# Chapter 4: The Crown Prince's Secret
## Heaven Dou Royal Palace - Qian Renxue's Chambers
Qian Renxue sat at her desk long after her guards had retired for the evening, staring at the books she'd purchased earlier that day without truly seeing them.
Her mind kept returning to the collision on Scholar's Lane. To the stranger who'd caught her. To the question that had left her stammering like a flustered maiden instead of responding with princely dignity.
*"Am I handsome?"*
Even now, hours later, heat crept into her cheeks at the memory.
She'd spent eight years maintaining perfect control over her expressions, her reactions, her every gesture and word. Eight years of being Crown Prince Xue Qinghe without a single significant slip. Eight years where no one had made her feel anything other than professional distance or strategic calculation.
And then a complete stranger had asked one teasing question and shattered that composure entirely.
*What is wrong with me?* she thought, frustrated with herself. *I'm the Crown Princess of Spirit Hall. I'm executing a mission of critical importance. I can't afford to be distracted by some handsome wandering Spirit Master who—*
She stopped, realizing what she'd just admitted to herself.
*Handsome.* Yes, he was handsome. Devastatingly so, with refined features that seemed almost too perfect, and eyes that held depths suggesting experiences far beyond what his apparent age would indicate.
But it wasn't just his appearance that had affected her. It was the way he'd looked at her—not with the calculating assessment of a political rival, or the distant respect shown to royalty, but with genuine interest. Like he saw something in her beyond the Crown Prince facade.
*Ridiculous,* she told herself firmly. *He couldn't possibly know. No one knows. The disguise is perfect. He was just making casual conversation.*
Yet the memory of those dark, knowing eyes lingered.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Your Highness?" A servant's voice came through the door. "The ministers are requesting your presence for the evening council meeting."
Qian Renxue straightened, forcing her mind back to her duties. "Tell them I'll be there shortly."
She stood, moving to the mirror to check her appearance. The Crown Prince stared back at her—masculine features carefully maintained through spirit techniques, short hair, elegant but authoritative robes.
*This is who I am,* she reminded herself. *This is what matters. Mother's mission. Spirit Hall's future. Not some random encounter with a stranger.*
But even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie.
Because for the first time in eight years, someone had made her feel like more than just a disguise. Someone had looked at her and made her feel... something.
And that terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her.
---
## Three Days Later - The Search
Qian Renxue told herself she wasn't looking for him.
She had legitimate reasons to visit Scholar's Lane again. The Crown Prince needed to maintain appearances as someone who valued education and culture. It was perfectly normal to browse bookshops and visit the district's tea houses.
The fact that she'd come to Scholar's Lane three days in a row had nothing to do with hoping she might encounter a certain mysterious stranger again.
*This is pathetic,* she thought, walking down the familiar street with her guards maintaining respectful distance. *I'm acting like some lovesick girl instead of someone with important responsibilities.*
Yet her eyes continued scanning the crowds, searching for that particular face.
On the fourth day, she almost gave up.
Then she saw him.
He was sitting in a small tea house tucked between two buildings—the kind of place easily missed unless you were really looking. Warm light spilled through its windows, and she could see him seated near the back, reading a book with focused attention.
The same stranger who'd made her blush four days ago.
Qian Renxue's heart did something complicated in her chest—a stutter-skip-race that left her momentarily breathless.
*I could just walk past,* she thought. *Pretend I didn't see him. Return to the palace and forget this foolishness.*
But her feet were already moving toward the tea house entrance.
Her guards exchanged confused glances but followed dutifully as their Crown Prince made an unexpected decision to enter an establishment they'd never visited before.
The interior was peaceful. Soft paper lanterns cast gentle light. The rich scent of jasmine tea mixed with something woodsy and comforting. A handful of patrons sat at scattered tables, lost in books or quiet conversations.
And there, in a corner where afternoon sunlight pooled like liquid gold, sat the man who'd been occupying her thoughts for four days.
He looked up as she entered, and his face broke into a smile—not surprised exactly, more like he'd been expecting her. Or hoping for her.
