"Do you want to hit me?" The Prince of Yan looked at Ye Lang Huan with open disdain. To him, the pretty boy was good for nothing, weak, insignificant. If not for the Duke, he wouldn't even be worth a second of the princess's attention.
The contempt in his gaze alone was enough to spark the fire Lang Huan had suppressed for far too long. Only she knew how long she had wanted to crush this man. She despised the way his eyes clung to Feng Yao with shameless possession and desire.
How could Lang Huan let the princess be tainted by his filthy gaze? If she didn't beat him into a pulp today, she wasn't worthy of the Lang name.
The Prince of Yan struck first, eager to impress the beauty who was watching. But Lang Huan moved faster. She slipped past his strike, seized his collar, and drove her knee hard into his stomach.
He folded with a choked gasp, stumbling backward, but she didn't give him even a heartbeat to recover. Her fist slammed across his cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground like a broken puppet.
Lang Huan stepped forward, her shadow falling over him. She clicked her tongue softly, almost pitying. "Tch… tch… Weren't you always so proud of your strength?" She crouched slightly, her cold gaze locking onto him, pinning him to the floor.
Wu Ming watched the fight with a trace of unease tightening her chest. Her eyes kept drifting toward Qiu Hua, and she exchanged a brief glance with her, silently asking whether they should intervene. The girl only shook her head.
Following her gaze, Wu Ming finally understood why. The eldest princess was seated comfortably in a pavilion, calmly sipping her tea as she watched the fight with clear interest. Since Her Highness showed no intention of stopping it, there was no reason for them to worry.
Feng Yao had no intention of stopping the fight. On the contrary, she seemed quite pleased as she watched her lover stand up for her, venting the anger she had no need to express herself.
In her opinion, the fight was also good exercise for Lang Huan. The Prince of Yan was a large, muscular man—sturdy enough to withstand a beating—making him the perfect human sandbag.
"Come on… get up. Today, you'll remember this for the rest of your life." Lang Huan's voice dropped, cold and dangerous. "And let's see if you still dare to force my wife to marry you."
"What wife?" The Prince of Yan spat a short laugh. "Pah… I don't believe Her Highness would ever marry you." He pushed himself up slightly, one hand bracing against the ground as he struggled to stand, a smirk still clinging to his lips despite the pain.
"I didn't force her. She agreed. Willingly. You're the one who's delusional." His eyes glinted with provocation. "If you don't believe me, why don't you ask your father?"
Lang Huan's jaw tightened instantly. Her fist clenched, veins standing out sharply along her arm as anger surged through her.
Before the Prince of Yan could say another word, Lang Huan moved. She spun and delivered a powerful flip kick straight into his torso. The blow sent him crashing to the ground once more, harder than before. A violent cough tore from his throat, and blood spilled from his mouth, staining the stone beneath him as the courtyard fell into stunned silence.
Hatred burned in the Prince of Yan's eyes. He turned his head toward the eldest princess, only to find her gaze fixed solely on Lang Huan. That single look twisted something inside him, jealousy and resentment tangling in his chest. In front of such beauty and authority, Lang Huan had utterly humiliated him.
Knowing he could not win this fight with strength, he resorted to poison instead. "Yao'er…" he sneered, forcing the name past bloodstained lips. "Why don't you say anything? Tell him you're willing to marry me." The eldest princess frowned at his provocative words, her gaze shifting to Lang Huan, concern flickering over how she might react.
Lang Huan froze, her attention pulled away. In that brief moment of distraction, the Prince of Yan seized his chance. clutched a handful of sand and flung it into her eyes, then lunged forward with a heavy punch. The blow sent the little duke staggering several steps back.
The princess slammed her teacup to the ground, porcelain shattering sharply against the stone. Qiu Hua and Wu Ming rushed forward at once, stepping between them. They restrained the Prince of Yan as he struggled wildly, shouting, "Let me go! Let me go!"
But Lang Huan had already snapped. Rage exploded through her as she charged in, driving her fist into the Prince of Yan again and again, striking a man who could no longer fight back. The courtyard echoed with the sound of fists hitting flesh and her furious, ragged breaths.
He let out a broken laugh, mocking her between coughs. "You can't kill me… If I die here, Her Highness will be the one in trouble. But if you let me live… I swear I will destroy you."
"Your Highness, Young Master, please restrain yourselves. This is the princess's mansion," Qiu Hua pleaded urgently. Fearing that Lang Huan might land a fatal blow, she and Wu Ming tightened their grip on the Prince of Yan and dragged him away, pulling him out of the residence.
At the mansion gate, the Prince of Yan's men stood frozen in shock at the sight of their master. His clothes were disheveled, blood staining the corner of his lips, his expression dark and violent. He had entered the princess's residence alone, leaving his guards behind in hopes of meeting his future bride peacefully never imagining he would leave in such a state.
Inside the carriage, his rage finally erupted. With a furious sweep of his arm, he smashed the small table to pieces, the teapot shattering and rolling across the floor. Only Lu Zheng, his most loyal attendant, dared to speak. He had served the prince long enough to know his temper well—if he failed to calm him now, the punishment would fall on all of them.
"Your Highness," Lu Zheng said carefully, lowering his voice. "Recently, I came across a powerful medicine." He hesitated before adding, "Since the eldest princess of Great Qi refuses to submit… why not make use of it?" From his sleeve, he took out a small vial.
The Prince of Yan narrowed his eyes. "What kind of medicine?"
"A potent aphrodisiac," Lu Zheng replied quietly. "But far stronger than ordinary ones. She would remain conscious, yet unable to fully control her body. Once you have what you want, she'll have no choice but to obey."
The carriage fell silent.
Then, the Prince of Yan let out a low, chilling laugh. He reached out and accepted the vial, his fingers curling around it. Without another word, he slipped it into his sleeve, his gaze darkening with poisonous intent as the carriage rolled onward.