Wu Linxuan had no idea what demand his princess consort would make, but he had a boundary in his mind—within that boundary, she could do as she pleased.
He could offer some compensation, indulge her further, buy her anything she desired, and protect her safety as she wished.
Even if he were to marry Princess Yinyue, it would only be for Prince Baili’s influence. There was no way he would ever grow affectionate toward her.
Wu Linxuan was a prince, born with the blood of dragons and phoenixes in his veins. His eyes had always looked down from above, and his feet had always trodden upon the shoulders of others.
For him to feel guilt over a woman, even to the point of wanting to make amends, was already exceedingly rare.
This was only possible because he was still young, because his self-control wasn’t yet strong enough to let him be utterly ruthless toward a woman who had once been so intimately close to him.
But this was going too far.
No one in this world dared treat him like this!
His masculine pride, the arrogance carved into his bones, would never allow him to be restrained by a woman.
This was practically no different from trampling on his dignity—was this woman out of her mind?!
Wu Linxuan trembled with fury.
The last lamp in the room had gone out a while ago, and his eyes had adjusted enough to see the veins bulging on his hands and temples.
Before opening her milk tea shop in her own world, Lu Meng had tried running an online store selling pastries. She had shipped countless packages and even studied packaging techniques. Later, out of interest, she learned to tie all sorts of peculiar knots—like this dead knot, which couldn’t be undone unless the ribbon itself snapped.
Lu Meng knelt not far from Wu Linxuan, her hands still gripping his, watching him nervously in the darkness.
Wu Linxuan flung her off, his rage erupting. "This prince has indulged you far too much, letting you grow so audacious! Who do you take me for?!"
In this world, the only ones treated like this were criminals or the most disgraceful playthings in the brothels frequented by spoiled young nobles.
Even the women in those establishments wouldn’t entertain such degrading requests unless they were truly desperate.
This was the lowest form of humiliation—even household slaves weren’t shackled like this.
Only prisoners of war, slaves herded like livestock for selection, or prostitutes who sold their dignity for a pittance would allow themselves to be bound this way.
For Wu Linxuan, this was unimaginable and intolerable.
His upbringing, the world he knew, wasn’t devoid of darkness and filth—but he would never subject himself to such degradation. He would rather die than endure this insult.
Moreover, at his core, he had always been surrounded by noble conduct. He had no shameful proclivities in the bedroom, so he couldn’t comprehend this behavior at all.
Wu Linxuan was convinced his princess consort was deliberately humiliating him out of resentment over Princess Yinyue.
He turned to leave the bed, his entire body like a kettle about to boil over. Another moment here, and his fury would erupt.
Lu Meng couldn’t let him leave. His reaction didn’t surprise her.
Wu Linxuan’s pride—the kind etched into stone, impervious to erosion—was something she recognized all too well from the countless novels and dramas she’d consumed.
But so what?
Without hesitation, Lu Meng looped an arm around his neck and forced him back onto the bed.
This was exactly what she wanted.
She had thought about it for a long time—his hands, veins prominent, long and powerful, were perfect for this.
There was no thrill in tying up a docile kitten, but shackling a fierce tiger or a savage wolf, watching him rage and struggle before finally submitting—who wouldn’t be excited?
Lu Meng didn’t care about side characters or power struggles, nor did she care how many wives or children Wu Linxuan would eventually have.
She only cared about having fun tonight.
Seize the day—this opportunity wouldn’t come again.
Earlier, while recalling the plot, Lu Meng had realized that Wu Linxuan was only endearing at this stage.
He was a future emperor, ruthless in politics and murder. In the story, when he was afflicted with a love poison, he didn’t become dependent on Princess Yinyue’s body as she had hoped.
Instead, he devised a horrifying solution. The parasite inside him needed the scent of the host carrying the mother parasite to remain calm.
Unable to remove the poison immediately, he drained Princess Yinyue’s blood, preserved it, and had it made into pills to consume during flare-ups.
