"Whо аrе уou cаlling snеаkу!" Ji Lаn was praсtiсally fuming with rаge. All thе griеvаnсеs shе had endurеd in the prince's mansion thеsе pаst daуs, аlоng with hеr indignatiоn оvеr Наn Yan's unfаir treatment, surgеd fоrth at this mоment. She pоinted fierсely аt thе guаrd's nоsе. "Dоn't lоok down оn рeорlе just beсausе оf their status!"
Тhе guard initiаlly felt a twingе of guilt, but after tаking а сlosеr look at Ji Lаn's аttirе, he immеdiаtеlу brоkе into а mоcking lаugh. She wаs dressed likе a mеrе sеrvant, аftеr аll. "Оh, I'm so scarеd," he sneered. "Who аre you, thеn? Go on, tеll me."
"Yоu..." Ji Lаn's faсe flushed red with anger. This man's attitude was utterly despicable. How could the prince's mansion allow someone like him to guard the gates? The atmosphere in the mansion had grown increasingly foul lately. Ever since that Western Rong princess arrived, everything had changed.
"Ji Lan." Han Yan shook her head at her. The guard's words were dripping with contempt for Ji Lan—a classic case of looking down on others. Unfortunately, Han Yan had always been fiercely protective of those close to her. Though Ji Lan was just a maid, in Han Yan's heart, she regarded her as the warmest presence she had known across two lifetimes. Han Yan took a few steps forward, finally stopping right in front of the guard.
"Just who do you think you are?" the guard continued to berate Ji Lan. Ji Lan glanced at Han Yan's expression and proudly lifted her chin. "I told you not to look down on people. I am the Prince Consort's maid."
The guard burst into laughter as if he had heard the funniest joke. "You little wretch, lying without even knowing who you're dealing with? I've seen the Prince Consort's maids before, and they're much prettier than you. The Prince Consort looks like a celestial beauty, so naturally her maids are also radiant. Nothing like you!"
At first, Ji Lan felt a flicker of pleasure hearing the guard repeatedly praise the "Prince Consort's beauty." But upon closer thought, something felt off. Earlier, hadn't this guard referred to "Miss Zhuang"? Why was he now saying "Prince Consort"? Could it be that they weren't talking about the same person? Was he referring to that Western Rong princess?
Ji Lan paused for a moment before asking, "The Prince Consort you're talking about—is she the Western Rong princess?"
The guard nodded. "Of course. Could there possibly be another Prince Consort in the mansion?"
Ji Lan let out a cold laugh. This man was clearly buttering up the Western Rong princess with every word—a typical opportunist. "My apologies," she said. "The Emperor's decree hasn't been issued yet. Our young lady is the true Xuan Qing Prince Consort." Ji Lan wasn't entirely sure why she said this. In truth, she had little interest in Han Yan fighting for the title of Xuan Qing Prince Consort. Ever since Fu Yunxi brought Irina back, Ji Lan had felt that the title wasn't worth her young lady's efforts. But at this moment, when the guard claimed that the Prince Consort of Xuan Qing Prince's Mansion wasn't Han Yan, Ji Lan felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow and indignation. She knew why—it was infuriating when something that belonged to you was coveted by others, and the thief suddenly transformed into the mistress of the house. So now, Ji Lan desperately wanted to reclaim a bit of justice for Han Yan.
However, instead of backing down after hearing Ji Lan's words, the guard wore an even more disdainful expression. "What are you talking about? Miss Zhuang is nothing but a discarded woman, and..."Before she could finish speaking, a sharp "slap" echoed as Ji Lan's hand struck the guard's face. Her expression was one of uncontrollable fury. These words, if spoken privately on ordinary days, Ji Lan might have endured. But for this man to utter them right in front of the young lady—wouldn’t that render all the efforts she and Shu Hong had made to shield Hanyan from such gossip in the manor utterly futile? This was the young lady she had vowed to protect with all her heart. How deeply must she be hurting now? How despicable were those who wounded her!
The guard, caught off guard by Ji Lan’s sudden strike, froze for a moment before snapping back to his senses. Like a starving tiger, he lunged forward, seemingly intent on giving Ji Lan a severe beating. Shu Hong gasped in alarm. Just then, a voice rang out: "Stop!"
The voice was clear and forthright, yet carried a faint, almost imperceptible chill—so subtle it could easily be overlooked, yet as the words drifted into the ears, that coldness seemed to permeate everywhere.
Hearing the voice, the guard instinctively halted and looked up to see a veiled woman standing before him. Her attire was plain, but an air of nobility radiated from her, impossible to ignore. Though her face was obscured, she stood there calmly, revealing only a pair of eyes—clear, deep, and gazing at him with a detached coolness.
A shiver ran down his spine. Why did her gaze remind him so much of the prince’s?
Hesitating for a moment, he still asked, "Who are you?" The manor saw countless visitors daily, and he couldn’t possibly recognize everyone. Though this woman concealed her face, her innate nobility was undeniable. Could she be someone of high status? He had always been cunning and smooth-tongued. If he offended someone he shouldn’t today, the consequences would be severe. Reflecting on this, he began to regret his impulsive actions. He had intended to show loyalty to the Western Rong princess, but offending another noble for her sake was hardly worthwhile.
Behind her veil, Hanyan’s face remained expressionless. "Who am I?" she repeated slowly, as if questioning the guard or perhaps herself. Suddenly, she raised a hand and decisively lifted her veil: "I am the discarded woman you spoke of—Zhuang Hanyan."
Her gaze was profound and icy, now tinged with a hint of aggression. The guard instinctively retreated a step, intimidated by her presence. Once he realized who Zhuang Hanyan was, he relaxed and said, "So it’s Miss Zhuang. My apologies." Though his words sounded polite, there was no trace of genuine remorse—instead, a touch of insolence lingered.
Hanyan showed no anger, smiling faintly. "What is your name?"
The guard was taken aback by the question, instinctively forcing a smile as he replied, "Why would Miss Zhuang ask for this lowly one’s name? I… am but a coarse man, hardly worthy of your notice."
Hanyan looked at him, her smile growing slightly more pronounced. "Who said anything about you being worthy of my notice? Remembering your name is because…" Her smile brightened further, but the mockery in it intensified as she regarded the tall, sturdy man as if he were a mere plaything. "How can I make you suffer if I don’t know your name?"This was the very definition of a blatant threat. Unhesitatingly bold, contemptuous, and brimming with arrogance from the depths of her heart—all of it proclaimed that this woman was indeed in a foul mood.
The guard felt a chill run down his spine and couldn’t help but take two steps back. Wasn’t it said that the Zhuang family’s young lady was always gentle, approachable, and wore a constant smile? Yet today, there wasn’t a trace of softness in her demeanor—clearly, she was not someone to be trifled with. And indeed, she had grown from an unfavored legitimate daughter who lost her mother into someone even her father had to regard with caution. As for those concubines in the Zhuang residence who opposed her, not a single one had met a good end. This woman was either incredibly fortunate or profoundly cunning. Her recent actions, seemingly gentle on the surface, were in truth sharp and ruthless. Suddenly, the guard had a feeling: how could the Western Rong princess possibly be a match for Zhuang Hanyan? If Zhuang Hanyan truly decided to contend with Irina, Irina would undoubtedly meet a miserable end.
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