Even if her heart was bleeding, she would still force herself to smile brightly!
The Princess Royal, battered and wounded, straightened her back and walked out of the palace without looking back.
She knew that a rift had formed between her and her brother. There was no going back—nothing could ever return to the way it was...
No matter what she did, the Emperor would never trust her like before, and she would never foolishly stake everything on a man—thinking that if she gave her all, she would receive the same in return.
She used to be so naïve. If, back then, she’d been as clear‑sighted as Serena Feng—keeping everything in her own hands instead of trusting a man’s promises—then even if she couldn’t become Empress, she would still control Lyndaria in reality. She would never have ended up in this position.
To achieve great things, even close kin can be sacrificed.
She was too soft-hearted back then—she couldn’t bring herself to follow those eight words, and now she’s forced to watch others’ faces to survive.
"I won’t hesitate anymore!"
With fierce resolve, the Princess Royal boarded her carriage. Before leaving, she turned to glance at the palace gates: Soon, she would be the master of this imperial city!
Burning with anger and battle spirit, the Princess Royal returned to her residence, ready to launch her campaign—only to be greeted by a divorce letter!
Master Ian Reed, who had never set foot in the Princess Royal’s residence without being summoned, came of his own accord for the first time—just to deliver a divorce letter.
"You want to divorce me?" The Princess Royal slammed the table and glared furiously at Master Ian Reed.
She’d swallowed her anger in the palace and had nowhere to vent it—Master Ian Reed happened to walk right into the storm.
Master Ian Reed remained calm and unruffled, ignoring the Princess Royal’s fury. He smiled faintly and nodded: "Your Highness is wise. Here is the divorce letter—please accept it."
"Accept the divorce letter? Prince Consort, do you think a single piece of paper can end this marriage?" The Princess Royal snatched the letter, didn’t even look at it, and slapped it right into Master Ian Reed’s face, sneering: "These past two years, my brother the Emperor has favored you, and it’s made you bold. What, you think just because I’ve lost favor, you can divorce me whenever you want? Prince Consort, you’re too naïve. Our marriage was granted by imperial decree—if you divorce me, you’re defying the Emperor. In this life, don’t even dream of cutting ties with me."
"Even if it means defying the Emperor, I will divorce you." Master Ian Reed caught the letter and presented it to her again: "Princess Royal, you should at least read it. After all, a husband needs a reason to repudiate his wife."
"Read it? What’s there to read? You’re just a sour scholar—besides writing a few pretentious lines, what else can you do?" The Princess Royal snatched the divorce letter and tore it to shreds, flinging the scraps into the air: "Prince Consort, listen well—in this life, even if you die, you’ll never shake me off. My name is already in your Reed family genealogy. Even if you despise me, you’ll have to watch me buried in your ancestral tomb, honored by your descendants."
The Princess Royal vented all the anger she’d bottled up in the palace onto Master Ian Reed, aiming straight for his sore spots.
As always, Master Ian Reed paid her no mind, only looking at her with quiet sympathy.
"Don’t look at me like that." The Princess Royal’s eyes stung—she almost burst into tears again.
The look in Master Ian Reed’s eyes made the Princess Royal feel as if he’d glimpsed the darkest corners of her soul. Instantly, she raised her hand and slapped him.
Smack—Master Ian Reed didn’t dodge or even blink. He took the slap head-on, and the Princess Royal’s long nails left bloody scratches all over his face.
Master Ian Reed’s expression didn’t change, but his composure unnerved the Princess Royal. She snapped, trying to sound fierce: "Why didn’t you dodge?"
"You are the ruler, I am the subject. If Your Highness wishes to strike me, how could I dare to dodge?" Master Ian Reed was serene as ever, and the calmer he was, the angrier she became.
"Do you know what I hate most about you? It’s that cold, proud, untouchable front—dragged through the mud, reputation ruined, yet you still act pure and noble in public. Do you know how much I want to destroy you? Reed, remember this: you’ll never get away from me. I will never let you have your way. For the rest of your life, you’ll never be rid of me."
Master Ian Reed let out a soft sigh. "If Your Highness won’t accept the divorce letter, I’ll deliver it to the Emperor. In three days, I’ll open the Reed ancestral hall and strike your name from the family records. The Reed family cannot afford a consort as 'noble and holy' as you."
His tone was flat, without a trace of mockery—but that only made her humiliation burn deeper.
The Princess Royal, blinded by rage, raised her hand to strike again. But when she saw his swollen, bleeding face, she forced herself to stop. "Get out! I don’t want to see you—never again! Get out... get out of my residence!"
"Your Highness, I’ll see you in court tomorrow." Master Ian Reed was utterly unfazed by her threats.
"Don’t you dare!" The Princess Royal spun around to glare at him—seeing the resolve in his eyes, she knew he meant every word. Instantly, she barked, "Guards! The Prince Consort has gone mad—seize him and lock him up!"
The Eastlyn delegation had only just arrived in Westlyn—if word got out that the Prince Consort was divorcing the Princess Royal, it would be a complete humiliation for Westlyn.
"Yes, Your Highness." The Princess Royal’s guards surged forward and seized Master Ian Reed. He didn’t resist at all, just looked at her calmly: "Surely Your Highness doesn’t think I came here alone and unprepared?"
"You—" Panic flickered in the Princess Royal’s eyes. She was about to demand what Master Ian Reed had done, when a eunuch’s shrill voice rang out at the door: "His Majesty commands—Prince Consort, you are summoned to the palace!"
"Your Highness, the Emperor urgently summons the Prince Consort to the palace." The eunuch, halfway through the door, froze at the chaos in the Princess Royal’s residence, unsure whether to enter or retreat.
"The Prince Consort has taken suddenly ill and cannot go to the palace. Please inform the Emperor and ask him to send imperial physicians here." The Princess Royal was blatantly lying, but the chief eunuch hesitated, uncertain.
"What, you dare disobey me?" The Princess Royal threatened, her voice icy. The young eunuch trembled, dropping to his knees: "I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness. But this is too important—I can’t decide on my own."
"And what’s so urgent that the Prince Consort must be summoned—can’t even illness excuse him?" The Princess Royal’s gaze was sharp, tinged with madness. The eunuch shrank back and blurted, "It’s the Regent Prince of Eastlyn—he insists on seeing the Prince Consort. He’s heard of the Prince Consort’s legendary Go skills and wants to play a match. He says if he loses, Eastlyn will give up ten percent of the trade profits to Westlyn."
"Absurd! The Regent Prince of Eastlyn would never say such a thing—you must think I’m some ignorant woman." The Princess Royal knew what kind of man Prince Nolan was. She didn’t claim to know him completely, but she was sure he wasn’t frivolous. The trade negotiations hadn’t even begun—how could Prince Nolan make such a request?
It was laughable!