Then he threw her into a pit of snakes, letting her die from their venom before retrieving her bones and sending them to Prince Baili.
Utterly merciless.
At the time, reading as an outsider, Lu Meng had found the fate of this villainess satisfying.
But now, immersed in this world, she realized—was Wu Linxuan someone to be trifled with?
Fortunately, he hadn’t yet evolved into that monstrous version of himself.
Once he married other women, Lu Meng would stay far away.
His capacity for guilt would vanish as he matured.
So she snapped, "Why are you so angry? What did I do? Your little lover is practically pissing on my head—am I not allowed to question you or mess with you?!"
"Wu Linxuan, ask yourself—what are you thinking? What do you want from me? What do you want for yourself?"
"Have you treated me fairly?" Lu Meng demanded.
In the darkness, she pinned his shoulders, straddled his waist, and seized his struggling hands.
Even without clear sight, she could feel the tendons in his hands standing out, his entire body trembling with fury.
Lu Meng looked down at him, silently applauding her own cleverness.
Good thing she had blown out the candles—otherwise, Wu Linxuan would have shoved her away the moment he sensed her intentions.
Wu Linxuan’s breathing was ragged, as if he were about to combust. Humiliation drowned him.
He was like a warhorse refusing to be tamed, his heart kicking, thrashing, biting—
trying to break free. Not from the slender ribbon, but from his own indulgence toward a woman.
Lu Meng held his hands, face-to-face with him.
She leaned in, brushing her nose against his, and whispered, "You can leave. I can return to the women’s quarters tonight and become the obedient, docile wife in your harem. I’ll even step aside for your precious little sister—I won’t bother you again."
This was an outright threat.
Since transmigrating, Lu Meng had gambled many times—but this time, she wasn’t betting. She didn’t care about her relationship with Wu Linxuan at all.
In Lu Meng's eyes, there was no love between them.
When she first transmigrated into this world, Lu Meng had been afraid of him—after all, her life and livelihood were entirely in his hands.
But now, she wasn’t afraid at all.
She had bodyguards by her side, her sister and brother-in-law in the southern borders, the token of Fengqu Kingdom in her possession, an imperial pardon personally promised by the emperor, and the protection of the Cen family.
Whether she remained the Princess Consort of Jian'an or not had never mattered to her. Would Wu Linxuan dare to move against her so easily?
He wouldn’t.
Because he still wanted that throne in the heavens.
What Lu Meng held in her hands wasn’t enough to stand toe-to-toe with Wu Linxuan, but it was more than enough to make him hesitate.
So she wasn’t afraid of his fury. If he truly refused and decided to distance himself from her, it would be exactly what she wanted.
She could then peacefully retreat to the rear courtyard. Those ridiculous supporting female and male characters wouldn’t dare climb the walls of Prince Jian'an's Mansion to come after her, would they?
Lu Meng’s schemes were clicking into place with perfect clarity. As she and Wu Linxuan breathed each other in, their breaths mingling, she could feel his rage, his humiliation, his barely restrained frenzy—and it sent a thrill down her spine.
She had dated plenty of boyfriends in the modern world, but she had never realized she had this kind of inclination before.
But then again, it was all Wu Linxuan’s fault for being so… pure. Not that he was naive—his mind was a labyrinth of schemes, so much so that Lu Meng sometimes wondered if there was anything else inside him.
But when it came to relationships between men and women, he was a blank slate. Lu Meng had stumbled upon an untouched canvas and shaped him with her own hands.
It was like holding a piece of clay or a stress ball—you couldn’t help but squeeze and knead it, testing its limits, wondering how far it could bend before breaking.
The two of them stood in silent confrontation, neither willing to yield.
Ever since Lu Meng had declared that she wanted to sever all ties between them, Wu Linxuan hadn’t spoken a single word. He only breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling violently.
Like a fish out of water. Like a beast trapped in a cage, ready to tear through the bars and return to the wild.
