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Chapter 05: If Jiashang Can’t Handle Her, We’ll Line Up to Pursue Her
Chapter 05: If Jiashang Can’t Handle Her, We’ll Line Up to Pursue Her
At Condor International Airport.
Zhen Ning’s flight was delayed.
The head of the security detail leaned in and whispered softly: “Your Highness—”
Du Boqin cut him off: “Let’s wait a little longer.”
He had flown back to the capital from the northern base at noon, and they had been waiting here for nearly an hour after disembarking from his private jet. After signing the accompanying documents, Du Boqin glanced at his watch—he still had a cabinet meeting in the afternoon.
Frowning slightly, he looked out the car window once again.
Finally, from the far end of the terminal, an airport shuttle approached. It was an open-air vehicle, with only one passenger aboard.
Zhen Ning absentmindedly followed the ground staff’s guidance as she stepped down from the shuttle. She wore a black dress, her slender frame almost fragile. A red, swollen mark was visible on her forehead. Her short black hair, unstyled and growing close to shoulder-length, hung loose and disheveled. She kept her head bowed, her pale face devoid of expression.
The ground staff handed her over to the waiting guards.
As Zhen Ning looked up, her heart skipped a beat. She had assumed it would be his secretary who came, but she hadn’t expected to see that car—she was all too familiar with it after spending over a month back in Moxia. The black Mercedes-Benz S600 Pullman Guard gleamed under the sunlight, resembling a moving fortress. She often saw it in the deep night shadows of Fanlu Manor, chauffeuring Du Boqin home after he worked until dawn. In Moxian ministerial visits abroad, this car would accompany him, transported via a C-17 military cargo plane alongside the official delegation aircraft.
The wealth of Moxia was evident in such displays. Zhen Ning slowly walked toward the car, her head lowered.
Captain Yisha had already stepped forward: “Miss Shu, His Highness is waiting for you.”
A guard retrieved Zhen Ning’s suitcase and placed it inside. Du Boqin opened the rear car door, stepped out, and then opened the door for her.
Once the door closed, the driver smoothly pulled the car out of the airport.
Du Boqin studied her face. Zhen Ning kept her profile turned away, sitting upright with her hands folded neatly on her lap.
Du Boqin silently observed her silhouette. After a long pause, he spoke softly: “Is everything settled regarding the funeral?”
“People die like extinguished lamps, leaving not a single word behind,” Zhen Ning replied faintly. She continued to gaze out the window without turning to look at him. “The last thing he said to me was, ‘You know what to do.’ But after he left, I’ve never known what to do.”
Du Boqin shifted slightly, wanting to say something, but Zhen Ning spoke first, her voice cold and hollow: “Your Highness, do you know? You owe me a life.”
Du Boqin’s left eyelid twitched slightly, a sharp pang piercing his heart. He discreetly pressed his hand against the armrest, steadying his breathing.
Zhen Ning fell completely silent. Du Boqin glanced at her; her profile remained impassive, betraying no emotion.
The car was eerily quiet, the hum of the engine barely audible. Between them stretched an ocean of distance.
The car sped along the tree-lined road, the azure waters of the lake beneath the mountains coming into view once more. The convoy slowly entered Fanlu Manor.
From the window, Zhen Ning saw servants standing by the front porch, and Sisan hurriedly stepping out of the hall. For some reason, the usually composed and dignified steward seemed unusually rushed today. Before she could scrutinize further, the cause became clear—a radiant woman emerged from the courtyard.
Her flowing red dress fluttered elegantly, her tall and beautiful figure exuding charm and brilliance.
Zhen Ning turned to glance at Du Boqin, her heart swirling with complex emotions—bitterness and resentment rising within her. She despised herself for these unnecessary feelings, forcing a faint, almost mocking smile to her lips.
Du Boqin’s brows furrowed slightly. Just as the guard opened the car door, a coquettish voice called out: “Boqin!”
Du Boqin steadied her shoulders, subtly restraining her attempt to lean into his embrace, then stepped out of the car: “What are you doing here?”
The driver had already moved to open the door for Zhen Ning.
Zhen Ning stood up, her gaze meeting the famous Miss Jiang Mo Ya across the roof of the car. Indeed, her beauty and talent matched the adoration she received—the fiancée of the eldest son of the Du family, the future Duchess of Condor, beloved by the media and the public alike.
Jiang Mo Ya, ever adept in social graces, linked arms with Du Boqin and offered a polite smile: “Boqin, this is—”
Du Boqin’s face remained expressionless as he gave a brief introduction: “Miss Shu.”
Sisan added: “Miss Shu is the new master perfumer of the estate. Miss Shu, please follow me.”
Zhen Ning’s face betrayed no emotion, though inwardly she couldn’t help but chuckle. Truly, Mr. Si was a paragon of loyalty, always ready to resolve his master’s troubles.
Jiang Mo Ya turned to Zhen Ning with a courteous smile: “Hello.”
She spoke in the local language of Moxia, her tone as elegant as it was on television. Zhen Ning knew that if she were truly the master perfumer, she would have responded in the sacred tongue. Yet Zhen Ning feigned ignorance, offering no flattery or admiration, simply replying in a neutral tone: “Hello.”
Her voice carried no trace of deference.
Jiang Mo Ya subtly masked her displeasure with practiced poise, dismissing Zhen Ning entirely as she pulled Du Boqin toward the hall.
Zhen Ning was led by the servants through a garden path, leaving the dazzling couple behind. She ascended the staircase on the right side of the hall, returning to the second-floor living room. With the curtains drawn, the space regained its tranquility, far removed from the bustle below.
Entering her room, she closed the curtains, stood in the center, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Some of the suffocating weight in her chest finally eased.
Zhen Ning collapsed onto the bed but didn’t sleep for long. When she awoke, the room was still eerily quiet.
Du Boqin walked along the second floor. All the rooms were dark except hers, where faint rays of light spilled out.
Zhen Ning hadn’t come downstairs all day. He naturally understood why.
Du Boqin knocked lightly and entered: “Are you awake? Would you like something to eat?”
Zhen Ning was organizing her work notes and didn’t even raise her head: “Get out.”
Du Boqin chuckled, crossing his arms as he stood by her door: “Zhen Ning, don’t give me that look. I might start thinking you’re jealous.”
Zhen Ning lifted her head and gave him a cold, fleeting smile.
Du Boqin watched her smile, the faint glimmer in his eyes slowly darkening into shadow.
Zhen Ning met his gaze, her own eyes shining brightly: “Your Highness is mistaken. To me, you and your fiancée are nothing but a ridiculous masquerade of royalty.”
The remark was deeply offensive.
Yet Du Boqin merely said indifferently: “Are you willing to come downstairs for dinner?” The greenhouse dining room on the first floor was warmly lit.
The servant pulled out a chair, and Du Boqin sat down, but Zhen Ning continued walking toward the exit. Du Boqin called out: “Where else are you going?”
Zhen Ning stopped, her hands hanging loosely by her sides: “Your Highness, it’s unheard of for a servant to dine at the same table as their master.”
“Shu Zhen Ning,” Du Boqin called after her, his handsome features clouded with a deep melancholy, his demeanor regal yet detached, “Do you think provoking me will benefit you in any way?”
Zhen Ning halted in her steps.
Suddenly, Du Boqin braced himself against the back of the chair, unable to suppress a few low coughs. He gestured to Sisan, who promptly handed him a glass of water.
Zhen Ning reluctantly returned.
She sat back at the table. The servants brought dish after dish, and soon her expression returned to normal. After drinking half a glass of wine, a faint smile appeared on her face, revealing no trace of inner turmoil.
Her demeanor now suggested that the earlier confrontation had never happened.
Du Boqin sat opposite her, barely touching the food on his plate but drinking most of the wine beside him.
Zhen Ning thought silently: entertaining two women in one evening must be exhausting.
