Please Call Me Your Highness (GL) - Chapter 13

Following a narrow path, Dong Xiaoning and Xiao Fu continued on their journey, heading farther away from the capital. At present, news was chaotic and conflicting—some claimed the rebel forces had been defeated, while others warned that the rebels had fled in their direction. In short, the people’s hearts remained unsettled.

Ahead lay Xiangbang Prefecture.

Dong Xiaoning was considering whether to enter the city when she suddenly noticed something amiss with Xiao Fu. She quickly whispered, “What’s wrong with you?”

Xiao Fu clenched her teeth tightly and remained silent.

Dong Xiaoning instinctively reached out to support her, and the moment their bodies touched, she immediately sensed an abnormal heat. Coupled with Xiao Fu’s current state, Dong Xiaoning understood at once.

“We need to enter the city and find a physician.”

“No…”

Xiao Fu struggled to force out a sound, and after a moment’s pause, she murmured into Dong Xiaoning’s ear, “It’s the backlash from long-term medication. I don’t need a doctor.”

Her voice was so low that only the two of them could hear, but Dong Xiaoning felt a sharp buzz in her head—she understood.

“We’re going into the city—”

“No! It’s not safe there… we need to stay outside…”

Seeing Xiao Fu in such distress, Dong Xiaoning felt both anxious and helpless. She quickly relented to Xiao Fu’s wishes, and together they left the main road and hurried down a smaller path.

Once they entered the forest, the already narrow path was now overrun with wild grass, almost indistinguishable as a road. As they pressed forward, the way grew increasingly difficult.

Looking around, Dong Xiaoning suddenly spotted a cave not far away and helped Xiao Fu toward it.

The cave was naturally formed, with a wide entrance offering a clear view inside. However, within the cave stood a large protruding stone wall, about the height of a person, and behind it was a smaller cavern—secluded and hidden from view. Moreover, this inner chamber led to a cliffside, allowing for good ventilation and natural light.

Dong Xiaoning immediately supported Xiao Fu into the inner chamber near the cliff. Fortunately, they had brought silver and had recently replenished their supplies. She spread out a thin blanket and helped Xiao Fu lie down.

At this point, Xiao Fu had no strength left to stand; her body was limp as she collapsed onto the blanket.

Only now did Dong Xiaoning fully understand why Kunze were considered a vulnerable group. During certain times, they lost all ability to defend themselves, left entirely at the mercy of others.

“Your Highness… Sister…”

Xiao Fu’s words became increasingly slurred, and her gaze began to burn with intensity.

Dong Xiaoning let out a soft sigh. To her, this situation felt like taking advantage of someone in their weakness, and the weight of that moral burden brought a flush of shame to her face.

“Xiao Fu…”

Whispering her name, Dong Xiaoning slowly leaned in and kissed her.

The hundred-day celebration for the late Crown Princess Dong Ruining’s daughter, after a brief postponement, was now underway in Changyi Garden—with significantly elevated grandeur.

All members of the imperial family and nobility who could attend were present, including old aristocrats who had not been seen in public for some time. It could be said that anyone who failed to appear at this banquet would no longer have the standing to claim proximity to imperial power.

The Emperor formally announced the infant’s name: Dong Shaoyi.

Following royal tradition, she was the first of her generation to bear the “Yi” character in her given name as a direct descendant of the royal family. Additionally, the Emperor proclaimed that the late Crown Princess’s estate would be inherited by her consort and this child—thus securing their rights and signaling that the Eastern Palace would soon be vacated to welcome a new master.

The nobles and officials exchanged glances and whispered among themselves—everyone seemed to have their own concerns.

Midway through the banquet, the younger guests were allowed to mingle freely, with formal etiquette greatly relaxed. This was a long-standing tradition—essentially offering the aristocracy a space for socializing, even the royal family being no exception.

Empress Ming was in high spirits. With the rebellion crushed and the empire secure, power still firmly in her grasp, it was a time to rejoice. She personally peeled grapes and offered them to the Emperor.

The Emperor accepted them with pleasure but then noticed a sudden change in the Empress’s expression and followed her gaze.

At this moment, Ming Zhexiu had undeniably become the most admired figure among the younger generation. Countless nobles raised their cups to her, offering flattering words. Those of lesser status couldn’t even approach, standing behind the crowd with eager expressions.

The Second Princess, Dong Yanning, and the Third Princess, Dong Muning, both held wine cups in hand. Ordinarily, nobles should have been toasting them, yet now they were the ones toasting Ming Zhexiu. Moreover, those around them seemed to think nothing of it, as if it were entirely natural.

In the past, the Emperor’s daughters—regardless of being Beta—were still formal princesses of the realm. In both etiquette and actual status, they were ranked above daughters born of lesser consorts or noble families.

Back then, if a princess had toasted Ming Zhexiu and she had received it with such composure, it would have been considered a grave breach of decorum, causing her to lose face among the nobility. In fact, if she had held an official post, she would have faced formal censure—no trivial matter.

This abnormal scene was clearly visible to all, yet none stood up to voice objection. It was as if they were simply watching a spectacle unfold.

