Chapter 51: Dislike

“If anything happens to the Chancellor, even the slightest mishap, just you wait!” A Jiu, who had served the Chancellor since childhood, punched Zhao Yanqi with red-rimmed eyes. Without Nian Zhi’an’s power to bolster her, Zhao Yanqi grimaced and rubbed her arm, not daring to speak.

A Jiu sniffed and asked Zhao Yanqi again, “Did you say anything to the Chancellor about the Eldest Princess?”

“Yes… I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would turn out like this.”

“Next time, you are forbidden from mentioning the Eldest Princess in front of the Chancellor!” A Jiu kicked Zhao Yanqi again.

“Why…” Feeling that she had done something wrong, Zhao Yanqi let A Jiu hit and scold her. But after A Jiu shot her a fierce glare, she hurriedly changed her tune. “Got it.”

The Doctor bustled about in the room while A Jiu irritably kicked a pebble flying away.

So many years had passed, yet their Chancellor still couldn’t let go of the Eldest Princess.

The Chancellor was always one step ahead, the only foolish thing she had done in her life was falling for the daughter of a traitorous minister who had usurped the throne in a previous dynasty.

Their lady bore a blood feud and was destined to restore her country one day. The Eldest Princess of the Liang Kingdom was wildly ambitious and would inevitably stand in opposition to her. And even if that Eldest Princess were content to remain in her inner chambers, how could she possibly accept everything their lady had done?

It was a future all but guaranteed to end in tragedy—even she, a mere Dark Guard, could see that. Yet the Chancellor remained stubbornly resolute on this matter. Even when some old ministers had threatened to die before her to force her hand, she had never yielded.

All they could do as her subordinates was live in constant fear and pray to the heavens for a miracle each day—whether the Chancellor finally saw reason or that Eldest Princess got bonked on the head by a carriage and turned simple-minded enough to obey their lady. She was certain their Chancellor wouldn’t mind if the Princess ended up a bit dim.

But the heavens showed no mercy, and their Chancellor had encountered a turn of events far worse than anticipated.

That ambitious Eldest Princess had allied with King Su to plot a seizure of the throne, and their Chancellor had taken the imperial decree to suppress the rebellion in order to leave the Eldest Princess a slim chance at survival.

Yet the Eldest Princess had died on the battlefield, and some fool with bad eyesight and a muddled brain had failed to read the court situation correctly. He had cut off that Highness’s head and presented it to the Emperor to pledge his loyalty.

That fool had naturally been hacked to pieces by a thousand cuts, and their lady had fallen gravely ill, nearly beyond saving. For years since, where had they dared to mention that Eldest Princess to the Chancellor? And yet some hot-headed rookie had popped up out of nowhere to reopen the Chancellor’s old wounds!

In recent years, their Chancellor’s health had deteriorated further. She truly feared that her lady would fall deathly ill again like six years ago—this frail body simply couldn’t take it!

The Doctor worked straight through to the middle of the night before emerging, wiping cold sweat from her brow. She said the Chancellor’s condition had stabilized, but she couldn’t predict when she might wake.

A Jiu’s fiery temper got the best of her, and she punched the pillar beside her.

Suddenly, an oddly unnatural gust of wind blew through the air.

A Jiu jerked her head up and scanned her surroundings. Tonight, she was jumpy, seeing threats everywhere—a single rustle set her on high alert.

“Was that just now… someone?”

“It was the wind.” Zhao Yanqi stiffened, her face stern as she said gravely.

“Was it?” A Jiu felt something was off.

“I’m stronger than you, and I only felt the wind.” It helped that she was talking to A Jiu, who didn’t notice the flaw in her words at all.

“I—didn’t the Chancellor tell you to arrange a guest room for me? Where am I staying tonight?” Zhao Yanqi demonstrated what it meant to bulldoze right past a topic.

“Oh, come with me.” With all the chaos that evening, A Jiu had nearly forgotten that Zhao Yanqi needed a place to sleep.

Zhao Yanqi quietly breathed a sigh of relief, then shot a bitter glance at an empty spot nearby.

That senior sure knew how to appear and vanish like a ghost—it was downright frightening. Next time she needed cover, she had to give advance warning. Just now, she’d nearly frozen up and lost her words!

A Jiu led the way out, while the other Dark Guards concealed themselves in the shadows around the main bedroom. A Shuang emerged with a full-to-the-brim bowl of medicine that had gone cold, her face etched with worry. Clearly, it was hard to administer medicine to a patient in a coma.

“Hoo…”

It was as if a faint breeze toyed with her hair strands. Like her little sister, A Shuang warily surveyed her surroundings. Only after convincing herself it was just her imagination did she close the door and carry the bowl away.

A figure appeared beside Meng Congyun’s sickbed. She stood there for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

This was the first time Nian Zhi’an had closely observed Meng Congyun since her return. Compared to her memories, Meng Congyun had grown much thinner. Her face had lost a great deal of color, and even in her insensate slumber, her brows were slightly furrowed. No one knew how many heavy burdens weighed on her heart.

These years, she hadn’t had it easy.

But since Nian Zhi’an couldn’t accept her, all she could do was offer an apology.

Nian Zhi’an took out a pill she had exchanged for System points. Though she had earned a perfect evaluation from the Main System in the previous mission world and gained plenty of points, it still wasn’t enough to clear her previous debt. Her points remained in the negative.

