Ninth Chapter: The Sickly Beauty and the Second Prince

The morning sun barely peeked through the palace curtains when a soft knock echoed through Zhao Ning's chambers. Still dressed in his robes from the night before, Zhao Ning, the second prince, stirred and glanced at the letter on his table, unopened but urgent. It was an invitation from Lady Feng, a known beauty in the court, whose health was as fragile as her mysterious charm.

His elder brother, Crown Prince Zhao Yang, had also been on high alert after the assassination attempt, and while Zhao Ning shared his brother's concern, his curiosity was piqued by Lady Feng's request.

Anning, waiting for him in the courtyard, eyed him with a teasing smile as he prepared to leave. "Going to see the famed beauty, are we? What's the matter, Ning? Worried the court's fragile flower will wilt before you arrive?"

Zhao Ning smirked, stepping closer to her, his voice low. "Jealous, Anning? Or are you just worried she might steal me away?"

Anning raised an eyebrow, stepping into his space. Her lips curled into a sly smile. "If she's as frail as they say, she wouldn't last a day handling you, Ning."

Zhao Ning chuckled, enjoying the playful banter. He leaned down slightly, his breath warm against her ear. "You think you could do better?"

Anning's pulse quickened, but she hid it behind her usual boldness. She looked up at him, her gaze smoldering. "I don't think. I know."

The intensity between them lingered for a moment before Zhao Ning, grinning, pulled back. "I'll keep that in mind for later, Anning."

With a wink, he headed off to Lady Feng's pavilion, leaving Anning watching him with a knowing smile.

Zhao Ning arrived at Lady Feng's chambers, the rich scent of incense greeting him before he even stepped inside. She lay in her lavish bed, her delicate frame swathed in layers of silk, a picture of weakness. Her attendants fluttered around her, adjusting pillows and holding out handkerchiefs as if she might break at any moment.

"My lord Zhao Ning, you honor me with your presence," Lady Feng greeted in a soft, breathless voice, her eyes fluttering open as if even speaking was an effort.

Zhao Ning approached, his expression calm but wary. "I heard you've been feeling unwell. What symptoms are troubling you this time, Lady Feng?"

She let out a soft sigh, her hand resting gently on her chest. "It is the same, my lord. My heart feels weak, my breath short... No one has been able to cure me."

Zhao Ning examined her pulse with practiced ease, his brow furrowing slightly. Something was off. Her pulse didn't feel natural, almost as though she was manipulating it somehow. He remained composed, unwilling to reveal his suspicions. "I recommend resting more and avoiding any stress, Lady Feng. For now, there is nothing immediately life-threatening."

A flicker of disappointment passed over Lady Feng's delicate features, but she quickly masked it with a faint smile. "Thank you for your wisdom, my lord. Your presence alone brings me comfort."

Zhao Ning gave a slight bow and excused himself. As he left her chambers, his thoughts raced. Lady Feng was playing a dangerous game—one he intended to keep a close eye on.

While Zhao Ning was occupied, Zhao Yang had been in deep discussion with Huo Wushang. Ancheng, still recovering but growing restless, joined them in the strategy room, despite Zhao Yang's protests.

"You should be resting," Zhao Yang reminded her, his voice firm but gentle.

Ancheng, sitting beside him, leaned in closer, her voice a soft whisper that only he could hear. "Yang, you worry too much. I'm not as delicate as you seem to think."

Zhao Yang's breath caught in his throat as her lips brushed close to his ear, her words dripping with a teasing allure. "Besides," she added, her fingers lightly grazing his arm, "I know you like keeping me close."

Zhao Yang swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure in front of Wushang, but the tension in his chest grew. His eyes flicked to hers, dark with intensity. "I do. But there's a difference between protecting you and being reckless."

Ancheng's lips quirked into a small smile, her eyes filled with mischievousness. "Maybe I enjoy being reckless... when it's with you."

The charged moment hung between them, filled with unspoken desire and the weight of their shared history. Zhao Yang, barely resisting the urge to pull her closer, sighed softly. "We'll talk about this later."

Wushang cleared his throat, an amused glint in his eyes. "I'll leave you two to your... strategy session."

Later that evening, Ancheng approached Zhao Yang with a request to return to the Li Mansion.

"Yang, we want to return home, just for the night," Ancheng said, her tone light but filled with longing. "It's been too long since we've seen our family."

Zhao Yang's expression hardened slightly as he handed her a letter. "Your father doesn't want you leaving the palace just yet. Not until the situation with Wu Ying Jun is under control."

Ancheng frowned, disappointed. "But staying here... it feels like I'm avoiding the world."

Zhao Yang took a step closer, his hand gently lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I want you here with me, Ancheng. Right now, I need you close."

His voice dipped lower, becoming intimate, almost a caress. "You know how hard it is for me to let you out of my sight, don't you?"

Ancheng's heart raced at his words, her breath catching as his intense gaze held hers. "Zhao Yang..." she whispered, her resolve wavering.

"You'll be my wife soon," he continued, his hand trailing softly down her arm. "There's no place for you but by my side."

Her usual composure cracked under the weight of his seductive words, a soft flush coloring her cheeks. She found herself nodding, completely taken by the way he made her feel—safe, wanted, and undeniably his.

Meanwhile, Zhao Ning returned from his encounter with Lady Feng, only to find Anning waiting for him in the garden.

"So," she said, her tone teasing as usual, "did the delicate flower wither under your touch?"

Zhao Ning chuckled, stepping closer until the space between them nearly vanished. "Let's just say... she wasn't as delicate as she pretends to be."

Anning raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. "You sound disappointed. Did you expect her to be swooning at your feet?"

"I don't need her to swoon," Zhao Ning replied, his voice lowering as he leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. "I have other ways of keeping someone's attention."

Anning's heart raced, but she refused to let him see her flustered. "Bold words, Ning. But can you back them up?"

Zhao Ning grinned, his lips dangerously close to hers. "I think you know I can."

The tension between them crackled, unspoken but electric. Yet just as quickly as it had built, Zhao Ning stepped back, a smug smile on his face, leaving Anning both intrigued and frustrated.