Chapter 89: His Return

“I’ll kill you both, I’ll kill you both–––” the voice screeched, its owner seemingly kicking and struggling about. The window was opened and the morning breeze poured in, wave after wave.

Meng Fuyao yawned and stretched lazily before rubbing her eyes. While deciding on the torture equipment that she was going to use on this evil guest, she heard a clear voice saying, “Your body’s really no joke, Miss Meng. A whole night of battle? Looks like my presence is unnecessary.”

Meng Fuyao turned stiff and opened an eye carefully. ‘The man with a poisonous tongue is back.’

Zong Yue, dressed in white, stood before the window, appearing like a sparklingly lofty snow mountain in front of the Bougainvillea-filled background. Beside him was a colorfully-dressed Ya Lanzhu.

Meng Fuyao stared at them, mouth wide opened. What was going on? How did they meet and why had they appeared together?

Amid her sluggish state, she felt that something was amiss. Upon further observation, she noticed that their gazes were fishy. The girl resembled an angry wildcat, while the man had an icy, mocking expression on his face.

Mocking?

Meng Fuyao slowly regained awareness, following the direction of their gaze…

“Ah!”

“Mother! Sleeping is one thing, but why did you have to remove your clothes, Zhan Beiye?” Meng Fuyao flew into a rage, grabbing her quilt and smashing it onto his face. “You flasher!”

Light reflected off the soft satin fabric and onto Zhan Beiye’s naked body. He only had a pair of underpants on, and the distinct abs on his inverted triangle upper body were on full display. His legs were shamelessly placed on her body. It was no wonder the quilt had been so heavy earlier.

In other words, the bed scene had been witnessed by Zhan Beiye’s persistent suitor and Meng Fuyao’s friend. In their eyes, they had shared a bed, and their clothes, or lack thereof, was telling.

‘Ah, ah, ah… reputation in crisis… ah, ah, ah, it doesn’t pay to be soft-hearted,’ Meng Fuyao thought to herself while beating on her chest in frustration and in humiliation.

Feeling the quilt hit his face, Zhan Beiye finally opened his eyes lazily. His freshly opened eyes appeared exceptionally shiny and gorgeous. He eyed the guests outside before grabbing Meng Fuyao’s hand to stop her. Unsurprised he greeted, “You two are here early.”

“Zh…zh… zhan…” Ya Lanzhu screamed threateningly, “Y… yo… you–––”

“I was just sleeping. That’s all,” Zhan Beiye interrupted directly. “You’ve been rude, little princess. Barging into someone’s bedroom isn’t something someone of your noble status should do.”

He glanced over at Zong Yue, who added, “As a physician, I’m always anxious, so it’s natural for me to rush into a patient’s room like this. You, on the other hand… this isn’t your room, is it?”

“Right, I don’t know how he came in, and why he stripped–––” Meng Fuyao cut in.

“I didn’t ask you,” Zong Yue responded without looking at her. “There’s no point asking you. ‘Sleeping is one thing,’ isn’t it?”

Meng Fuyao shut her mouth, stroking her nose. ‘What luck,’ she thought. Why had people with clashing personalities appeared at the same time? Plus, why was Zong Yue so angry? Although he looked exhausted and miserable, was it their fault? How could he vent it on them?

Zhan Beiye laughed, revealing his white teeth. “It’s not my room now, but it will soon be,” he explained to Zong Yue with a soft smile. “All the rooms she has slept in will all become my bedrooms.”

“Ahhhhhh! You adulterous pair…” Ya Lanzhu repeated herself. It was the most impactful line she could think of.

“It’s been said that the prince of TIansha was a fine scholar and soldier, but looks like they’re missing something,” Zong Yue commented while approaching slowly and feeling Meng Fuyao’s pulse.

Zhan Beiye puckered his lips but said nothing. Meng Fuyao looked curiously at these two men, who had turned hostile upon meeting, asking, “What’s missing?”

The moment she spoke Zhan Beiye shot a ferocious gaze toward her. At the same time, Zong Yue answered in satisfaction, “Oh. But indulges in wishful thinking.”

Meng Fuyao burst into laughter as Zhan Beiye retaliated with a black face, “You’ve come at the right time, Mister Zong, but I wonder about something. Would you be able to reconnect Meng Fuyao’s broken neck if she were to take her own life by hanging?”

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“You’ve come at the right time too, Prince Zhan,” Zong Yue replied casually, “but I wonder if the view over at Wuji’s Laiwu Mountain is extremely good? Good enough for you to roam about for half a month?”

