Chapter Twenty-Five: Who Is the Grown-Up

Yu Hualiang, in truth, felt it didn’t matter whether they hung the red ribbons or not; it was nothing more than a superstition. Yet, the Seventh Prince was especially cautious. With both of his hands bound together, he gently pinched the red ribbon, kneeling devoutly before the Buddha statue. His eyes showed genuine reverence as he bowed three times.

Yu Hualiang mimicked his posture and bowed as well, though she hadn’t decided what to wish for—at most, she could only ask for her parents’ health. Of course, when it came to Yu Ming, she had long since regarded him as her own father.

After the ceremony, Yu Hualiang wrote “good health” on her red ribbon. She couldn’t help but steal a glance at the Seventh Prince’s ribbon.

He, too, had written four characters: “May those who wish, achieve.”

Yu Hualiang pondered for a long time but couldn’t grasp what the prince meant to express. Was he facing some difficulty, or had he encountered something even he could not resolve?

The Seventh Prince turned to Yu Hualiang and asked, “What did you write, Ziliang?”

“Good health!” Yu Hualiang replied with a smile.

“Ziliang, you are indeed earnest,” said the prince.

“Your Highness, are you troubled by something?” Yu Hualiang asked, still bowing, her words casual.

The Seventh Prince gazed at her and slowly replied, “Indeed, there is something weighing on my mind...”

They left the temple together and found a tree to hang their red ribbons upon. The breeze sent the ribbons fluttering, as if the immortals above had heard their wishes and were answering them.

At that moment, everything was peaceful and quiet, so much so that the tinkling of bells from the temple could be heard.

“Ziliang, paint a picture for me here,” the Seventh Prince said, breaking the brief silence. Yu Hualiang nodded in acceptance. Mucai quickly handed her the painting materials, and she began to paint.

Here, the red ribbons stretched for miles, swaying in the wind, with snow-capped mountains in the distance—a sight of breathtaking beauty.

“Oh, Ziliang,” the prince interrupted her, “could you paint a bluebird at my side?”

Yu Hualiang nodded. So, the Seventh Prince had such a tender, youthful heart—wanting a little bird in his painting.

Suppressing her inner amusement, Yu Hualiang layered the background, outlined the shapes, painted the distant mountains, and the red ribbons swaying in the wind.

But as she painted, the image on the bridge—the red silk and the prince half-concealed among the ribbons—kept appearing before her eyes.

The bluebird hovered before the Seventh Prince as if speaking to him. He smiled gently, warmth emanating from his expression.

But when she looked into the prince’s eyes, they were like a cold, deep pond—dark and unfathomable, as if a dangerous beast lurked beneath, watching, ready to drag her under at the slightest misstep.

Yu Hualiang felt a sudden tension well up inside her.

The Seventh Prince came over after she finished, and was very satisfied—Yu Hualiang had not only captured his appearance, but also his soul.

Even he, upon looking, felt a chill within. Yu Hualiang wiped her hands, accidentally smearing ink on her face. The Seventh Prince, unable to help himself, raised his hand to wipe it off, but quickly dropped it again. “Ziliang, your face.”

“Oh.” Yu Hualiang hastily wiped her face.

Mucai hurried to put the painting away. Suddenly, the Seventh Prince grasped Yu Hualiang’s hand. “Ziliang, why don’t we take a walk inside?”

Yu Hualiang replied, “Certainly, Your Highness.”

As Mucai busied himself with the painting, he didn’t follow. Once they were in the woods, the Seventh Prince said, “Ziliang, just call me Zicheng.”

“Mm... Zicheng.” Yu Hualiang repeated the name, but then fell silent.

“Ziliang, tell me about your past,” the prince requested.

At the mention of this, Yu Hualiang felt a headache coming on—she truly didn’t know. After a moment’s thought, she replied, “After that serious illness, my memories of the past are muddled. I only recall what happened after I woke up.”

“Then tell me about those.”

Yu Hualiang stole a glance at the prince; today he seemed weighed down, unlike his usual self.

“After I woke up, I was inexplicably thought to be... a cut sleeve...”

“Ziliang, did you never love Alyu?” The prince stopped and looked at her, his gaze seeming to pierce her soul.

Yu Hualiang felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny but knew she had to be honest. “Alyu and I were not in love. It was more like family.”

“And with me, Ziliang?” the Seventh Prince asked.

“Mm?” Yu Hualiang hesitated for a long moment under his anxious gaze, then laughed awkwardly. “Your Highness, didn’t I say? We’re brothers, haha.”

The Seventh Prince turned away in silence, continuing deeper into the woods.

