As Serena Feng walked out of the palace gates, she realized that no one inside had arranged a carriage for her. Under the pitch-black sky, how was a lone young woman supposed to make it home?
Serena hesitated, debating whether to return inside and ask for help. After all, wandering the streets alone at night was reckless for any woman. Just as she was about to turn back, William Wang Jinling’s driver emerged from the shadows, lantern in hand.
“Miss Feng, my master has been waiting for you for quite some time.”
It seemed the palace’s lack of arrangements was actually William’s prior instruction.
Thinking back on everything that had happened today, Serena felt a headache coming on. The last person she wanted to see right now was William Wang Jinling. She knew he had a thousand questions for her, but she couldn’t answer—and she refused to lie to him.
Just as she was wondering how to decline, a familiar eunuch with a clean-shaven face walked over. “Miss Feng, His Highness saw you leaving the palace without a carriage and asked if you’d like a ride.”
Serena recognized this eunuch—he was one of Nolan Dongling’s attendants.
Although she didn’t want to be alone with William, she wanted even less to be seen entangled with Nolan Dongling—especially in front of outsiders. “Thank you, Your Highness, but I’ll return with the Wang heir. No need to worry.”
The eunuch frowned, clearly dissatisfied. “Miss Feng, His Highness rarely shares his carriage with anyone.” The implication was obvious: she should feel honored. He even hinted at the last time, after the Poetry Salon, when Nolan had personally given her a ride—how could she refuse again?
“Miss Feng, my master isn’t feeling well tonight—what do you think?” William’s driver was clever; in terms of status and power, he couldn’t compete with Nolan Dongling.
“William isn’t feeling well? Is that true or just an excuse?” Serena’s sharp gaze pinned the driver, her intensity making it impossible to lie.
The driver jumped in fright, but he wasn’t lying. “It’s true, but our master forbade us to mention it.” He secretly thanked his luck—if he’d tried to fool Miss Feng, her glare would have exposed him, and it’d be William who paid the price.
“If William isn’t well, why didn’t you say so sooner? Let’s go.” Serena offered a quick apology to Nolan Dongling’s eunuch, then hurried off with William’s driver.
Nolan’s eunuch, frustrated at losing out, could only sigh. But Nolan had ordered him to invite her politely—if Miss Feng wouldn’t accept, so be it.
“Your Highness…” The eunuch returned to Nolan Dongling’s carriage, head bowed.
“Where is she?” Nolan’s carriage looked plain on the outside, but inside it was spacious and comfortable. Here, Nolan shed his usual rigid exterior.
He reclined lazily on a soft couch, eyes fixed on a book, long hair falling over his chest—a picture of effortless elegance.
“The Wang heir isn’t feeling well, so Miss Feng went to see him.” The eunuch didn’t dare admit that Serena had refused Nolan at first.
“Is that so?” Nolan’s gaze paused, lips pressing together. “Return to the estate.”
His eyes remained fixed on the book in his hands, but from the palace to his manor, he didn’t turn a single page.
William truly wasn’t feeling well, but it wasn’t as serious as the driver made it sound. He had a few scrapes and bruises, already bandaged by the imperial physicians.
When Serena climbed into the carriage, William looked a little pale, leaning weakly against the side. A faint shadow lingered between his brows. "William, what happened to you?"
She’d seen William looking perfectly fine in the Throne Hall earlier—how had things changed so quickly?
“I’m fine. Sit down—I begged the imperial doctors for some medicine for you.” William took out a jar of ointment from a hidden compartment. Serena reached for it, but William refused. “The wound’s on your forehead. I’ll apply it for you. You can’t see it yourself, and there’s no mirror here.”
Serena found the idea of him tending her wound oddly intimate and tried to laugh it off. “It’s a minor scratch—really, it’s nothing.”
But William wouldn’t hear it. “It’s on your face. If it scars, that won’t do.”
With that, he opened the jar, scooped out a bit of ointment with his finger, and bent over to apply it to her forehead. The carriage wasn’t tall enough for him to stand, so he had to lean in close. Serena considered for a moment, then closed her eyes and let him tend to her wound.
The cool ointment instantly soothed the burning pain on her forehead, and with it, the agitation in Serena’s heart faded away.
William was always this thoughtful. Even when she herself forgot about the injury, he remembered—and even begged medicine for her.
For someone so proud to humble himself for her sake—Serena wondered what she had ever done to deserve it.
Thinking of another man who’d sent her medicine, Serena quietly sighed to herself. "Lance Quinn, Lance Quinn, I owe you yet again. How will I ever repay you?"
