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Rebirth of the Captured Prince
墨書 Inktalez
A suddenly gentle and familiar voice whispered in her ear, like a sharp sword piercing deep into her heart, causing a dull pain in her insides, as if her meridians had been severed.
As the voice faded further away, growing weaker, the feeling of impending loss engulfed her like a surging tide.
Jiang Xi jolted upright, cold sweat beading on her forehead, fear filling her eyes. It turned out she had been having a nightmare.
A cool voice followed, carrying an air of detachment, intruding into Jiang Xi's ears without warning.
Slowly, Jiang Xi turned her head, her movements sluggish, meeting a pair of indifferent eyes that suppressed some intense emotion.
Fong Yang—he truly existed. I have been reborn!
Her mind went blank for an instant. She gently closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly, greedily inhaling the familiar scent. Then she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze gradually regaining clarity, a hint of spirit returning to her eyes.
Such a stunningly ethereal face; I had once wanted to escape from it countless times.
Fong Yang, built upon merit and power, was a noble existence that no one dared to mention casually across the continent. Yet this extremely noble and formidable person had met such a tragic end.
Jiang Xi clenched her teeth as another wave of pain surged through her heart—it was all because of me.
"Does my existence truly make you feel this way?" Fong Yang looked at her pale face and the suppressed emotions in her eyes, a hint of bitterness appearing on his handsome and noble features.
Fong Yang closed his eyes briefly and resolutely turned to leave.
"Fong Yang," Jiang Xi called out to him, "I have something to say."
Fong Yang's lips pressed tightly together, filled with confusion and unease. What did she want to say?
To declare that she could never like him in this lifetime? To say that as long as she drew breath, she would find a way to leave? Or perhaps to express that she would rather die than see his distasteful face?
Fong Yang unconsciously clenched his fists.
"I don't want to hear it," Jiang Xi stated firmly. "You must listen. If you don't, I will write you a Divorce Letter."
Fong Yang's expression changed drastically as he suddenly turned around, his deep eyes resembling a cold, long-abandoned pool, meeting Jiang Xi's gaze.
A pair of slender, snow-white legs extended from the edge of the bed, and her clean eyes were fixed intently on the tall, lean figure of the man.
"I'm not feeling well. Help me put on my socks."
Fong Yang stood still, secretly speculating what scheme she was up to this time.
"Your Highness," Jiang Xi said softly again, "my feet are cold."
Taking a deep breath, Fong Yang slowly turned and walked to the bedside, his black robe with golden threads accentuating his cold and imposing demeanor.
He was a war god who strategized on the battlefield and decided victories from thousands of miles away; he was a king who made decisions in the court, commanding respect from all ministers and generals.
Though not an emperor, he possessed an imperial aura that surpassed even that of the current ruler.
Yet at this moment, he quietly crouched by the bed, slightly lowering his head, focused on putting socks on Jiang Xi's feet. He was clearly performing a humble servant's duty but showed no signs of dissatisfaction.
Jiang Xi gazed down at Fong Yang, his perfect profile reminiscent of Jin Gui coming into view. She couldn't help but ponder how she had once despised this face so much; it was undeniably exquisite and handsome, like a delicate ink painting.
In an inexplicable moment, Jiang Xi called out, "Fong Yang, Fong Yang."
After a brief silence, Fong Yang looked up at her beautiful, rosy lips, feeling anxious as he awaited words of resentment or mockery to spill from her red mouth. He braced himself for her daily expressions of hatred towards him, anticipating that his already battered heart would continue to be pierced by her sharp words.
However, accompanied by a faint fragrance wafting through the air was a delicate and exquisite face gradually coming into focus before him.
Fong Yang's pupils narrowed, still unresponsive, when a sudden cool sensation brushed against his lips. Though it was fleeting, like a dragonfly touching the water's surface, he froze instantly, as if turned to stone.
"The prince is of noble status, wielding immense power, and so handsome; how could he hang himself on my crooked tree?"
After regaining his senses, Fong Yang silently lowered his head to help her put on her shoes, clearly not intending to answer the question.
"Why aren't you speaking, Your Highness?" Jiang Xi pressed her lips together. "What trick are you playing?"
He felt that something was off about Jiang Xi today.
Fong Yang looked up at her. "You are not a crooked tree."
Jiang Xi curiously asked, "Then what kind of tree am I?"
Fong Yang fell silent for a moment, just about to speak when he was interrupted by his guard Qingyang.
"Your Highness, Second Lady Jiang has arrived."
Upon hearing that cunning sister who always incited Jiang Xi to run away was coming, Fong Yang's expression instantly turned cold. His brows and eyes were filled with malice, and an aura of ruthless chill surrounded him, resembling a reaper from hell.
Jiang Xi smiled faintly upon hearing that insincere sister was coming. "Just in time."
Fong Yang pursed his lips, a heavy layer of Han Shuang shadowing his exquisite face.
He stood up without a word, his hands hanging by his sides, fingers slightly clenched within his robe sleeves. Yet Jiang Xi seemed completely oblivious to this; she spoke softly, "Your Highness, you're too tall. Lower your head a bit."
Fong Yang turned to look at her expressionlessly, making no move.
Jiang Xi sighed and took the initiative to rise on her toes. She gently wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and pressed his head down before kissing his lips—still just a fleeting touch like that of a dragonfly skimming the water.
After a brief touch, Jiang Xi smiled, "Your lips are so cool, but I like it." With that, she walked straight out.
Fong Yang stood frozen for a long time, as if under a spell, before finally coming to his senses and gently brushing his fingers over his lips, a wave of tumultuous emotions rising in his heart.
What did she mean by that?
At that moment, Fong Yang's personal guard, Yin Ye, looked at him as if he had seen a ghost, secretly astonished: Lady Jiang actually kissed the master. What has gotten into him?
In the garden of the palace, Jiang Yue looked concerned. "Sister, you look so pale. Did the Regent mistreat you? Brother Xinwen asked me to tell you to endure it and never confront the Regent. He is a ruthless killer."
Hearing the familiar voice and gazing at the face she could never forget from her past life, Jiang Xi felt a momentary sense of disconnection from reality.
A ruthless killer—how ironic. In my last life, it was because I believed your words that I ended up in such a dire situation with Fong Yang. How dare you call me sister? How could I have ever believed in this sisterly bond?
Looking back now, Jiang Yue only wanted to use me to escape her identity as an illegitimate daughter and enter the Prime Minister's Residence as a legitimate daughter of the Chancellor.
When I was trapped in the palace, she and Huo Xingwen used my name to swindle large sums of money from my mother, leveraging connections within the Prime Minister's Residence to elevate Huo Qingshu’s status. They must have gained countless benefits using my identity while taking my money to indulge in their own desires—truly pathetic and laughable.
With deep feelings came nothing but betrayal.
Sisterly love only yielded ingratitude in return.
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