Chapter 18: Indeed, Not Blood-Related After All

After leaving, Yuan Qian’er followed silently. Seeing this, Mo Yiran understood and said, “Qian’er, just ask whatever you want. I’m really not used to you being so quiet!”

“Uh, you noticed? I just think your family is really strange—so few words, no basic small talk at all. Earlier, I said so many modern phrases and they didn’t even bat an eye,” Yuan Qian’er replied.

“I had someone notify them in advance that I’d be bringing you back, and told them you grew up elsewhere, so your language differs from theirs. That way, it didn’t seem odd to them. As for me... I’m not their biological child. The king and queen don’t really accept me, so I rarely come back,” Mo Yiran sighed.

“Ah! So you really aren’t their child,” Yuan Qian’er thought bitterly, slapping herself in the mind. Her curse had come true—bad luck always worked, good luck never did.

“Yes, you have to keep it a secret. Few people know. My grandfather had a big fight with my parents over recognizing me as part of the Mo family, so our family hardly speaks. That’s why I’ve spent most of my years training on Misty Mountain, honing my martial skills,” Mo Yiran explained.

“Then why tell me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll announce it to the world?” Yuan Qian’er teased, trying to scare him.

“Heh, I trust you. You wouldn’t!” he said with a smile.

“Oh, you trust me so much? I’m so touched I’m crying!” Yuan Qian’er squinted, trying desperately to squeeze out a tear, but her eyes only grew sore with no sign of a drop. Clearly, she wasn’t cut out for playing the pitiful role.

Mo Yiran laughed and let her play around, then they passed through the large garden. Pointing south, he said, “That’s the Qingyun Pavilion over there. Make sure you pay attention so you don’t get lost! I live at Qingmo Pavilion in the north. If you need anything, come find me, alright?”

“Got it. You sound like you’re talking to a child. Do I look like someone who gets lost easily?” Yuan Qian’er muttered.

“In my eyes, you’re still a child—confused and scatterbrained,” he teased.

“Child? I’m already twenty! In your time, that’s considered an old maid, not a child!”

“So you admit you’re an old maid…”

“Bah! You’re the old maid! At this age, I’m in the prime of my beauty!” Yuan Qian’er nearly bit her tongue for saying she was an old maid at all.

“Haha, you silly girl,” Mo Yiran found bantering with her so much fun that he regretted not meeting her sooner.

The afternoon sunlight bathed them both. He wore flowing white robes; his smile now warmer than his usual icy charm. She wore a pale purple silk dress, her long, black hair cascading freely over her shoulders, gently lifted by the breeze like a fairy fluttering her wings.

The maids and gardeners working nearby couldn’t help but admire the scene: “A perfect match, isn’t it?”

But just as the moment felt perfect, someone came to spoil it—the moment news of Mo Yiran’s return to the capital spread, Princess Anning, Bing Qingwan, rushed out of the palace to meet him.

Bing Qingwan, younger sister to the current emperor Bing Qinghua, titled “Princess Anning,” was seen by many as a spoiled princess. Her motto was: “What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is mine, and if it’s not mine, I’ll take it anyway!” Her bratty nature was attributed to her late emperor father’s excessive doting.

“Brother Yi, you’re back! Haha, I’m so happy! You haven’t visited Wan’er in so long, I’ve missed you so much!” a childish voice reached Yuan Qian’er and Mo Yiran’s ears—yet another peach, and this girl really had many of them.