He stared at the way she was burying her face in the very chest he had been violently denied access to just hours prior.
The air in the cavern instantly dropped by ten degrees, thick with a suffocating, possessive killing intent that made the remaining shadow guards subconsciously take a step back.
"Commander Mo," Yichen purred, his voice a lodic, venomous whisper. "Remove this screeching parasite from my Royal Uncle. If she refuses to walk, sever her legs."
Commander Mo stepped forward instantly, reaching a massive, gauntleted hand toward the girl’s shoulder. "Miss, please release the Martial Uncle. We will escort you—"
The girl shrieked louder, violently swatting the Commander’s hand away without even looking at him. "Don’t touch , you ugly brute! I only want him! He is the only safe one! Carry !"
Ji’an looked at the sobbing, demanding girl.
She looked at Commander Mo’s deeply offended, scarred face.
And she looked at the Imperial Second Prince, who was currently calculating the trajectory to decapitate a teenager with a folding fan.
’She is an absolute brat,’ Ji’an thought, letting out a long, profound sigh that seed to carry the weight of her entire transmigrated existence. ’But she’s a traumatized, terrified brat. And if I leave her to Yichen’s rcies, he will literally turn her into fertilizer.’
"Stand down, Commander," Ji’an ordered, raising a hand to halt the guards.
She looked down at the girl, her Head-Chef patience completely exhausted. "Listen to , you feral little stray cat. I am covered in mud, blood, and subterranean swamp water. I am not a carriage horse. But if you stop screaming, I will carry you up the stairs. What do you say? Feel like making a deal?"
The girl sniffled, looking up with wide, teary eyes. She nodded frantically, holding her arms up like a toddler demanding to be lifted.
With a groan of physical and emotional fatigue, Ji’an turned around, crouching slightly.
The girl imdiately scrambled onto her back, wrapping her arms securely around Ji’an’s neck and burying her face in the crook of Ji’an’s shoulder.
"I hate this plot," Ji’an muttered to herself, adjusting her grip on the girl’s legs. She hoisted her up, ignoring the absolutely murderous, seething glare burning holes into her back from the Imperial Prince. "Alright, let’s go. Our next stop should be a proper civilization and a long bath."
***
When the ragtag group finally erged from the misty, oppressive ravine and reached the main provincial highway, a spectacular sight awaited them.
Xiao Yichen, anticipating the destruction of his previous transport, had utilized a high-level imperial communication talisman hours ago.
Waiting on the cobblestones was a fresh, pristine Royal Carriage.
It was slightly smaller than the previous one, streamlined for extre velocity, pulled by six heavily armored, wind-attribute Spirit-Stallions that pawed impatiently at the ground.
"We depart imdiately," Yichen commanded, his voice clipped and cold, his dark eyes never leaving the girl still firmly plastered to Ji’an’s back. "I wish to reach the capital before the moon sets tomorrow."
What followed was the most excruciating thirty-six hours of Lin Ji’an’s life.
The carriage ride was not a journey; it was a high-speed, psychological torture chamber.
Because the new carriage was streamlined for speed, the interior cabin was significantly more intimate.
There was only one U-shaped velvet bench.
In the far corner, Lin Xuan sat clutching a brass bucket, his face a sickly, luminous shade of green.
The terrifying speed of the wind-attribute stallions, combined with the uneven provincial roads, had induced a horrific case of motion sickness in the thirteen-year-old boy.
"Third Brother," Xuan groaned, leaning over the bucket. "I think... I think my stomach is liquefying into sothing bizarre."
"Breathe through your nose, Xuan. Focus on the horizon," Ji’an coached wearily, handing him a crushed mint leaf from her spatial ring.
She couldn’t easily comfort her brother because her right arm was currently pinned to her side.
The stray girl from the dungeon who had adamantly refused to disclose her na, her clan, or her destination, was glued to Ji’an.
She sat practically in Ji’an’s lap, her arms wrapped around Ji’an’s bicep, her head resting on Ji’an’s shoulder.
Every ti a shadow guard rode past the window, or the carriage hit a bump, the girl would whimper and squeeze tighter.
"You’re cutting off my circulation, kid," Ji’an muttered, trying to pry the girl’s fingers loose.
"I’m scared," the girl pouted, looking up with massive, doe-like eyes. "You promised to protect , hero."
CRACK!
Xiao Yichen’s folding fan snapped shut with the force of a gunshot.
The Second Prince sat directly across from them, his long legs crossed together.
He had washed the blood and rouge from his face, returning to his flawless, beautiful, aristocratic self.
But the aura inside the carriage was so dense, so violent, that the air felt thick enough to chew.
Yichen was quite a petty guy.
He was a sociopath experiencing his first agonizing bout of unrequited, unacknowledged feelings, and he was currently watching the object of his obsession act as a gym for a random teenager.
"Tell , stray," Yichen purred, leaning forward, his dark eyes glittering with malice. "Do you possess no sha? It is improper for an unmarried maiden to cling to a man in such a vulgar, desperate manner. Have your parents taught you no decorum?"
The girl flinched, hiding her face against Ji’an’s neck. "He’s an," she whispered loudly.
"He’s a prince, and he’s currently deciding which of your internal organs he wants to cut off. Ignore him and behave yourself, or even I can’t help you," Ji’an sighed, rubbing her temples.
"I am rely observing a lack of dignity," Yichen smiled, though his jaw was tight. He reached out with his fan, deliberately tapping Ji’an on the knee to force her to look at him. "Royal Uncle. You have been neglecting your duties. I require tea. Brew it for right now."
"The carriage is moving at Mach 3, Yichen. The water will spill," Ji’an ground out through her teeth, annoyed at his childish jealousy.
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