Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Second Imperial Prince and Lu Mei

“To be precise, we’ll rely on your Phoenix Fortune and Granny’s pill-refining techniques. It’ll also let you see what a healer can do. But you still need to prepare a few things.”

Lin Zhao finally let herself breathe. As long as Ning Wen Gui could be saved, everything else could wait.

When she relayed the news, Steward Wang’s voice shook with excitement. “Miss Lin, is that true?!”

For three years, he and Ning Wen Gui had searched the entire You Lan Empire for Sixth-Grade healers. They had even begged several Sixth-Grade healers from the Immortal Sect—every last one of them had been helpless.

After wearing out countless iron shoes without finding a road, the answer had dropped into their hands. Miss Lin had a solution?

“It’s true,” Lin Zhao said. “I can’t treat it myself, but I know a senior who can.”

If she claimed the Soul Form following her could solve a poison that even Sixth-Grade healers couldn’t touch, it would invite trouble she didn’t need. Better to give them a senior—someone distant, someone untouchable.

In her Sea of Consciousness, Granny chuckled. “Little girl, you’re careful. Too bad you’re clueless about feelings. Not to mention your blind ex-husband—if you ask me, that Su Bai, and this Ning Wen Gui…”

“Granny,” Lin Zhao said in her mind, a headache blooming behind her eyes, “is this really the time?”

“When can that senior come to see Your Highness?” Steward Wang sounded like he might leap out of his skin.

Ning Wen Gui watched Lin Zhao for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful, but he didn’t speak.

“Tomorrow,” Lin Zhao said. “Most likely.”

Sooner was safer. Today she would prepare what she needed; tomorrow she would disguise herself and come treat him.

Ning Wen Gui had the answer he wanted, yet he didn’t rush her. “Miss Lin, you didn’t come this time just to help me. Did you run into trouble?”

Lin Zhao didn’t bother with false modesty. “I need to buy a few things. I planned to try my luck at the Imperial auction house.”

The faint crease between Ning Wen Gui’s brows eased. “Then your timing is perfect. There’s an auction tonight. Come with me.”

Steward Wang’s face tightened. “Your Highness, the Second Imperial Prince and his people have been watching you these past few years. If you go out now, they’ll make an issue of it.”

Ning Wen Gui waved him off, calm as ever. “Hiding in the residence forever isn’t a solution. Some things have to be faced in person.”

Lin Zhao kept her expression neutral, but inside she sighed. The infighting of the You Lan Imperial House was worse than she’d imagined.

She understood it in theory. She understood it in rumors and careful, guarded words. But she truly felt it only when they reached the auction house—and ran straight into Ning Wen Yue.

The Second Imperial Prince wore a deep teal robe edged with gold, a jade crown set neatly above his brow. He was handsome enough, the kind of man who would turn heads in a marketplace. Beside Ning Wen Gui, though—beside that cold, luminous beauty—he looked like a lesser imitation.

He smiled as if he owned the air. “Sixth Brother. You haven’t left your residence in a long time. I thought the disability in your legs had crushed you.” His gaze slid, sharp and leering, to Lin Zhao. “But it seems you’ve found a beauty to keep you company.”

He struck straight at the wound. The Crown Prince’s residence still claimed Ning Wen Gui was undergoing treatment, but Ning Wen Yue insisted the truth was already decided: the Crown Prince was crippled.

A cripple could never sit securely as heir apparent.

Petty, Lin Zhao thought, and slow.

Ning Wen Yue was already in his early twenties, yet his cultivation sat at peak Qi Refining. Barely decent. Worse, he carried himself like a man who believed his bloodline could replace ability.

Lin Zhao didn’t answer him. She simply pushed Ning Wen Gui’s wheelchair forward.

Ning Wen Yue stepped into her path.

“You concubine,” he snapped, loud enough to draw eyes. “How lacking in manners. When you see this prince, you still don’t kneel?”

His gaze crawled over her face—clean, unpainted, unbowed—and greed flashed hot and shameless.

