Please Call Me Your Highness (GL) - Chapter 11

The morning sunlight filtered through the forest, casting a special kind of serenity across the scene.

Dong Xiaoning sat beneath a tree, staring in silence at the food Xiao Fu had brought her. Her mind kept replaying the events of the previous night—the sudden ambush on the convoy bound for the capital, the assassins who appeared out of nowhere, and most of all—

Xiao Fu, cutting down multiple attackers with her own hands.

The same fragile, soft-spoken girl who had nearly drowned at sea—how could she possess such deadly skills?

Yet, without those skills, Dong Xiaoning would have long been a corpse, her body cold in the chaos.

Her emotions were in turmoil.

Xiao Fu had returned to her usual gentle demeanor. She spoke softly, “Please eat something, Your Highness.”

Perhaps it was because Dong Xiaoning’s impression of her had shifted so drastically, but no matter how much Xiao Fu pretended nothing had changed, the atmosphere between them had transformed completely.

“I’m not hungry.”

Dong Xiaoning turned away, looking deep into the woods. They were far from the main road now—after fleeing the ambush, they’d left the highway, taken a winding path, and eventually disappeared into the forest, finally finding a moment of peace.

Now, however, she was both exhausted and starving.

She looked back at Xiao Fu. “With skills like yours, you could move freely anywhere in Great Yu. Why bother staying by my side?”

Xiao Fu replied firmly, “I won’t leave you.”

In that moment of eye contact, Dong Xiaoning knew she couldn’t change her mind. So she said, “I’ve thought about it. I won’t go back. I’ll give up my title as the Fourth Princess, live as a commoner, and find a place where no one knows me—to spend the rest of my life. Even so, will you still follow me?”

A glimmer flickered in Xiao Fu’s eyes, but she quickly answered, her voice resolute, “I won’t leave you.”

Dong Xiaoning couldn’t help but laugh. “I told you—no more of this ‘Your Highness’ nonsense. Let’s change how we address each other. I’m older than you, right? How about calling me Sister?”

Xiao Fu opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.

Dong Xiaoning’s smile faded slightly. She knew this decision meant completely abandoning the original storyline. What lay ahead could be a bottomless abyss—or something else entirely.

But as she had once said, “Living is good. Dying’s not the end.” She was someone who had entered this world from the pages of a book—given a second life for reasons she couldn’t explain. She didn’t want to waste it in a political meat grinder.

To live by her own will, even if just for this moment—that was enough for Dong Xiaoning.

A rebel force had risen under the banner of “Purging the Emperor’s Court,” looting and attacking as they went. Within the capital, sympathizers responded, taking the noble Lady Chengyu hostage—a close royal relative—and proclaimed her as regent.

News reached Changyi Garden, and the Emperor immediately summoned his most trusted ministers to discuss quelling the rebellion.

“According to the confession of a rebel leader, these men were once under the Fourth Princess’s command. Their goal was to support her ascension, but something went wrong, and they seized Lady Chengyu instead. Now that the Fourth Princess is missing, I believe we must immediately search for her—alive or dead, she must be found.”

“The rebels are nearly at the capital gates, and yet you seek to blame the Fourth Princess? Isn’t that putting the cart before the horse? The nation teeters on the brink—this crisis is even worse than the bandit uprising of Longxu Year 20. I propose immediate deployment of troops—whatever it takes to suppress the rebellion!”

The rebellion in Longxu Year 20 was a pivotal event that allowed the current Emperor to seize the throne. Bringing it up now was a pointed reminder.

“Minister, the root of this unrest lies in the lack of a designated heir. The rebels’ ‘purge’ rhetoric clearly has a target. What we must do now is name a Crown Prince, to calm the people. Then issue a decree to suppress the rebels—we will surely succeed.”

“Hastily naming a Crown Prince? Do you want a repeat of Longxu Year 20? I say our top priority is to defeat the rebellion. The issue of succession can wait.”

The ministers clashed fiercely. The Emperor, seated upon the throne, grew increasingly irate. There was no time for more debate. He made his decision.

“The matter of the Crown Prince will wait. For now, we focus solely on crushing the rebellion.”

Later, worn down in both body and mind, the Emperor returned to the Empress’s palace. Because the rebels’ slogan, “Purge the Emperor’s Court,” was widely understood to target Empress Ming, she had chosen to refrain from participating in state affairs—so as to avoid further suspicion.

“The truth is mostly clear now,” the Emperor explained patiently. “It wasn’t the Fourth Princess plotting rebellion—someone merely used her name. Things went awry, and it led to this mess.”

“She’s still missing. Who knows what she’s really thinking?” Empress Ming’s tone was cold. “After all these years, there are still loyal remnants willing to follow her. Just thinking about it gives me chills.”

“Your bias against her runs too deep,” the Emperor said wearily, though he kept his voice gentle.

“She was born into our family to settle a debt,” Empress Ming snapped bitterly. At that moment, her tone and expression were strikingly similar to Madam Ming’s.