He shouldn’t be confined by this "flimsy" prison. He shouldn’t be suffocating on this barren shore.
And yet, he didn’t move.
They remained locked in this silent standoff for who knew how long. Eventually, Lu Meng felt his breathing steady, and she leaned in to kiss him.
Wu Linxuan had been burning with fury earlier, but now his lips were ice-cold.
He realized, with a jolt of terror, that he hadn’t left. Fear seeped into his bones, chilling him to the core.
But soon, heat returned. Lu Meng had stepped on his bottom line—no, she was dancing on it.
This time was different from all the others before. Darkness wrapped around them like a pair of hands, smothering shame but failing to suppress the wild, boiling undercurrents between them.
Their confrontation was silent yet frenzied. With sight obscured by the dark, their other senses took over, and the recklessness born from shadows consumed them. For a moment, they cast everything aside.
Dignity, suspicion, anger, unease, fear, indifference—all of it faded into the night.
In this sightless state, they accidentally stumbled upon each other’s most hidden, most vulnerable sides—the parts they would never dare expose in the light of day.
They found each other’s reverse scales, their fatal weaknesses. What began as tentative touches escalated into biting, tearing clashes.
By the time it was over, Lu Meng could barely breathe. Dizzy, she collapsed backward, her neck arching like a swan’s, her head cushioned by Wu Linxuan’s hand—which had never let go.
Eyes closed, she felt something hot drip onto her face.
She reached up to touch it—a wet streak.
Her body stiffened. She tried to lift her hand to his face, but before she could, the two thin hair ribbons binding his wrists—flimsy restraints for a martial artist—snapped with a sharp rip.
Wu Linxuan immediately pulled away, dressed in a flash, threw on his cloak, and stormed out of the tent without a word.
Lu Meng’s outstretched hand hovered in the air, grasping at nothing, before finally dropping limply onto the bed.
She pulled the blanket tightly around herself, waiting for her breathing to steady.
Thrilling!
What a rush…
A sin, really. Did Wu Linxuan—the big dog—actually cry?
Lu Meng curled her toes under the blanket, regretful that she hadn’t seen it.
Was this really the future tyrant, the ruthless male lead in the making?
Slurp.
Yes, ever since Little Pepper’s appearance, Lu Meng had recalled more of the plot, making it all feel more real. She realized that Wu Linxuan would eventually become a cruel, tyrannical emperor.
She reminded herself—just this once. She couldn’t do this again.
After all, the making of a tyrant usually followed an international standard: a childhood tormented by some monstrous abuser.
Lu Meng refused to be that monster.
The leverage she had now might be enough to push the still-unseasoned male lead, to exploit his guilt for this one indulgence.
But in the future? No. She could provoke his anger, his shame—but never his hatred.
Too lazy to get up and wash, unwilling to call her maids in while still basking in the afterglow, she simply wiped herself clean with a cloth, swallowed a contraceptive pill, and went to sleep.
Ah, after today, she probably wouldn’t need to take those pills anymore.
Lu Meng drifted off quickly, utterly carefree. The next morning, the first thing she did was bathe, then enjoy the meal Xin Ya had specially prepared for her.
Wu Linxuan, however, had vanished after fleeing in the middle of the night. He didn’t return—not even to wash up.
Lu Meng casually asked Xin Ya about him, but even she didn’t know where Prince Jian'an had gone.
Things turned out worse than Lu Meng expected. After reducing Wu Linxuan to tears, he stayed away for three whole days.
Every day, she would ask, and Xin Ya would report that Prince Jian'an was still participating in the hunting competition.
So he had run away from home.
How mature.
He wouldn’t even return to his own tent—who knew where he was staying now? Tsk.
The hunting competition continued at a feverish pace. Lu Meng didn’t attend, so she had no idea how fiercely the noble sons and princes were competing.
For the past few days, she had done nothing but eat, sleep, feed horses, and occasionally ride. The hunting grounds had even provided her with a proper saddle, and now she could mount a horse using the stirrups.