In the vast dining room, only the two of them remained. The silverware in Zhen Ning’s hands occasionally clinked softly against the gilded porcelain.
Du Boqin ate half of his main course, shook his head to dismiss the servants, set down his spoon, and wiped his hands with a silk napkin: “Mo Ya is my fiancée. She occasionally visits Fanlu Manor. She won’t disturb your work.”
Zhen Ning smiled faintly, her tone more mocking than sincere: “Thank you, Your Highness.” Du Boqin raised his wine glass again.
Zhen Ning suddenly asked: “Are you and Miss Jiang not planning to marry?”
Trapped here by him, Zhen Ning had long resolved herself to face death. Her words were bold and unrestrained, lacking the reverence others around him showed.
Even Du Boqin was momentarily taken aback.
His expression grew somber, and after a long silence, he let out a faint sound: “Hmm.”
It was unclear what he meant, but it hardly mattered anymore. Zhen Ning continued speaking as if to herself: “A powerful leader refusing to marry doesn’t reflect well.”
The person across from her averted his gaze, saying nothing.
Zhen Ning smiled faintly: “When I first learned of your identity in Moxia, I always thought you’d marry a noblewoman. Two people of similar backgrounds, a union of great families with shared political foundations—how important a good partner is, you know better than anyone. Public approval ratings could soar by five percentage points. It’s the most logical path in life.” Her voice carried a hint of sincerity. “Look at how well you’re doing now.”
Du Boqin interrupted her, his voice tinged with fatigue: “Zhen Ning, enough.”
Resting his hand on his forehead, Du Boqin spoke slowly: “I don’t care about public approval ratings.”
Zhen Ning, having eaten her fill, began to sip her wine intermittently: “I agreed to stay in Fanlu, but what purpose does keeping me here serve?”
Du Boqin pushed aside his utensils and poured her another glass: “Sisan didn’t tell you today? You’re staying in Fanlu to work.”
“I’ll work, but don’t restrict my freedom.”
“You’re free, as long as you don’t leave Condor. You can go wherever you want.”
“The freedom I’m talking about means no guards or bodyguards following me around.”
“You now belong to Fanlu. This is for your safety.”
“Am I imprisoned here?”
Du Boqin rested his hand on his forehead, a cold smile flickering across his face: “Do you feel uncomfortable? My father spent over a decade here as a prisoner. The only time he left was in an ambulance to the hospital—and he never returned.”
Zhen Ning glanced at him, her voice icy: “What a pity he didn’t live to see how his eldest son lords it over Fanlu now.”
Du Boqin heard her words but showed no anger: “Have your brother think carefully about the testimony regarding the plane crash. Otherwise, you might end up staying here for life.”
“Do you really think I can’t escape Condor?” Zhen Ning challenged.
“Not much chance,” he replied calmly.
“Why?”
“No airline will dare sell you a ticket.” Zhen Ning shrugged, brushing off his words with a faint smile.
“Flying a helicopter from the golf course once was enough,” Du Boqin said indifferently. “Next time, I’ll shoot it down.”
Zhen Ning sneered: “You’ve been grounded for years. What does a grounded pilot know about shooting anything down?”
Sisan, who had been polishing a crystal decanter at the sideboard in the outer hall, flinched slightly at her words. Across from her, Du Boqin turned his face away abruptly.
All Zhen Ning saw was the profile of a rigid, lean figure. His hand rested on his knee, his dark eyes dimming further, his pale lips trembling faintly before clenching shut.
“Leave,” the man’s voice was low and frigid, like rocks soaked in snowmelt deep within a cave.
---
Late at night, after finishing recording her data, Zhen Ning stood by the window in her bedroom and stretched.
The curtains were drawn back, revealing tall oak trees swaying gently in the spring breeze. Mist hung over the hills of Fanlu in the distance. Gazing at this breathtaking view, Zhen Ning felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity. The estate’s dignified and extraordinary aura seemed capable of embracing all disturbances, remaining serene despite the turbulence outside. After decades of storms, it remained a tranquil haven.
A luxurious yet comfortable cage. Like a nightingale whose wings had been clipped, pampered for so long that it only knew how to sing sweetly to its master, forgetting entirely the cool dew and bright moonlight of the forest.
Startled by her own thoughts, Zhen Ning reminded herself silently of her mission. Moreover, she had already entered the zhànjīn flower fields.
When Zhen Ning first entered the flower fields last week, she was stopped by the estate’s guards in front of the white building. Old Ge hurried out to resolve the situation, waving her in: “His Highness instructed that Miss Shu is welcome.”
Zhen Ning observed the flower fields carefully. Nestled in the foothills of Fanlu, they enjoyed unique soil and climate conditions. The morning and evening mists kept the area extremely humid—a phenomenon she hadn’t encountered in any other botanical cultivation site.
She analyzed the soil samples she secretly collected from the flower fields, meticulously recording every detail.
After taking a bath, she picked up a book and settled into the sofa. Unaware of how late it had become, sleepiness crept over her. She climbed into bed, stretching out comfortably.
Not long after lying down, just as drowsiness began to take hold, she heard the distant hum of a car approaching.
Her hearing was exceptionally sharp. The subtle sounds of tires gripping the ground and brakes engaging allowed her to identify the vehicle—it was his.
Since their unpleasant parting in the dining room days ago, she hadn’t seen Du Boqin for several days.
Another late-night return.
Zhen Ning thought hazily, turning over to burrow deeper into the blankets. It was very late; he would have servants attending to him. There was no reason for her to get involved.
Lying there with her eyes closed, her ears betrayed her, automatically picking up the sounds from downstairs.
Soon, light footsteps echoed on the stairs—several pairs of feet heading toward Du Boqin’s room at the far end of the second floor. But the commotion didn’t stop. Outside in the corridor, servants bustled about, their hushed voices occasionally rising with hints of panic.
Something was amiss.
Unease stirred in Zhen Ning’s heart. After some deliberation, she got up and dressed.
Stepping out of her room, she saw servants busy carrying tea and water. Du Boqin’s door was slightly ajar, and Sisan stood outside, asking questions in a worried tone: “Has Doctor He arrived yet?”
Two servants stationed at the door whispered back: “He’s on his way.”
Seeing her approach, the servants stepped aside, murmuring: “Miss Shu.” Standing at the doorway, Zhen Ning peered inside. The room was eerily quiet. Du Boqin lay half-reclined on the living room sofa, still in his military uniform—brown shirt, dark green tie, and a gold badge pinned to his collar. Yet his complexion was deathly pale.
Beads of cold sweat glistened faintly under the light. Sisan took the water glass from him: “Your Highness...”
Du Boqin waved dismissively: “Everyone, leave.”
Exhaustion was evident on his face, his voice weak but calm, completely at odds with the chaos outside: “It’s just a momentary difficulty breathing. No need to make a fuss.”
At that moment, He Meinan arrived, escorted by servants, his two assistants carrying his military-green medical kit.
Du Boqin noticed her standing behind the crowd.
Struggling to breathe, he coughed lightly, watching her without speaking. Zhen Ning glanced briefly, then turned and walked away.
Du Boqin’s gaze darkened as he watched her retreating figure, frowning and coughing softly.
As He Meinan entered the room, he glanced back at Zhen Ning. It was already two or three in the morning, and though she was fully dressed, clearly intending to check on him, she left without even stepping inside.
He Meinan instructed the nurse to take Du Boqin’s temperature while he personally checked his pulse and heartbeat, frowning: “Is his heart rate below 40?”
He asked: “Did he receive oxygen?”
The accompanying officer in the living room replied: “He received about five minutes of oxygen in the car earlier.”
He Meinan took the stethoscope, placing it over Du Boqin’s chest and listening intently for a while. Turning, he asked: “Where did he inspect these past two days?”
The officer reported quietly. “That area has high radiation levels. His immunity must be dangerously low.” He Meinan instructed his assistant: “Run blood tests and bring the oxygen machine.”