The distinction felt important.
He gestured to the empty chair across from him.
Qian Renxue crossed the tea house without consciously deciding to move, aware of her guards' baffled expressions, aware of the other patrons glancing up curiously, aware of absolutely nothing except the man watching her approach with warmth in his eyes.
She sat down, her heart still racing.
"You found it," he said softly, genuine pleasure in his voice.
"Found... what?" Qian Renxue managed, though she knew what he meant.
"This place. It's not exactly obvious." He smiled. "I wondered if you would."
"I wasn't looking for you," she said automatically, defensively.
His smile widened slightly, just enough to show he knew she was lying. But there was no judgment in it, just gentle amusement. "Of course not. Pure coincidence, walking into the one tea house in Heaven Dou City that I happen to frequent."
Heat flooded Qian Renxue's face. She'd forgotten how easily he could make her blush. "I... the bookshops in this district are—"
"It's alright," he interrupted gently. "You don't have to explain. I'm glad you're here."
The simple honesty of it disarmed her completely. No games, no pretense. Just genuine pleasure at seeing her again.
"I don't even know your name," she said quietly, grasping at something concrete in a conversation that felt like it was spinning out of her control.
"Luo Yan," he replied, offering it like a gift. "And you're Crown Prince Xue Qinghe. Or should I say..."
He let the sentence hang there, unfinished but unmistakable in its implication.
Qian Renxue's breath caught. Her hand instinctively moved toward the hidden weapon at her waist. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" Luo Yan's expression remained kind, not threatening. "It's an excellent disguise. Almost perfect. But there are small tells if you know what to look for. The way you move. The way you hold yourself when you think no one's watching. The loneliness in your eyes that shouldn't exist in someone with such power and position."
Panic fluttered in her chest. Years of maintaining her cover, and this stranger had seen through it within minutes of meeting her?
"Are you threatening me?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous despite the fear coursing through her.
"What?" Luo Yan looked genuinely confused. "No. Why would I do that?"
"Because you know—"
"That you're not who you pretend to be?" He shook his head. "So what? Everyone wears masks. Yours is just more literal than most. Why would I want to expose you or threaten you with that knowledge?"
"You could use it against me," Qian Renxue said, hating how vulnerable the words sounded. "Ruin everything I've worked for."
"Why would I want to ruin you?" Luo Yan asked, and there was something in his voice—confusion mixed with genuine concern—that made her believe him. "Your secrets are yours. I'm not interested in using them against you. I'm not interested in political games or blackmail."
"Then why tell me you know?"
He was quiet for a moment, considering his words carefully. "Because pretending is exhausting. And I thought... maybe with me, you could stop pretending. Even if just for a little while."
The words hit her like a physical blow. *Stop pretending.*
When was the last time she'd been allowed that luxury? When was the last time she'd just existed as herself, without calculating every word and gesture?
"I don't even remember how to do that anymore," she admitted, the confession escaping before she could stop it. "I've been Crown Prince Xue Qinghe for eight years. Sometimes I forget what it feels like to be..."
She trailed off, unable to complete the thought.
"Qian Renxue?" Luo Yan supplied gently.
Hearing her real name spoken aloud after so long made something crack open in her chest. "How do you know my name?"
"I have my sources," he replied, which was technically true—the System had provided detailed information about her. "But more importantly, I know what it's like to carry a burden you can't share with anyone. To wear a mask so long it starts to feel more real than your actual face."
Qian Renxue studied him intently. "Who are you really, Luo Yan?"
"Someone who understands loneliness," he said simply. "Someone who recognizes it in others. Someone who thinks you deserve better than spending your life pretending to be someone you're not, with no one to confide in."
"I have my mission," she said automatically. "Spirit Hall's goals—"
"Are important, yes. But what about your goals? Your happiness? When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to, not because it served your mother's grand strategy?"
The mention of her mother sent a lance of pain through her chest. "Don't talk about my mother."
"Why not?" Luo Yan's voice remained gentle. "Because it hurts? Because thinking about her makes you remember that no matter what you accomplish, she still looks at you with contempt instead of pride?"