The supporting female lead must have been thoroughly shaken—she didn’t come looking for trouble again. Lu Meng enjoyed the peace. As for Wu Linxuan’s prolonged absence, she wasn’t worried.
Whatever. If the sky fell, someone taller would deal with it.
At first, Xin Ya had been anxious on her behalf, urging her to go to the hunting grounds and reconcile with the prince while he was in high spirits from winning.
But gradually, even Xin Ya stopped fretting.
Because she noticed something odd about this situation. Normally, when a married couple quarreled, it was the woman who suffered—either running back to her family (if she had the backing to do so) or being confined, mistreated by servants, and forced to humble herself to win her husband’s favor.
However, Xin Ya now knew that the Princess Consort of Jian'an and the prince were at odds, and the one who had run away was none other than Prince Jian'an himself.
The princess consort continued her leisurely days, and Princess Yinyue hadn’t come to cause trouble again.
As for what exactly happened in the tent that night, Xin Ya had no idea. But judging by the current situation… it seemed there was no need for her to worry at all.
Besides, the princess consort had said it herself—her ambitions didn’t lie in the heavens.
Having spent years scheming alongside the imperial concubines in the inner palace, Xin Ya now found the idea of modest ambitions rather appealing. If the goal was simply self-preservation, then what the princess consort currently possessed was more than enough.
Thus, both master and servant began to grow lax. At first, someone had gone to the hunting grounds to inquire about Wu Linxuan’s whereabouts.
But by the time Wu Linxuan disappeared, on the twenty-second day of the ninth month, an autumn rain fell.
The temperature dropped sharply.
The hunting competition had entered its final stage, but the muddy mountain terrain made further hunting impractical, so the event was temporarily suspended.
Not a single servant from Wu Linxuan’s tent—neither his own attendants nor those of his princess consort—appeared at the hunting grounds.
No one came to fetch him, no one asked after him. He had spent these days in the mountains with only a few personal guards, sleeping under the open sky by the fire.
Wu Linxuan didn’t consider this hardship. He was no stranger to endurance. To claim the most exalted position and the finest treasures in the world, he was prepared to pay any price.
But these sacrifices did not include… being bound.
Though he had acted that night, Wu Linxuan still couldn’t accept it, especially when dawn broke and he felt like a rat exposed in broad daylight.
What had happened that night had utterly crushed his pride—a pride so intrinsic to a born emperor that even Lu Meng, who knew the story, couldn’t fully comprehend it.
So Wu Linxuan had been avoiding it all, wandering the mountains like a stray dog, sleepless for the first two nights.
Later, he hunted like a madman, using his bow to tear through the bodies of his prey, piercing their fragile throats, stealing their lives—anything to briefly calm himself and reclaim his usual disdainful confidence.
Not to be the prey himself, bound and forced…
Wu Linxuan closed his eyes briefly before riding his horse out of the mountains.
His steed was laden with strings of game, blood dripping steadily with each step, staining the horse’s lower body crimson.
His eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, and his rain-drenched hair clung to his face in strands, yet he didn’t look disheveled. His strikingly handsome features were dotted with sparse droplets, pale and cold, exuding a sharp, unsheathed-blade intensity.
He didn’t want to recall that incident.
But now, a reality colder than the autumn rain confronted him.
He needed to return to his tent to change. Though he had bathed in mountain springs these past days, he had no spare clothes. Now, soaked in mud and rain, the fabric clung uncomfortably to his skin—he had never felt so filthy in his life.
Yet among the many servants and attendants gathered at the hunting grounds to receive their masters, not one belonged to Prince Jian'an’s Mansion.
He rode back from the mountains with a full haul—none of his royal brothers or the noble scions had hunted as much or as well as he had.
After all, no one else had been mad enough to stay in the mountains for days, hunting like a man possessed.
With only the final round of individual competition left, he could sweep all the prizes.
But he returned in the rain, and no one came for him.