Removing the stethoscope, He Meinan pressed lightly on Du Boqin’s chest: “Any pain?” Du Boqin nodded slightly, frowning.
“When did it start?” He Meinan asked.
“Last night,” Du Boqin replied softly.
“And you still worked?” He Meinan said. “This isn’t just a cold—I suspect pneumonia.”
He began administering oxygen. A thin mist formed on the transparent mask as Du Boqin continued to struggle for breath. He Meinan, despite his youth, had risen to become deputy director of Moxia’s Royal Air Force Hospital. His clinical efficiency matched his surgical precision: “After those surgeries, we removed a third of your right lung and patched up bullet holes in several organs. Do you still think you’re the same person you were back then?”
Du Boqin lay silently on the sofa, saying nothing.
Once the oxygen treatment was complete, Sisan helped him change into a clean shirt and settle back down to rest.
Watching the nurses administer IV fluids, He Meinan stepped out of the bedroom, instructing the medical staff softly: “Monitor him closely. Bring me the blood test results as soon as they’re ready.”
Sisan closed the door behind him.
In the second-floor living room, He Meinan sipped tea: “Has he been coughing persistently lately? With the damp and fluctuating weather, be careful.”
Sisan nodded.
He Meinan suddenly changed the topic: “Who was that girl?”
Unsure of the doctor’s intentions, Sisan feigned ignorance: “Who?”
He Meinan glanced at him: “The one in the corridor. I’ve never seen her before.”
Sisan recited the official response: “She’s the new master perfumer hired by His Highness.”
He Meinan’s sharp eyes missed nothing: “When that girl walked away, Boqin’s heart rate plummeted so sharply I almost thought CPR would be necessary. Turns out, he somehow endured it. Ever since his injury, whenever he falls ill, he always returns to Fanlu and sends ‘that woman’ away. I’ve never seen anyone manage him—until now.”
---
In the afternoon, Zhen Ning noticed it had begun to rain. The late spring drizzle fell steadily. Today, Du Boqin had unusually stayed in Fanlu all day.
Judging from his condition last night, his recovery from the injuries sustained in the southern jungle campaign was far less optimistic than the media portrayed.
Zhen Ning knew he was in the estate, but when Du Boqin stayed at Fanlu Manor, he rarely moved around. Most of the time, he remained in his study—a military stronghold of the estate guarded around the clock by Captain Yisha and his security detail. Zhen Ning never ventured near it.
Unless summoned, she made herself invisible.
The rain had lasted for days, but the weather finally cleared. A half-arched rainbow hung over the hills, yet the air still carried a lingering chill.
Zhen Ning changed her shoes and stepped out for a walk.
Du Boqin happened to be sitting on the sofa in the hall, smoking and reviewing documents. Seeing her emerge, he asked: “Where are you going?”
“For a walk,” Zhen Ning replied.
Du Boqin stood up: “I’ll accompany you.”
A servant immediately brought over his coat. Zhen Ning waited outside on the porch as the staff helped him dress at the entrance. The house was warm with heating; he wore a smoke-gray shirt and a light gray tie tied in a Windsor knot. Slipping into a waterproof trench coat, he exuded an effortless handsomeness.
His innate aloofness and the razor-sharp air force demeanor honed by years of service blended seamlessly, forming a regal and unique royal bearing.
Zhen Ning watched for a moment before quietly averting her gaze.
As Sisan saw them off, he reminded her: “The weather is damp, Miss Shu. Please ensure His Highness doesn’t stay outdoors for too long.”
Zhen Ning nodded.
Du Boqin took her on a stroll through the back mountain.
Spring was waning, pink petals carpeting the ground. Summer was approaching, and the best season of the year at Fanlu Manor was about to begin.
The two walked silently through the mist, side by side but maintaining a distance of half a person. Zhen Ning said: “You’ve been home these past few days. Not busy with work?”
Du Boqin nodded: “Mm.”
Zhen Ning glanced up at him discreetly: “The launch of the 052D destroyer usually keeps you at the base.”
Du Boqin looked at her.
Zhen Ning shrugged: “It was on the news.”
During her months at Fanlu, Zhen Ning had grown fond of watching Moxia’s national news channel, guessing his whereabouts through official military reports—a game she never tired of.
Du Boqin suddenly said: “I know—you’re a military enthusiast.” Zhen Ning glared at him furiously: “And you dare bring it up again!”
Du Boqin stifled a chuckle, seeing her anger flare, and quickly added: “Don’t be mad.”
For nearly half a year after meeting him at Fordham, from Christmas until the following summer, Zhen Ning hadn’t received so much as a kind glance from him.
How had Du Boqin begun speaking to her? It was because they met at Farnborough.
On the public day of that year’s Farnborough Airshow, Zhen Ning had arrived early from London. The blue-and-white Airbus planes parked on the grass were breathtakingly beautiful, let alone the static displays featuring Harrier jets, Lynx helicopters, F-16s, and an entire row of Red Arrows performance aircraft. By the time the afternoon aerial display began, the venue was packed with spectators.
Less than ten minutes into the noon airshow, dark clouds suddenly gathered, and torrential rain poured down. The crowd scattered in all directions.
Du Boqin stood in the exhibition area, chatting with a Spitfire maintenance technician from the British Air Force. When the raindrops fell, his bodyguard, who had been hidden among the crowd, stepped forward with an umbrella. Du Boqin waved goodbye to his friend and started walking toward the car, surrounded by guards. But then he noticed a slim figure running in the rain not far away.
He stopped in his tracks and looked again—it was the Chinese girl from school.
Zhen Ning held her backpack over her head, running with the crowd in the rain. Spotting a gap under one of the exhibition tents, she hurried over to take shelter. However, a stout white man saw her and immediately stepped forward, blocking the small space.
Zhen Ning halted in front of the tent. Water dripped from the roof onto her head, forcing her to retreat a few steps. She looked around sadly and helplessly, searching for another place to hide.
Du Boqin immediately took the umbrella and walked through the crowd to her side.
When Zhen Ning looked up and saw him, a wide smile instantly lit up her face. She greeted him cheerfully: “Hi!”
Not long after, the broadcast announced the cancellation of the day’s performance. The girl’s shoulders slumped, and she walked away dejectedly.
Du Boqin escorted her to Farnborough Station and suddenly asked: “Will you come again tomorrow?” Zhen Ning was momentarily stunned, not expecting him to ask. Her eyes sparkled: “Yes!”
She clutched his handkerchief, now soaked from wiping her face: “Should I wash it and return it to you?”
“Remember to bring an umbrella tomorrow.” Du Boqin sent her into the station.
Zhen Ning ran toward the station but couldn’t resist looking back after a few steps. To her surprise, he was still standing there. Seeing her glance back, he gave a faint smile.
Zhen Ning thought for a moment and ran back: “Do you even know my name?”
He hesitated, reluctantly meeting her gaze, and finally spoke in perfectly accented Chinese: “Shu Zhen Ning.”
Unlike any of her British classmates, he pronounced it flawlessly, without a trace of accent.
Thrilled, Zhen Ning nearly jumped for joy. Satisfied, she ran back to the station, waving at him as she went.
She would always remember that scene—the red brick walls of the station, Du Boqin standing in the rain under a black umbrella. In July in London, the sky was overcast. He wore blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a light brown checked shirt. The young man’s tall, upright figure seemed to glow.
They met again on the last two public days of the airshow.
Zhen Ning chatted enthusiastically about her favorite planes, too excited to care about bothering him. Later, when she learned who he really was in Candor, she recalled how she had rambled on about WWII classic aircraft models in front of him, thinking they got along well. Little did she know, he had been teasing her all along. At the time, she was both embarrassed and furious, wanting to kick him.
But the weather back then had been so clear. They sat on the grass eating sandwiches. She said: “I must have annoyed you a lot at school, right?”
Du Boqin choked slightly, pretending to take a sip of water before replying: “It was fine.” Zhen Ning smiled mischievously: “You’re not as cold as you seem.”
