Lang Huan obediently massaged Feng Yao's feet, her warm fingers pressing gently against the princess's delicate soles.
The beautiful woman's face remained expressionless, calm and indifferent, giving nothing away—neither pleasure nor discomfort. The lack of reaction made Lang Huan wary. Had the princess's feet ever been injured at all?
Yet only Feng Yao knew that beneath her impassive demeanor, her mind was already swarmed with a million questions.
Too many coincidences seemed to surround the truth about Lang Huan. Feng Yao had always believed that nothing happened without reason, and she refused to accept explanations that felt too convenient.
Just as Feng Yao parted her lips to speak, a voice called from outside the room. It was Su Qing. Lang Huan let out a quiet sigh. She knew Feng Yao was not a kind person, but she also knew her stepmother had added fuel to the tension, making their relationship even more complicated.
"Madam Su, is there something we can help?" A Li asked, stepping forward to block the entrance. "Her Highness and the Prince Consort have already gone to sleep."
Su Qing could hardly believe that Lang Huan remained so calm after the truth was revealed. She wondered whether that person was angry with her for pushing Feng Yao. All she wanted was a chance to explain that she had never done such a thing.
A bitter smile tugged at her lips. Even in a situation like this, she had still fallen into the princess's trap. A woman so calculating and manipulative was never someone Su Qing could contend with.
For now, she swallowed her grievances and endured the misunderstanding in silence.
Noticing Lang Huan's uneasy expression and the subtle frown on her face, Feng Yao tugged at her sash. As she lifted her leg, her robe slipped down, revealing a long, pale leg, the red polish on her toenails stark against her skin.
Lang Huan was fully aware that Feng Yao was deliberately drawing her attention back into the room.
She gave Feng Yao's thigh a light slap, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Feng Yao bit her lip and let out a few soft moans, the sound instantly silencing any noise outside the door.
Lang Huan allowed her to do as she pleased. Even if Su Qing misunderstood the situation, so be it. Her heart belonged entirely to Feng Yao, leaving no room for any other woman to come between them.
Outside the room, Su Qing stood frozen. Hearing those sounds, disappointment and embarrassment washed over her. Twice in a single day, she had been forced to overhear the sounds of intimacy she had no wish to hear. She drew in a slow breath, forcing down her anger, then turned and left.
Only then did Lang Huan rise from the bed. "Where are you going?" Feng Yao asked coldly. "Stay here. If you dare step out of this room, you are forbidden from sleeping in my bed for three months."
Lang Huan was taken aback by the threat, yet she could not help marveling at how swiftly Feng Yao's demeanor had shifted—the sharp, commanding presence of the princess snapping back into place in an instant.
"I'll sit at my desk and read for a while. You can sleep first," Lang Huan replied evenly.
Ignoring the sharp glare, she turned and walked into the adjoining study, leaving Feng Yao staring after her, displeased but powerless to stop her.
---
Feng Yao tossed and turned, unable to rest alone. Having slept beside Lang Huan every night, she missed her warmth. With a small scowl, she kicked the blanket aside and got out of bed.
Without caring that her hair was disheveled or that she wore only her underwear and a thin outer robe, she stepped into the adjoining study.
"Do you have no sense of how cold it is?" Lang Huan said, frowning. "Look at what you're wearing."
"Come here." She reached out and patted her lap.
Feng Yao's lips curved into a faint smile as she took Lang Huan's hand, settling onto her lap and resting her head lightly against her shoulder.
Lang Huan wrapped her arms around Feng Yao, drawing her closer to share her warmth. She lowered her head and brushed a gentle kiss against Feng Yao's hair, then her neck—the faint fragrance lingering there was one she loved deeply.
"Cover yourself properly." she said softly. "What if someone comes into the room?"
Feng Yao lifted a hand and traced Lang Huan's cheek. "Do you care because I'm cold," Feng Yao asked quietly, "or because you're afraid someone might see me?"
"…Both,"
After a brief pause, she asked quietly, "Are you still angry with me?"
When Lang Huan held Feng Yao's hand, she was struck by how cold it was—as if it had never known warmth.
She rubbed Feng Yao's fingers gently between her palms, trying to chase the chill away.
