Forbidden to Bully the Storybook’s Heroine – Chapter 33

An Invitation to Share a Bed

She frowned, her concern evident as she pulled the other woman tighter with one arm, gently patting her on the back with the other. “What is it? Did Murong Qing come looking for you again yesterday?!”

Song Muyun only focused on burrowing deeper into her embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around her. It was a long moment before she finally spoke, her voice thick with a wronged, tearful tone. “No, he didn’t come, but I had nightmares again. I had them all night, Jiang Yao. I’m so scared…”

She kept dreaming that she was with Murong Qing, that he was insulting and beating her. He would strike her for the slightest displeasure. In the dream, she would search and search, but she could never find a trace of Jiang Yao.

She was jolted awake in terror almost every time.

Jiang Yao’s hand rested on Song Muyun’s waist. Hearing the unconcealed grievance in her voice, a pang of tenderness shot through her heart. Looking down, she saw that Song Muyun was dressed only in a thin inner robe. She lifted her as one would a child, brought her into the room, and hooked the door shut with her foot.

They sat on the bed together—Jiang Yao on the mattress, Song Muyun in her lap, clinging to her without letting go.

Jiang Yao could see how pale and haggard her face was; the night must have been an utter ordeal.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

She held Song Muyun, patting her back soothingly, trying to calm her down first.

Song Muyun was still frightened. Her fluffy head remained pressed against Jiang Yao’s chest, nuzzling again and again.

Jiang Yao hesitated for a moment before asking, “What did you dream about? Is it always the same thing?”

Song Muyun seemed to sniffle, hugging her as she whispered, “Yes, it’s often the same. I dream that Murong Qing is hitting me, and you’re not there. I get so scared.”

Jiang Yao’s mind screamed.

Damn it, of course it was that bastard Murong Qing who scared her. The shadow he had cast over her was clearly immense. Deep down, she must be terrified of those memories, unable to forget them, which was why they plagued her dreams. It was all that madman’s fault.

Jiang Yao continued to pat her back, coaxing her gently. “It’s okay, that won’t ever happen again. I’m here. I won’t let Murong Qing hit you anymore.”

It seems the only way to vent this anger is to stuff Murong Qing in a sack and beat him senseless, Jiang Yao thought silently. Perhaps I should even let Song Muyun do it herself. The one who tied the bell is the one who must untie it.¹

Song Muyun knew Jiang Yao wouldn’t let Murong Qing bully her again, but most of the scenes in her dreams were places she had never been. Being tormented in unfamiliar surroundings still terrified her.

She was terrified of the dark dreamscapes, terrified of the Murong Qing in the dragon robe² with his grim face, terrified of being unable to find Jiang Yao no matter how hard she looked. The fear was so intense that every time she woke, her body would be trembling uncontrollably.

“Jiang Yao, today… can you stay with me today?”

Song Muyun’s eyes, clouded with a hazy mist, looked up at her pleadingly. She was so heartbreakingly pitiful. How could Jiang Yao possibly resist? Her promise to the Eighth Prince was completely forgotten. All she knew was that she had to hold Song Muyun and comfort her, telling her not to be afraid and promising to stay with her all day.

Song Muyun’s eyes were red-rimmed, and a suspicious dark patch stained her clothes—a clear sign of secret tears.

But Jiang Yao, mindful of her pride, didn’t point it out and simply continued to hold and console her.

It wasn’t until Song Muyun’s emotions gradually stabilized that she looked down and realized she was sitting in Jiang Yao’s lap. She scrambled back in a sudden fluster, her hands releasing their grip. Her face flushed red as she pulled away to hug her own knees. Her phoenix eyes³, still shimmering with moisture, cast a bewitching gaze at… the conspicuous dark patch on Jiang Yao’s chest. Her voice, strangely humid, came out in a small whisper. “I’m sorry, I got your clothes dirty. Shall I… shall I wash them for you?”

Jiang Yao had wanted to spare her feelings, worried that the thin-skinned girl would hide under the covers in embarrassment. She never expected her to bring it up herself. And she was indeed deeply embarrassed; the blush spread from her neck to her cheeks, and even her jade-like ears were tinged with a delicate pink.

Song Muyun must have slept poorly all night, as the dark circles under her eyes were quite noticeable. Her inner robe clung to a frame that was far too thin, and her feet were bare, without even socks. Those small, delicate, snow-white feet were exposed, and Jiang Yao couldn’t help but glance at them. Beautiful people, she had to admit, were beautiful from head to toe. She couldn’t resist a second glance before forcing herself to look away. Staring at another woman’s feet, even if they were both women, was terribly impolite.