Du Boqin couldn’t help but laugh: “And you’re not as annoying when you’re quiet.”
“Can we be friends?”
“Sure.”
After returning to Fordham, they occasionally met. Zhen Ning gradually realized that his polite, aloof exterior was merely his public persona. In truth, he was very kind, with a Western simplicity in his interactions with women. He directly told her he couldn’t date her because he couldn’t take responsibility for her. He was also exceedingly gentlemanly. Though Zhen Ning knew she shouldn’t constantly confess her feelings, sometimes his responses irritated her. Yet he always chased after her to apologize.
But apologies aside, no meant no.
Du Boqin was far more rational than her. Perhaps they were always meant to remain just friends. Zhen Ning walked along the damp grass beside the mountain path.
“I’m sorry for what I said the other day. I know what being grounded means to a pilot.”
“I was already planning to transfer back to Dangguang, just earlier than expected. You don’t need to apologize. You spoke the truth.”
“Must have been hard, right?”
“No time to think about it.”
“That’s that.”
On their way back, Zhen Ning asked: “Will Beicheli definitely be reclaimed?”
Du Boqin glanced at her sideways.
“Strict adherence to confidentiality clauses, huh?” Zhen Ning pouted. “Your Highness, do you really think I’m a spy?”
“What intelligence agency trains spies who return engagement rings?” Du Boqin’s lingering irritation showed.
Zhen Ning shrank back, not daring to speak further.
Du Boqin smiled faintly: “Among the women around me, you’re the only one willing to talk politics.”
Zhen Ning shot him a sly glance, teasing: “How many women are around you?” Du Boqin’s smile vanished instantly.
Zhen Ning looked at him. His tall, straight figure remained as upright as ever, though he seemed thinner. These past few days of damp weather had left him intermittently coughing.
The sunset’s glow gradually faded behind the forest, and the air grew cold and wet. Zhen Ning quickened her pace: “Let’s hurry back.”
Zhen Ning woke up in her room to see bright light spilling into the living area.
The best weather of the year in Candor had arrived. After a week of cold rain, the flowers had finally revived.
She climbed out of bed and passed through the terrace, vaguely hearing commotion from the garden below—men talking loudly.
Peering through the gap in the curtains, Zhen Ning finally saw several white tables laid out under umbrellas on the lawn below. A group of elegantly dressed young men and women lounged casually, sunlight filtering through the emerald leaves as servants in white shirts and black trousers moved gracefully among them, carrying fine wines and delicate glassware. Drinking so early in the morning—it was a scene of decadent luxury, like a painting of indulgence.
Suddenly, a young man’s voice called out with a laugh: “Mo Ya, Boqin is here!” A sweet, feminine voice immediately responded: “I’m coming!”
Zhen Ning stood by the window, momentarily stunned. So today was a private gathering at the Du residence.
She soon saw Du Boqin emerge from the house. He affectionately patted the back of one of the young men seated, and the others automatically made space for him. He pulled out a chair and sat down, and a servant promptly came to pour him coffee.
The seat beside him was naturally reserved for Jiang Mo Ya. The young lady leaned gently against him: “Boqin, why haven’t you answered my calls these past few days?”
Du Boqin raised his coffee cup, replying calmly: “Didn’t my secretary inform you I was on a business trip?”
Jiang Mo Ya clung to his arm: “The newspapers were full of chaos—I was so worried…”
Du Boqin glanced up at the balcony on the second floor, where a faint figure stood behind the fluttering curtains. He straightened his posture and subtly shifted Mo Ya’s hand away.
Zhen Ning watched the group of aristocratic youths drinking, laughing, and enjoying music. She tightened the curtains, steadied her emotions, changed her clothes, and headed downstairs.
At the top of the stairs leading to the second floor, there was a door that connected to the annex. She planned to slip quietly into the laboratory. As she walked through the long corridor draped with hanging vines, she noticed a man smoking beneath a tree.
Zhen Ning hurried past without sparing him a glance.
The man caught sight of a slim, graceful figure flashing by—short, stylish hair, clad in a pink chiffon dress that swayed amidst the green shadows, an ethereal beauty that seemed otherworldly. Unable to resist, he called out: “Miss!”
Zhen Ning turned around.
Xiang Jiashang was so startled that the cigarette in his mouth fell to the ground: “Shu Zhen Ning!” Zhen Ning was equally surprised.
The next moment, Xiang Jiashang’s surprise turned to delight: “God, heavens above—it’s you! I’ve seen you again!”
Zhen Ning blurted out: “What are you doing here?”
Xiang Jiashang replied: “My family has been friends with the Du family for generations—”
Zhen Ning remembered in that instant. The Xiang Dunke family was also one of the prominent households in the city; it was only natural that the social gatherings of noble families would include him. She took a step back. Encountering such a reckless acquaintance in Fanlu Manor wasn’t exactly a good thing. She decided to retreat: “I have something to attend to. Excuse me.”
“Wait!” Xiang Jiashang quickly grabbed her wrist. “I’ve always hoped to see you again. Didn’t you say you’d never return to Candor?”
Zhen Ning tried to pull free.
Xiang Jiashang grew anxious: “Don’t go!”
He wore an ostentatious velvet suit, his demeanor somewhat flamboyant, but his handsome, earnest face now held a certain charm.
Zhen Ning sighed helplessly: “I won’t leave if you let me go and speak properly.”
Xiang Jiashang, ever the half-gentleman, released her as instructed, bowed slightly, and said formally: “Miss Shu, allow me to introduce myself properly. Xiang Jiashang, twenty-nine years old, unmarried, residing at No. 8 Linyin Avenue. My parents are alive and well, and I am in good health…”
Zhen Ning politely interrupted his rambling with a raised hand: “Mr. Xiang, pleased to meet you.”
But Xiang Jiashang didn’t intend to shake her hand. Instead, he stepped forward, took her hand with refined courtesy, and pressed a solemn kiss to it before smiling faintly: “Aren’t you curious how I know your name?”
His exaggerated elegance made Zhen Ning want to roll her eyes: “You saw my name when I checked in for my flight.”
Xiang Jiashang beamed: “So you haven’t forgotten our little history!” Zhen Ning shrugged, saying nothing.
Xiang Jiashang asked: “Why are you at the Du residence?”
Zhen Ning lied smoothly: “I work here.” Xiang Jiashang looked puzzled: “But you’re not—” Zhen Ning cut him off sharply: “Enough!”
Xiang Jiashang blinked: “You want me to keep this a secret?” Zhen Ning glared at him: “Gossiping is the most annoying trait.” Xiang Jiashang grinned: “Go out with me.”
Zhen Ning exclaimed: “Nonsense!”
Xiang Jiashang, always charming with women, teased: “Sweetheart—”
At that moment, a deep, rich voice interrupted: “Xiang Er, that’s enough!” The chill in that somber tone sent a shiver down Zhen Ning’s spine.
Du Boqin emerged from the side, his hands in his trouser pockets, his expression unreadable.
Seeing him, Xiang Jiashang ignored his stern demeanor and grinned: “Boqin, you’ve been hiding a beauty in your mansion!”
Du Boqin shot him a warning glance: “Your companion is looking for you everywhere.” Xiang Jiashang reluctantly followed him, muttering: “Sigh—”
Du Boqin paid him no further attention and looked at Zhen Ning: “Go to the kitchen for breakfast, then head to the lab.”
Zhen Ning turned and quickly walked away.
---
That night, Du Boqin called her name from the living room outside her room: “Zhen Ning.”
Zhen Ning set down her book and stepped out. She saw him in a clean white shirt, his hair slightly damp—he had already showered. Odd, why had he returned early instead of staying with his guests?
Du Boqin asked: “Do you know Xiang Jiashang?”
Zhen Ning nodded: “We’ve met once.”
Du Boqin asked: “How did you meet?”
Zhen Ning replied: “On the streets of Candor.”