“Sixth Brother can’t use his legs,” Ning Wen Yue went on, voice turning vulgar, “but he has fine luck with women. A few days ago, your brother bought a batch of merfolk from the Blue Sea. The taste is unmatched. We’re brothers, after all. When something good comes my way, I don’t forget my brother.”

He grinned as if offering a favor. “I’ll gift Sixth Brother two merfolk. And in return…” His eyes pinned Lin Zhao. “How about Sixth Brother lends me this little beauty for a few days?”

The words were filth. The tone was worse—casual, like trading wine.

Lin Zhao felt Ning Wen Gui tense beneath her hand. She pressed down lightly on his shoulder, a quiet warning, and looked at the fool blocking the way.

With a half-smile, she asked, “Are you sure you want me to keep you company for a few days?”

Ning Wen Yue’s expression darkened. “I’m talking to Sixth Brother. Since when does a concubine like you get to speak?”

He didn’t take her seriously at all. He had no wife, no concubines; he saw a woman beside Ning Wen Gui and decided she must be an unacknowledged plaything.

Passing beauties around was “fashionable” among certain circles. But a beauty who spoke back? Unacceptable.

Lin Zhao pinched the bridge of her nose, almost amused. “Even back on Yun Ding Peak, when I was swallowing humiliation and biting down blood, no one with a death wish dared speak to me like that.”

Beside Ning Wen Yue stood an old man whose gaze had sharpened, fixed on Lin Zhao as if trying to remember a face from a long time ago. His brows knit. Familiar, yet not quite.

Before he could speak, the young lady at Ning Wen Yue’s side cut in, her eyes poisonous.

“Elder Pan, this woman is insolent,” she said sweetly. “She has offended the Imperial Clan. She deserves to suffer.”

The venom was unmistakable. Not for Lin Zhao alone—half of it was aimed past her, at Ning Wen Gui.

Steward Wang leaned close and whispered, “That’s Lu Mei, the future consort of the Second Imperial Prince. The Emperor Lord once wanted to marry her to Your Highness. After Your Highness was injured, she immediately allied herself with the Second Imperial Prince.”

Lin Zhao understood at once. Ning Wen Gui disliked them. He didn’t hide it well, either.

Good.

Then she didn’t need to hide anything, either.

She flicked her fingers.

A streak of spiritual energy snapped through the air and slammed into Ning Wen Yue’s chest. He flew backward several meters, hit the stone, and crumpled to the ground with a strangled grunt.

Only when she moved did Elder Pan’s face change.

“Late-stage Foundation Establishment?!” he blurted.

Late-stage Foundation Establishment wasn’t unheard of.

A late-stage Foundation Establishment girl who looked 15 or 16 was.

And worse—before she struck, he hadn’t sensed her cultivation at all. Not because she was stronger than him. Because she carried an artifact that concealed aura and cultivation.

A high-grade one.

Elder Pan helped Ning Wen Yue up, his expression tightening into something like forced courtesy. “May I ask who Your Excellency is? Striking the Second Imperial Prince in the You Lan Empire—even if you’re a friend of the Crown Prince, it will be hard to explain to the You Lan Emperor Lord.”

He tried to pin her with the Emperor Lord’s name, to press her into backing down.

Lin Zhao didn’t even look at him.

She looked at Ning Wen Gui instead, her tone faintly amused. “Uncle Wang said your situation was bad, and I didn’t believe him. Now I do. Any random cat or dog can bark at you, and they even try to use the Emperor Lord to pressure me.”

Ning Wen Gui let out a quiet breath. “You must think this is ridiculous.”

Elder Pan’s face went green at being ignored. “Your Excellency, you’re going too far!”

Lin Zhao raised a brow. “Do you really want to take today’s matter before the You Lan Emperor Lord?”

Ning Wen Yue’s mouth opened—ready to spit curses—but Lu Mei grabbed his sleeve.

Her gaze locked on Lin Zhao, uncertain and sharp.

“Third Miss Lin?” Lu Mei asked.