"Morgan..." He called softly, then fell silent, simply looking at her.
After a long pause, he sighed, "I'm sorry..."
Morgan glanced at him, her smile faint. "Your Highness, you must be joking."
Adrian Yarrow's brows furrowed, his face clouded with worry. "Are you blaming me? Blaming me for having you take Mona's place?"
Morgan replied coolly, "No."
Adrian looked at her, unable to read her thoughts. He frowned, "You have every right to blame me. I once thought I loved Mona, but after you left, I realized I was searching for traces of you in her."
Adrian gave a bitter smile. "This is what they call suffering from one's own actions. Do you know how much it hurt, watching you be so close to Damien Gray?"
Adrian Yarrow was handsome, and with that melancholy expression, even a woman with no feelings for him would feel her heart ache. But the one facing him was Morgan Shangguan.
Morgan remained unmoved, her faint smile never fading. She answered softly, "I don't know."
Suddenly sensing something, Morgan looked up and saw Sophie Qiu standing behind a column not far away, watching them. When Sophie noticed Morgan's gaze, she didn't hide, but met her eyes for a moment before turning away.
Adrian Yarrow lowered his gaze, a bitter smile on his lips as he sighed, "So you really do blame me after all!"
Morgan didn't answer him, her thoughts drifting to Sophie Qiu. That woman was skilled—otherwise, Adrian wouldn't have missed her presence. She'd never revealed much of her intentions, but was she truly willing to let Prince Julian use her?
After a moment of silence, Adrian stood up and said, "I know I brought all this upon myself. I don't expect your forgiveness. I only hope you won't treat me as a stranger. Even if you hate me, I accept it!" With that, he left without looking back.
Morgan shook her head with a soft laugh. Did he not realize how exaggerated his performance was? Clearly, he was convinced she still had feelings for him!
Maxwell Jing ignored him, dodged his hand, and drank straight from the jar. Quentin stared wide-eyed. "Maxwell Jing, you heartless guy!"
Prince Ethan sat down directly across from Morgan and declared, "Princess Morgan, our partnership continues!"
Morgan's gaze flickered. "What does Prince Ethan want me to do?" she asked.
Prince Ethan looked at her intently. "For now, you don't need to do anything. If I need you, I'll come to you. As for the Empress Consort's position—if you want it, it's yours. I won't allow you to regret this!"
Morgan raised her eyes to him, a flicker of surprise flashing through her gaze before it quickly disappeared. She nodded. "I understand."
Prince Ethan seemed satisfied with her response. As he stood to leave, he suddenly added, "I don't want to see you getting so close to my third brother. Since we're merely putting on a show, there's no need to overdo it!"
Though it bothered him, Prince Ethan never suggested that Morgan leave Damien Gray's side. Morgan's presence with Damien could prove crucial—perhaps even decisive—in the struggle for the throne.
Both Adrian Yarrow and Prince Ethan were highly skilled in martial arts, which made them a bit overconfident. Failing to notice anyone nearby, they assumed the courtyard was empty. Even if someone was far away, they wouldn't hear the conversation—but they forgot that people could be hiding inside the room.
Watching Prince Ethan walk away, Morgan finally stood and headed back to her room. Just as she reached the doorway, someone grabbed her and pulled her inside. Damien Gray pressed her against the door, his voice dangerously low: "So, Princess Consort, what exactly do you understand? Are you planning to obediently keep your distance from me, hmm?" As he spoke, he reached out and tugged at her collar.
Morgan said helplessly, "Damien, don't let jealousy cloud your judgment." She knew full well that neither Adrian nor Ethan had any real connection to her, yet Damien was acting so irrationally—clearly, he was blinded by his own anger.
Damien Gray snorted, then lowered his head to silence her with a kiss. He seemed fierce, but couldn't help softening his touch.
Morgan felt both helpless and moved. For someone so domineering and cold to others, he was always gentle with her, always remembering to care about her feelings.
When he finally released her lips, Morgan stroked his face, laughing breathlessly. "I don't have much love to give. What I've given to you, I can't give to anyone else."
Her words earned her an even more lingering kiss, and a slew of possessive, reasonable or unreasonable demands.
On the mountain behind the palace, darkness had fallen. The chirping of insects was unusually clear. Maxwell Jing reached the summit and, seeing someone there, paused in surprise. "Why are you here?" he asked.
Quentin Hua glanced at him, his smile devilish and enchanting. Removing his mask, his face was breathtakingly beautiful. "Ah... Little Max, you really are in sync with me!"
Maxwell Jing was about to reply when, before he could speak, Quentin Hua's smile suddenly vanished. The eyes that usually held such charm were now shadowed with a complex, unreadable emotion—one that clearly radiated sorrow, helplessness, and the weight of experience.
Quentin Hua's gaze suddenly fell on Maxwell's hand, and in a flash, he pounced. "Perfect timing! I just finished my wine. See, Little Max, we really are in sync!" His wicked smile returned.
Maxwell Jing sat down on the ground and nudged an empty wine jug at his feet. "If you don't want to smile, then don't. I don't feel like smiling either." His gaze drifted toward Serenity Temple at the foot of the mountain, his eyes filled with a complicated, unreadable emotion.
Quentin Hua sat down beside him and slapped the seal off a wine jar. Suddenly, his hand was empty—the jar snatched away by Maxwell. Quentin immediately reached out to grab it back, exclaiming, "Little Max, save some for me!"
Maxwell Jing ignored him, dodged his hand, and drank straight from the jar. Quentin stared wide-eyed. "Maxwell Jing, you heartless guy!"
Quentin turned to leave, but Maxwell's lazy voice drifted after him: "Bring a few more jars up next time!"
Quentin couldn't help but laugh in exasperation. Still, given their shared misfortunes, he didn't bother to argue. The mountain wasn't that tall, and with Quentin's light footwork, a round trip wouldn't take long.