Hearing her apology, Jiang Yao’s heart softened further. She reached out and couldn’t help but squeeze Song Muyun’s hand, which was wrapped around her knee. It was soft, white, and slender.

Tsk, that feels nice, she thought. Just a little bony.

Her gaze inevitably drifted up to a place with more flesh, and she unhesitatingly reached out and gave it a pinch. Muyun’s face was already flushed, and Jiang Yao had figured a little pinch this time wouldn’t leave a mark. Who knew that the moment she did, Song Muyun’s face would turn a brilliant crimson, the blush spreading from her cheeks all the way down her neck. She buried her head in her knees, her voice now truly muffled and tinged with complaint. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you… you… stop touching me.”

Song Muyun was truly mortified now and didn’t dare look at Jiang Yao.

A delayed sense of awkwardness hit Jiang Yao as well. Her eyes darted around frantically, and her hands fumbled about, eventually landing on an oil-paper package she’d placed to the side at some point. She suddenly remembered she had bought pastries on her way over. Delighted, she cleared her throat a few times and tucked the package under Song Muyun’s bent knees, ensuring she would see it even with her head down. Then, in a coaxing tone, she said, “That was my hand being unruly just now. I won’t touch you anymore. And you don’t need to wash my clothes. I brought you some pastries. Want to try one?”

A hand had suddenly wedged itself between her legs, holding a package of pastries and telling her to eat. Song Muyun abruptly sat up straight again, her lovely, watery eyes shooting Jiang Yao a glare. Before Jiang Yao could figure out what the problem was, she had already taken the package. The blush hadn’t yet faded from her ears as she sat on the edge of the bed and opened the oil paper, revealing the golden-yellow pastries inside.

Jiang Yao probably knew she liked wandouhuang⁴. Though she sometimes brought other snacks, wandouhuang was by far the most frequent gift.

“Is it still warm?”

Song Muyun, annoyed by her constant recklessness, didn’t speak and just ate the pastry quietly. Jiang Yao couldn’t help but poke her arm, breaking the silence.

She pulled her arm back slightly and gave Jiang Yao a look full of quiet resentment. It was enough to make half of Jiang Yao’s body tingle, her mouth watering uncontrollably. She found it more incomprehensible than ever. How many lives had Murong Qing saved in his past existence to deserve a happily-ever-after with a beauty like Song Muyun in the story?

It was truly infuriating. QAQ

After her glance, Song Muyun lowered her head again. A few crumbs clung to her lips as she said quietly, “It’s warm.”

Oh, well. She could never truly ignore her for long.

Seeing her so quiet and reserved, Jiang Yao felt inexplicably formal herself. She just said, “Oh,” and fell silent. It wasn’t until Song Muyun had finished a pastry in tiny bites that she shifted closer, their arms now touching. Song Muyun also seemed nervous as she looked over, only daring to steal small glances at Jiang Yao before looking away, then stealing another a moment later, carefully observing her expression.

Once Song Muyun got nervous, Jiang Yao relaxed. She was naturally carefree, and when she looked up again, her eyes were filled with laughter. “Eat some more. Are you sleepy? After you finish, I can lie down with you for a bit?”

She raised a hand to touch the dark circles under Song Muyun’s eyes.

Song Muyun’s eyes widened slightly, and the blush that had just faded came rushing back. She lowered her head, shy and demure, silently complaining to herself about how forward Jiang Yao was.

The Great Jin Dynasty⁵ had always favored friendships as plain as water, like those between gentlemen⁶. She rarely had such intimate contact with anyone—except for Jiang Yao.

Jiang Yao was the person who had the most physical contact with her in this world. She always liked to touch her, sometimes patting her head, sometimes pinching her cheek, with no sense of propriety or restraint. Although she was easily flustered, she didn’t actually dislike it.

If anyone else were to do such things, they would certainly be labeled a frivolous libertine in her mind. But when Jiang Yao did it, she was so open and straightforward that it was clear she held no such sordid intentions.

Torn between shyness and not wanting to pull away, Song Muyun kept facing Jiang Yao and gave a barely perceptible nod. “Yes, I’m a little sleepy.”

“Okay, then you eat first. When you’re done, you can sleep, and I’ll watch over you.”

With that, Jiang Yao got up, poured a cup of clear tea from the table, and handed it to Song Muyun. “Have a drink to wet your throat.”

