it, these two hadn’t followed the plot of the original novel at all—the protagonists were still virtual strangers! This was supposed to be the main storyline, and with Xiao Yan’s return to the palace imminent, she realized the main plot had collapsed so thoroughly even the author wouldn’t recognize it.

An overwhelming sense of despair and helplessness flooded her, making her want to throw in the towel.

She withdrew her head, slumped against the wall, feeling utterly frustrated, her hands clenched tightly and her anger with nowhere to vent.

Where had it all gone wrong, to let the main storyline unravel so completely?

Could it be that in the end, Xiao Yan and Meng Chuyue would remain unrelated, Xiao Yan would return to the palace alone, and Meng Chuyue’s storyline would be left behind entirely?

Was this even the story she knew?

Qingrui watched her mistress’s shifting expressions—frustration one moment, intense fury the next—and worriedly called out, “Miss?”

Shen Nanyuan raked her fingers through her hair, her mind in turmoil, weighed down like a wandering soul.

With both protagonists off course, what would happen next?