Du Boqin probed further: “This morning, he mentioned some past incident. What was it?”
Zhen Ning looked at him and slowly answered: “A private matter. I decline to answer.” Du Boqin’s expression remained calm: “Fine. He told me today that he intends to pursue you.” Zhen Ning couldn’t help but chuckle.
This Mr. Xiang thought he was starring in The Jade Hall Spring.
Watching her laugh, the small freckle on her nose dancing faintly, Du Boqin suddenly felt a twinge of displeasure: “So happy about it?”
Zhen Ning amused herself for a moment before looking up at him. Du Boqin was usually composed, his emotions hidden, but Zhen Ning could tell when he was upset—his lips would tighten, and his eyes would darken like a deep pool.
Zhen Ning smiled teasingly: “A handsome, charming young man says he wants to pursue me. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”
Du Boqin’s face darkened: “Don’t entertain him anymore.” Zhen Ning deliberately smirked at him: “I rather like him, actually.” Du Boqin snapped angrily: “Shu Zhen Ning!”
Zhen Ning chuckled and finally fell silent.
---
The next afternoon, Du Boqin returned to Fanlu and saw servants carrying large bouquets of flowers.
The scent of lilies made him wrinkle his brow. Standing in the corridor, he asked: “What’s going on?”
Sisan replied awkwardly: “Young Master Xiang sent them over.” Du Boqin asked: “Where’s Miss Shu?”
Sisan answered: “In the west wing lab.”
Zhen Ning was in the lab when she saw a tall figure about to push open the glass door. She hastily called out: “Hey, don’t come in—you’re covered in germs!”
Du Boqin opened the door and sat on the sofa in the outer room. Through the transparent glass door, he saw Zhen Ning in a white lab coat, her calves strong and beautiful beneath her skirt.
His anger melted into warmth. Well, this was interesting. Du Boqin asked: “Why is Xiang Jiashang sending flowers to my house?”
After carefully dripping distilled water into a test tube, Zhen Ning turned to reply: “Are you asking me? It’s not like I asked him to send them.”
Du Boqin thought for a moment: “If you’re bored in Fanlu, you can go into town. What about your sister from the orchestra? Didn’t she visit you last week? Xiang Jiashang isn’t a good person. Stay away from him.”
Zhen Ning wiped her hands, removed her mask, and stood inside the door, addressing Du Boqin: “Do I really need Your Highness to remind me? You nobles of Candor are all the same—womanizing playboys, all of you scoundrels!”
Du Boqin was speechless: “You!”
He stormed out, coldly instructing Sisan: “If Xiang Jiashang sends more flowers, throw them out!”
---
The next day in the office, during a break between meetings, Du Boqin called Fanlu. Sisan reported: “Young Master Xiang hasn’t sent any flowers today.”
Du Boqin replied: “Good,” and returned to work.
---
On Friday evening, as dusk settled, Sisan stood in the hall and saw the black car pull into the courtyard. His heart sank.
His Highness had returned earlier than expected from his trip.
Sisan hurried down the steps and opened the car door for him.
Du Boqin wore the uniform of an Air Force General—dark brown officer’s attire, embroidered golden epaulets with four stars, and a meticulously tied tie. His angular, aloof features appeared even more striking and commanding.
As he walked toward the hall, loosening his tie, he habitually asked Sisan: “Anything happened while I was away?”
Sisan, sweating nervously, stammered: “Everything’s fine.”
Du Boqin paid him no mind, turning to Captain Yisha: “Bring the urgent documents from the past two days to the study.”
He tossed his tie aside and went upstairs to change.
Entering the study to handle official business, Du Boqin found the pile of urgent tasks awaiting him after every trip back. By the time he closed his laptop, he glanced at his watch—it was nearly eight o’clock.
Du Boqin stepped out into the unusually quiet hall.
A maid curtsied slightly upon seeing him and asked softly: “Your Highness, shall I have dinner served?” Du Boqin inquired: “Where is Miss Zhen Ning? Ask her to come down for dinner.”
The maid replied: “Young Master Xiang picked up Miss Shu this afternoon.”
Du Boqin paused briefly while lighting a cigarette, his expression unchanged. He said in a low voice: “Send for Sisan.”
Sisan hurried in upon hearing the news. In the vast living room, Du Boqin sat alone beneath the shimmering crystal chandelier, idly smoking as one hand rested on the armrest of the sofa.
Seeing Sisan enter, Du Boqin rubbed his temples: “The first time?” Sisan stood before him: “No.”
Du Boqin sat on the sofa, tossing the lighter onto the coffee table. The metallic clink echoed as it hit the surface and rolled into the carpet. His voice was low and stern: “Why didn’t you contact me?”
Sisan reported truthfully: “We tried reaching the military base office in Fanlu, but you were unavailable. Civilian calls to the satellite phone on the warship are difficult to connect and shouldn’t be dialed repeatedly.”
Sometimes during missions, Sisan adhered to the principle of not disturbing unless absolutely necessary, avoiding interference with defense resources. Du Boqin said nothing: “It’s fine. You may go.”
Sisan bowed and retreated, adding: “Bodyguards accompanied them throughout. They didn’t go far—just to a club for drinks and dancing. They’re expected back around midnight.”
Du Boqin began making a call. After Zhen Ning returned to Moxia, he had issued her a new phone, though she rarely used it. This seemed to be the first time he personally dialed her number.
The phone rang repeatedly before someone finally answered. Loud music blared through the line.
Zhen Ning shouted: “Hello?”
Du Boqin’s voice was restrained: “Shu Zhen Ning, come back.”
Perhaps recognizing his voice, Zhen Ning sounded surprised: “Your Highness?” Du Boqin’s tone was cold and steady: “I need to see you now. Come back.”
Zhen Ning brushed it off lightly: “I’ll return later.”
At that moment, Xiang Jiashang’s voice came through the receiver: “Darling, stop talking on the phone. Who’s bothering you like this?”
Du Boqin’s brows tightened, his tone becoming harsh: “Now. Immediately!”
Zhen Ning’s voice was light and carefree: “Your Highness, do you really think of me as an employee? Have you paid me a salary?”
Du Boqin’s voice turned icy: “You must follow Fanlu’s rules. No going out after ten o’clock.”
“Oh dear, then I can’t return,” Zhen Ning giggled. “Goodbye.” The line suddenly went dead—she had hung up.
Du Boqin tried calling again, but the phone was already off.
Seated on the sofa, Du Boqin gripped his phone tightly. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the night outside was pitch black.
Shortly after one in the morning, a car entered Fanlu Manor.
The guards disembarked from the rear vehicle and swiftly opened the door.
Zhen Ning hopped out, glancing at the bodyguards who had kept a tight watch on her. A cool summer breeze swept over, and she tugged at her skirt, walking unsteadily toward the house. Passing the garden fountain, the warm lights of the distant hall greeted her.
Zhen Ning swayed on her high heels, half-drunk from the night’s revelry, feeling as if she were walking on clouds.
“Did you have fun?” A low, mocking voice suddenly emerged from the shadows beside the garden path.
Zhen Ning nearly jumped in fright.
She froze, peering into the shadows beneath the trees. Only then did she notice a figure seated on a garden bench—Du Boqin, dressed in a black shirt that blended seamlessly with the night. Amidst the dense darkness, the faint glow of a cigarette tip flickered between his fingers.
Seeing it was Du Boqin, the guards silently withdrew.
Lulu, lying obediently at his feet, stood up and wagged its tail affectionately as Zhen Ning approached.
Zhen Ning pulled out her phone to check the time: 1:54 AM.
Du Boqin lounged on the bench, taking a drag of his cigarette. He said nothing, merely watching her intently.
His gaze was deep, three parts cold and seven parts frosty. Standing before him, she dared not move closer.
After a long pause, he shifted slightly, extinguishing his cigarette in a crystal ashtray resting on the bench.
