"Miss?"
Cuizhu urged softly from beside her.
Chu Mingzhao steeled her heart, squeezed her eyes shut, and put on her haughty, arrogant airs with a cold snort.
"Can't you see? Stoop lower!"
With that, she slowly lifted her embroidered shoe, studded with pearls, and stepped onto him with a show of fury.
Every muscle in Pei Yan's body tensed instantly. He had braced himself for the crushing weight of her foot. But to his surprise, the foot that landed on his back felt as light as a fallen leaf, barely borrowing any pressure at all. Before he could even react, Chu Mingzhao, like a startled rabbit, had already nimbly grasped Cuizhu's hand and slipped into the carriage.
All that lingered on his back was an elusive trace of rose fragrance.
Pei Yan's eyes snapped open, a flicker of shock passing through them, quickly replaced by a deeper shadow of gloom.
A mere pretense, a facade.
He slowly rose from the snowy ground, brushed the frost from his knees, and wordlessly took his seat on the driver's bench, cracking the whip.
The carriage rumbled onward toward the towering, forbidding imperial palace.
...
By the Taiye Lake, lanterns were just beginning to glow.
Though it was the depth of winter, within the imperial garden, flowers still bloomed in profusion. Plum blossoms along the lake blazed like flames. Thousands of glazed palace lanterns lit up the night sky as bright as day. The strains of string and wind instruments filled the air, and eunuchs and maids wove through the crowd like a shuttle—a picture-perfect illusion of peace and prosperity.
As Chu Mingzhao followed her parents into this glittering banquet hall, she instantly became the center of attention.
Leaving aside how ostentatiously she was dressed today, the mere title of "Legitimate Daughter of Chancellor Chu and Fiancée of the Deposed Crown Prince" was enough to set every noble, official, and imperial clansman wagging their tongues behind their sleeves.
"Oh, isn't that the eldest Miss of the Chu family? Did she really dare to bring that commoner into the palace?"
"Pfft, you don't get it, do you? Chancellor Chu is just showing his loyalty to His Majesty and those two princes. To have the former Crown Prince trailing after her like a dog—when will you ever see a spectacle like that again?"
The suppressed whispers around her swelled like a tide.
Chu Mingzhao feigned deafness, straightening her back, maintaining her aloof pride like a flower too high to reach.
Pei Yan kept his eyes lowered, following three paces behind Chu Mingzhao.
He seemed not to hear the malicious taunts, not to see the contemptuous gazes—his whole demeanor as still as a pool of dead water.
Just then, the shrill, piercing announcement of an eunuch came from the entrance:
"Third Prince arrives—Seventh Prince arrives—"
The noisy banquet fell silent for a moment.
Everyone turned in unison, faces instantly fixed with fawning smiles.
Chu Mingzhao's heart leaped. Following the crowd's gaze, she looked up.
Two figures strode unhurriedly under the glow of palace lanterns.
The man on the left was blessed with an exquisite appearance, wearing a white jade crown and draped in a moon-white cloak. His brows were open and gentle, a faint, amiable smile naturally gracing his lips.
A prince among men, as pure as jade.
This was the man the original owner had pined for—the Third Prince, Pei Lin.
Beside him walked a youth clad in black tight-fitting martial attire. He had the waist and arms of a panther, with handsome features tainted by a wild, untamable pride.
His stride was swift, his gaze sharp—this was clearly the Seventh Prince, Pei Yuan, who wielded considerable military power.
Chu Mingzhao’s gaze had just landed on the two men when the grating electronic voice in her mind sounded right on schedule:
[Ding — Detected the arrival of a core male supporting character! Host must immediately step forward and present the shy, bashful demeanor of someone meeting their beloved. Do not break character, or punishment will be inflicted!]
Chu Mingzhao silently cursed the system’s ancestors to the eighteenth generation.
But there was no helping it — she was the fish on the chopping block, and the system held the knife.
She took a deep breath, lowered her head slightly, and let the faint rouge at the corners of her eyes fall into perfect view. Her teeth gently bit into her crimson lips, and her fingers twisted a handkerchief, offering the picture of a young girl in the throes of first love, wanting to speak but hesitating.
Pei Lin’s gaze swept across the gathering and landed naturally on the dazzling Chu Mingzhao, as well as Pei Yan standing behind her.
His glance at Pei Yan was featherlight. Then, with a smile warm as a spring breeze, he walked straight toward Chu Mingzhao.
“Zhaozhao, it’s been a while.”
Pei Lin’s voice was gentle as flowing water. “It’s windy out today — why are you dressed so lightly?”
His eyes lingered on her face with a smile, those gentle, peach-blossom eyes carrying just the right amount of concern.
Like a cup of tea at the perfect temperature — no matter who drank it, they would feel comforted and at ease.
Chu Mingzhao raised an eyebrow inwardly.
She had to admit: this Third Prince really did have a face that could fool people.
Warm, considerate, impeccably mannered.
If she hadn’t known the plot, and based solely on Pei Lin’s performance right now, she might have ended up just like the original owner — a lovesick fool tumbling headfirst into this honey trap.
But she knew better.
So in her mind, the scene of Pei Lin walking toward her with that smile came with a built-in filter —
Something like a big, white-furred fox, a flower in its mouth, grinning as it approached a fat, helpless lamb.
[System Alert: Host, please display a shy expression. Do not get distracted!]
Chu Mingzhao snapped back to reality. She hurriedly lowered her head again, letting her lashes cast a faint, trembling shadow beneath her eyes.
“Th-Third Prince.”
She deliberately softened her voice, making it as faint as a wisp of air, with a hint of hesitant stuttering.
“Thank you for your concern, Third Prince… This lady is not cold.”
No, she was freezing. Physically freezing. And mentally freezing. Both were hitting her at once.
Pei Lin tilted his head slightly, his gaze slowly gliding over her face, as if appraising something.
Then he smiled — a smile so warm it felt like the March breeze itself.
“Zhaozhao is still so stubborn. Look, the tips of your ears are red from the cold. I’ll have someone send you a hand warmer later.”
Pei Lin leaned forward slightly, raising a hand as if to adjust the collar of her fur-lined cloak.
The gesture came so naturally, smoothly like it was second nature — a familiar, caring closeness that seemed to say he had always looked after her.
The noblewomen and ladies around them watched with mixed reactions: some hid smiles behind their sleeves, others wore looks of envy, and a few were sour with jealousy.
“The Third Prince’s attitude toward Miss Chu truly is…”
“Tsk, if not for that engagement to the Deposed Crown Prince, those two would make a perfect pair.”
The whispers rippled like an undercurrent.
But the moment Pei Lin’s hand was about to touch her collar, Chu Mingzhao took a quick half-step back.
It looked exactly like a maiden’s shy reserve in the face of propriety — perfectly measured in distance and timing.
“Your Highness… there are too many people here…”
She lowered her eyes, her voice barely a whisper, shyness laced with a thin veil of playful reproach.
Her acting was flawless, but inside she was screaming with sarcastic thoughts.
The Third Prince was truly handsome, what a pity his heart was utterly black.
Smiling so tenderly, reaching out so naturally—who knows how many people he had practiced this routine on.
The Self-Cultivation of a Playboy: How to Steal a Heart with a Hand Warmer.
Author: Pei Lin, rating 9.3, rave reviews.