Song Muyun took the cup and finished the remaining pastries with the tea. Then she looked up, her bright, sparkling eyes fixed on Jiang Yao.

Jiang Yao chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair again. “I’m right here, so don’t be afraid. Go on, lie down and rest.”

She hadn’t slept all night, and the night before hadn’t been much better. She was indeed exhausted. Her eyes drooped, but she fought to keep them open and reached out a hand to Jiang Yao, her demeanor soft and obedient. “Do you want to sleep together?”

Jiang Yao froze. Her original intention had been to sit beside the bed and watch over her, ready to wake her up if a nightmare took hold.

But Song Muyun was inviting her to sleep with her…

Even if she couldn’t fall asleep herself, holding that soft body would feel wonderful.

Jiang Yao had to admit she was tempted. After only a few moments of thought, she decisively removed her outer robe, stripping down until she wore only her lotus-pink dudou⁷ embroidered with crabapple flowers.

As Song Muyun stared, dumbfounded, Jiang Yao slipped into the long-since-cooled bedding and then waved her over. “Come here. I’ll hold you while you sleep. You won’t be scared if I’m holding you.”

It had worked yesterday. When she held Song Muyun, she didn’t have any nightmares.

Perhaps nightmares, too, bullied the weak and feared the strong. With someone there, the nightmares didn’t dare approach. When she was alone, they saw her as an easy target and came frequently.

Jiang Yao’s mind raced with these wild thoughts, but she didn’t let it show, simply offering Song Muyun a thoroughly dependable smile.

A string in Song Muyun’s heart quivered. Kneeling on the bed, she tentatively placed her hand in Jiang Yao’s. Jiang Yao grasped it and, with a firm tug, pulled her into her arms with a soft cry.

Jiang Yao held her, her hands resting on Jiang Yao’s shoulders as she sat sideways in her lap, easily being tucked into the blankets.

“Alright, time to sleep. I’ll stay with you all day. Sleep if you can. Look how pale your face is.”

Miss Jiang, who had very few female friends, found it all very strange. When the men she trained with got injured, she would just laugh at them for not practicing hard enough. But Song Muyun had only missed a night of sleep, without a single scratch on her, yet Jiang Yao felt a deep ache in her heart, as if a sleepless night was the greatest suffering imaginable.

Perhaps this was the difference between men and women.

Women were mostly soft and beautiful, making it easier for people to feel protective of them. Men, on the other hand, were big, clumsy, and crude. Tsk.

Jiang Yao stopped that line of thought before her disdain grew any stronger.

She hugged the woman in her arms tighter, instinctively patting her back to lull her to sleep.

Song Muyun wasn’t asleep yet. Tucked in her embrace, she thought, Why is she coddling me like a child?

Jiang Yao didn’t intentionally treat her like a child; she had just seen others comfort children this way. She’d been told that patting a child’s back helped them fall asleep more easily.

Now, faced with Song Muyun, who had been tormented by nightmares and hadn’t slept, she naturally put the method to use.

She herself wasn’t very sleepy yet, and she listened closely to the movements in her arms.

Song Muyun nuzzled against her chest at first, finding the most comfortable position before closing her eyes obediently. Soon, the breathing of the person in her arms became even and long. She was asleep.

Jiang Yao carefully pulled back a little. She saw Song Muyun’s cheeks, slightly flushed from being snuggled in her embrace, her rosy lips, her tightly shut eyes, and her long, thick lashes that would occasionally tremble. It was as if time itself had stopped in that moment.

Again, she found it hard to believe. How could Murong Qing bear to harm such a stunning beauty?

If a single hair fell from this woman’s head, Jiang Yao would feel heartbroken for half a day!

That bastard Murong Qing.

Jiang Yao cursed him in her mind, and as she cursed, she too drifted off to sleep. After all, she had woken up very early—before meeting Song Muyun, she had never managed to get up so early in her life.

The two slept in each other’s arms. For some reason, they both slept for a very long time, and by the time they awoke, it was already past noon.

Jiang Yao groggily sat up in bed, her arm that had been holding the other woman retracting. The red marks from her own hair were still imprinted on her face, leaving her in a state of being awake but not entirely so.

The moment her arm moved, Song Muyun woke up. The beauty’s eyes were filled with a hazy mist, as if tears were about to fall at any second.

