Chapter 21: Overwhelmed by Jealousy

Was Shen Qianxue so badly frightened that she miscarried?

Looking at Shen Qianxue inside the carriage, her lower body stained with blood, her face deathly pale and already unconscious, Shen Qianmo knew this child was most likely lost. Her elegant brows knitted; her instincts told her this accident was highly suspicious.

Seeing Madam Cui at a loss, Shen Qianmo instructed Qingluo to help carry Shen Qianxue off the carriage and onto the one she herself had been riding in. Qingluo, the young maid, did not seem particularly flustered; she moved with steady hands, assisting Madam Cui in lifting Shen Qianxue. Shen Qianmo admired her composure in crisis and felt once more that her trust in Qingluo was not misplaced.

Though this mother and daughter had plotted against her several times, as someone who studied medicine, Shen Qianmo could not stand by and do nothing—this was her professional ethic and personal principle. However, her expertise was in forensics, not obstetrics, so the only solution was to send for a doctor as quickly as possible.

But seeking help outside was out of the question. Shen Qianxue was not yet married; if word of her pregnancy before marriage got out, her life would be ruined, and the entire Shen Marquis household would become the laughingstock of the capital. So after Madam Cui and her daughter got into the carriage, Shen Qianmo told the coachman, “Return to the Marquis’ residence at once.”

Before leaving, Madam Cui shot Shen Qianmo a venomous glare, her face twisted with hatred. That look seemed to remind Shen Qianmo of something. She approached the fallen, frenzied horse, where Feng Ze was already examining it. Seeing her, he stood up and said, “Someone must have drugged the horse. The effects were triggered after a long run, which made it suddenly go mad.”

So it was as she suspected. Shen Qianmo crouched down, professionally inspecting the horse from head to tail. When she reached the tail, she understood the reason for Madam Cui’s earlier resentment.

This horse had originally been harnessed to the carriage she herself rode in. She had taken note before leaving the residence: the underside of this horse’s tail was red—the only feature distinguishing it from the other horse.

That meant she was supposed to be in this runaway carriage. The ones who drugged the horse must have been Madam Cui and her daughter; no wonder Madam Cui glared at her so hatefully. Shen Qianmo sneered inwardly: surely this was a case of hoisting one’s own petard, suffering from one’s own scheme.

But who had swapped the horses? And why? Was it to help her, or simply to harm Shen Qianxue instead? Pondering, Shen Qianmo stood up, catching a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye.

A slim youth in green slipped quickly through the crowd and vanished.

He looked like the taciturn bodyguard always at Prince Xuan’s side. A thought flashed through Shen Qianmo’s mind: could this be the work of Prince Xuan?

“Feng Ze, thank you for your help just now,” Shen Qianmo said.

Feng Ze, who had been staring in a daze at the thoughtful Shen Qianmo, was captivated by the light in her eyes and lost himself for a moment. Only when she spoke did he recover, awkwardly smiling and shaking his head. “It was nothing, really.”

Afterward, with a trace of nervousness, he asked, “By the way, Qianmo, are you all right?”

“How could I not be? I wasn’t in that carriage,” Shen Qianmo replied with a gentle smile. It surprised her that Feng Ze, like Yuan Lie, came across as strict and serious but was in fact endearingly naive.

“Oh, right,” Feng Ze scratched his head, glancing sheepishly at Shen Qianmo, afraid his little secret might be discovered. Glancing at the horse foaming at the mouth on the ground, he suddenly offered, “Qianmo, this horse is done for. How about I fetch another and take you home?”

He hardly finished before, as if fearing she might refuse, he ordered one of his soldiers to bring a horse.

Feng Ze was right—there was a long way left to the Marquis’ residence, and walking was out of the question. But having the illustrious General of Martial Prestige play coachman seemed a bit much. Shen Qianmo said, “Feng Ze, you’re on duty. Just ask another coachman to take me.”

But when the soldier brought the horse, Feng Ze personally readied the carriage, leapt to the driver’s seat, and, a bit awkwardly, said to Shen Qianmo, “Get in.”