Slowly rising to his feet, Du Boqin’s pale face gradually emerged from the shadows.
Zhen Ning knew she must be drunk—how else could she smell the damp fragrance of petals at this moment?
Lulu stood up alongside Du Boqin, glancing at Zhen Ning before looking back at its master.
Zhen Ning bent down to pat Lulu’s head, smiling mischievously: “Lulu, good boy. Go back to your den.” Lulu looked up at Du Boqin once more.
Du Boqin gave a slight nod toward a dark spot behind the hedge.
Lulu barked and sprinted across the grass, leaping gracefully over the flowerbeds. Beneath the trees by the fence lay its doghouse.
Du Boqin’s face remained hidden in the shadows, his porcelain-like complexion faintly glowing. Zhen Ning couldn’t ignore the anger emanating from him—a chilling mix of ice and fury.
Zhen Ning stood there for a moment, feeling a chill, and rubbed her arms: “Your Highness, didn’t you say I could go anywhere as long as I don’t leave Candor?”
Du Boqin seemed reluctant to speak, remaining silent for a long while before uttering two hoarse words: “Of course.”
Zhen Ning shrugged and walked past him: “Then mind your own business. Goodnight, Your Highness.”
“Shu Zhen Ning—” Du Boqin’s voice was sinister behind her. “Do you really think I’m powerless against you?”
A shiver ran down Zhen Ning’s spine. She tried to run, but it was too late.
Du Boqin moved forward with astonishing speed, grabbing her arm and pulling her entire body backward. Zhen Ning was practically lifted into his embrace. With one hand, he pinned her arms behind her back, pressing her firmly against him with an elbow lock.
In just a second, he had subdued her with one hand. Then, gripping her chin, he kissed her deeply.
The fresh floral scent on her mingled with the strong alcohol on her breath. Her lips were soft and sweet—a taste he had longed for. Du Boqin cursed under his breath, unable to resist deepening the kiss.
As his icy lips fiercely pressed against hers, Zhen Ning realized the extent of his suppressed anger.
A whirlwind of dizzying passion overwhelmed her—his tobacco-laden breath, the frosty aura surrounding him, and the fiery intensity of their kiss almost made her faint on the spot.
Zhen Ning furiously pounded his chest. Du Boqin remained unmoved.
Suddenly, Zhen Ning bit down hard.
---
On the lawn of Fanlu Manor’s garden.
The weather today was somewhat overcast. At the other end of the garden path, a gentleman in a long-sleeved polo shirt and waterproof jacket strode in, carrying golf clubs.
A servant passing by greeted him: “Good morning, sir.” Matthew responded cheerfully: “Hi, buddy!”
This thirty-year-old, accomplished prime ministerial security advisor had spent two hours playing golf at Fanlu after finishing a meeting that morning.
From afar, he saw secretaries tidying documents under an umbrella. Xie Zi sat cross-legged at the table, engrossed in a game on his laptop. It seemed the internal Ministry of Defense meeting had concluded.
Matthew pulled out a chair, tossed his clubs aside, and handed his bag to a servant. Du Boqin nodded to him: “Coffee?”
Matthew first nodded politely to the only lady present, then turned to the servant behind him: “With milk, no sugar, thank you.”
Du Boqin leaned back in his chair, smoking.
The servant brought the coffee. Matthew took a sip, glancing at the bitten mark on Du Boqin’s lip. He smirked knowingly: “Your Highness, last night’s battle must have been intense—”
Jiang Mo Ya’s heart skipped a beat.
Du Boqin gave Matthew a nonchalant glance, neither confirming nor denying, his expression devoid of any post-coital satisfaction.
Jiang Mo Ya nestled against him, smiling silently.
She had waited considerately until his work ended before coming over this morning. However, upon seeing Du Boqin’s face, she was startled. Before she could speak, a dark glare from Du Boqin silenced her.
After masking her initial shock, Jiang Mo Ya felt a wave of jealousy surge within her. Who was Du Boqin? The eldest son of one of Candor’s most prominent noble families, the young patriarch inheriting the Du Vol family title, the lord of Fanlu Province, and a powerful figure in Moxia’s military and political circles. Over the past decade, he had repeatedly risked his life in battles, navigating the treacherous currents of Moxian politics to rise to the position of Chief of the General Staff. He was young, handsome, wealthy, and charismatic. Yet, despite all this, he wasn’t particularly popular among the socialites of Candor’s high society. He was taciturn, stern, and carried an aristocratic aloofness that extended only as far as polite courtesy toward women—no warmth beyond that. In contrast, gentlemen like Xiang Jiashang, who were attentive, affable, and perpetually smiling, were far more favored by the ladies.
Du Boqin’s authoritative presence was overwhelming. There was a joke circulating in the Tan Guang building: after his previous secretary, Rebecca, was promoted to Deputy Director of the Ministry of Defense’s Press Office, his new secretary entered his office for a ten-minute meeting on the first day and emerged pale, trembling, and unable to recover for hours. Du Boqin had little tolerance for women behaving improperly around him—he wouldn’t even allow public displays of affection, let alone such an obvious bite mark on his face.
In all the years Jiang Mo Ya had been with him, she hadn’t dared to leave even a lipstick stain on his shirt.
Whoever had earned such indulgence from him must have been granted unimaginable privileges. At this thought, Jiang Mo Ya was consumed with envy, itching all over.
But Du Boqin paid no heed to the storm brewing in her heart. Lost in thought, he sat silently, extinguishing his cigarette before lighting another.
Jiang Mo Ya gently chided him: “Stop smoking—you’ve been coughing nonstop.”
Du Boqin ignored her. The lighter clicked open, and he took a drag, frowning slightly as he listened to the commotion coming from the main house behind him.
The next moment, however, he abruptly crushed the freshly lit cigarette in his hand and began coughing again.
Jiang Mo Ya quickly handed him the coffee on the table.
Du Boqin waved her off but couldn’t speak, muffling his hoarse, persistent coughs with his hand. Sisan, waiting in the garden, hurriedly instructed a servant to bring a glass of warm water.
It was then that Matthew realized something was amiss. Though the villa was usually quiet, there were now distinct crashing sounds coming from the second floor. The main house was some distance from the lawn, so the noise was faint unless one listened carefully—it seemed someone was throwing plates.
Du Boqin accepted the glass of water from the servant. Just then, another loud crash echoed from upstairs. He was visibly irritated.
Broken items didn’t matter; what worried him was whether she had hurt herself.
Matthew was somewhat surprised. Everything had seemed fine during the morning meeting, but after playing golf for just two hours, he returned to find Fanlu Manor enveloped in an eerie atmosphere—Du Boqin looked unwell, Jiang Mo Ya feigned cheerfulness, and the servants moved about with forced calm.
Earlier that morning, after finishing the meeting with Matthew, it was nearly noon. Du Boqin had only drunk half a cup of coffee and was having breakfast in the dining room when Zhen Ning announced she was heading out. He asked where she was going—it turned out Yu Ji Xuan had an important performance at the Royal Grand Theater, and Zhen Ning intended to attend. Du Boqin offered to send a driver, but Zhen Ning casually replied: “No need, Xiang Jiashang is picking me up.”
This topic had already caused a heated argument between them the previous night, which ended in physical confrontation. Upon hearing her response, Du Boqin’s face darkened instantly, and he coldly remarked: “Xiang Jiashang is taking you? Then don’t go.”
Zhen Ning immediately flared up: “What gives you the right to stop me?”
Du Boqin said: “You can go out, but not with Xiang Jiashang.” Zhen Ning retorted: “I’ll go with him if I want to!”
Du Boqin’s face turned ashen: “Then stay here.”
When Du Boqin explicitly forbade her from leaving, Zhen Ning stubbornly insisted on going out. Another fierce argument erupted in the dining room, escalating into yet another physical altercation. She was so enraged that she nearly kicked him hard enough to break his ribs as he carried her upstairs.
