Chapter Sixteen: The Proud Little Temperament

How close—that was truly close. Just now, that move was clearly held back deliberately. If the intent had been to end her life, just a slight increase in force would have meant that Luo Mo wouldn’t have merely fallen and gotten injured. It would have been far worse.

It seemed that King Yu was even more mysterious than what had been discovered. It wasn’t looking good for the Young Master to have made an enemy of him this time.

It wasn’t that Luo Mo lacked confidence in Luo Qianfan; rather, the other party was overwhelmingly powerful and unfathomable.

“Take one second to get out of this room,” Dongfang Yuyue’s aura was cold and imposing, chilling and murderous.

Though Luo Mo felt a flicker of fear, she knew she couldn’t disgrace the Young Master. So she pressed forward and retorted, “My Young Master knows Your Highness has not been resting well, and sent me specially to take good care of you. Look, how about I start by helping you change your clothes, and then—”

Before she could finish, a powerful gust of energy blasted her out of the room. The bruises she’d been holding in her chest burst forth, her face pale, clearly badly injured.

“Go back and tell your Young Master, if there’s a next time, you won’t survive.” The voice came from inside the room, brimming with inner strength, rich and resonant, carrying an overwhelming presence that crushed all who heard it.

Supporting her heavy body, Luo Mo limped out of Fanxi Pavilion, only to collapse from exhaustion. It was only when the covert guards found her that she was brought to Luo Qianfan’s residence for timely treatment.

Inside Fanxi Pavilion, Dongfang Yuyue was clad in lavish robes, his face twisted with clenched-teeth fury. This woman was truly reckless—how dare she act on her own and arrange a woman for him under the pretense of doing good? Such audacity!

Dongfang Yuyue was truly enraged this time and decided to leave Luo Qianfan to cool off for a few days, waiting for her to come apologize.

Meanwhile, Luo Qianfan was furious at Dongfang Yuyue as well, especially over Luo Mo’s injuries. No matter what, it was beyond excessive to beat someone to that state.

Thus, the two remained at an impasse, neither willing to yield. Yet those close to each of them bore the full brunt of their conflict, suffering immensely as they became the outlets for their anger. Only those around them knew the bitterness they endured in silence.

Several days later, Dongfang Yuyue could no longer contain himself and prepared to confront Luo Qianfan to get to the bottom of things. Just as he stepped out, a hurried voice reached him.

“Master, Master...” Guifang came running swiftly to Dongfang Yuyue’s side, glancing around before climbing onto his shoulder and leaning close.

“News from the prince’s mansion—the palace forces are striking frequently. They’re close to breaking.”

Guifang’s expression was anxious and hurried, clearly having just received the intelligence.

Hearing this, Dongfang Yuyue lifted his gaze toward the distance, pondering for a moment before turning back to his chamber.

“Issue orders. Prepare to return to the mansion.” His voice floated faintly, carrying his unique aura, tinged with a trace of loss.

Before long, a simple, unassuming carriage slowly emerged from the back gate of the Medical Nether Valley. Dongfang Yuyue strode aboard, followed by Guifang and Chiming.

This parting—who knew when they would meet again. Fox, wait for me.

...

Half a month later, within the Yu Prince’s Mansion, Dongfang Yuyue wore a crescent moon brocade robe, adorned with white jade at his waist. The hem was intricately folded, a craftsmanship of no ordinary kind.

At this moment, Dongfang Yuyue sat upright at his desk. On the paper before him was the vivid image of a graceful figure—none other than Luo Qianfan.

Ever since the sudden incident at the mansion and her abrupt departure without a word, this figure had lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.

He wondered how she was now, whether she had spared even a moment to think of him.

His fingers brushed repeatedly over the paper, but his thoughts drifted far away.