Wilful, If You Wish I Will Always Be That Person to Him

"Your Highness, Your Highness..."

"Your Highness, it's dangerous, dangerous..."

"Protect His Highness! Protect His Highness!"

Prince Nathan of Southlyn's reckless move threw the entire procession into chaos. In an instant, everything was in turmoil as the crowd surged together, and both guards and servants instinctively closed in around Prince Nathan, trying to shield him in the center.

"Out of the way!" Prince Nathan barked, his voice sharp and commanding. The guards hesitated for a split second, then Nathan surged forward, tearing through their ranks. The uproar drew Serena Feng's attention—and also the eyes of Prince Damien of Southlyn and Prince Terrence Valen of Lyndaria, who watched from just around the corner.

"If I'd known he'd be this impatient, I should've arranged an assassination attempt—maybe it would've worked. Even if it failed, it would at least teach him a lesson," Prince Damien sneered.

Prince Terrence Valen gave a noncommittal shrug, half-mocking, half-teasing: "Careful, the Eastlyn Emperor won't let you off so easily."

Wasn't Prince Nathan's arrival itself a warning from the Eastlyn Emperor to Prince Damien? The Emperor was making it clear: don't cause trouble, and remember whose territory this is.

"I'm not worried. Right now, the Eastlyn Emperor's only concern is Prince Chase's wedding," Prince Damien shot back, refusing to back down.

Princess Yara is pregnant. The rush to get her married is no secret to any of them. If the wedding isn't held soon, there'll be no hiding her belly.

“Hmph...” When it came to sharp-tongued banter, Terrence Valen was no match for Prince Damien. As expected, Terrence was completely defeated.

But Damien's words reminded Terrence: wasn't the Eastlyn Emperor just using Princess Yara's pregnancy with Prince Chase's child to control her as he pleased? What if...

What if that child was gone?

Terrence's gaze fell on Serena Feng, a flash of malice flickering in his eyes.

If Yara lost her child, the best suspect would be Serena Feng. He had to find a way for Yara and Serena to meet—only then would the loss of the child serve its full purpose.

With a plan forming in his mind, Terrence could no longer sit still. “Prince Damien, I have no interest in watching their touching sibling reunion. I'll take my leave.”

Indeed, at that moment, Nathan Zhou and Serena Feng were putting on a real display of sibling affection.

Ignoring his guards' frantic protests, Nathan abandoned the chaotic ceremonial procession and charged straight toward Serena. The horse whinnied as Nathan reined it in ten paces from Serena, hooves kicking up snow. Without waiting for the horse to steady, Nathan leapt from the saddle in one fluid motion.

It looked stylish, but anyone who's ridden a horse knows just how dangerous that maneuver was.

Serena was already stunned by Nathan's move. As the horse barreled toward her, she stood up at once—then kept retreating as it rushed closer, focused more on survival than ceremony.

Serena Feng had a history with Prince Nathan of Southlyn. He was someone who once served at her side, and by the principle of 'helping kin over reason,' she naturally chose to cooperate with him. Their display of sibling closeness in public would show outsiders that Nathan's alliance with Ninth Royal Uncle was unbreakable.

This meeting was steeped in politics, which eased some of Serena's discomfort. She fell into step with Nathan as they walked toward Feng Manor together.

Along the way, Nathan brushed against Serena's hand. "Your hands are still so cold, Sister," he said warmly.

"Yes, they never seem to warm up," Serena replied, instinctively pulling her hand away—not out of wariness toward Nathan, but simply from habit. Except for Prince Nolan, she wasn't used to anyone holding her hand.

"Want me to warm them for you?" Nathan offered tentatively, only to be politely refused by Serena: "Thank you for your concern, Your Highness, but I've gotten used to it. Also, please don't call me 'Sister'—it could cause misunderstandings. By status, you're more noble than I am, and by age, you're older."

It was easy to be Nathan's sister when he was a steward, but being a prince's sister was far more difficult.

"To me, you'll always be my sister—status and age don't matter. If anything, your status as my sister makes you even more distinguished," Nathan insisted, refusing to change.

No matter what, Nathan would never be distant with Serena. At first, calling her 'sister' felt odd, but now... Palace life was barely livable, and he missed the days in Feng Manor, when Serena truly acted like an older sister.