Normally, Chen Yuan would have handled such matters—he was the only attendant Wu Linxuan found tolerable.
Wu Linxuan wasn’t accustomed to being served by maids. This time, apart from guards, he had only brought low-ranking servants who usually worked out of sight, handling menial tasks like cleaning.
Without orders, such servants would never dare to fetch Prince Jian'an on their own.
Most crucially, Chen Yuan hadn’t even come to the autumn hunt, having stayed behind at the mansion to manage affairs.
Xin Ya might have taken care of it, but she was now firmly on the princess consort’s side—albeit discreetly. After the incident with Princess Yinyue, Xin Ya had ultimately sided with Lu Meng.
Besides, Xin Ya knew full well that Prince Jian'an would never reprimand or resent her for failing to fawn over him—like arranging servants to fetch him back to his tent.
Prince Jian'an was a man of depth, not the type to retaliate against women over petty slights. Otherwise, Lu Meng wouldn’t have lived so comfortably in Prince Jian'an’s Mansion when she first transmigrated here.
For all these reasons, the current situation unfolded.
Prince Jian'an, alone in the chilly autumn rain, rode to submit his game before leading his guards—like a pack of drowned strays—with nowhere to go.
He halted his horse in the hunting grounds, and his disguised death-trooper guards naturally didn’t dare leave either.
These men never spoke and certainly never questioned their master’s affairs. Yuehui, their leader, had some understanding of Prince Jian'an.
He guessed the prince must be quarreling with his princess consort.
Yet even Yuehui, a seasoned death trooper, couldn’t fathom why Prince Jian'an was the one camping outdoors after a spat with his wife.
The group stood motionless on horseback in the hunting grounds, looking utterly foolish. Eventually, the attending eunuchs respectfully approached, offering a tent for Prince Jian'an to rest in.
Wu Linxuan nearly accepted.
But he couldn’t. Doing so would signal that he wasn’t returning to his own tent.
Staying in the mountains to hunt could be excused as competitive zeal, but refusing his own quarters in favor of a temporary tent would only fuel speculation.
So Wu Linxuan coldly rejected the eunuch’s offer, spurred his horse, and turned toward his tent. Finally, he took mercy on Yuehui, saying, "Take the men back to rest."
Yuehui acknowledged the order, and Wu Linxuan rode alone to his tent.
After handing his horse to the groom, he strode, still dripping wet, toward his tent—only to hear voices inside.
"The prince hasn’t returned for days. Shouldn’t the princess consort send someone to check on him?"
That was Xin Ya’s voice.
Lu Meng’s reply came swiftly: "I wanted to fetch him myself this morning, but I angered him. What if he sees me at the hunting grounds and shoots me dead in a fit of rage?"
Lu Meng and Xin Ya exchanged knowing glances. They had already been informed of Wu Linxuan’s return—Du Long had just slipped out the moment the prince reached the tent.
This master-servant pair, who had completely forgotten about Prince Jian'an, were now putting on a little act.
"Is the red bean porridge I asked you to prepare ready? After this autumn rain, when the prince returns, a warm bowl might soften his heart a little."
Lu Meng’s gaze flicked toward the tent entrance.
With a melancholic sigh, she lamented, "Ah... women truly have such fragile fates. I thought marrying a prince would mean I could rest easy—Prince Wu Linxuan is so handsome and capable, truly the best husband one could ask for in this world."
"But now another woman has appeared to steal him from me," Lu Meng said. "And I can’t even show my jealousy. What’s the point of living like this? Once that dazzling and fiery Princess Yinyue enters the household, will the prince even spare me a glance?"
Lu Meng grew more animated as she spoke, her words feigning pitifulness while carrying an underlying threat to the listener.
"When the prince returns, I’ll take the initiative and ask him for a letter of divorce. Even if I can’t return to the Minister’s residence—they won’t have me back—I can at least go back to the General’s estate..."
"Your Highness mustn’t speak such discouraging words!"