"You know Ye Langhuan was only eight or nine years old. How ruthless you are… not even a weak child was spared."
Feng Yao lifted her head and looked at her. "How do you know he was weak? Ten years later, he could have become a formidable enemy."
She did not hide anything. "The moment I ascend the throne," Feng Yao continued, "the first thing I will do is eliminate my brothers, my family—and their descendants. It doesn't matter whether they are children or adults. I won't give them any chance to seek revenge."
She spoke without concealment, as though deliberately forcing Lang Huan to prepare herself mentally.
"Lang Huan, I know you are kindhearted," Feng Yao said quietly. "But in this world, the only way to stay safe is to become the strongest—and to hold power in your own hands. the Duke of Huguo is an example. He does not care whether his own child lives or dies. Believe me or not, in the end, he would try to get rid of you as well."
She paused, her gaze darkening. "My brother now sits on the throne. Of course, he won't simply let me go. Everything I do is to protect us—no matter the method."
Those words pierced Lang Huan's chest, leaving behind a sharp, aching sadness. She could not find a single argument to refute Feng Yao.
Deep down, she knew Feng Yao was not entirely wrong.
The silence that followed seemed to drain the color from Lang Huan's face, as if her thoughts were being stripped away one by one.
Seeing her reaction, Feng Yao curved her lips faintly. She thought the little brat had been stunned into foolishness by the sudden realization.
Leaning closer, she tilted her head and asked casually, "So… what were you doing in the forest back then?" Her eyes narrowed with interest. "And where exactly did you come from?"
"I'm not from this world," Lang Huan said softly. "Do you remember what Bai Han once said? He tried to send me back to my original world."
She lowered her gaze. "Nine years ago, all I remember is a storm swallowing me whole and throwing my body into the forest."
"You've probably never seen things like these before." She gestured toward the guitar and the sheets of paper covered in strange designs. Feng Yao showed no sign of disbelief.
Lang Huan could not tell whether Feng Yao truly believed her—or had simply accepted it without question.
"I am a descendant of the Lang clan," she continued. "Lang Ruhua is still my family—we share the same clan and bloodline. My power, Xiao Bai… all of it is an inheritance left behind by my ancestors."
Feng Yao looked at her steadily. "Then you must have come here to shoulder a responsibility," she said calmly. "In this world, there are no coincidences."
Her words stirred memories of Lang Yuyan, and the burden that had once been placed upon Lang Huan's shoulders.
Lang Huan didn't answer her, She lifted Feng Yao gently and carried her into the inner room. They slept side by side, Lang Huan holding Feng Yao close in her embrace, as if shielding her from the world beyond the curtains.
---
The next morning, Feng Yao woke before dawn. A Li attended to her personally, helping her dress and apply her makeup. The phoenix robe was carefully layered over her shoulders, the crown placed atop her head—each detail enhancing her dignified, majestic presence.
"Your Highness," A Li asked softly, "shall we inform the Prince Consort?"
"No need," Feng Yao replied calmly.
Still asleep, Lang Huan looked unusually gentle in the early light. Feng Yao sat down and adjusted the blanket around her.
Good looks truly were a kind of fortune, she thought. Perhaps that was why her heart softened easily whenever Lang Huan angered her. Just one glance at that face, and her resolve wavered.
A faint smile tugged at her lips. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of world Lang Huan had come from, feeling a pang of pity for the little brat, trapped in such a cruel world.
A Li lightly supported Feng Yao's arm, and the two of them stepped out into the corridor. There, they encountered Su Qing. A chill ran down A Li's spine as she watched the Eldest Princess glare at Madam Su with open hostility.
Su Qing, clearly unwilling to confront her, quickened her pace—but a shadow guard blocked her path.
Without a word, she raised her hand and slapped Su Qing across the face.
Feng Yao was a woman who never forgot a grievance. If not for Lang Huan stopping her, she would have done this last night.
"Do you think I'm easy to bully?" Feng Yao sneered coldly.
She turned and walked away, leaving Su Qing standing there, holding her cheek, stunned and trembling in the silent corridor.
Seeing Feng Yao disappear from view, Su Qing let out an angry shout, completely uncharacteristic of her usual noble composure.