Did you think I’d be overwhelmed with gratitude? Dream on.

In the morning, on the bustling street, Hui Yue’er followed Zhao Chengxian out of the Prince Jun’s residence and stepped into the throng of passersby. Yue’er felt an immense disparity within herself; once the valiant leader of a security escort, she was now but an ordinary maidservant in a prince’s household. The psychological gap was difficult to accept. She constantly tried to hide her face, for many in the capital recognized her. Clinging close to Zhao Chengxian, she hoped his tall figure would shield her from view, never expecting it would only deepen the misunderstandings, with more people now believing her to be Zhao Chengxian’s new favorite.

Seeing her furtive demeanor, Zhao Chengxian couldn’t resist teasing her again. He stopped, leaned in slowly, and whispered with a mischievous smile, “Little Crescent, you’re really quite fond of me, aren’t you? You’re nearly glued to my side. But I must tell you, I have no interest in you!” He was seeking revenge for yesterday, and to outsiders, the scene appeared intimate, attracting even more attention.

Beside them, the two guards, Chen Gui and Zheng Hai, struggled to hold back their laughter. Yue’er instinctively pushed Zhao Chengxian away and, smiling, replied, “Your Highness, you have such a vivid imagination. I recall telling you yesterday that I have no interest in powerful men like you. What a pity—so young, yet your mind seems to be declining already. I wonder if one day you’ll forget even who you are?” She glanced at her own attire; even her mother might not recognize her now, let alone the strangers on the street. So she no longer felt the need to hide. Having spoken her piece, she strode ahead.

Zhao Chengxian caught up, grabbing Hui Yue’er, still smiling as he said, “Little Crescent, at the very least, I saved you today. How is it that you have no gratitude at all, and say such hurtful things?” His expression was innocently aggrieved, but those who knew him understood the deeper meaning behind his smile; it was why people called him the Fox with a Smiling Face.

Hui Yue’er knew that as long as she didn’t go too far, Zhao Chengxian wouldn’t dare do anything to her in public. She shook off his hand, feigned politeness, and offered a formal greeting, whispering, “Your Highness, do you expect me to shed tears of gratitude? Keep dreaming!” Her voice was so soft only those nearby could hear, and to the rest, she appeared a decorous maid. She smiled at Zhao Chengxian, thinking: If you can pretend, I can outdo you.

Watching their master embarrassed, the impulsive Zheng Hai wanted to teach Hui Yue’er a lesson and vent Zhao Chengxian’s frustration, but Chen Gui stopped him, shaking his head and signaling him to observe Zhao Chengxian’s expression. Though only guards, they understood the importance of public opinion. The three men had been outmaneuvered by a little maid, and though they wanted to lash out, they could not. It was maddening.

Zhao Chengxian, half serious and half joking, helped Hui Yue’er to her feet and whispered fiercely in her ear, “You’re something else!” Then he walked ahead, realizing she was clever—cleverer than he had anticipated. He would have to look at Hui Yue’er with fresh eyes.

Suppressing her laughter, Hui Yue’er called out loudly, “Thank you for your praise, Your Highness!” She lifted her head, squared her shoulders, and followed at a deliberate pace. In that era, a clever woman had little opportunity to use her talents—unable to defend the country or advise on its construction. All she could do was protect herself, her talent wasted.

Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, those neither young nor old, hurry and shower me with gold medals, red envelopes, and gifts! Spare nothing—let the storm come down with all its fury!