The Emperor understood clearly—though there had been fierce debate in court and some had called for the Ming family to be held accountable for the rebellion—she had not taken action against them. As a result, many naturally assumed Ming Zhexiu would be the next to occupy the Eastern Palace. Some deliberately avoided the topic, using the opportunity to observe the Emperor’s intentions.

In turn, the Emperor observed Empress Ming’s expression—it was evident that she was already seething with anger.

Ming Zhexiu had not yet been officially named Crown Princess, yet Empress Ming’s own daughters had already lost part of their power and the respect they once commanded among the nobility. If Ming Zhexiu were truly named Crown Princess and later inherited the throne, the Empress’s two Beta daughters, along with Ming Shaoyi, who had only just been named, would face an uncertain—and likely unfavorable—future.

To flatter the powerful and trample the fallen; to forget the tea once it’s cold—such was the way of the world.

The Emperor couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sorrow.

“Your Majesty, I’m tired,” the Empress said softly.

“If the Empress is weary, then return and rest,” the Emperor replied.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Empress Ming rose and took her leave. The Emperor watched her depart, also noticing that the young nobles surrounding Ming Zhexiu seemed entirely unaware of this development.

The Emperor raised her wine cup and drained it in one motion. As long as she remained, the banquet had to continue. At this moment, she was rather curious—observing others’ reactions was, after all, one of the pleasures of being Emperor.

Dong Xiaoning fell asleep, holding Xiao Fu in her arms, exhausted.

She didn’t know how long had passed, but she dreamed. The world in the dream was strange, shrouded in shadowy hues. People flitted about in chaos—Dong Xiaoning knew something was happening, but she couldn’t see anyone’s face clearly.

This persisted for a while until someone suddenly stopped in front of her. Though she couldn’t make out the person’s features, Dong Xiaoning instinctively knew it was the late Crown Princess, Dong Ruining.

Even in a dream, she knew Dong Ruining was dead. Her skin crawled, and she tried to turn and run. But her body wouldn’t move. Even the act of turning remained a thought, never realized.

She was still facing that deceased figure.

Dong Ruining appeared to be sighing, saying something. Dong Xiaoning heard it, yet somehow couldn’t comprehend the words. When she tried to recall it, the memory seemed erased. In the end, all she remembered was the meaning—that Dong Ruining had entrusted her with the care of her child.

The only bloodline Dong Ruining had left in the world.

At that point, Dong Xiaoning woke up.

Night had fallen. At some point, a fire had been lit inside the cave, and a pot of steaming porridge bubbled over the flames. Xiao Fu had been tending the fire, and as if sensing her gaze, she turned to look as Dong Xiaoning opened her eyes.

“Are you feeling better?” Dong Xiaoning sat up and, after a moment’s pause, found herself surprisingly refreshed.

“Mm.” Xiao Fu gave a quiet response and then turned her head shyly—a side of her Dong Xiaoning had never seen before.

“?” Dong Xiaoning was baffled. She quickly walked over, concerned. “How are you? That… side effect you mentioned from suppressing yourself to appear Beta—is it gone?”

Hearing this, Xiao Fu suddenly let out a sigh, filled with countless unspoken emotions—one that tugged at the heart.

“What’s wrong? Tell me… please.”

After a moment of silence, Xiao Fu looked at Dong Xiaoning and slowly said, “I used to believe I could suppress it for long periods, maintain the appearance of being Beta. But ever since the first failure, the suppression has weakened. My Kunze identity… I’m afraid I can’t hide it any longer.”

Dong Xiaoning was still slightly dazed, a jumble of questions clogging her chest, unable to be voiced.

Xiao Fu seemed to sense her thoughts and continued, “It should be me taking care of you. But if I can’t hide that I’m Kunze, then you’ll have to take care of me. And… after what’s happened between us, I may already be pregnant… If that happens, I’ll truly have no one but you to rely on—”

As she spoke, Xiao Fu’s eyes filled with pain. She clearly didn’t want such a thing to happen, but once it did, there would be no turning back—just as she could no longer suppress her natural Kunze instincts.

Dong Xiaoning’s head buzzed. A habitual reader of novels with no real-world experience, she found the idea of raising a child required no small amount of imagination. Her thoughts raced—from the child’s birth, to choosing a name, to what they’d eat and drink, how they’d be educated, and what kind of future lay ahead.

Xiao Fu silently observed her expression. Deep down, she had no confidence in how this would unfold. People naturally long for happiness, but those who’ve walked through darkness often expect the worst.

“I can still manage alone—”

“I’ll raise you!” Dong Xiaoning interrupted, speaking with conviction. She grasped Xiao Fu’s hand firmly. “I can raise you. We’ll go somewhere no one knows us, raise our child, and live a happy life together as a family.”

“…Alright.”

Xiao Fu had many words in her heart, but in the end, she only gave that one response. Her face lit with happiness as she leaned into Dong Xiaoning’s arms. On the stone wall, their shadows stretched long.

It should have been a happy scene, yet Dong Xiaoning couldn’t shake the strange feeling in her heart. She thought of the dream she had earlier and had originally planned to tell Xiao Fu—but now, no matter what, she couldn’t bring herself to speak.