“Then…” Fu Yun Xi looked at her: “How about marrying this Prince?”

An awkward silence followed as Han Yan stared at him in disbelief, stammering: “Your Highness must be joking. Han Yan never thought of marrying you.”

“No secondary consorts, no concubines, no chamber maids – the Xuan Qing Prince’s manor will have only one Princess Consort. Everything you mentioned, this Prince can fulfill.” His voice was cool and steady, but the conditions he offered were incredibly tempting. The Xuan Qing Prince’s manor was as wealthy as a nation – setting aside the immense fortune, Fu Yun Xi himself was the dream husband of many noble daughters.

Seeing Han Yan unmoved, he continued: “The servants in the manor wouldn’t dare bully you, the officials and ladies in the capital wouldn’t dare look down on you, your stepmothers and father wouldn’t dare mock you. As someone of the Xuan Qing Prince’s manor, you need fear no one except this Prince.” His expression was gentle and enchanting, his voice low and coaxing. If anyone had passed by at that moment, they would have seen a handsome young man seducing a girl not yet of age.

Han Yan felt her mind explode. Who said He Lian Yu was the most bewitching in the capital? They hadn’t seen Fu Yun Xi in his alluring state! It proved that when outwardly cold and ascetic men became seductive, that kind of temptation and charm penetrated to the bone. His demeanor was refined yet alluring, like a fallen immortal, breathtakingly beautiful.

Han Yan was nearly bewitched into saying “yes,” but came to her senses upon seeing the Buddha statue. Silently reciting “Form is emptiness, emptiness is form,” she said seriously: “There are many ladies who want to marry Your Highness. Why would you want to marry me?”

He withdrew his seductive manner and said expressionlessly: “Because… I want to fulfill someone’s wish.”

This answer was vague, and Han Yan asked curiously: “To fulfill someone’s wish, why must it be me?”

“This Prince needs a Princess Consort, and you are suitable,” he said.

Being suitable was always simpler than being liked, yet it was also less likely to lead to betrayal. Liking… was something intangible and elusive – perhaps today’s like would become tomorrow’s dislike. But suitability was different. Finding someone suitable came after comparison and acknowledgment. In the short term, at least, it wouldn’t become unsuitable.

Hearing this answer, Han Yan felt somewhat disappointed for some reason. Collecting herself, she asked: “Why am I suitable?”

Fu Yun Xi smiled rarely: “You’re selfish, audacious, scheming, ruthless…”

“Hey!” Before he could finish, Han Yan interrupted: “Am I that terrifying? If I’m so bad, yet you say I’m suitable to be your Princess Consort, doesn’t that mean your ideal Princess Consort should be a poisonous woman?”

Fu Yun Xi looked at her, his eyes flashing with amusement: “Most importantly, you won’t die easily.”

Though spoken casually, these words carried infinite meaning. Han Yan suddenly stood up: “What do you mean?”

Her expression became alert and guarded as if all her defenses had risen. Seeing her like this, Fu Yun Xi sighed inwardly.

This young girl was just like her name – a wild goose. She appeared fluffy and adorably naive, but once someone tried to hurt her, she would viciously peck out their eyes. She was a gentle wild goose, but with the character for “cold” in her name, she carried a killing aura. His Princess Consort didn’t need to be a hothouse flower – this young but fierce wild goose was just right.

“You are strong,” he said.

He didn’t want to say more. Han Yan remained suspicious, but seeing his gentle demeanor and lack of reaction, she couldn’t maintain her cold face. She sat down again at a distance and asked: “Your Highness, don’t you have someone you love?”

Fu Yun Xi paused: “No.”

Han Yan seemed disappointed with his answer. After all, someone so handsome and outstanding must have had several romantic encounters in his youth, especially as royal nobility. Yet he said no – perhaps he was lying. No wonder the rumors…

Han Yan jumped up: “You’re not trying to marry me just to silence the rumors about you being cut-sleeve, are you?”

Fu Yun Xi froze, silent for a moment.

“I’m cut-sleeve?” His deep phoenix eyes narrowed, his tone turning dangerous.

Seeing his reaction, Han Yan became more convinced it was guilt. She found a reasonable explanation for his earlier words: “Everyone says so, it must be true. If you marry me, you’ll have cover for keeping boy toys and male lovers. No wonder you rejected so many capital ladies’ affections but want to marry me as Princess Consort – clearly you think I’m easy to bully. After I enter the manor and discover I’ve been deceived, I’ll have nowhere to turn for help and can only suffer in silence.” Her eyes were wide, looking at Fu Yun Xi as if he were a demon: “What a deep scheme!”

Han Yan was being oversensitive about this matter, speaking carelessly without much thought. After this outburst, Fu Yun Xi’s face darkened completely. He slowly stood up, looking at Han Yan, and repeated: “I’m cut-sleeve?”

Han Yan backed against the altar table, furiously retorting: “Are you not?”

Fu Yun Xi walked to Han Yan, placing one hand on the altar table behind her, effectively trapping her. Han Yan was much smaller than him and could only look up at him angrily.

Fu Yun Xi leaned down, noting Han Yan’s flushed face – whether from anger or excitement, he couldn’t tell. His heart stirred as he examined her closely. She was very petite, her face still carrying some childish features, with a delicate nose and cherry lips, pretty and adorable. While not devastatingly beautiful, her clear autumn pool eyes were the finishing touch – bright yet somehow unfathomable. In this world, very few people were unreadable to Fu Yun Xi, and Zhuang Han Yan was one of them.

Trapped against the altar table in this position, Han Yan realized something was amiss. She wasn’t a thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl and naturally understood the intimacy of this posture. Fu Yun Xi’s handsome face loomed above her, his deep eyes staring at her meaningfully. Han Yan felt goosebumps rising wherever his gaze fell, her boldness weakening as she asked in a lowered voice: “What… what are you doing?”

Fu Yun Xi looked at her with an ambiguous smile, his voice cool: “I’m cut-sleeve, hmm?”

That “hmm” had a rising tone, like elaborate palace incense – aloof yet dangerous, carrying barely perceptible anger that spread its coolness into one’s heart.

Han Yan shuddered and wisely changed her tune: “You’re not… not cut-sleeve.”

Fu Yun Xi found it somewhat amusing – he’d thought Han Yan would be stubborn longer, but she changed her stance quickly. She was as slippery as a loach, crafty yet somehow impossible to dislike.