Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Scheme

Lu Mei’s “Third Miss Lin” was like a bucket of cold water poured over Ning Wen Yue’s head.

He had mocked Lin Zhao in private before, too: a legitimate daughter of the Noble Houses, abandoned by her fiancé on the day of her wedding.

But jokes were jokes. Status was status.

If Lin Zhao chose to make this matter real, he would be guilty of offending someone far above his station.

Lin Zhao’s expression didn’t change. “Miss Lu. Sharp eyes.”

The words were mild. The meaning wasn’t.

Lu Mei felt it like a slap.

She hadn’t recognized Lin Zhao at first—only a nagging familiarity, a face she’d seen in dreams and heard in whispers. It wasn’t until Lin Zhao sent Ning Wen Yue flying with one effortless strike that Lu Mei’s memory clicked into place.

Lin Zhao.

The person Ning Wen Gui had been thinking about for years.

Lu Mei’s gaze flicked to the man in the wheelchair. A woman’s intuition was cruelly precise: whatever Ning Wen Gui felt, it wasn’t returned.

Even so, it was enough to make Lu Mei’s hatred scrape raw against her teeth.

Lin Zhao was born a little better, and she could have a fiancé like the Sacred Land’s Holy Son. She could be abandoned in front of the world and still stand tall. And the man Lu Mei wanted most looked at Lin Zhao as if she were light itself.

Lu Mei smiled, soft and sharp. “I heard you would rest at the Lin Family for a few days and avoid the spotlight before coming out. I didn’t expect Third Miss Lin to be so unbothered. It seems you’ve already forgotten the unpleasantness of your wedding with Holy Son Shen.”

In public, it was a warning. In private, it was a sneer: shameless, abandoned, yet still strolling outside.

Lin Zhao’s eyes lifted, cold as clear water. “People who choose to be low always assume everyone else is just as low as they are.”

On that day, the ones without shame had been Shen Yu Han and Chen Luo Luo. Lin Zhao had simply been the one they tried to trample.

Lu Mei’s smile tightened. “I hope Miss Lin can be as sharp in marriage matters as she is with her tongue.”

“No need for Miss Lu to concern herself.”

Lin Zhao pushed Ning Wen Gui into the auction house without another glance.

Lu Mei watched them disappear into the glow of lanternlight and silk curtains. Then she turned, eyes cooling as something vicious settled into place.

“Do you like Third Miss Lin?” she asked Ning Wen Yue.

The malice in her gaze made him flinch. But when he remembered Lin Zhao’s face, lust drowned his caution. He nodded.

Lu Mei lowered her voice. “I have a way to help Your Highness get her.” She leaned closer, sweet as honey. “But Your Highness knows what you should do, right?”

Ning Wen Yue’s throat bobbed. He sent a Voice Transmission, teeth chattering even as greed shone in his eyes.

“But even if I don’t trigger the Reincarnation Poison, Sixth Brother will live at most two or three more years. Is there any need to rush?”

Lu Mei replied in the same silent current. “Reincarnation Poison doesn’t just shorten his life. It can transfer his life force to Your Highness. And after he dies completely, it can pass part of his cultivation to you.”

Ning Wen Yue’s eyes widened.

“Your Highness has been stuck at peak Qi Refining for years,” Lu Mei continued. “If you can take even half of the Crown Prince’s cultivation, you can reach Foundation Establishment. And once you reach Foundation Establishment, you’ll have a real chance in the fight for the heir apparent position.”

Ning Wen Yue’s breath caught, excitement flushing through him. “Then we’ll do as you say!”

He turned his head, eyes sliding over Lu Mei. Not as beautiful as Lin Zhao, no—but charming in her own way. He reached out and stroked her cheek, smug and entitled.

“Mei Er, you truly are this prince’s good fiancée. Don’t worry. Even if I get that Lin woman, you’ll still be my future empress.”

Lu Mei forced herself not to recoil. Disgust rolled through her like a tide. If it weren’t for scheming against Ning Wen Gui, she would rather bite her tongue off than be touched by a man like this.

She pressed Ning Wen Yue’s hand down gently and smiled as if she meant it. “Your Highness, let’s go in and see what the Crown Prince and Third Miss Lin are trying to do.”

Ning Wen Yue’s hand was pushed away, and he felt a flash of regret. Even though Lu Mei was his fiancée, he rarely got to indulge.

“Fine,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “We’ll do it your way. But you have to make sure you help me get Third Miss Lin within the next few days. Otherwise, how can I bring myself to strike my own brother so quickly?”

Lu Mei’s smile didn’t waver. “Of course.”

In her mind, the plan ran clean and cruel.

Years ago, the Emperor Lord had proposed marrying her to Ning Wen Gui. She had waited for the decree with a heart full of light—only for Ning Wen Gui to refuse.

A few years after that, with the help of a mysterious person, Lu Mei swallowed the truth: the man she loved had never held her in his heart.

So she plotted the accident during the royal hunt. Following that person’s instructions, she poisoned Ning Wen Gui with Reincarnation Poison.

Later, she shared a portion of the poison’s benefits with Ning Wen Yue and pushed her family to arrange a marriage with him, sealing an alliance.

But Ning Wen Yue was only ever meant to be a scapegoat.

Once the poison was exposed, once Ning Wen Gui died, Lu Mei would reveal the “truth”: the poison was on Ning Wen Yue. She would become the “meritorious” informer, and Ning Wen Yue—lacking proof, lacking allies—would have nowhere to run but into death.

So whether Ning Wen Yue lived a few more days or a few more years didn’t matter.

Letting him defile Lin Zhao was simply Lu Mei’s hatred given teeth.

And did he truly think he could touch Lin Zhao and still live afterward?

A fool like him—without Lu Mei propping him up all these years—had no right to be spoken of in the same breath as Ning Wen Gui.

Inside the auction house, Lin Zhao knew none of this.

At the moment, she was standing at the third-floor display, eyes bright with appreciation.

“No wonder the Imperial House backs this place,” she said. “They have almost every material I need.”

Ning Wen Gui’s lips curved faintly. He instructed the staff to prepare everything on her list.

Lin Zhao handed over a black card threaded with purple spiritual energy. “Charge it to this.”

A card like that held at least five hundred thousand low-grade spirit stones. Usually only Golden Core cultivators qualified to carry one, though a Young Lord of the Noble Houses did as well.

Ning Wen Gui didn’t take it. “You’re already helping solve my leg problem, Miss Lin. How can I let you spend more money?”

Lin Zhao slid the card back. “Then I won’t be polite. I’m broke right now.” Her mouth twisted, half rueful. “When I have money, I’ll give you a proper gift.”

Lin Mang had secretly stuffed that card into her hands. Otherwise, as a Young Lord, she wouldn’t even have been able to scrape together enough for herbs.

Yun Ding Peak had bled her dry.

The thought almost made her want to laugh and cry at once.

Warmth drifted through Ning Wen Gui’s purple eyes. “Now that’s the you I remember.” He smiled a little more, the memory softening his voice. “Do you recall when we were kids and messed up someone’s stall? They demanded compensation. You’d rather do hard labor than take out money. In the end, I was the one who paid.”

Lin Zhao did remember. Back then, Yao Yun controlled the Lin Family’s money, and she and Lin Mang lived tight and careful.

She exhaled. “Looks like I’ll never be able to hold my head up as the ‘rich one’ in front of you.”