Qiao Wanyan, her energy reserves completely depleted, offered no response to He Zhiyu's offer. With Zi Yuan's assistance, she attempted to stand, her movements slow and unsteady.
Jingyuan clicked his tongue, his disapproval evident. She didn't even acknowledge His Highness's gracious offer. Miss Qiao is indeed a spoiled and stubborn creature. Her audacity knows no bounds.
If Yanyan could have overheard his thoughts, she would have rolled her eyes in exasperation. I just ran out of energy, okay? I almost died out there! Do you really expect me to have the strength and inclination to act as sweetly as I was earlier?
Since His Highness displayed no outward signs of displeasure, Jingyuan wisely refrained from voicing his opinions aloud.
Qiao Wanyan sighed inwardly, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate balancing act she was attempting to maintain. Remaining true to the original character's essence was paramount, but blindly mimicking her spoiled and ill-tempered behavior would only reinforce the perception that she was merely feigning repentance. A subtle blend of sweetness and a touch of childishness was the key, a carefully calibrated performance that would hopefully convince them of her sincerity. Okay, my job for today is done. I'm officially clocking out.
"Miss, what's wrong?" Zi Yuan asked hurriedly, her voice laced with concern as she noticed her mistress's unsteady gait.
Qiao Wanyan replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "My legs are numb. I can't walk."
This damn delicate body, she mentally grumbled. I am seriously going to start a rigorous exercise regimen tomorrow.
Just then, a deep, magnetic voice, laced with a hint of mocking amusement, echoed from nearby.
"Your legs are numb, but they aren't broken, are they? So why can't you walk?"
Everyone turned towards the source of the voice, their gazes drawn to the figure who had just entered the scene.
The newcomer appeared to be no more than twenty years of age, his presence immediately commanding attention.
The man possessed a strikingly handsome and refined countenance, his features as sharp and unyielding as frost and snow. The hazy sunlight, breaking through the dense cloud cover, cascaded down upon him, illuminating his form and casting him in an ethereal glow, accentuating his almost otherworldly beauty. He exuded an aura of both divine grace and unsettling darkness, a captivating paradox that left onlookers breathless.
He possessed the appearance of a compassionate and ethereal being banished from heaven, his features hinting at a profound understanding of suffering. Yet, his expression was undeniably wicked and perverse, a subtle smirk playing upon his lips, suggesting a demon lord or evil god basking in the deceptive warmth of the light.
In his presence, everyone else seemed to shrink, their importance diminished to the level of insignificant dust motes dancing in the sunbeams. He was a force of nature, a being far beyond their reach, operating on a plane of existence they could only dream of.
Qiao Yihuan, ever mindful of social protocols, was the first to react, gracefully curtsying and offering a respectful greeting. "This humble woman greets Your Highness Prince Jing."
The newcomer was none other than Prince Jing, He Yanli, a name that resonated with a complex mix of emotions for Qiao Wanyan. He was her childhood sweetheart, the man she had ruthlessly abandoned in her pursuit of greater power and status.
Five years prior, Prince Jing, who was then the favored Ninth Prince, had been tragically implicated in a scandal involving his maternal clan. He had plummeted from the pinnacle of royal favor, transforming from a popular candidate for the coveted position of crown prince into a discarded pawn in the ruthless game of imperial politics.
That fateful, rain-soaked night, driven by desperation and clinging to the remnants of their shared past, he had sought out Qiao Wanyan, his appearance disheveled, his hopes hanging by a thread. Instead of solace, he was met with a cruel and humiliating rejection, abandoned without mercy in a fit of rage fueled by ambition and self-preservation.
She never learned the details of his harrowing journey home that night. She only heard rumors, whispers that he had attempted to end his life within the confines of his desolate residence, his despair so profound that it threatened to consume him entirely. Fortunately, he was discovered in time, his life hanging precariously in the balance.
In the aftermath of that devastating night, he sought refuge in the national temple, retreating from the world to embark on a path of spiritual cultivation. For three long years, he remained within its hallowed walls, his hair untouched by the razor, a symbol of his commitment to a life of contemplation and introspection. Three years later, he was dispatched by the emperor to the remote and strategically vital city of Beiming, a move that was seen by many as a final act of banishment. Yet, against all odds, he persevered. A year later, he was formally enfeoffed as the Prince of Jing, a title that belied the immense power he would soon wield. At the young age of twenty, he had become the number one killing god of the Great You, a fearsome warrior whose name was synonymous with death and destruction. He was a force to be reckoned with, a figure who only knew how to kill and destroy, offering no mercy, no salvation, and harboring a deep-seated contempt for all living beings.
Stationed in the strategically crucial city of Yu Beiming, he commanded a formidable army of 300,000 seasoned soldiers, a force that answered to his every command but remained impervious to summons from the capital. This unique arrangement made him the most feared and respected presence in the entire kingdom, a figure whose power and influence cast a long shadow over the imperial court.
He Yanli, however, offered Qiao Yihuan not even a cursory glance. His attention was solely focused on Qiao Wanyan, his venomous gaze piercing through her carefully constructed facade, locking onto her somewhat surprised expression. His eyes, once filled with affection and adoration, now burned with an undisguised hatred, a palpable force that seemed to crackle in the air between them.
He vividly remembered every detail of that rainy night, every cruel word she had uttered, every dismissive gesture she had made. He could still see the look of disgust and disdain on her face as she delivered her final, devastating blow at the back gate of the Qiao family's house, severing their connection and shattering his world.