Please Call Me Your Highness (GL) - Chapter 12

At that moment, Dong Xiaoning could not quite describe what she was feeling. By the time she regained her senses, she was already being tightly embraced by Xiao Fu. It was only then that Dong Xiaoning began to search her memory for a way to respond.

She still retained the memories of her original self. Recalling what she knew, she groped around in the darkness, trembling as she bit down on the back of Xiao Fu’s neck—

During the time they had spent together, Dong Xiaoning had seen the back of Xiao Fu’s neck. It had always appeared smooth and unremarkable, no different from any ordinary person. Yet now, something there felt different.

How had she managed to do it?

To conceal her identity as a Kunze in front of so many people, to disguise herself as an average Beta, and to deceive countless pairs of eyes—Xiao Fu truly was remarkable.

No, perhaps she hadn’t known before either, and only underwent differentiation today. Dong Xiaoning tried to convince herself of this and found it quite reasonable.

In the chaos of her thoughts, Dong Xiaoning gradually sank into confusion.

Sunlight streamed down upon the outside of the hollow tree. A squirrel with a fluffy tail approached but suddenly leapt away in fright, disappearing into the forest.

As it fled, its feet rustled the fallen leaves, the crisp sound echoing sharply through the woods.

Dong Xiaoning awakened and gazed at the person in her arms, her mind completely blank. But after just a second, memories surged like a tidal wave.

Everything that had happened in the darkness—though she had experienced it firsthand—now felt strangely detached. It was as if she had merely observed it all from the sidelines.

She wanted to push those memories away, but Xiao Fu’s face kept appearing in her mind. Dong Xiaoning shook her head, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, now even warmer than the person in her arms.

At that moment, Xiao Fu awoke. Her gaze, sharp and cold, softened instantly upon meeting Dong Xiaoning’s eyes.

Dong Xiaoning felt startled, unsure of what to say. She stammered, “Um… about last night…”

“Thank you,” Xiao Fu interrupted, rising to her feet and beginning to dress.

Dong Xiaoning froze. Seeing Xiao Fu putting on her clothes made her realize her own gaze had been far too direct. She quickly grabbed her garments, turned away, and dressed swiftly.

“I am a Kunze,” Xiao Fu said calmly. “For many years, I have relied on medicine to conceal this truth. Yesterday, Your Highness discovered it. I only hope that from this day forward, it remains known only to the heavens, the earth, you, and me.”

“Oh… I won’t tell anyone.”

Dong Xiaoning answered hurriedly, her mind a chaotic whirl of thoughts. Information flooded her, some of it within reach, yet somehow elusive.

Strangely, she felt a flicker of regret.

“Let’s gather our things and be on our way,” Xiao Fu said.

“Alright.”

At this point, Xiao Fu had completely taken the lead between the two of them.

A nearby river allowed for a quick wash, and they picked some wild berries to serve as their first meal of the day. Sitting side by side on a large rock by the riverbank, neither spoke.

At last, Dong Xiaoning couldn’t resist breaking the silence. “The time you saved me… I suspected then that you were hiding many secrets. Following me into seclusion while bearing those secrets—wouldn’t that be inconvenient? Now, amidst the chaos, you could leave. If I’m ever captured, I’ll simply say you vanished without a trace. No one would pursue it any further.”

Xiao Fu stared at her, her gaze different from before—intense and pressure-laden.

Dong Xiaoning suddenly felt guilty, though she didn’t know why. It was as if she had wronged Xiao Fu in some way and now had to tread carefully around her.

After a long pause, Xiao Fu let out a soft sigh. “In Your Highness’s eyes, is someone of humble birth like me, a mere Kunze, unworthy of serving at your side?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dong Xiaoning protested, her face betraying her like a child’s. Realizing it, she turned her head away slightly. “Following me won’t bring you anything good. Why must you stay by my side?”

Because I am not worthy.

She couldn’t even voice those words aloud.

As she wrestled with her discomfort, a pair of hands turned her face back toward Xiao Fu’s, their eyes meeting once more.

“After everything that happened last night, does Your Highness still believe I can simply leave?”

“But… wasn’t that just a temporary mark?”

It could be undone.

Xiao Fu, however, did not seem inclined to reason. Cradling Dong Xiaoning’s face, already holding the advantage, she leaned in. As their lips met, both trembled slightly.

This time, it was done in full awareness.

Dong Xiaoning’s body shuddered, then slowly reclaimed the initiative.

As the morning sun climbed higher, the warmth of its rays grew stronger, and so too did the heat between them.

At last, they separated.

Dong Xiaoning took a deep breath and said with mock severity, “This is your last chance. If you don’t leave now, you will never be allowed to leave again!”

Xiao Fu knelt before her. From that angle, she had to look up to meet Dong Xiaoning’s gaze. Then she said, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Changyi Garden.

“Your Majesty, the rebel forces have been largely eliminated. The remaining remnants pose no threat. This is surely Heaven’s favor upon Your Majesty. Long live the Emperor!”

Voices of “Long live the Emperor!” echoed throughout the hall, sweeping away the heavy atmosphere that had lingered since the rebellion began.

The Emperor sat upright upon his throne, gazing upon his ministers. Though his face bore no visible joy, those who knew him well could tell—he was indeed pleased.

Next came the discussion of post-rebellion arrangements.