Xin Ya stepped forward earnestly, taking Lu Meng’s hand. "The prince holds you in his heart! He’s just overly competitive—this servant believes he didn’t stay away on purpose... Perhaps he’ll return any moment now?"
"When he does, just say a few sweet words to him. You’ve visibly lost weight these past days—the prince will surely be heartbroken when he sees you and won’t stay angry."
Lu Meng blinked at Xin Ya, her eyes full of approval.
Truly a woman who once served in the palace—her words made it sound as if Lu Meng were deeply in love with that "Wu Big Dog."
Then again, the gloomy weather today had made for such a perfect nap. Nothing was more satisfying than sleeping through the rain. Xin Ya had been busy preparing her porridge and afternoon snacks, even making an extra trip to the Cen family to deliver gifts, completely forgetting about Wu Linxuan.
Who knew the rain would grow heavier? By the time the mistress and maid heard the hunt had been called off, everyone had already left the mountains—it was too late to go.
So they had no choice but to send Du Long to keep watch and stage this little act.
Lu Meng touched the slight plumpness around her waist from days of lounging. She adored the loose-fitting clothes of this world—they hid everything well. As long as Wu Linxuan didn’t grope her carefully, he’d never notice whether she’d gained or lost weight.
"But what if the prince refuses to return? Should I go into the mountains to find him? The rain is so heavy outside... I’m so worried..."
Just as Lu Meng spoke these words, the tent flap was abruptly thrown open. A thoroughly drenched Wu Linxuan stood at the entrance, his cold, emotionless eyes locking onto hers—so numb it was as if they were strangers.
Lu Meng nearly failed to hold back, almost bursting into laughter on the spot.
Wu Linxuan looked utterly wretched. In all the time she’d known him, this was the first time she’d seen him in such a state. He was still wearing the same clothes from days ago, filthy beyond recognition. Though his face remained as pale and handsome as ever, the blood and grime on him were impossible to miss.
How pitiful.
Hahahahaha.
Had this little scoundrel gone to the mountains to erect a chastity monument for himself?
Lu Meng’s gleeful expression was impossible to conceal, so she lowered her head instead, "flustered" as she rose from the bed. "My prince... you’ve returned."
She quickly turned to Xin Ya. "Hurry, bring the porridge I prepared for His Highness! Have hot water readied—he must bathe after being caught in the rain!"
Xin Ya bowed hastily at Wu Linxuan before scurrying out.
Lu Meng remained by the bed, taking a few tentative steps toward him before hesitating, keeping her head down as if too timid to meet his gaze.
In truth, she was afraid he’d see the amusement in her eyes—afraid she’d let out an undignified, cackling laugh.
He was still just an eighteen-year-old boy, not yet the ruthless tyrant described in later parts of the story. Throwing a tantrum and running off to the wilderness?
Playing at being a hermit?
If he had the guts, why come back?
If he really had the guts, he should move out of Prince Jian'an's Mansion and leave it all to her!
An argument only counted if both parties were angry. If only one was upset, it was just a tantrum—self-inflicted misery.
Lu Meng would never torment herself for someone else’s sake. Standing there meekly, "too afraid" to approach or look at Wu Linxuan, combined with her earlier words to Xin Ya, finally eased his resentment—just a little.
Only a little.
He remained at the entrance, refusing to step further inside. Though they had once been inseparable, the mere memory of being tied up that night made Wu Linxuan feel as if his hands had forgotten how to move.
After forcibly breaking free from the hair ribbon, the marks on his wrists took two days to fade. Every time he drew his bow, the sight of those red traces made him shudder.
No one could understand the depth of his fear.
He wasn’t just terrified of compromising so much for a woman—he feared that if this continued, one day he might never break free again.
The thought was unimaginable.
These past days, his mind had been in chaos, nearly driving him mad. Only the cold mountain nights and autumn rain had kept him somewhat lucid.
But now, back in the warmth of the tent, his body belatedly grew numb and weak.
