Seeing the young man look as if he were about to cry, Hua Hong’s eyes filled with irritation. Suddenly, he tilted his head and glared at Bai Shuo in the water, his gaze icy and savage.
“Sister, is it because of her that you don’t want to play with me…?” His voice, which had been childish, grew low and menacing, though his expression remained as innocent as ever.
A chill ran down Bai Shuo’s spine. What kind of twisted logic is this? she thought. What does me being here have to do with your sister ignoring you?
Before she could react, the young man lunged forward, aiming a punch right at her head. A foul, familiar stench filled her nose. She hadn’t yet remembered where she’d smelled it before when his fist was already inches from her face.
“Mumu!” Bai Shuo’s instincts kicked in, and she yelled for help.
Before Fan Yue could reach her, the young man’s fist was knocked aside by a quick strike from a sturdy staff. The prince stumbled, blood streaming down his face. Bai Shuo patted her chest in relief, about to thank Hua Hong for stepping in, but the prince, as if possessed, charged at her again.
“Save me, Big Iron! Your brother’s gone mad!” Bai Shuo dived into the hot spring. Through the swirling water, she saw Hua Hong toss her a set of clothes while using her staff to keep the prince away from the spring.
Scrambling out of the water and hurriedly dressing, Bai Shuo barely caught her breath. Is there anyone normal in this palace besides the king? And is this Strange Prince really insane or just pretending?
Then, a realization struck her. That smell… It’s the same one I noticed on that sinister creature that night!
“Master!” Her thoughts were interrupted by Fan Yue’s urgent voice. He’d rushed to her side, dripping wet, having clearly just been pulled out of a bath himself.
The attire provided by the Strange Palace suited him well, highlighting his natural strength and grace. Bai Shuo thought he looked a little different somehow, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Master, are you hurt?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
Regaining her senses, she quickly replied, “I’m fine, Mumu. Where’s Big Iron?”
Fan Yue pointed in the direction Hua Hong had disappeared. “Over there.”
“Quick! Take me to her!”
Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her waist and jumped out of the spring area, heading in the direction Hua Hong had gone. Strangely, despite the commotion between her and the prince, the palace remained calm, as if such incidents were routine.
Fan Yue moved swiftly through the palace, holding her close as they weaved around courtyards. Suddenly, he halted outside a wall, nearly causing Bai Shuo to stumble as she clung tightly to his waist.
“Mumu?” she asked, puzzled. Fan Yue gave her a soft “shh” and motioned for her to look inside.
“Your Highness, please, show mercy!”
A familiar voice called from the courtyard. Peering through a crack in the wall, Bai Shuo saw the Strange Prince, dazed and bloody, lying at Hua Hong’s feet while Wu Zhao held her iron staff back, a helpless expression on his face.
When did my little apprentice get so clever, even eavesdropping from the sidelines? Bai Shuo thought, giving Fan Yue a curious glance before focusing her attention on the scene unfolding before her.
Inside, Hua Hong cast a cold look at Wu Zhao and retracted her staff.
“Does the Strange Palace tolerate this raving lunatic?” she sneered.
“Your Highness, even if the prince is… difficult, he is still your brother. You used to care for him…” Wu Zhao began, but she cut him off.
“He doesn’t deserve the title of ‘brother,’” she spat disdainfully. “I have no brother.”
Turning away, her gaze fell on a red plum tree in the corner. She moved toward it, her voice soft and hoarse as she breathed in its scent. “I burned all the red plums in the palace back then. Why is there still one here?”
“The Queen loved red plums. His Majesty had it planted,” Wu Zhao replied.
“Hah. Hypocrite,” Hua Hong scoffed, the fleeting gentleness in her eyes vanishing.
“Your Highness, the young prince…” Wu Zhao began, hesitantly, as if unsure whether to continue.
But Hua Hong cut him off. “Uncle Wu Zhao, I once had a brother. Have you forgotten how he died?”
Wu Zhao’s voice faltered, his face hardening.
“He never saw the world. He suffocated in my mother’s womb…” Hua Hong gripped her iron staff, her knuckles whitening. She looked away from the plum tree, closing her eyes.
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