Qian Renxue stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. "How dare you—"
"Sit down," Luo Yan said quietly, but with an undercurrent of command that made her pause. "Please. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to understand."
"You don't know anything about my relationship with my mother," Qian Renxue said, but she found herself sitting back down despite her anger.
"Then tell me," Luo Yan invited. "Help me understand. Because from where I'm sitting, I see someone who's spent eight years executing a perfect infiltration, maintaining a flawless disguise, advancing Spirit Hall's interests better than anyone else could have—and still believes she's not good enough to earn her mother's love."
The accuracy of the observation was devastating.
Qian Renxue felt tears threatening—something that hadn't happened in years. Crown Princes didn't cry. Qian Renxue, the proud daughter of Spirit Hall, didn't cry.
But right now, sitting across from this stranger who saw through all her defenses, she wanted to.
"I just want to understand why she hates me," she whispered, her voice breaking despite her efforts to control it. "I've done everything she's ever asked. More than she's asked. I've given up eight years of my life, sacrificed everything, all to serve Spirit Hall's goals. And still, when she looks at me, I see... disgust. Like I'm something she can barely stand to acknowledge."
"What if it's not about you?" Luo Yan asked gently.
"What?"
"What if her hatred has nothing to do with who you are or what you've done? What if it existed long before you were born, rooted in pain that has nothing to do with you?"
The idea was so foreign to everything Qian Renxue had believed that she couldn't process it immediately.
"But... if it's not about me, then why—"
"Sometimes people hate what reminds them of their own wounds," Luo Yan said. "It doesn't make it right. It doesn't make it fair. But it means the problem isn't you. It never was you."
Qian Renxue felt the tears spill over finally, tracking down her cheeks despite her efforts to contain them. Years of confusion and self-blame were suddenly given context—devastating, painful context, but context nonetheless.
"She didn't hate me," she gasped through tears. "She hated... something else. Something I remind her of."
"Yes," Luo Yan confirmed softly.
He reached across the table—slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted—and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. The touch was electric, gentle, so kind it made her heart ache.
"You deserve better," he said quietly. "You deserve to be seen for who you actually are, not as a reflection of someone else's pain."
Qian Renxue couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. This stranger—this man she'd known for all of a few minutes of actual conversation—understood her better than people who'd been in her life for years.
"I don't know what to do with that," she finally whispered.
"You don't have to do anything," Luo Yan replied. "Not right now. Just... sit here. Be yourself for a little while. No performance. No pretending. Just Qian Renxue, drinking tea with someone who sees her."
So she did.
They sat in comfortable silence while the tea house's peaceful atmosphere wrapped around them. Eventually a server brought fresh tea—jasmine for her, something darker for him. They sipped quietly, and Qian Renxue felt her heartbeat slowly return to normal.
"Can I ask you something?" she finally said.
"Of course."
"Why are you being so kind to me? You don't know me. You don't owe me anything. So why?"
Luo Yan was quiet for a moment, considering his answer. "Maybe I recognize a lonely person when I see one. Maybe I know what it's like to carry burdens that feel impossible to share. Or maybe I just think you deserve kindness, and no one else is offering it."
"You're strange," Qian Renxue said, but there was warmth in it, not criticism.
"I've been told that before," Luo Yan replied with a slight smile.
"Can I..." She hesitated. "Can I see you again? Like this?"
"I'd like that very much," Luo Yan said warmly. "Same place? Three days from now?"
"Yes," Qian Renxue agreed immediately, then felt embarrassed by her eagerness. "I mean... that would be acceptable."
His smile widened slightly. "It's okay to want things for yourself, you know. You're allowed to be excited about something that makes you happy."
Qian Renxue felt her face warm again, but this time it wasn't entirely from embarrassment. "Three days, then."
"Three days," Luo Yan confirmed.
When she finally stood to leave—guards waiting patiently, duties calling—she felt lighter than she had in years.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For seeing me."
"You're worth seeing," Luo Yan replied simply.
--
To be continue.