Jiang Yao was twisting her neck, trying to clear her head, when she turned and saw Song Muyun. The sight startled her so much she nearly rolled off the bed. She was instantly wide awake. She wanted to cup Song Muyun’s face but didn’t dare, her fingers hovering in mid-air, unsure of what to do. Her voice was anxious and pleading. “Wh-what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare? Why are you crying?!”

Before Song Muyun could answer, she rushed to console her. “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. Dreams are fake. I’m here. No one can bully you.”

She thought Song Muyun had dreamed of those terrible things again.

Song Muyun watched her urgent expression. Though her mind was still foggy from sleep, hearing those words of genuine concern sent a warm current flowing through her body.

A feeling suddenly bloomed within her: She really does care about me. She worries about me. She might be the only person in this world who will ever treat me this well.

I have to be good. I can’t make her angry.

So thought Song Muyun, who hadn’t been treated with kindness for a very long time.

She raised a hand and rubbed her sleepy eyes, wiping away all the moisture until only a pair of bright eyes remained, as if they had been washed clean by a clear river.

Perhaps because she had just woken up, there was none of her usual coolness in her voice, only a soft, sweet tone. She said, “Mm, I’m not scared.”

She emphasized, “I’m not scared when you’re here.”

Then she explained, “I didn’t have a nightmare. I was just really tired. When you’re by my side, I don’t have nightmares.”

Her words made Jiang Yao’s heart melt even more, and she began to see her as someone she had to protect.

She was so beautiful, so well-behaved, so obedient, and so reliant on her. She couldn’t let anyone bully her.

“You really didn’t have a nightmare? You scared me to death. I thought you had a nightmare and cried yourself awake.”

She reached out to stroke Song Muyun’s face.

Something seemed to have clicked in Song Muyun’s mind. Though her ears still turned red, she actively nuzzled her cheek against Jiang Yao’s palm.

A jolt went through Jiang Yao, and she responded by rubbing Song Muyun’s face even more vigorously.

She kept at it until her originally fair, tender cheeks were flushed red.

Song Muyun bit her lip and gave her a gentle glare with her watery eyes, but she didn’t say anything, only lowering her head slightly to avoid her gaze.

She was even cuter like this. Compared to before today, the Song Muyun who would occasionally glare at her now had a bit more of the vibrant spirit a young woman her age should have.

She liked this version of her very much.

It was getting ridiculous to stay in bed any longer. The two of them got up and changed their clothes. Song Muyun had always preferred simple, elegant colors, and Jiang Yao’s dress today also leaned toward muted tones. They sat facing each other on the soft couch, watching the blossoms and leaves fall from the scholar tree outside.

A small table stood between them on the couch, holding a Go⁸ board with a half-finished game. The black and white stones were locked in a fierce, unyielding battle.

Jiang Yao stared at the board, her brow furrowed for a long time. Finally, unable to hold back, she asked, “Who were you playing with?”

Since when did Song Muyun have other friends?

And Song Muyun hadn’t even introduced them! She was playing Go with someone in secret!

She was truly betraying the unique kindness Jiang Yao had shown her. QAQ

Faced with Jiang Yao’s accusatory gaze, Song Muyun felt a flicker of panic, even though she had nothing to hide. She quickly composed herself and looked at Jiang Yao, her beautiful phoenix eyes clear and innocent as she explained, “I wasn’t playing with anyone. I was playing by myself.”

Jiang Yao didn’t know much about the four arts of zither, Go, calligraphy, and painting, but she was quite certain she knew how to play a game!

The young miss, as if she’d been deceived, glared at Song Muyun. “But there are clearly two sets of stones!”

Song Muyun paused, the corners of her lips seeming to twitch into a smile that she quickly suppressed. She cleared her throat and explained in the gentlest voice possible to clear her name of this “injustice.” “My left hand holds the black stones, and my right hand holds the white. I’m playing against myself.”⁹

Jiang Yao was speechless.

She had never imagined such a thing was possible.

“But isn’t that just… you?”

What was the point of playing with yourself?

Jiang Yao was utterly bewildered.

Song Muyun lowered her head, exposing her long, snow-white neck. “I have no one to play with,” she said. “So it’s nice to play a game with myself. When you’re not here, I have to find something to pass the time.”

Jiang Yao paused at her words, then realized with shame that her heart was softening again.

She just couldn’t be tough with Song Muyun. The moment the other woman showed the slightest hint of sadness or vulnerability, she couldn’t help but give in.

Sigh, what am I going to do?

“Alright, then from now on, I’ll take you with me wherever I go. How about that?”

Most of the time, she was with Song Muyun. But there were always a few days when she had family matters to attend to, forcing her to leave Song Muyun alone in the Yueshang House while she took care of business.

