Whether this letter gets written or not is no longer up to Serena Feng and Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan. Surrounded by tens of thousands of troops, Serena and Nolan have no real choice.
A wise person knows not to suffer losses in front of their eyes. Serena agreed without hesitation, and the group followed Prince Damien of Southlyn to the Southlyn army's encampment.
Upon arrival, Serena and Nolan discovered that the 200,000 troops Prince Damien brought weren't sent to attack Westlyn’s Prince Terrence—they had stayed here specifically to wait for them.
Two hundred thousand soldiers, with daily losses that are impossible to count. Just to wait for Nolan and Serena, Prince Damien kept them here for a full five days.
"Prince Jason really married well," Serena remarked, instantly seeing through the situation.
"How so?" Dorian Owen showed no sign of feeling like a prisoner, bouncing along the whole way.
Why worry? No one here dares take his life anyway.
"Prince Jason may have a fief, but with the Emperor watching, he doesn’t dare touch its resources. Even if Prince Damien has private funds, he couldn’t possibly cover the costs of 200,000 troops. The only one who can supply this kind of expense is Chu City." Serena wasn’t clueless; while she couldn’t calculate the exact numbers, she understood the general scale of military logistics.
"So that’s it... I heard Prince Jason only managed to marry the Chu City Lord’s daughter thanks to Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan’s matchmaking. Would you say Nolan’s lifted a rock to smash his own foot?" Dorian seized the rare chance to tease Nolan and wasn’t about to let it go.
Serena stifled a laugh, glanced at the tall and handsome Nolan ahead, and kindly explained, "If it wasn’t Prince Jason, it would have been someone else. The easiest thing to calculate in this world is human nature, and the hardest is also human nature. People’s greed knows no bounds—Prince Jason’s move is perfectly logical. We just overlooked it, that’s all."
If you pit a calculating mind against someone who isn’t, unless Nolan spends his whole life holed up in the capital, things like this are bound to happen sooner or later.
Actually, even staying in the capital isn’t truly safe.
"Everyone, these are your tents." The soldier leading them pointed to the four tents at the center and spoke politely.
Prince Damien invited them as guests, not prisoners. He wants the Southlyn throne, so of course he wouldn’t risk making Nolan a mortal enemy.
Ambitious as he is, Damien has always known that with his abilities, he can only claim Southlyn—and only hold on to Southlyn.
This world may be tempting, but not everyone gets a piece of it.
Nolan and Serena had barely sat down when Damien arrived with his men. The soldiers behind him respectfully set out brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone on the table.
"Miss Feng, please..."
Serena didn’t stand on ceremony. She stepped forward, picked up the brush, and began writing. The gist: she’s a guest of Prince Damien, has heard of his connection to the Wang clan, and asks William Wang Jinling if Damien’s branch of the family can be restored to the Wang ancestral rolls.
At the end, Serena added a line: "All is well, do not worry!"
"Miss Feng is quite thoughtful." The last four characters meant that Prince Damien was treating her decently, so William Wang didn’t need to worry—no matter what decision he made, Serena would be fine.
"Not as thoughtful as Prince Damien," Serena replied, waiting for the ink to dry before handing the letter to him.
Prince Damien took the letter, double-checked that it was safe and revealed nothing about their location, then sealed it himself.
"Miss Feng, for the Grand Heir to believe me, I hope you’ll give me a token." Damien’s eyes fell on Serena’s hands.
Serena’s hands were longer and fairer than most women’s, her fingers faintly callused. Just by looking at them, anyone could tell these were Serena’s.
Damien made his intentions obvious. Dorian and the Master of the Mystic Healer Valley both grew tense—they knew just how skilled Serena’s hands were. A doctor without hands couldn’t practice medicine.
But Nolan and Serena showed no fear at all. Serena met his gaze openly and asked with a smile, "What does Prince Damien want?"
"I want your hands. Will you give them to me?"
"Sure. Take them." Serena calmly extended both hands, not the least bit startled—leaving Damien momentarily stunned.
Heh... Damien gave a dry laugh. "Miss Feng, you’re too polite. How could I possibly want your hands? Just a lock of your hair will do."
If Damien really cut off Serena’s hands, William Wang would kill him for sure. That would be a classic case of trying to steal a chicken and ending up losing the rice.
"No." The one who refused wasn’t Serena—it was Nolan.
A lock of hair, a thread of love—a woman giving her hair to a man is a sign of affection. Nolan would never allow Serena's hair to end up in William Wang's hands.
Nolan was certain: if Serena’s hair reached William, he’d keep it close, tucked in a pouch next to his skin. That was something Nolan would never allow—Serena was his woman.
"It’s just a few strands of hair, Nolan—why so serious?" Damien was delighted to see Nolan angry. He’d only meant the hair half-jokingly, but Nolan’s reaction made things interesting.
He couldn’t hurt Nolan, but making him uncomfortable was a win.
Hmph... Nolan snorted coldly, not even lifting his eyelids. "Prince Damien, I’m not someone who’s easy to deal with. Don’t push me. I’ve already given you plenty of face today. Do you really think I can’t get out? Even if you had a million troops, if I want to leave, you won’t be able to stop me."
"If you go by yourself, sure—but if you try to take Serena with you, I doubt you’ll get far." Damien wasn’t that easy to threaten, but he’d forgotten Nolan wasn’t ordinary.
Nolan shot Damien a mocking look and said slowly, "If I break out and you so much as harm a single hair on Serena’s head, I’ll raze Southlyn to the ground—leave the whole kingdom barren, with no grass growing and no homes for its people."
"You wouldn’t dare." Damien’s pupils widened in shock, fear rising inside him.
"Try me and see if I dare. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you—I’ll leave you with a ruined Southlyn." Damien wants the throne, and Nolan knows that’s his weakness. If Southlyn is destroyed, all Damien’s efforts are for nothing.
Damien stared at Nolan, trying to spot any hint of a joke in his eyes. But he was disappointed—Nolan’s gaze was as deep and unfathomable as black water. Damien couldn’t tell if Nolan was bluffing, but he didn’t dare bet on it.
Taking a deep breath, Damien forced a smile. "Nolan, you’re impressive. I’m convinced. I’ll send the letter out right away. Honestly, I think the Grand Heir will care even more about Serena’s life than you do."
Threatened like that, Damien refused to back down completely. If he couldn’t beat Nolan with force, he’d plant a seed of doubt between Nolan and Serena—hoping it would drive a wedge between them.