“Why am I so good to you? What if I said I like your willfulness, your audacity, your untamed spirit—your fearless, ruthless, and merciless personality?”
Wanqing’s question made her reflect on her feelings toward him. Hearing her inquiry, Leng Mingye smiled softly. He took her hand and played with it gently, his gaze tender as he answered.
“This… this is the reason you like me? You…”
His words were filled with sincerity and deep affection. Wanqing was bewildered—how could he like her despite how she had treated him? Was this man a masochist?
“Heh, I was joking. At first, your willfulness and audacity truly annoyed me. No woman had ever rejected or defied me like you did, even using me. But as we spent more time together, I realized that beneath your cold exterior and indifferent demeanor, you were kind-hearted and caring toward those around you. That gradually drew me in. Though I don’t know what you’ve been through—why someone so young could be so sharp, aloof, and untamed—I told myself, ‘It’s her. Only she truly matches me. Only she is worthy of my protection.'”
The little woman blinked, her eyes filled with disbelief and reproach. Leng Mingye chuckled.
Her defiance and provocations had indeed caught his attention at first. Though initially angered by her rare defiance, as they interacted more, his heart unwittingly fell for her.
Given her age and what he learned about her, he knew that such a drastic change in personality—from a gentle, soft-hearted girl to someone so fierce—must have stemmed from great upheavals. Before meeting her, he had heard that the second daughter of the Marquis’ household was timid and easily bullied.
Though he didn’t know exactly what she had endured, seeing her tough, ruthless exterior—more audacious than any man—his heart ached for her. It was then he decided: she was the one.
“Sweet talker.”
Hearing his rare confession, Wanqing felt an indescribable warmth and sweetness in her heart. Though she had long known his feelings—he had confessed more than once—she still blushed and scolded him lightly.
“I only sweet-talk you. No one else could ever make me say such things. But now, with my inner energy gone and my aged appearance… you wouldn’t despise me, would you?”
Seeing her rare bashfulness, Leng Mingye smiled faintly, though his heart was heavy with his newfound frailty. He held her hand, hesitating before voicing his insecurity. Though he joked, his heart was tense.
With her strong personality, would she truly not mind his current state?
“What do you think? The arrogant and unruly heir, now lacking confidence? What if I said I *do* mind? What would you do?”
Seeing his rare vulnerability, Wanqing couldn’t resist teasing him, recalling how he had once acted aloof while secretly caring for her.
“I… If you truly minded, I wouldn’t resent you. Everything I did was willingly. Don’t worry, it’s fine.”
Her half-serious, half-teasing tone made his heart sink. Though he told himself she wasn’t so cruel, her expression made him falter. Forcing a smile, he slowly released her hand.
Her pride and dominance—now that he was nothing—made him feel unworthy of her.
“You fool, what nonsense are you thinking? If I minded, would I even be here? Of course I mind—because you’ve sacrificed so much for me. It moves me, and it pains me. I’ll do everything I can to find a way to restore you. But you must trust me and not give up. Otherwise, I *will* reject you.”
Seeing the once-dominant, arrogant man now so uncertain, Wanqing laughed softly. She grabbed his retreating hand and pressed it to her cheek, closing her eyes in contentment before looking at him earnestly.
“Qing’er…”
Her words, her serious yet aloof tone—so true to her nature—filled him with rare warmth. His voice trembled slightly as he leaned closer, his weathered yet still strikingly handsome face nearing hers. Her lowered lashes and flushed cheeks radiated tenderness and shyness.
After reassuring him and easing his worries, Wanqing noticed his fatigue. Remembering his injuries, she handed him the special healing medicine she had prepared. With a few more comforting words, she bid him farewell and left with Honglian.
*Sigh… Her feelings for me haven’t faded—they’ve grown. But with Father King and everything else between us… Should I even ask? He treated me better than even Minghao. If I’m not his son…*
Watching her leave with her maid, Leng Mingye waved Qingfeng and the others away, lost in troubled thoughts.
“You are indeed not the son of Prince Ji. I can prove it. If you doubt me, once you recover, take someone to the Nangong family in the Bo Kingdom and see for yourself. As for Qing’er and you—your true lineage changes nothing.”
Just as Leng Mingye agonized over their relationship and his identity, a calm, deep voice spoke. A gust of wind rustled through the window, and a strikingly handsome man in moon-white robes appeared before him.
“Prince Fengye… Are you saying my real father is from the Nangong family of Bo? This…”
Though shocked and disbelieving, Leng Mingye stared at Feng Moli in astonishment.
“I can only speculate. You bear an uncanny resemblance to the head of the Nangong family—like a mirror image. As for Qing’er, you needn’t worry. She isn’t truly a princess of your Great Ming dynasty.”
Seeing his disbelief, Feng Moli spoke calmly, reassuring him about his relationship with his niece.
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