Du Boqin locked her in her room.
Fuming, Zhen Ning began smashing things—the coffee pot from the living room, then the entire set of bone china teacups in the cabinet. Nearly half an hour had passed.
At that moment, a young man sat down and asked with a grin: “Why is Xiang Er throwing a tantrum at the checkpoint below the mountain?”
Du Boqin glanced at him.
Matthew quickly interjected: “Master Jin, the coffee smells wonderful—care for a cup?”
Jin Kenny persisted: “I heard Xiang Er has taken a fancy to a girl at Fanlu? Even with strict family rules, she’s just a servant. If Jiashang likes her, why not let him have her?”
Du Boqin’s expression grew darker.
Jiang Mo Ya fell silent, quietly observing his demeanor.
Xiang Jiashang had been making a spectacle of himself these days, sending flowers daily and stirring up gossip across the city. Everyone knew the dashing Young Master Xiang was pursuing a beautiful master perfumer at Du Boqin’s estate.
“After all, you already have the most beautiful girl in Moxia…” Jin Kenny winked flirtatiously at Jiang Mo Ya before continuing with a grin: “Hey, who’s seen this girl? What does she look like?”
A young man at the table chimed in: “I saw her once when Xiang Er brought her to the club—a real beauty, Kenny. A stunning woman.”
Jin Kenny beamed: “Really? If Jiashang can’t handle her, we’ll line up to pursue her!” Du Boqin’s anger flared, ready to overturn the table.
Among the nobility, it was common for men to jest about their female companions, who changed like revolving doors, as long as marriage wasn’t involved. Du Boqin usually found such banter harmless, but today it grated on his nerves. He slammed the cigarette pack onto the table and said icily: “Enough.”
He stood, pulled back his chair, and leaned down to kiss Jiang Mo Ya: “Don’t you have shopping to do today? The driver will take you.”
Jiang Mo Ya lightly touched the wound that wasn’t hers, giving Du Boqin a coquettish smile before nodding.
She watched him leave silently.
As Du Boqin ascended the steps, he told Sisan: “Inform the checkpoint below—Jin Kenny isn’t allowed up here for a month.”
---
The next day, Zhen Ning moved to a different room.
After she finished smashing things, Du Boqin opened the door, surveyed the devastated room without batting an eye, and calmly said: “Come out—be careful not to step on the broken porcelain.”
The servants immediately prepared another room for her.
Zhen Ning looked at her new “cage”—thick emerald-green curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows, priceless paintings embedded in the walls of the living room, a full set of Lanwen crystal glasses on the wine cabinet, handwoven soft cloud carpets, and layers of plush silk bedding on the wide bed…
Fanlu Manor was practically a nation unto itself. She had destroyed one room, and Du Boqin hadn’t batted an eyelash—immediately providing her with an even more luxurious, more opulent space to destroy.
True to his word, Zhen Ning never saw Xiang Jiashang again.
In fact, she barely saw Du Boqin either. At least, he hadn’t appeared in the dining room during regular meal times. The vehicles of Fanlu Manor were constantly bustling in and out. He was swamped with state affairs, spending three or four days a week shuttling between Tan Guang Building and the Prime Minister’s Office, while the remaining days his whereabouts were a mystery—a national secret known only to a select few. Sometimes he returned late at night, and since she usually stayed up late, she would be summoned to join him for a meal.
Last night, as usual, he returned late. Sisan came upstairs to fetch her. She maintained a composed demeanor in front of the staff but sat across from him, refusing even a sip of water. Since he forbade her from seeing Xiang Jiashang, she had treated him with nothing but cold disdain.
When Du Boqin tried speaking to her, Zhen Ning stubbornly refused to respond. Infuriated, he threw his napkin onto the table and said: “Go upstairs.”
He rose and headed straight to the study.
Sisan followed him to the door of the study. As Du Boqin turned to look at him, Sisan ventured: “Miss Shu is lonely here in the estate, with no family or friends.”
Du Boqin paused, his brows furrowing slightly.
---
The next afternoon, Du Boqin came downstairs. Zhen Ning was watching TV in the living room. Sitting beside her, he asked: “Not going out?”
Zhen Ning didn’t even glance at him: “Why?”
Du Boqin hesitated, unsure how to respond, and finally said: “There are some good exhibitions in Candor recently. I’ll have Sisan arrange for someone to accompany you.”
Zhen Ning sneered: “Your Highness, thank you, but no need.”
Du Boqin rubbed his nose, looking helpless. Winning over a moody woman was certainly not his forte. After much thought, he finally remembered something she liked and leaned closer: “Or, after I finish work, I’ll take you up for a flight?”
Once, he had been Moxia’s youngest and most handsome pilot. After graduating from Britain and returning to serve, he rose to the rank of general within a few years, earning countless honors. His youthful image soaring through the skies was etched into the hearts of all Moxian youth as the epitome of military excellence.
“You still fly?” Zhen Ning finally turned to look at him. “I can manage a smooth flight for you.”
Zhen Ning rested her chin on her hand, lost in thought. She couldn’t bring herself to refuse. After a long silence, Du Boqin called out: “Zhen Ning?”
Finally, she drawled lazily, feigning disinterest: “Your Highness, isn’t it illegal to bring a foreign woman of unknown origin into the nation’s highest military base? Are you planning to arrest me after taking me there?”
Du Boqin couldn’t hold back any longer and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
---
On Friday afternoon, Zhen Ning made plans with her cousin Ji Xuan to get her hair cut.
Perhaps her earlier outburst had earned her some freedom, or perhaps Du Boqin had suddenly taken pity on her—Sisan raised no objections and arranged for a driver to take her out. As the car left Fanlu Manor, Zhen Ning glanced back and noticed another vehicle discreetly following them.
Ji Xuan had booked an appointment with a highly renowned stylist for Zhen Ning. Unfortunately, it felt like a waste of talent since the haircut only took a little over an hour—her shoulder-length hair was trimmed shorter. The stylist suggested she dye her hair, but Zhen Ning shook her head.
The two sisters left the stylist’s studio and went to have dinner in the city. Candor was Moxia’s fashion capital, and given the country’s wealth, it was common to see royals and celebrities shopping extravagantly. Zhen Ning quite enjoyed the bustling downtown area, so they headed straight to the most vibrant and luxurious spot: the Jiarong Foundation Building.
After dining at the Flowing Light Restaurant on the 28th floor, the two cousins strolled through the mall arm in arm. While Ji Xuan tried on clothes in a store, Zhen Ning leaned close to whisper in her ear: “I’m going to the restroom.”
She was gone for quite some time.
So long that Ji Xuan called her, only to find the call unanswered. Fortunately, Zhen Ning returned shortly after.
By the time Zhen Ning came back, Ji Xuan was already seated, drinking coffee while being attended by a shop assistant, with two shopping bags beside her.
Zhen Ning smiled brightly: “All done?”
Ji Xuan found it odd: “Where did you go?”
Zhen Ning tugged her along: “I saw a bracelet I liked when I came back, so I tried it on. Come help me take a look.”
“Where?” Ji Xuan lit up instantly.
In the end, when they parted ways, both had changed into new outfits and were carrying several shopping bags. Ji Xuan kissed her cheek, and her manager’s car whisked her away.
That night, Zhen Ning returned to Fanlu. At the dinner table, she unexpectedly saw Du Boqin. For some reason, he had been staying at Fanlu more often recently.
The most frequent activity they shared was walking Lulu on the trails behind Fanlu Manor. One evening at dusk, he asked her: “Does Fanlu make you unhappy?”
Zhen Ning froze.
“Why do you want to leave?” Du Boqin’s voice was steady. “I don’t belong here,” Zhen Ning replied, sensing something amiss.
On this midsummer evening, as the sun dipped behind the mountains and mist began to rise on the trails of Fanlu, Du Boqin asked her on their way back: “Are you still blaming me for your father’s death?”
Zhen Ning’s shoulders tensed.