The ringleaders of the rebel forces had already been executed, and the remaining remnants were to be relentlessly pursued. As for Princess Chengyu, who had been coerced into involvement—though her actions were not of her own volition—considering the grave consequences of the matter, it was decided that her title would be revoked, and she would be placed under house arrest. Furthermore, to prevent anyone from using her name to incite further unrest, the location of her confinement was chosen to be directly under the watchful eyes of the Imperial Guards within the palace.

Someone seized the opportunity to raise the matter of the Fourth Princess, arguing that since the main figures among the rebels were former subordinates of the Fourth Princess, it was not easy to determine whether she had a role in the rebellion. Therefore, a formal explanation was necessary.

“But the Fourth Princess’s fate is still unknown—what explanation can there be?”

“Truly unknown? I’ve heard that someone found the clothing she wore when she left Changyi Garden that day. Is this not evidence that she disguised herself? If she truly had no part in this rebellion, then with the rebels defeated, where is she now?”

“And is this entire affair not a result of the empty position in the line of succession? Seizing this opportunity, I must implore His Majesty to promptly name a Crown Princess. Whether selecting a girl from the Imperial Clan or having a princess’s daughter change her surname, a decision must be made swiftly, lest prolonged indecision leads to further disturbances.”

“I support the selection of a girl from the Imperial Clan. Regardless of whether she hails from a distant or close branch, let a virtuous Qianyuan child be chosen and raised in the palace. With Your Majesty and the Empress personally overseeing her education, she will, in time, surely prove worthy of bearing the weight of the empire. As for having a daughter of the Ming family change her surname—this rebellion, this so-called ‘cleansing of the court,’ was it not aimed precisely at the Ming family?”

“This is slander! The daughter of the Ming family is of Princess Ancheng’s bl00d, kin to the royal family. Why can she not become the heir to the throne?”

“By that logic, the daughter of the Ji family is also born of a princess—why has no one recommended her? Such favoritism clearly reveals ulterior motives!”

This kind of fierce and blunt argument had persisted from the day the Emperor hastily ascended the throne to the present. After ten years of political struggle, the officials had grown accustomed to voicing their factional demands openly. Of course, whether what they said truly reflected their inner intentions—only they themselves knew.

The joy in the Emperor’s eyes from quelling the rebellion gradually faded. If only she had a capable and legitimate Qianyuan heir of her own bl00d, she could silence these debates at once—but she did not.

Unlike the heated disputes in court, the lobbying on the Empress’s side was accompanied by tears.

Old Madam Ming wept bitterly. “Those people are truly ruthless! They call our Ming family parasites at His Majesty’s side, traitors of the court, and now they want to wipe us out completely! Your Majesty must seek justice for us!”

Ming Yuzhi, heir to the family title and future head of the Ming clan, stood quietly by Old Madam Ming, dabbing at her tears.

The Empress felt vexed and replied with irritation, “Didn’t a crowd of people pledge their support to Zhexiu not long ago? They sent so many gifts they blocked the entire street outside the Princess’s residence. What now—have they all gone mute?”

Old Madam Ming answered, “Isn’t that because Zhexiu has yet to be named Crown Princess? If she truly were the Crown Princess, would they still dare speak of ‘cleansing the court’?”

The Empress immediately grew wary.

Most people in this world dislike being threatened. She had supported Ming Zhexiu because it had seemed like her own decision—one she had carefully considered. But now, after all that had happened, Old Madam Ming’s words felt more like pressure than persuasion, especially in her current state of insecurity.

Seemingly oblivious to the Empress’s change in demeanor, Old Madam Ming continued, “Now some claim that all this trouble was caused by our Zhexiu and that she should be executed! Heaven strike them! Heartless wretches! His Majesty has no daughter, and our Ming family gave one—are we to be blamed for that too?”

Even Ming Yuzhi was stunned by this, quickly signaling Old Madam Ming to stop. Realizing her mistake too late, Old Madam Ming forced a smile and said, “I was so enraged I misspoke—that’s not what I meant. Your Majesty, please don’t take offense.”

The Empress’s expression darkened considerably. She had no interest in continuing the conversation. Finding it thoroughly unpleasant, both Old Madam Ming and Ming Yuzhi soon took their leave.

Silence returned to the inner palace, yet the Empress was restless, pacing as anger simmered within her.

Betas lacked the ability to bear children and often faced discrimination in daily life. However, since they were responsible for managing many critical affairs, such contempt was rarely expressed openly.

Old Madam Ming’s comment that “His Majesty has no daughter” had effectively dismissed the Empress’s two Beta granddaughters and already considered the Fourth Princess, Dong Xiaoning—a Qianyuan—as good as dead.

No matter how loyal the Empress had been to the Ming family, there would inevitably come a day when resentment would take root.

“Was I wrong?”

“How could Your Majesty possibly be in the wrong? It is the fault of those beneath you who misunderstood your intentions and ruined matters.”

“They say the onlooker sees most clearly. You have served at my side for many years—tell me, how do we break this deadlock?”

“Your Majesty flatters this humble servant.”

“I said speak, so speak.”

“This throne should be inherited by the bloodline of His Majesty and Your Majesty. Since the Princesses are incapable, why not consider bearing a royal granddaughter yourself, and raise her under your direct tutelage?”

“I have thought about it… That unfilial child… Enough. Send someone to find her. I want her brought back alive.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”