The Eldest Princess sat on a low chair carved with swirling cloud patterns, her winter robe neatly draped over her legs. A bamboo scroll lay open on her lap, and her slender fingers gently touched the carved characters. But her mind was elsewhere.
A clear memory surfaced: Lang Huan leaned in and softly kissed her cheek. It was quick—just a light touch—but it made her heart beat faster.
Her cheeks warmed, turning red against the cold air in the room. Flustered, she picked up a round silk fan embroidered with lotus flowers and began fanning herself, trying to cool down.
Across the room, Qiu Li glanced at her, then nudged A Li, who was sitting near the brazier, warming her hands.
"A Li, do you think the brazier is too hot?" she whispered.
A Li didn't look up. She blew on her hands and replied, "It's cold enough in here to freeze tea. My hands are still like ice."
Qiu Li leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "Then why does Her Highness look like she's burning up?"
The Eldest Princess's face was visibly flushed, and her fan moved rapidly.
The two handmaidens exchanged a look.
Knock… knock...
A Li stood and opened the door. Qiu Yue stepped in quickly and bowed respectfully.
"Your Highness, everything has been arranged as you ordered. News of the kidnapping has now spread throughout Great Qi—even reaching foreign kingdoms."
Feng Yao kept her eyes on the bamboo scroll in her lap. Her voice was calm and steady. "And then?"
Qiu Yue replied, "The Emperor is under heavy pressure from other kingdoms. The officials invited by the Second Prince have mysteriously disappeared. They now suspect the Emperor had them killed to silence the truth."
Feng Yao raised an eyebrow slightly but didn't look up.
"So far, no punishment has been given to the Second Prince. The officials are beginning to show dissatisfaction. The people are anxious. If this continues, it could lead to rebellion… or even an invasion from neighboring states."
A faint smile formed on Feng Yao's lips, though her eyes never left the scroll.
"Sooner or later, Great Qi will fall by my father's hand."
Suddenly, a soft knock sounded at the study window. A man dressed entirely in black, wearing a mask, silently entered the room.
Feng Yao glanced at him briefly before waving her hand, signaling the others to leave. A Li and the rest quietly exited, carefully closing the door behind them.
"Have you been hiding anything about Lang Huan?" she asked coldly.
The masked man replied calmly, "Nothing, Your Highness."
Feng Yao narrowed her eyes, her gaze sharp and piercing.
"Lang Huan suddenly has incredible martial skills. Don't you find that suspicious?"
"How could someone known for being lazy in martial arts suddenly kill Mo Yuan and dozens of soldiers alone?"
She reached for a stack of documents on the shelf and threw them onto the table with a loud thud.
"These are all the reports on Lang Huan from the past nine years."
The masked man lowered his head.
Feng Yao stared at him silently, then gave a small, unreadable smile.
"I know you're loyal to my mother and me," she said quietly. "But tell me… are you simply too old now, that you've started forgetting to report important things to me these past few years?"
The masked man swallowed hard, silently guessing that the Eldest Princess might already know something.
"Your Highness is right. That was my fault. I will conduct a thorough investigation. I once heard my master speak of a legend—a wolf deity who grants his spirit animal to the clans he blesses. The creature described there… was similar to Lang Huan's wolf. Such a ferocious beast cannot be tamed by ordinary people—let alone ridden."
"Hmm, don't make the same mistake again," she said in a calm, low voice. "As long as I don't know which way the wind has shifted with the Duke of Huguo, he remains a threat to me."
"You may go. I'm tired now."
Understood!" The man bowed, still thinking about Her Highness's words—Don't make the same mistake again.
---
Lang Huan returned to the Duke's residence. She visited Wang Hu, who was now awake and looked as cheerful as he used to be.
After that, Lang Huan walked slowly toward the inner courtyard—where Su Qing lived. She paused in front of the room and gently knocked on the door.
A moment later, it opened. Su Qing stood in the doorway, and the moment she saw Lang Huan, her eyes welled up with tears. She looked at her as if she couldn't believe the person she had missed so deeply was truly standing there.
Lang Huan, unable to bear seeing her cry, reached out and gently wiped away the tears. Without a single word, Su Qing suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around Lang Huan's waist. The embrace was long and silent… as though she never wanted to let go.
Worry and longing had tormented Su Qing in Lang Huan's absence. Now that she was back, Su Qing wanted to keep her close—forever.
Lang Huan froze for a moment. She glanced left and right nervously, checking to see if any servants or guards were around.
No one knew she was actually a woman. If someone saw this warm embrace... what would they think? A young man hugging his stepmother so intimately?
People would talk. Maids would gossip. And Su Qing's name might be dragged through the mud.
Carefully, Lang Huan patted Su Qing's back—gently urging her to let go.
"Are you alright?" Su Qing finally asked, then pulled Lang Huan into the room and quietly closed the door behind them.
Lang Huan stepped inside. For some reason, she felt something strange in Su Qing's gaze—an emotion she couldn't explain it.
"I... I'm fine," Lang Huan said softly. "I'm sorry, Mother, for making you worry…"
But before she could finish, Su Qing raised her hand and gently placed a finger against Lang Huan's lips—leaving her stunned.
"Don't call me 'Mother'," Su Qing whispered, gripping Lang Huan's arm tightly.
"I'm not your mother…"
"…"
Lang Huan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion.
Su Qing hugged her tightly and whispered, "I don't want you to call me that anymore."
Lang Huan raised an eyebrow, then let out a small chuckle, flashing her neat white teeth.
"Aunty?"
Su Qing looked at her, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Do I really look that old to you?"
"No, of course not," Lang Huan quickly said. She knew deep down that calling Su Qing 'Mother' was a bit much. Su Qing was still young—far more suited to being called a sister than a mother.
"Then…" Su Qing hesitated, her eyes locking with Lang Huan's. "Call me... Qingqing."
Lang Huan froze.
Qingqing...?
Her face turned completely red. It was far too intimate for a stepmother.
"That's... not okay. What if my father hears me calling you that?" she stammered.
"Why wouldn't it be okay?" Su Qing asked softly. "He wouldn't care about something like that."
Then Su Qing looked at her with soft, pleading eyes.
"Could you call me that now?"
Lang Huan wasn't a fool—she could tell Su Qing's feelings might be more than simple affection. And now, that realization began to worry her. But seeing Su Qing's hopeful face, she couldn't bring herself to reject her. It would only hurt the woman who had always been there for her.
Since arriving in this strange new world, Su Qing was the only one who stayed by her side through everything. To Lang Huan, Su Qing had become her family here.
"…Qingqing," Lang Huan said at last.
Su Qing smiled. It was the most beautiful smile Lang Huan had ever seen—soft, warm, full of emotion. Lang Huan quietly sighed in her heart.
Then she noticed something else—Su Qing was only wearing a thin layer of gauze. The air was cold. How could she dress like that?
Suddenly, the mood between them shifted slightly, becoming awkward.
Lang Huan took off the fur cloak from her shoulders and gently placed it around Su Qing.
"It's cold," she said softly.
Su Qing's smile grew even brighter.
Lang Huan turned to leave. "Then… I'll go back to my room now… mo—" she stopped herself, then forced the word out, "Qingqing."
Su Qing nodded, eyes glowing with happiness.
"Hm."