"I'm just worried it might cause trouble for you," Serena said, her heart warmed by Nathan's words.

Thankfully, even though Nathan had gone from humble steward to prince, he was still the same familiar young man to her—never aloof or commanding.

"Never. Even if trouble comes, it'll be because of me," Nathan said apologetically, knowing that his actions today had pushed Serena into the spotlight.

"Minor trouble doesn't bother me. Even if it weren't for today's events, they wouldn't let me off anyway." Serena had grown used to carrying a mountain of burdens; trouble was just part of life now.

"As long as I'm here, I won't let him cause trouble." Nathan's voice was low, but both knew exactly who 'he' referred to—Prince Damien, the only one mad enough to try.

"He won't get the chance." With her parents not yet buried, Serena avoided formal occasions and the palace. Everyone understood and didn't invite her, honoring the unspoken rule.

Once her parents were laid to rest, Serena would go to Skyvault Palace Sect. Even then, Damien would have little opportunity to make trouble for her.

Nathan smiled and didn't argue—after all, with Ninth Royal Uncle around, Damien wouldn't dare go too far.

Sensing the lingering awkwardness between them, Nathan recounted everything from the past half-year to Serena. He glossed over the hardships, focusing on good news, but Serena could still tell his time in Southlyn had been fraught with challenges—every step a careful calculation.

It made sense—a prince returning from exile, with no foundation, facing off against Prince Damien and the Su Clan. Serena felt her heart soften. Nathan explained that he hadn't sent word not because he didn't want to, but to spare her worry. Serena believed him, and let go of her resentment.

Nathan had gone back to Southlyn ready to die. He withheld news from Serena because he feared that if he died, she'd be heartbroken or might do something reckless.

Nathan knew Serena well enough to be certain: if he died in Southlyn, she would definitely avenge him. Serena was fiercely protective—once she took someone under her wing, she'd defend them to the end.

After an hour of conversation, the initial awkwardness was gone. Serena's unease faded, and Nathan, seeing she was no longer angry, asked to pay his respects to her parents.

It wasn't a secret; anyone paying attention knew about it, and Nathan was certainly one of them. Serena had no reason to refuse, so she personally led him to the memorial hall. Nathan didn't just bow perfunctorily—he knelt in sincere tribute.

With Prince Nolan having set the precedent, Nathan's gesture wasn't as shocking—but Serena was still moved. His actions showed true respect for her parents.

Leaving the mourning hall, the two didn't return to the main hall but wandered Feng Manor instead. Seeing familiar yet changed scenery, Nathan grew wistful. "I've been gone so long—there are so many places I don't remember anymore," he said.

"We rebuilt recently. It's normal you don't recognize everything," Serena replied, quietly surveying the manor herself. "Some places even I don't know well anymore."

Vincent Su had put so much thought into the renovations; the same place looked completely different in autumn and winter. Serena had been so busy lately she hadn't stopped to appreciate the changing scenery around her.

"Then walk with me for a while, Sister. If people found out we got lost in our own home, they'd laugh at us." Nathan's nostalgic smile blurred the line between past and present, making it hard for Serena to tell what was real emotion and what was performance.

Serena couldn't tell if he was being sincere or just putting on an act.

This was Feng Manor—not Nathan's home.

Nathan lingered at Feng Manor, unwilling to leave, until dusk approached. Only then did his aide nervously step in: "Your Highness, if you don't head to the palace now, you'll miss the banquet."

"Busybody," Nathan snapped, shooting a cold glance at his aide, who broke out in a nervous sweat but didn't dare move.

He didn't want to meddle either, but time waited for no one.

"Go on, or the Emperor will be displeased if you're late," Serena said, smoothing things over. Only then did Nathan agree to leave. Serena watched his departing figure for a long time, lost in thought.

Was she expecting too much, or did everyone simply have their own burdens? Serena kept feeling that Nathan was deliberately trying to erase the distance between them, to draw them closer again.

Maybe she was just too sensitive. Nathan was no longer the cautious steward who had to tread carefully to survive—he was a prince now, and his words and actions inevitably carried a new kind of freedom.