Du Boqin’s hands were in his pockets: “Your father fled the country with his family years ago and turned to commerce, severing ties with Moxia as far as I know. King Tuo Mo IV is dead. Didn’t your father wish for his children to escape politics?”
Zhen Ning’s face remained expressionless: “Your Highness, if you don’t talk about your father, I won’t talk about mine.” Du Boqin said softly: “My apologies.”
Zhen Ning’s voice grew desolate: “If I were a good daughter, I should challenge you to a duel instead of taking walks with you.”
Du Boqin shook his head: “Don’t engage in futile battles that cause unnecessary casualties. Your family has sons; such matters shouldn’t fall on the daughters.”
Zhen Ning replied coldly: “Is that so? I have three brothers—you’d better watch out.”
They slowly descended the mountain trail, Du Boqin walking beside her, always keeping an eye on the path ahead: “Families like yours are rare survivors in Moxia.”
“What about the Du Vol family?”
“The Si family is one.”
No wonder he trusted Sisan so much.
At the end of the trail, with the green lawns of Fanlu Manor in sight, Captain Yisha stood rigidly at the intersection. Suddenly, Du Boqin placed a hand on her shoulder and said calmly: “Zhen Ning, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave Candor for now.”
A chill ran through Zhen Ning’s heart as realization dawned: “Your people opened that janitor’s cabinet, didn’t they?”
Du Boqin didn’t deny it.
“You’ve taken my identification documents?” Zhen Ning’s face paled. “And—you’ve detained him?”
Du Boqin’s expression remained serene: “Stay in Fanlu, sign a work contract, and I’ll guarantee his safety.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then it becomes a matter for Moxia’s military court.”
“So he’s under your command?”
“No comment.”
Zhen Ning’s delicate, pale face flushed slightly: “Do you really think I care about your threats?”
Du Boqin remained unmoved: “You can try.”
Suppressing the sudden surge of anger in her chest, Zhen Ning gritted her teeth fiercely: “Your Highness, we Chinese have a saying: even a cornered dog will leap over a wall.”
She crouched slightly to pat Lulu’s head: “Sweetie, isn’t that right?” Lulu barked once.
The next moment, Zhen Ning shot off like an arrow.
She bolted toward the mansion gates with astonishing speed. Captain Yisha reacted swiftly, chasing after her, but Zhen Ning had already sprinted hundreds of meters in the blink of an eye. As she neared the checkpoint, Yisha shouted for backup. The guards stationed near the mansion rushed out to intercept her, two groups converging rapidly. Just as they were about to catch her, Zhen Ning suddenly spun around and dashed back toward the mansion. The two groups nearly collided at the gate.
Glancing back, Zhen Ning sneered, kicked her legs, and ran toward the front courtyard. Dodging the fountain by the driveway, she approached the main entrance, only to see Du Boqin standing leisurely on the porch steps, Lulu by his side. His hands were in his trouser pockets, watching her approach with calm amusement. Zhen Ning stopped at the top of the steps, hands on her hips, gasping for breath.
Furious, she raised her hand and flipped him the middle finger. He chuckled: “Miss from Huaguo, be a lady.” Zhen Ning retorted: “Fuck you.”
She stormed into the mansion, knocking over a tray of tea a maid was carrying, and ran upstairs to slam the door shut.
---
The next morning, Sisan brought her the contract.
Without even glancing at it, Zhen Ning signed her name. She hadn’t slept well the previous night, her eyes slightly red and swollen. Smiling at Sisan, she asked: “Didn’t His Highness promise to pay me a salary? How much?”
Sisan smiled back, a subtle admiration in his gaze: “Quite generous.” Zhen Ning asked: “Can I continue visiting the flower fields on the back mountain?”
Sisan’s demeanor remained respectful: “As His Highness instructed, Miss Shu, feel free.”
In the afternoon, Zhen Ning sat in the shaded corridor of the garden, sipping tea and carefully studying the report Sisan had given her. It stated that Lady Jenny, the former master perfumer of Fanlu Manor, had retired a year earlier. Burning incense was a Moxian tradition, but Fanlu Manor had struggled to find a suitable successor. Due to Du Boqin’s health needs, only pure natural essential oils could be used, with ingredients required to contain nutrients and pass evaluation by his medical team.
Only then did Zhen Ning understand how demanding Fanlu’s requirements were—it was no wonder they hadn’t found a replacement. That night, at her desk on the second floor, she meticulously translated her notes on Moxia’s rare plants and flowers into English, Moxian, and Chinese, annotating each fragrance property.
After officially starting work at Fanlu, besides creating fragrances, her primary task was researching and harvesting zhànjīn flowers—a vast and intricate undertaking, but one she found fascinating.
When the first autumn rain fell, Zhen Ning submitted her first sample of essential oil.
It had taken her two months to create, undergoing countless trials and refinements. Even Sisan was surprised by her speed: “Miss Shu, so soon?”
Zhen Ning shrugged dismissively: “Just threw it together. If it’s bad, fire me quickly.”
Sisan smiled patiently: “We’ll test it and see. The Du family has grown flowers for generations—we’re not short of people to evaluate scents.”
Candor’s autumn was crisp and clear, with dry weather preceding the rains. Zhen Ning had spent most of her time wandering the gardens on the back mountain, rarely entering the lab.
This trial sample still primarily used zhànjīn flowers as its base note, but the middle note featured lùráng grass, a vine native to the high-altitude regions of the Fanlu Mountains. She had picked it just before dawn, its leaves still frosted and dewy. Using these vines and frost, Zhen Ning refined a uniquely ethereal scent through repeated trials. Being entirely natural, it smelled fresh, like springtime meadows.
Of course, professionally speaking, the scent had flaws—its base note wasn’t enduring enough, and its presence was faint—but Zhen Ning thought, who cares? It’s not like the Crown Prince can drag me to the guillotine.
Teasing him, she asked: “Mr. Si, are you really treating me as a master perfumer? Aren’t you afraid I’ll poison you?”
Sisan maintained his gentle demeanor, his round, fair face smiling warmly: “Miss Shu, you love to joke.”
“Do I annoy people by living here?”
“Since you’ve been here, His Highness has returned more often.”
“When he returns, doesn’t it mean more work for all of you?”
“His Highness treats his servants with humility and respect. Everyone at Fanlu Manor serves him loyally—it’s our duty.”
Sisan suddenly struck up a casual conversation: “Actually, I recognized Miss Shu a long time ago.” Zhen Ning was puzzled: “Why?”
Sisan explained: “When the old Duke fell ill, His Highness returned from London. He showed me your photo.”
Zhen Ning’s hand holding the teacup trembled slightly. She quickly steadied herself, the steam rising to blur her features: “Really?”
Sisan nodded: “The master was very pleased, especially upon learning that you’re also from Huaguo. The lady of the house is from Huaguo as well—elegant and gentle.”
They had taken a photograph together, one that Zhen Ning had insisted on taking with a Polaroid camera. It was at a Japanese restaurant near Fordham Park. Zhen Ning had found an antique camera at a second-hand shop and was excited to show it to Du Boqin.
Zhen Ning had thought the photo was lost, but it turned out he had taken it. She subtly turned her head away, her nose tingling with emotion.
Sisan continued softly: “The master passed away very suddenly. At the time, the political climate was tense, and His Highness personally burned many documents within the estate.”
Zhen Ning stared at her teacup, lost in thought, the rising steam reddening her eyes slightly.
Sisan knew when to stop. With a slight bow, he turned to leave.
From behind him, Zhen Ning said: “Mr. Si, in the eighteen-move killing sequence, thirty-three hits would be a perfect score, right?”
Sisan glanced at her, his demeanor still polite and respectful, but with a subtle undertone of warning: “Miss Shu, your insight is remarkable.”
This steward was indeed a hidden master. Zhen Ning found him rather endearing, smiled faintly, and went upstairs to focus on her botanical notes.
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