Seeing the imposing Feng Ze sitting in such an incongruous position, Shen Qianmo suddenly recalled a time when, chasing a suspect with Yuan Lie, their patrol car broke down halfway and they had to commandeer a passing lady’s electric scooter. Yuan Lie, just like now, sat on the little scooter and awkwardly said, “Get on.”

At that memory, Shen Qianmo couldn’t help but laugh aloud, turning to Qingluo, “Let’s go.”

Qingluo covered her mouth, also laughing. Seeing her mistress’s signal, she helped Shen Qianmo into the carriage.

Feng Ze was momentarily stunned by Shen Qianmo’s radiant smile. Though her face was half-veiled, her arched brows and sparkling eyes etched themselves deeply into his heart, making it race uncontrollably.

Seeing her settle into the carriage, his handsome face broke into a satisfied grin. With a flick of the whip, he set off, his heart soaring as wildly as the whip in his hand.

The two remaining Jinwu guards exchanged glances. With their commander gone, could they leave early—or perhaps sneak in a break? After a moment’s hesitation, they resigned themselves to continue patrolling. If the general caught them slacking, the consequences would be dire.

When the crowd finally dispersed, Meng Yuanheng and Yun Yi emerged slowly from the street corner. Yun Yi, still dressed in flowing white, snapped open his folding fan and teased, “Ah Heng, it seems your future princess doesn’t care much for your favor. Now look, that blockhead Feng Ze got the advantage. How does that make you feel?”

Meng Yuanheng, seated upright in his wheelchair, his face as cold and unreadable as ever, merely cast Yun Yi a warning glance: shut up.

Yun Yi, rarely seeing Meng Yuanheng at a loss, would not let it go so easily. Ignoring the warning, he continued, “From what I can see, the future Princess Xuan seems to have a special regard for Feng Ze. What do you make of that, Ah Heng?”

“If you don’t speak, no one will think you’re mute. Or, if you’d like to become truly mute, I can arrange that,” Meng Yuanheng replied blandly.

Yun Yi’s face stiffened. “Meng Yuanheng, are you threatening me? If it weren’t for you, would I be doing these petty, underhanded tasks—protecting Shen Qianmo in secret, spying on the Marquis’ household, stepping in to resolve her troubles? Such menial work is an insult to the Shadow Guards of Woyun Manor!”

“You could always choose not to do it,” Meng Yuanheng said, his tone still indifferent.

“Hmph, easy for you to say!” Yun Yi snorted, slightly lacking in conviction. If he had a choice, would he really lower himself to such tasks? If not for the former Prince Xuan saving his father’s life, and his father making him swear an unbreakable oath on his deathbed to serve the Xuan Prince’s household to the end of his days—or be cast out of the Yun family—he would never have agreed to this fate. It’s not that he doesn’t want to refuse; he simply cannot.

Yet, after years with Meng Yuanheng, Yun Yi understood him well enough: apart from his sharp tongue and perpetually cold expression, he was loyal to his brothers and friends. Yun Yi’s teasing was just a way to provoke a reaction from his perpetually reserved companion. For example, right now—clearly consumed with jealousy, yet still putting on an indifferent front.

When did this man become so invested in Shen Qianmo? Last time, he risked his own health, forcing his inner energy to sneak into the Marquis’ residence and deliver medicine to her, then protected her in secret at every turn.

Yun Yi cast a meaningful glance at the silent Meng Yuanheng, raising his brows with amusement. It seemed a good show was about to unfold.

Meng Yuanheng, hidden in the gloom of a street corner, watched Shen Qianmo’s carriage slowly disappear. He gripped the arms of his wheelchair tightly, lowering his gaze to conceal the storm in his eyes.

She had never smiled at him before, but when she turned that radiant smile on Feng Ze just now, he was seized by an overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and claim her as his own.

This woman was his—no one else would be allowed to covet her. At this moment, he finally understood his own heart.