“I don’t want the money you looted from the Princess Mansion anymore. I’ve already handed over most of my forces to you, and now I’m spending a fortune in points on this pill to nourish your body… We’re even now.” Nian Zhi’an seemed to be speaking to Meng Congyun, but in truth, she was convincing herself.

“…Sorry.” Nian Zhi’an prepared to feed the pill to Meng Congyun, but she ran into the same problem as A Shuang—the patient was comatose and couldn’t swallow.

“Chancellor? Your Excellency? Meng Congyun! Time for your medicine! Open your mouth!” Nian Zhi’an didn’t dare shout loudly for fear of alerting those outside. But with the Dark Guards due back from seeing to their tasks and reheating the medicine, and not a single pill administered, she racked her brain and tried a different tack.

“Sir, I have a question I don’t understand. Teach me, master.”

As if by miracle, the person who had shown no response earlier stirred.

Seeing this, Nian Zhi’an hurriedly called out several more times. Gradually, Meng Congyun’s lashes trembled, and she actually opened her eyes, slow and heavy-lidded.

The instant she did, Nian Zhi’an waved her hand to snuff out the room’s lone lit candle. Darkness plunged the space at once.

“Chancellor, time for your medicine.” Nian Zhi’an deliberately lowered and roughened her voice, disguising it so no one would recognize Yu Ji’s timbre.

Freshly awakened, Meng Congyun’s mind was foggy. In the pitch black, deprived of sight, people relied more on their other senses. Though Meng Congyun couldn’t immediately place the voice beside her, a strange sense of familiarity made her obediently part her lips.

With swift hands, Nian Zhi’an fed in the pill. As a product from a higher-level world, it melted on contact in the mouth, ensuring Meng Congyun had no chance to spit it out.

Mission accomplished—Nian Zhi’an let out a long breath, planning to slip away while Meng Congyun was still dazed.

But she had underestimated Meng Congyun—or more precisely, the depth of her obsession.

In the darkness, Meng Congyun saw nothing, and her mind wasn’t fully clear, yet she unhesitatingly seized that person’s sleeve.

Nian Zhi’an’s departure halted. She turned back in surprise to glance at the still-frail Chancellor.

“Your Highness…”

A voice, trembling faintly, rang out, startling Nian Zhi’an into a shiver.

Her fever must have addled her brain; she probably thought she was dreaming. If Meng Congyun could see clearly, she would have called for Yu Ji instead. Don’t panic—stay calm.

Meng Congyun struggled to sit up and make out the blurry figure beside her.

Nian Zhi’an turned, steeled herself, and pressed the patient back onto the bed. A cool hand covered her eyes.

“Am… am I dreaming?”

“…This is a dream. The paths of the living and the dead diverge—we weren’t meant to meet. This is the last time.”

Nian Zhi’an felt tears slip past her fingertips, scalding her enough to make her tremble faintly. But some things had to be made clear. If she knew she couldn’t return the other’s feelings and still failed to reject her decisively, wouldn’t that make her no better than a heartless flirt? Besides, she owed her own wife an explanation.

“Today, I came only to repay the kindness of your past tutelage. From here on, our debts and grievances are settled.” Nian Zhi’an felt as if her mouth had been frozen in an icebox—the words came out so cold.

Perhaps never expecting such treatment upon seeing Her Highness again after six years, Meng Congyun went stunned for a long while before comprehending Nian Zhi’an’s meaning.

“Debts and grievances settled?” Meng Congyun murmured lowly. “Our betrothal, our years of affection… all exchanged for your one phrase: debts and grievances settled?”

“Our betrothal was nothing but Emperor Wen’s jest to begin with—why take it seriously? Chancellor, there is someone I hold dear in my heart, but it isn’t you.” Nian Zhi’an paused. Meng Congyun said nothing, leaving her feeling faintly apprehensive.

“So… this is the reason Your Highness hasn’t appeared in my dreams these six years?” Meng Congyun’s voice sounded fragile and pitiable. One hand clutched tightly at Nian Zhi’an’s sleeve hem, as if begging her not to be so heartless.

“Right.” But Nian Zhi’an had no choice but to steel herself.

“Your Highness.” Meng Congyun’s voice suddenly softened, just like her usual gentle way of calling to her, but Nian Zhi’an’s heart began to pound, for she feared Meng Congyun had lost her mind to anger.

“Mm.”

“Ever since the marriage agreement was set, this subject has regarded Your Highness as my future wife: in life, you are this subject’s person; in death, you are this subject’s ghost.”

Meng Congyun’s even colder fingers brushed the back of Nian Zhi’an’s hand. “With our grievances settled, nothing Your Highness says counts.”

Nian Zhi’an nearly yanked her hand back.

“Since Your Highness has someone you fancy, you must hide it well and never let this subject find out. Otherwise, this subject will have one more collectible.” Meng Congyun always liked to deliver the most dangerous words in the gentlest tone, but the perilous aura hidden in her voice gripped Nian Zhi’an’s soul tight.

Meng Congyun was indeed insanely jealous.

After a moment of tense standoff, Nian Zhi’an pathetically chose to flee in panic.

She used special means to send Meng Congyun into a deep sleep; otherwise, the enraged Meng Congyun would have noticed something was wrong.

The current Meng Congyun was too dangerous to reason with. Next time, next time, she would just run away directly.