My modern, fifty-year-old soul was currently screaming.
Not a dignified, mature scream, mind you. It was a high-pitched, shattering-glass kind of shriek that would have shamed a Victorian maiden encountering a mouse.
One moment, I was internally cursing my offline, budget-tier System for withholding my hard-earned bonus points—*seriously, 1800 system points? I survived a high-level espionage threshold for a measly two hundred points?!*—and the next, I was face-planting directly into what felt like a wall of finely sculpted, expensive-smelling silk.
*Thump.*
The wall breathed.
Actually, it didn't just breathe; it radiated a distinct, crisp fragrance of fresh winter snow mixed with premium imperial incense.
It was the kind of scent that practically screamed, *"I own three different provinces and could have you executed for breathing my oxygen."*
My brain froze. My eyes popped open.
Standing approximately zero inches away from my face was the intricately embroidered golden dragon sprawling across the Crown Prince's chest.
"Ah," I gasped, the sound escaping my throat like a dying squeak toy.
I scrambled backward so fast I nearly tripped over my own clearance-rack boots.
My heart was thumping against my ribs with the force of a heavy-metal drummer on a caffeine rush.
If it were physically possible for blood to over-circulate and cause a localized explosion inside a human torso, I would have painted the pristine palace walls red right then and there.
The Crown Prince slowly turned around.
The movement was painfully deliberate, like a predator tracking a particularly clumsy, brightly colored bird that had stupidly flown into his cave. He looked down at me, his striking, bottomless blue eyes locking onto my face.
Instantly, a wave of intense, localized global warming hit my cheeks. My ears felt like they were being held over an open campfire.
I immediately whipped my gaze downward, terrified that if I kept looking at him, my face would literally melt off from sheer embarrassment.
"Look at us," the Prince commanded.
His voice wasn't just cold; it was a physical weight. It was a deep, stern, baritone rumble that vibrated right through the floorboards and straight into my skeleton.
My knees, which had already been doing a flawless impression of jelly since I entered the inner palace, completely gave up the ghost.
The last remaining ounce of my physical strength evaporated into thin air.
With a pathetic *splat*, I collapsed right onto the hard, polished floor, my legs completely refusing to cooperate.
Yet, his gaze didn't leave me. Even though I was currently residing on the floor like a discarded pile of laundry, those terrifying blue eyes remained pinned to my figure.
"Do we have to repeat ourselves?" The Prince's voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver straight down my spine.
"We said... *look at us*."
*For goodness' sake!* I screamed at myself in the deep, dark recesses of my mind.
*Xiu Liang, you are a fifty-year-old soul! You have lived a whole life! You have paid taxes! You have dealt with terrible landlords and bad Wi-Fi! How are you letting yourself get completely intimidated and reduced to a quivering puddle by a fictional royal teenager?! Where is your dignity?!*
But despite my internal elderly lecture, my body apparently had other plans. I completely surrendered. Slowly, pathetically, I tilted my chin upward.
There I was, sitting awkwardly on the floor like a penalised toddler, while he towered over me like a majestic, terrifying deity. Our eyes met.
The Crown Prince's lips parted slightly. A low, barely audible murmur escaped them.
"Gorgeous..."
"Huh?" I blinked, my ears still ringing from panic.
"Did Your Highness say something about a fortress?"
He didn't answer. His expression tightened back into a cold, flawless mask of imperial authority.
"Stand up," he ordered briefly.
"Right. Yes. Standing. I am a functioning adult who can stand," I babbled, bracing my hands against the floor.
I tried to push myself up, but my knees instantly buckled, slapping me right back down onto the hardwood with a humiliating *thud*.
My legs were officially on strike. They had filed for union protection and were refusing to work under these highly stressful conditions.
"I apologize to Your Highness," I stammered, my voice cracking slightly as I looked up at him with a ghostly pale face.
"But I think my knees... they've temporarily lost the will to live—"
Before the final word could even leave my mouth, the world suddenly flipped upside down.
A pair of incredibly strong, unyielding arms scooped beneath my back and under my knees.
With a fluid, effortless lift that defied all laws of physics and biology, the Crown Prince of the Yang Kingdom hoisted me into the air.
Specifically... *in a bridal carry.*
My soul completely exited my body. I was pretty sure I saw it hovering near the ceiling, waving goodbye to my mortal flesh.
*Is this real?!* I screamed internally, my eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.
*A Crown Prince? Carrying a commoner? A male commoner?! In broad daylight?! What happened to the strict, conservative imperial etiquette the Author's Note promised us?!*
"Y-Your Highness!" I stuttered out, my hands flailing wildly in the air as I tried to find a place to put them that wouldn't result in me accidentally touching a royal body part and getting executed for treason.
"You really don't need to do this for this lowly servant! Please put me down! I can crawl! I am an excellent crawler! I will crawl like a champion!"
"Don't move," the Prince growled, a dangerous glare cutting through his striking features. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and full of a quiet, heavy promise.
"Or you will face the consequences of your actions."
The warning was clear, sharp, and carried an implicit threat that whatever "consequences" he had in mind were infinitely worse than my current state of vertical transportation.
I instantly froze. My entire body went as rigid as a wooden plank. I clamped my arms to my sides, trying my absolute best to mimic a statue.
But because he was holding me so close against his chest, that ridiculous, expensive winter-snow fragrance completely enveloped me again. It was infuriatingly pleasant.
In fact, against all logic, my racing heart began to steady slightly. A strange, completely unwelcome sense of warmth washed over me. I felt... safe? Protected?
*The heck am I thinking?!* I violently shook my head internally, mentally slapping myself across the face. *Erase! Erase! Control your thoughts, Xiu Liang! Focus on the mission! Remember, you are as straight as a ruler! A very rigid, completely unbending wooden ruler! Do not be swayed by high-tier palace aesthetics!*
Lost in my intense, desperate internal monologue, I completely failed to realize that my face was currently going through a rapid succession of bizarre expressions.
I was frowning, twitching my nose, aggressively shaking my head, and muttering silent curses to the void like a madman undergoing a severe spiritual possession.
The Crown Prince, however, noticed every single bit of it.
To anyone else in the palace, a servant making such ridiculous, unrefined faces in the arms of royalty would have been dragged out to the whipping posts within seconds.
But as the Prince looked down at the delicate, wildly expressive face of the youth in his arms, a completely unfamiliar sensation stirred deep within his chest.
In his entire life, spent in the cold, calculated heights of the high-tier cultivation realm, the Crown Prince had never felt *hunger*.
He had never looked at an object, a person, or a kingdom and felt a burning, insatiable desire to possess it completely.
Until now.
Looking at Xiu Liang's gorgeous, utterly idiotic, and beautifully panicked face, a dark, possessive thought took root in the Prince's mind.
*He wanted to eat him whole.*
Every ridiculous expression, every terrified gasp, every bit of this strange, uncultivated creature belonged strictly to him.
Xiu Liang, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just been mentally categorized as a premium, five-star delicacy, was still actively fighting a losing battle with his own straightness.
The Crown Prince's stride suddenly lengthened. His footsteps became faster, sweeping through the private corridors with the terrifying, effortless speed of a high-realm cultivator.
The heavy, gold-embroidered doors to his private bedchamber were drawing closer and closer by the second.
*Ah...* the Prince thought, his eyes darkening with a dangerous, predatory gleam as he adjusted his grip on his prize.
*What a truly delicious, exquisite delicacy.*