“All right, keep this ointment. Apply it three times a day—there won’t be any scar.” William was always the gentleman; every gesture was sincere but never overstepped, giving Serena perfect respect and never making her uncomfortable.
Serena accepted with a smile, skipping empty thanks. “Give me your hand. Let me check your pulse.”
William’s unnatural pallor worried her, but he refused. “I’m fine. I took a minor fall earlier—the imperial doctors already treated it. I’ve been busy all day and haven’t eaten, so I look a little pale.”
He’d been hurt before, but didn’t want Serena to know and needlessly worry.
Since he wasn’t willing, Serena didn’t press. She simply nodded and let it go.
“Serena, after you left the Throne Hall, Duke Zhen brought in a young man—about twenty years old. Not only did he identify the explosive from today, he claimed he could make one himself if given time.” William didn’t ask about Serena’s odd behavior earlier; instead, he shared the news she needed most.
Others might not know, but William understood—Serena definitely knew what the explosive was, but was wise enough to stay silent and avoid the mess.
“A man? What did he call it?”
“He called it a thunder-blast grenade. The explosive inside is gunpowder, the shell is cast iron, and it’s detonated with a fuse. Once triggered, its killing power is terrifying. The blast at the city gate today was small-scale—if he improves it, its destructive force will be unstoppable on the battlefield.” William’s voice was heavy with worry.
(Chapter not finished yet—click next page to continue reading!)
He knew full well that chaos would eventually sweep the realm—just not yet. After only a few decades of peace, the treasury was far from full, and grain stores were thin. If war broke out now, no one could predict how bad things would get.
“The Emperor must be delighted,” Serena said, half-mocking.
Just because she ‘might know,’ the Emperor had staged that terrifying spectacle. Now, with someone who definitely knows—and can do even better—there’s no way he’ll let go.
William smiled. “The Emperor had him housed in the Qingyan Hall.”
Qingyan Hall was the farthest from the consorts’ quarters—a normal place for a man to stay.
Serena nodded. It was a form of house arrest, really.
“William, how does he know Duke Zhen’s household?” That was what Serena cared about most—why did it have to be Duke Zhen’s faction?
If her sources were right, Duke Zhen’s faction had recently been suppressed. Now, they were making a comeback.
Duke Zhen regaining power was bad news for her. She could let them go, but if they rose again, they’d never let her off.
“He’s very close to Duke Zhen’s Tenth Young Lady—claims he fell for her at first sight.” William chose the most polite words; in truth, the man had loudly declared in the Throne Hall that Lady Rong was his woman, and no one else could touch her.
And that wasn’t all. The man went on, calling everyone old-fashioned and stubborn—saying a woman’s ‘virtue’ was nothing but a thin membrane, and only useless men cared about it. What did it matter if he wasn’t her first, as long as he was her last?
He even targeted William, calling him a vain, pretty boy—just a handsome face with no substance.
He told William to pass a message to Serena: he wouldn’t let go of Lady Rong’s scandal, and if Serena was smart, he’d consider taking her as a concubine too. The man was crude and utterly lacking in manners.
Even someone as mild-tempered as William couldn’t help but get angry hearing such words.
Yet when the man insulted him, William’s smile never wavered. He wouldn’t stoop to that level. Arrogant as he was, the bomb-maker didn’t realize he was just a tool—and when a tool’s no longer useful, its fate is sealed.
But when the insults turned to Serena, William’s eyes went cold despite his gentle smile. Too bad the man was oblivious, running his mouth without restraint.
Did he really think his swagger alone could conquer the world?
Lady Rong—wasn’t she the notorious, scandal-ridden Princess Wu’an? Serena rolled her eyes. “She really is something.” To run into such a shameless man—lucky or unlucky, who could say?
“William, if I’m right, today’s incident was meant for me. You were only dragged in because we’re close. I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess.” Other than the bomb-maker, how many people in this world knew about the thunder-blast grenade? Serena could guess, and so could William—the Emperor and the rest all knew, but everyone tacitly kept silent.
“Don’t say that. I’m perfectly fine.” William’s lips curled into a gentle smile, as warm and refined as ever. Serena knew that with outsiders, he was always polite but distant; only with her did he open up, letting her see his true self. Yet she didn’t dare draw closer.
The carriage was silent, but not awkward—rather, it felt peaceful. Serena, exhausted from the day, let herself relax in William’s presence, leaning back and closing her eyes to rest.
When the carriage stopped at the gates of Feng Manor, Serena opened her eyes, ready to get out—only to be stopped by William. “Serena, my scented pouch? Don’t throw it away—just give it back to me. I’ll keep it safe, I promise.”
His eyes sparkled, his smile gentle—like a celestial being touched by earthly warmth.