She was the type who could have fun no matter who was around, so she’d never considered that Song Muyun might be bored and need to pass the time. Now that she knew, seeing her looking so dejected filled her with a pang of guilt. She wanted to keep her by her side to spare her this boredom.

Song Muyun pressed her red lips together lightly. She looked up, and after a moment’s hesitation, she shook her head. “You should tend to your business. It’s alright. A day passes quickly with a game of Go or a book. I’m afraid I would be a bother.”

“You’re so quiet. How could you possibly be a bother?”

It’s not like she was as boisterous as Jiang Huai.

Jiang Yao made the final decision to bring her along. As long as she was willing to come and didn’t find it a hassle, it was settled.

In truth, Song Muyun didn’t want to stay in the Yueshang House at all. All of her suffering had happened there. Any chance to leave with Jiang Yao was a blessing. Even helping her run errands was better than being stuck there. So she didn’t find it troublesome at all; in fact, after hearing the offer, she felt a glimmer of anticipation.

They sat for a while longer. It was well past noon when Jiang Yao finally felt a pang of hunger. She went out, grabbed an attendant, and ordered some dishes to be delivered to the room. She gave him some silver—more than enough for an errand fee—and the boy was more than happy to make the trip.

When Jiang Yao turned around after giving her instructions, she saw Song Muyun sitting on the soft couch, her beautiful, moist eyes fixed on her, filled with a gentle smile.

For some reason, Jiang Yao’s mood brightened as well. She walked back quickly and plopped down beside her.

With company, the Go board had already been put away. Song Muyun raised her hand and poured Jiang Yao a cup of steaming hot tea.

“Are you thirsty? Would you like some tea?”

Jiang Yao wasn’t thirsty, but since Song Muyun had poured it, she drank it anyway. Afterward, her gaze fell on Song Muyun’s unadorned hair. “Where’s the hairpin I gave you yesterday?” she asked suddenly. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”

Song Muyun’s voice was soft and sweet as she answered earnestly, “That hairpin is too valuable. I can’t accept it.”

Jiang Yao frowned immediately. “What’s so valuable about it? I gave it to you, so you should wear it.”

She liked seeing Song Muyun dressed in gold and jade, adorned exquisitely. It was pleasing to the eye.

Song Muyun lowered her gaze, a hint of hesitation in her expression. “But this hairpin… it truly is too expensive.”

It all came down to it being expensive, but Jiang Yao didn’t care. “Expensive, what expensive? Someone gave it to me, and I knew right away it would suit you, so I brought it to you. It didn’t cost me any money, so don’t overthink it.”

Jiang Yao grabbed Song Muyun’s hand, insisting that she go find the hairpin and put it on.

With a look of helplessness, Song Muyun let herself be pulled along. She had no choice but to listen, retrieving the hairpin from her dressing table.

She had always treasured the things Jiang Yao gave her, keeping them in the most conspicuous place, under lock and key.

The jade of the hairpin was of the highest quality, paired with the finest carving; it was perfect in every way. Song Muyun had once been the daughter of a wealthy family, so she could naturally tell that the hairpin was worth a fortune.

But she couldn’t win against Jiang Yao. Jiang Yao took the hairpin from her and carefully secured it in her hair.

The woman’s smooth, raven hair was styled in a simple bun, completely bare of any ornaments. It had been plain before, but now, with the addition of the exquisite jade hairpin, it looked refined and elegant.

Just as she was adjusting the hairpin, a voice suddenly sounded from the courtyard. “Is this the room?”

“Ah, yes, yes! Every time Miss Jiang comes, she requests Lady Muyun. Lady Muyun lives in this room.”

Song Muyun looked up and grasped Jiang Yao’s sleeve. “They’re here for you,” she said softly.

Jiang Yao’s gaze swept across the courtyard outside the window, landing on Cuizhu, who was being led over.

Cuizhu wore a bamboo-joint hairpin in her coiling-cassia bun¹⁰. Her slightly round face gave her a playful look. The moment she saw Jiang Yao, she began waving vigorously through the window. “My lady!”

Jiang Yao fell silent. She walked to the window and pressed a hand to her forehead in resignation. “What are you doing here?”

Cuizhu pouted, looking very unhappy. “It’s all your fault! Lost in this land of pleasure, have you forgotten that His Highness the Eighth Prince was coming today?”

Jiang Yao blinked.

Crap. I really did forget.