The stunning beauty of the red ribbons stretching for miles seemed to lose its color in that moment—not that the view was any less lovely, but rather that their hearts had changed.

Yu Hualiang followed in silence, but the prince’s stride was so quick that she struggled to keep up, her feet growing sore.

The prince, lost in thought, didn’t notice her lagging behind until a branch tore her clothing.

Only then did he look back, expecting her to be right at his heels, but finding her far behind.

“Ziliang, what’s wrong?” The prince retraced his steps.

Yu Hualiang crouched, disentangling her clothes from a branch. The fabric had torn, the silk spilling out—impossible to cut cleanly, impossible to untangle.

“It’s nothing, just let me get free... Ouch.” A sharp pain ran from her finger through her body. On closer inspection, she’d gotten tangled with a wild jujube tree. Its thorns were slightly poisonous, and her finger tingled and stung.

The prince grabbed her hand. Though both were men, Yu Hualiang’s hands seemed delicate and boneless compared to his.

“How does it feel? Does it hurt?”

Seeing the prince’s concern despite his own illness, Yu Hualiang felt embarrassed. “Just a little thorn, it’ll be fine soon.”

“You mustn’t be careless, Ziliang. Some plants are poisonous—some even deadly,” the prince said gravely.

Seeing him so serious, Yu Hualiang glanced at the little jujube tree and thought, “Sorry for making you take the blame...”

Thanks to the thorn, she was able to rest a moment, watching as the prince squeezed out the blood and applied some medicine.

She found herself lost in thought as he finished. Suddenly, the prince looked up and their eyes met. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Yu Hualiang turned away awkwardly, murmuring, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

But the prince smiled with a hint of mischief. “Am I... good-looking?”

“Yes, very much so! Your Highness is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen! I mean... the finest gentleman!” Yu Hualiang flattered him.

The Seventh Prince let out a laugh, his mood visibly improved. Yu Hualiang always had a way of making him drop his guard and be his true self.

After all, he was only twenty-three—an age when, in modern times, young men would be starting businesses or chasing after girls. But as a royal, he’d never had a self of his own, always wearing a mask to please others, living out someone else’s life. Those around him were the same.

But Yu Hualiang was different; he’d lived freely since childhood, always speaking his mind, making friends easily.

Even the original Yu Hualiang, let alone himself, lived more freely than the Seventh Prince.

To the prince, Yu Hualiang was the first person he’d ever confided in, the first person he ever truly wanted to possess.

In his cold eyes, Yu Hualiang’s smile was like warm sunlight. The prince could not look away—until, suddenly, a black shadow darted through the forest behind Yu Hualiang, shattering all his illusions.

“Your Highness! Danger!”

Ye Fang’s shout startled Yu Hualiang. She turned to see two men, entirely wrapped in black, wielding half-meter-long blades, rushing toward the prince.

Without thinking, Yu Hualiang snatched up a stone and hurled it at one of them. In that instant, the prince was stunned, as was Ye Fang, who had come to rescue him.

Yu Hualiang’s aim was true; she drew the attackers’ attention. Gasping for breath, she urged the prince, “Run!”

“Ziliang!” The prince tried to grab her, but Ye Fang held him back, urging him to escape. The attackers, distracted, still tried to pursue the prince.

Yu Hualiang threw another stone, this one heavier. It struck one assailant at the back of the head, making him clutch his skull in pain.

Ye Fang managed to lead the prince away. Yu Hualiang was less fortunate—her stamina no match for the two, she was quickly caught.

Clinging to a tree, she yelled, “Help! Help!”

To her surprise, the two men didn’t strike her or try to use her against the prince. Instead, they fell to their knees before her.

“Sir, our master sent us to assist you.”

“Who?” Yu Hualiang was utterly bewildered.

“Our master sent us to help eliminate the Seventh Prince.”

Yu Hualiang’s heart clenched. Eliminate the prince?

“But... why?” she protested.

“We are only following orders, sir,” the man replied.

“What master? What are you two talking about?” Yu Hualiang felt she had stumbled into some conspiracy.

The two exchanged glances, then each drew a jade pendant from their robes.

Yu Hualiang, thinking they were about to throw a hidden weapon, took a step back. But instead, they held out the pendants—finely carved with dragons, and on the reverse side, the character for “Shadow.”

She realized these tokens were just like the ones given her by the prince and Chang Zihao—they represented a certain identity.

After examining them, she returned the pendants. “Whatever this is, I’m not with you!”

The men put away the jade, then suddenly hoisted her up. Yu Hualiang panicked, shouting, “Hey! What are you doing? Help!”

They dragged her all the way to a small thatched hut and tossed her inside, the impact making her insides ache.

“What do you want with me?” she demanded.