Standing at the entrance, his throat parched, he watched as his princess consort slowly approached, her lips moving soundlessly.
Wu Linxuan’s ears rang, his breath uneven.
When Wu Linxuan still hadn’t rebuked her after a long moment, Lu Meng sensed something was wrong.
"My prince, are you still angry?" She reached out, touching his hand—his skin was feverishly hot despite his pallor.
"Why are you burning up?" She looked up into his vacant, icy stare, realizing it was a forced numbness.
At first glance, it was unsettling, but upon closer inspection, it was clear he was barely holding himself together.
Lu Meng thought, Seriously? Is an early-era male lead really this fragile?
Did getting tied up once break his brain?
She raised a hand to touch his face. Wu Linxuan didn’t flinch, only stared at her blankly, his breaths labored and scorching—yet his skin was cold.
Her fingers trailed to his neck, slipping beneath his collar for a moment before she recoiled in alarm.
"Someone! Xiuyun, fetch the physician—His Highness is burning with fever!"
After ordering the maid away, Lu Meng pulled the motionless Wu Linxuan further inside.
The servants soon brought hot water for a bath. Though bathing while ill wasn’t ideal, leaving him covered in blood—who knew what beast’s it was—was worse. She couldn’t risk him catching some disease.
Once the tub was ready, Lu Meng dismissed the maids and began unfastening Wu Linxuan’s belt herself.
The moment her fingers brushed his waist, her wrist was seized.
Wu Linxuan's scorching palm pressed against Lu Meng's arm as he glared at her coldly. "You dare treat me like that and still think of divorcing me?"
"Even in death, you'll spend eternity within the walls of my household." You said it yourself—alive, you're mine; dead, you're my ghost.
As he spoke, his burning breath fanned across Lu Meng's face.
Her expression twisted with complexity. I always knew divorce was impossible. How many heroines in historical romance novels ever manage to leave the male lead?
But now wasn’t the time to provoke Wu Linxuan further.
"The imperial physician will be here soon," she said instead. "Let me help you freshen up, Your Highness?"
Wu Linxuan still hadn’t released her wrist, his eyes dark with turbulent emotions.
After a long pause, he finally shut his eyes briefly. When he spoke again, the icy edge in his voice had cracked, revealing a hint of vulnerability.
"How could you do that to me… How dare you?"
Wu Linxuan realized he was ill. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing bloodshot eyes.
"What do you take me for? You—" His words were cut off as Lu Meng covered his mouth.
Is this really such a big deal? It was just a little restraint.
She couldn’t understand his reaction, but seeing him like this, she refrained from further sarcasm.
Softening her tone, she coaxed, "I was furious too. Think about it—if some man suddenly appeared, claiming to be my true husband, demanding you step aside so he could marry me, and even presented proof of our past love… How would you feel? What would you do?"
Wu Linxuan had never considered such a scenario. Why should he put himself in her shoes? Empathy wasn’t in his nature.
But guided by her words, his brows furrowed deeply.
After a moment, he sneered. "This prince would teach him the meaning of knowing his place."
The mere thought solidified his conviction—he’d eliminate that man by any means necessary.
Lu Meng met his gaze, then reached for his belt again. This time, Wu Linxuan didn’t stop her.
Yet his grip on her arm remained unyielding.
As she helped him out of his outer robe, she continued, "Once I have the chance, I’ll have Princess Yinyue killed. How dare she try to steal my man? She’ll learn what knowing her place truly means."
Wu Linxuan’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around her wrist.
Lu Meng glanced up, arching a brow. "What? Does Your Highness disapprove? Or do you doubt my capability?"
"Or perhaps you think I shouldn’t mind at all—that I should graciously welcome her into your bed and let her bear you three children?"
"I did play matchmaker, didn’t I? But you refused. So tell me, what more do you want from me?"
"I didn’t dare disrupt your plans. I couldn’t just slaughter Princess Yinyue. So where does that leave me? Should I bottle up all this resentment?"