“Did the Eighth Prince send you?”

How embarrassing. To make plans with someone and then completely forget, to the point where they had to send someone to fetch her.

At this, Cuizhu’s expression grew even more mournful. “His Highness the Eighth Prince waited for you for a long time and was spotted by the Master. When the Master found out, he sent me to the Yueshang House to fetch you.”

If it hadn’t been for the Master, she would never have known that her lady disappeared the moment she woke up every day to come to a pleasure house!

“If you have something to do, you should go back. Don’t keep the Eighth Prince waiting.”

Song Muyun had appeared behind her at some point. The corner of her lips was lifted in a gentle, even smiling, tone.

But for some reason, Jiang Yao felt the smile was a bit forced.

Though her words were saying it was fine for her to leave, her eyes looked pitifully at her, as if begging her not to go, to stay.

Jiang Yao took a deep breath. If she had to choose one person to be ruthless to…

She gently patted Song Muyun’s thin back. Seeing her lower her head, she moved her hand to gently ruffle her hair, then said without turning back, “You go back and ask the Eighth Prince if we absolutely have to practice today. If we do, then ask him if he’s willing to come practice at the Yueshang House.”

Cuizhu was speechless.

Song Muyun looked up in surprise, her eyes so moist that she couldn’t hide it in time, causing her thick lashes to clump together.

Jiang Yao frowned and touched her eyes. “Why are you crying again? I thought you weren’t the type to cry.”

From the few times she had seen her before, Song Muyun had always been like a fairy from the moon palace in her mind. Who would have thought that she was actually a little crybaby on the inside?

Her eyes were always turning red at the drop of a hat, making her look terribly wronged.

Song Muyun turned her head slightly, avoiding the meddlesome hand, and retorted in a small voice, “I’m not crying. Don’t talk nonsense.”

Jiang Yao thought, You know perfectly well whether I’m talking nonsense or not. You got tears all over my hand.

But she decided to protect the little fairy’s pride, afraid she would blush and refuse to talk to her again.

With a look of indulgent resignation, Jiang Yao went along with her. “Alright, alright, I’m talking nonsense. You didn’t cry. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.”

Standing outside the window, Cuizhu’s heart sank. Seeing that Jiang Yao had no intention of even looking back at her, she couldn’t help but cry out in dismay, “My lady, am I really supposed to tell the Eighth Prince that? Won’t he get angry?”

If he got angry, her lady would be fine, but she would have to face the prince’s wrath directly!

Only then did Jiang Yao turn around. She waved a dismissive hand at Cuizhu. “The Eighth Prince has a great temper. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve been so obnoxious and rude, but I’ve never seen him get mad. Just go and tell him. If he doesn’t want to come, he doesn’t have to. I’ll teach him some other time when I’m free.”

Cuizhu’s face was a mask of misery, but not daring to delay any longer, she left to deliver the message.

It was only then that Song Muyun reached out and gently tugged on Jiang Yao’s hand. When Jiang Yao turned back, she asked with some concern, “If you have her reply like that, what if you offend the Eighth Prince?”

Jiang Yao thought, Why didn’t you say that when Cuizhu was here? Now you’re asking. Hmph, you just don’t want me to leave, do you?

“What’s there to be afraid of? The Eighth Prince isn’t like that little thing Murong Qing. He’s got a good temper. He won’t hold it against us.”

Whenever she mentioned Murong Qing, she could never say his name properly without adding a curse or two. Song Muyun couldn’t stand it. She reached out and covered Jiang Yao’s mouth, her expression one of helplessness. “Don’t curse. It’s not proper.”

The little fairy was accustomed to being elegant. Not only did she abide by the rules of propriety herself, but she also tried to manage Jiang Yao. If anyone else tried to manage her, Jiang Yao wouldn’t have paid them any mind, but this was Song Muyun. Jiang Yao could only give in. She raised her hand and placed it over the one covering her mouth, gently moving it away as she promised resignedly, “Alright, alright, I won’t curse. I’ll listen to you. No cursing.”

She won’t even let me curse the man who bullied her. If I really do stuff Murong Qing in a sack, would Song Muyun even have the heart to hit him?

Jiang Yao was a little worried, but there was nothing she could do. Who knew that was just how the hero and heroine were in the storybook¹¹—one gentle and kind, the other ruthless and cruel.

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The author has something to say:

Going VIP.

My writing buddy is writing 7k words a day. I originally said I was going to hit 10k, but I failed. Oh well, 7,000 is still a lot QAQ

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