Zhan Beiye shot Zong Yue a death glare as the latter calmly took Meng Fuyao’s pulse without acknowledging him.

It was a draw again for the third round.

Finally, the group sat down to talk. Wild cat Ya Lanzhu got tired from scolding them, and Zong Yue was done with his diagnosis. Zhan Beiye got dressed, and the bickering came to a stop. Meng Fuyao then pulled every single one of them out and offered them a cup of cold tea to simmer down.

While Meng Fuyao did not know why they were angry, she still felt unlucky.

After some cold tea and clarifications, she came to understand that Ya Lanzhu was here for Zhan Beiye, or simply put, her life goal was Zhan Beiye. She had heard about Meng Fuyao’s fake surrender and the carnage upon entering Yaocheng and had been so eager to pay her a visit. Yao Xun, whose hair stood on end at her presence, daren’t stop her, and that was how she had caught the “adulterous pair.” She sat on her seat, her beautiful eyes locked onto Meng Fuyao, who felt uncomfortable and made a run for the toilet.

As for Zong Yue, he simply explained how he had gone deep into the mountains of Qiongcang to pick herbs and had heard about Yaocheng on the way back.

Meng Fuyao stared at him, asking abruptly, “Aren’t you treating King De? Can you do me a favor?”

“I know you’re going to ask that I add poison into his medicine. How daring of you to request a physician to do something like that,” Zong Yue responded, sipping on his tea as Meng Fuyao let out an embarrassed smiled. He added, “I had planned to do that even without you asking, but a pity it can’t be done.”

“Why?”

“He’s not sick,” Zong Yue revealed. “Those were all lies made up by him to fool the people. The person I’ve been treating is not King De at all.”

“Ah?”

“He’s a liar to begin with,” Zhan Beiye smiled coldly. “Take his princess for example. She was driven mad by Zhangsun Wuji, but he had to take credit for it, claiming that he had scolded her and caused her madness. Zhangsun Wuji is rather lucky to have met such a loyal official who has no qualms about acting disgracefully and being made a scapegoat.”

Meng Fuyao was in shock as she recalled the series of events she had been through. King De’s mad concubine was Zhangsun Wuji’s doing. That way, it made sense for King De to act disloyally after so many years on enduring.

“Since there’s no chance for you to do it, I’ll do it.” Meng Fuyao bared her teeth, smiling coldly. “Harm and be harmed. Just you wait.”

“No,” Zhan Beiye objected immediately. “I’m not going to let you take risks. I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it? My ass,” Meng Fuyao sneered, “Do you think you’re Wuji Prince? Or are you ready to bring Dark Wind Horses to deal with King De? You may not be afraid of causing international disputes, but I fear to become a sinner that only brings trouble to the citizens.”

She rested on the table, zestfully discussing the plans, as the two men provided suggestions while shooting daggers at each other.

At that moment Meng Fuyao heard a slight sound at the window and went over to take a look. It was Zhangsun Wuji’s last guard, standing by it with his face pale as a sheet.

“Miss Meng,” he called out and came out of the shadows upon seeing Meng Fuyao. Head filled with sweat and with no time to exchange niceties, he rushed, “Master has left the eastern shore, throwing all work aside and rushing back.”

“Ah?” Meng Fuyao leaped up, almost hitting the ceiling. “He’s back? He came back? Where is he? Where? Is he here already?” She blabbered, looking around in confusion, not to spot Zhangsun Wuji but a hole for her to drill into. She wasn’t looking forward to a beating.

After a short while, the guard answered, “He’s still on the way, and no one knows his exact location.”

“Ah…” Meng Fuyao calmed down, suddenly remembering something serious. “Why is he back? For what? How can he be back?”

‘No way, how could he dump everything when a war is ongoing? Is this all a game to him?’

Meng Fuyao scratched her face, deciding that he didn’t look like someone who would treat military affairs and political matters as a game. ‘Why is he back, then? Erm… hmmm… for me?’

Meng Fuyao stopped herself from going in that direction. ‘Don’t be so narcissistic. Who do you think you are? Do you think he’s Edward VIII? Choosing beauty over the nation? Plus, you’re alright now, so why would he come?’

“It’s all my fault…” the guard started, full of guilt, “That day, at the city entrance, I had thought that the both of us were going to die for sure, and according to the convention, guards would leave as many clues bas possible. I left a recognizable mark by the entrance, but on the day you were saved I fainted and was brought back to the city for treatment. You weren’t in the city, and some brothers who had come forward saw the mark and brought the message back… Upon receiving the news Master immediately dropped what he was doing…”