"You won’t even grant me a divorce. If I can’t vent this jealousy and rage on you, what other choice do I have?"
With silver-tongued eloquence, Lu Meng justified her actions, turning the tables on Wu Linxuan. "Then why do you indulge me?"
"You could refuse me, reprimand me, throw me out of this tent—send me back to my family. Why haven’t you?"
Wu Linxuan had posed similar questions to her twice before—once about the phoenix crown, and again that night when he asked why she wasn’t angry.
Both times, Lu Meng had thought him absurd. What nonsense is this about feelings between us?
This was the first time she’d questioned him, though not for answers.
Her words were meant to stifle his unchecked emotions. Now that you’re back, behave.
The two locked eyes for a long moment. Wu Linxuan’s lips, pale from the autumn rain, pressed into a thin line.
In the end, he said nothing. Once undressed, he stepped into the bathtub, sinking into the hot water and closing his eyes.
By now, his anger had dissipated—or perhaps simply drained away.
Seeing him subdued, Lu Meng quietly exhaled in relief. This hurdle is cleared.
She wisely dropped the subject and moved behind him, picking up a cloth from the tub’s edge. "Shall I scrub your back?"
Wu Linxuan remained silent. Lu Meng gathered his hair to one side, but as she raised the cloth, she paused.
He’s… thinner.
Her scrubbing was haphazard at best—she had no skill in serving others. Wu Linxuan ended up washing himself, though he chased her out halfway through.
Still, Lu Meng noticed the weight he’d lost—far more than a few pounds.
The sight softened her demeanor toward him for the rest of the evening.
Once Wu Linxuan had bathed thoroughly and changed into fresh clothes, he finally seemed comfortable.
Yet his fever worsened—proof that bathing while ill was unwise.
By the time he collapsed onto the bed, his face burned crimson, his body radiating heat like glowing coal.
When the imperial physician arrived to take his pulse, Wu Linxuan didn’t immediately extend his wrist.
Instead, he produced a sheer handkerchief from somewhere, draping it over his skin before allowing the physician to proceed.
Lu Meng: "…" Since when did he become so fastidious?
This physician was the Imperial Medical Director, dispatched by the emperor himself from the palace.
The director blinked at Prince Jian'an’s action, momentarily mistaking him for a palace concubine.
Ever since that night of restraint, Wu Linxuan couldn’t bear anyone touching his wrists—even his own touch raised goosebumps.
No one knew of this quirk, of course.
And after Lu Meng’s earlier remarks about the director’s beautiful concubine, Wu Linxuan still felt a lingering disgust.
Still, the Imperial Medical Director was highly skilled. While not adept at the exaggerated "thread-feeling" pulse diagnosis, a thin veil posed no obstacle.
After prescribing medicine, the director departed.
Maids hurried to prepare the decoction while Wu Linxuan burrowed under the blankets, his fever-flushed face pitifully visible, his breathing labored, his hair loose and disheveled.
Lu Meng bustled about, issuing orders—but kept her distance from the bed.
It might’ve been heartless, but she feared contagion. In this world, a common cold could be deadly.
Earlier, while they spoke, she hadn’t realized how severe his condition was.
Wu Linxuan’s delirium worsened. No matter how youthful or robust his body, nights of wandering the mountains had taken their toll.
The illness struck fiercely—those who rarely fell sick often suffered the worst when they did.
Listless, he curled slightly under the covers, half his face buried in the bedding.
There was still a bowl of porridge left untouched by the bedside. The medicine would likely be delivered soon.
Taking medicine on an empty stomach would only make him feel worse—who knew if he had eaten anything these past few days? He had visibly lost weight.
But it was clear he was too weak to feed himself now and needed assistance. Calling a maid to help would only anger Wu Linxuan, as he never allowed maids to attend to him in the first place.
Yet Lu Meng hesitated, pacing back and forth near the bed, reluctant to step forward.
She even considered wearing a mask.
