That night, after Leng Mingye left, Wan Qing sat alone for a long time, lost in thought. Though it felt somewhat clichéd and even absurd—so much so that she wanted to laugh wildly at how fate had played such a cruel joke—she still told herself firmly that no matter what, she and he were impossible. She had to let go and keep it as an eternal secret in her heart.
Leng Mingye, however, was different. After returning from Wan Qing’s place, he shut himself in his study, drowning his sorrows in alcohol.
Time slipped away quietly, and in the blink of an eye, several days had passed.
Prince Ji and his wife also noticed the change in their son.
Unable to suppress his concern any longer, Prince Ji finally went to Leng Mingye’s study.
“Your Highness.” Qing Feng and Bai Yu, who understood their master’s feelings and knew the truth behind it all, felt heartbroken for him. Yet, considering his blood relation with that aloof woman—cousins, no less—if word got out, it would invite public scorn and condemnation.
But the pain in their master’s heart was something they could only witness, unsure of how to comfort him.
Suddenly seeing Prince Ji arrive, the attendants quickly composed themselves and bowed respectfully.
“Hmm. Where is Ye’er? I heard he’s been drinking heavily these past few days. As his personal guards, do you know what happened? Why is he like this? Has his poison flared up again, or is it something else?”
Prince Ji nodded faintly at their greetings and asked about his son, his eyes filled with suspicion as he recalled the servants’ reports of his son’s recent behavior.
“This… We don’t know. The Young Master returned from the palace in good spirits, but then he just…”
Though Qing Feng and Bai Yu deeply sympathized with their master and the young woman, they could only look at Prince Ji and reply vaguely.
“Is that so? Ye’er, why are you drinking so much? Has something happened? You’ve never been this drunk before. Whatever it is, you can tell your father. If I can’t handle it, there’s still His Majesty. Why torment yourself like this?”
Seeing that he couldn’t get a clear answer from them, Prince Ji pushed the door open and entered.
Inside, he found his beloved son slumped over the table, surrounded by empty wine jars, the room reeking of alcohol. His son, drunk and muttering incoherently, looked utterly unlike himself—even when he’d been poisoned, he’d never been this despondent. Heart aching, Prince Ji stepped forward, placed a hand on his shoulder, and shook him gently.
“Why? Why must I be surnamed Leng? Why must I be the Young Master? Qing’er, Qing’er… What must I do for you to accept me? What must I do for us to be together? Tell me, Qing’er…”
Shaken by his father, Leng Mingye lifted his head slightly before slumping back down, lost in his misery. His voice was low and broken as he murmured the woman’s name repeatedly.
“This child… Ye’er, wake up! Wake up!”
His son’s sudden outburst startled Prince Ji. Though he wasn’t sure who “Qing’er” was, the words shocked him. Flustered, he gripped his son’s shoulders and shook him harder, calling out urgently.
“Hmm? Father… Why are you here? I…”
After a few more shakes, Leng Mingye finally opened his bleary eyes. Seeing his father before him, he jolted in surprise and tried to stand, but his unsteady legs gave way, forcing him back into his seat. “Father, I…” He looked down, ashamed of his disheveled state.
“My boy, tell me. Who is Qing’er? And why are you so troubled by your surname and title?”
Prince Ji sighed. In just a few days, his son had become unkempt, his beard unshaven, a far cry from the proud, confident young man he’d always been. Though exasperated, Prince Ji kept his tone calm as he pressed for answers.
“Father, what Qing’er? You must have misheard. And when have I ever been troubled by my surname or title? Father, you…”
Leng Mingye’s heart raced—had his secret been discovered? Thinking of his relationship with Wan Qing, he feigned ignorance.
“Don’t hide it from me. This Qing’er clearly means a lot to you. Does your surname and status trouble you? Are they obstacles between you two?”
Seeing his son still pretending, Prince Ji grew more direct. His son was outstanding in every way, and he’d always been proud of him. But now, he needed the truth.
“I… Father, I don’t understand what you’re saying. I…”
Leng Mingye continued playing dumb.
“Enough. I heard everything just now. You kept calling for Qing’er, saying how hard it is for you two to be together. Is she a commoner? Or does your status trouble her? Listen, your mother and I are open-minded. If you truly love her, we won’t stand in your way.”
Prince Ji’s words were firm but kind.
“I… Father, it’s not about status. It’s… I don’t know how to explain…”
Touched by his father’s words, Leng Mingye hesitated. His father had always doted on him, dedicating all his efforts to raising him into an exceptional man, both in martial arts and scholarship.
In contrast, his younger brother, though also their parents’ child, had been largely neglected, growing up into a spoiled noble.
But the truth was something he couldn’t bring himself to say.
“My boy, what hurdle could be so insurmountable? Tell me, and I’ll help you. I always thought you were only devoted to politics, oblivious to matters of the heart. Clearly, I was wrong. But seeing you like this worries me. What could possibly keep you and the woman you love apart?”
Prince Ji smiled wryly, trying to soothe him.
“I… Father, I appreciate your concern, but I… I’ll handle it myself.”
The thought of his relationship with Wan Qing made Leng Mingye instinctively refuse to confide in his father.
“Fine. If you don’t wish to speak, I won’t force you. But remember, you can always come to me. No matter what, you’ll always be my son.”
Though suspicions lingered, Prince Ji patted his shoulder and left.
“What good would telling him do? It’s something neither of us can change. Qing’er… It seems we’re destined to be apart in this lifetime. You must be suffering just as much, aren’t you? Heavens, why must you toy with us like this?”
Alone again, Leng Mingye sighed bitterly, gazing at the moonlight outside the window. The absurdity of their love was both agonizing and tragically beautiful, his lips curling into a sorrowful smile.
Several more days passed.
Early one morning, Wan Qing was awakened by Hong Lian.
“What’s wrong? Why are you all dressed so formally? Has something happened?”
Though she’d told herself life had finally settled down, allowing her to focus on her own affairs, Wan Qing had been listless these past days. The memory of Leng Mingye’s words and his despairing expression weighed heavily on her heart.
Seeing Hong Lian and the others dressed in their finest, as if preparing to meet distinguished guests, she sat up and asked.
“You guessed right, Miss. Today, the King and Crown Prince of Bo Kingdom are visiting our court to congratulate His Majesty on his restoration to the throne. Both the Emperor and the Empress Dowager have requested your presence.”
At Hong Lian’s explanation, the maids immediately pulled her up and began dressing her in lavish attire.
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