“……”
The Emperor fell into a daze. He didn’t want to hear such words, but at the same time, he couldn’t bear to strain the bond forged over so many years by contradicting her. When he thought back on it all, he couldn’t deny that the Fourth Princess had indeed brought considerable trouble. A part of him… almost understood.

People easily fall into contradiction—especially emperors, whose every word decides life, death, and honor, and whose ears are constantly filled with competing voices.

“I intend to suppress the rebellion while simultaneously sending people to find her. In this situation, the worst outcome would be her falling into rebel hands.”

“That wretch—if given a chance at the throne, she’d never refuse. You must plan for the worst.”

“……”

The Emperor was stunned, unable to respond for a moment. At last, he couldn’t hold it in. “Why do you hate Xiaoning so much? I know there are many reasons, many explanations… but I still can’t understand.”

Empress Ming was silent for a time. She wasn’t troubled by the question—she was simply trying to find the right words to express her anger.

“If it’s proven that she caused this rebellion, I’ll kill her with my own hands.”

Hearing the Empress’s cold and resolute tone, the Emperor finally fell silent.

Xiao Fu had procured two sets of commoners’ clothes, replacing the noble garments that bore the unmistakable insignia of the royal court. Now, they could blend in with the crowds, traveling among the refugees unnoticed.

“How long will this chaos last? When will the court finally crush the rebellion?”

During brief moments of rest, complaints would surface.

“Who knows? I heard that during the bandit rebellion in Longxu Year 20, it took months to suppress. So many people died that time.”

“Back then, His Majesty took command in a time of crisis, and Prince Kangning turned the tide. Who will save us this time?”

“Watch your words!”

Listening to the chatter along the way, Dong Xiaoning was able to gauge the general state of affairs. The Emperor’s focus remained squarely on the rebellion. For now, there was no time to concern himself with the missing Fourth Princess.

That was good news for her. If she could escape far enough before the Emperor and his men turned their attention to her, she could truly gain her freedom.

Another night passed, cold and uncomfortable.

Dong Xiaoning and Xiao Fu took refuge inside a hollow tree. The ancient trunk, wide and hollowed by time, was large enough to shelter several people. By day, they hid among the refugees; by night, they found a secluded spot to rest.

In any era, refugee groups carried hidden dangers. While chaos hadn’t yet reached the provinces in full, once the refugees reached regions with stronger control, they might be rounded up and confined.

Dong Xiaoning had endured enough of that.

“Xiao Fu, we’re close to Xiangbang Prefecture now, right? I remember taking that same highway when we came here. Once we reach Xiangbang and get to the coast, it’s just two or three days to the sea.”

Darkness surrounded them. Strange bird cries echoed from the forest.

Dong Xiaoning kept her voice low—only Xiao Fu, close by, could hear her. “All the mountains and rivers on land are owned by someone. One wrong step and we’ll be discovered. But at sea… there are countless islands. If we find one with fresh water, uninhabited, we can live the rest of our lives in peace.”

She was painting a vision of the future—not just for Xiao Fu’s sake, but to comfort herself, to give herself hope.

It had been days since that night of chaos. Xiao Fu had never spoken of her past, only affirming her support of Dong Xiaoning’s decisions. But Dong Xiaoning had noticed the lingering sadness and hesitation in her eyes when she stared into the distance.

Dong Xiaoning didn’t demand honesty from Xiao Fu. It was a matter of equality—after all, she herself had shared nothing of her true origins. She would always support Xiao Fu’s choice to leave. Even if Xiao Fu abandoned her midway, Dong Xiaoning felt it was only natural.

These thoughts, she kept to herself.

“Xiao Fu?”

There was no answer. Dong Xiaoning grew concerned. She reached out, grasping Xiao Fu’s hand.

It was burning hot.

“Xiao Fu?”

Her voice rose, laced with alarm. The hollow was pitch black—she could see nothing—and could only fumble in the dark. Soon, she realized Xiao Fu’s body temperature was unnaturally high.

Fever?

Dong Xiaoning quickly concluded that was the cause. She continued calling Xiao Fu’s name, trying to rouse her. At first, Xiao Fu resisted touch, attempting to push Dong Xiaoning away. But suddenly—at a certain moment—she pressed herself against her instead.

Dong Xiaoning: “???”

Xiao Fu seemed to be holding something back, struggling to speak. “Your… Highness… I…”

Her words were jumbled and incoherent. Then, within the cramped space, a faint fragrance filled the air—subtle, unnamed, but intoxicating.

Dong Xiaoning stiffened. A memory flashed through her mind—she’d transmigrated into an ancient ABO novel. Ancient setting or not, it was still ABO. And by the rules of an ABO story, Xiao Fu’s current state could only mean one thing—

Wasn’t Xiao Fu supposed to be a Zhongyong? How could this be?

Countless thoughts flooded Dong Xiaoning’s mind, making it impossible to think clearly.

“Sister… help me…”

They had agreed to call each other sisters, to avoid revealing their identities. But Xiao Fu had always avoided using that term. Now, as if by instinct, the words slipped from her lips.