The battles between women can be brutal—Serena Feng knows this without Dominic Zhai needing to remind her. That’s why she refuses to let herself get caught in endless schemes.
The back courtyard is a battlefield for women, and in Serena’s eyes, it’s even more terrifying than bullets and bombs on a real warfront.
Compared to those noble ladies, I really don’t measure up. I don’t understand the battles of the inner courtyard, so I’ll never throw myself into that kind of danger. Su Wan was never my enemy.
Whether or not Uncle Nolan marries Su Wan is his decision. He’d never sacrifice the big picture just for me. To blame me for this and take it out on me is petty and shortsighted. Prince Damien of Southlyn is seriously lacking in class—venting his anger on women doesn’t make him any kind of hero.
Even though she knows saying this to Dominic is pointless, Serena can’t help but explain herself. She’s met Prince Damien once before, and even then she thought he was far too cold—a man you can’t afford to offend lightly.
That kind of person is best kept far away. Now, after hearing Dominic’s account, Serena feels that man isn’t just cold—he’s downright cruel. He doesn’t even spare pregnant women…
Is he even human? He’s a monster.
...If you marry a woman like that, she’ll weave a green hat for you every day—a Chinese idiom meaning she’ll make you a cuckold—and you’ll have nowhere to cry."
Dominic talks himself hoarse, grabs the teacup on the table and drains it in one go—without realizing it isn’t his own.
That was my tea…
Serena Feng reached out, trying to snatch the teacup back, but realized she was too late. She could only force herself to withdraw her hand and swallow her words, silently blaming Dominic in her heart. Quietly, she moved Dominic Zhai’s cup in front of herself, pretending nothing had happened. She absolutely didn’t want a repeat of the ‘Ethan Hsieh incident’—one wrong word and Dominic might spit his tea everywhere…
As for Dominic’s advice to ‘be mentally prepared’?
Serena could only think, easy for him to say, standing on the sidelines. How was she supposed to prepare for something like this?
But that bastard Dominic, after finishing his tea, must have realized he’d grabbed the wrong cup. Face flushing, he tossed out, "Serena Feng, you’re on your own now," and bolted, leaving her staring at an empty chair, lost in thought.
‘On your own now’—that was the bitter truth. Even with advance warning, she was powerless to change anything.
Prince Damien was like a venomous snake: once he latched onto you, unless you killed him, he would squeeze you to death. Worse, he was a poisonous tongue—and he dared say anything. The banquet had barely begun when Damien couldn’t wait to show off his venom.
Killing someone was quick—just a moment, like touching your head to the ground. But living in fear, that lasted far longer. What about her?
Serena grabbed the tea cup in front of her, about to drink—then suddenly remembered it was Dominic’s. With a bang, she let go, and the porcelain shattered on the floor.
Sinister, violent, and utterly heartless—this man had no emperor’s aura. That’s why, despite his power in Southern Lyn, he’d never been made Crown Prince.
The moment Damien spoke, everyone’s face changed—except for Prince Terrence and a few foreign guests. The Emperor’s already strained smile became terrifyingly stiff.
Ninth Royal Uncle’s grip tightened around his wine cup, his knuckles white. A flash of killing intent flickered in his eyes, gone so quickly that even the Crown Prince beside him missed it.
Nolan drained his wine in one slow, elegant motion, then set the cup down with exaggerated calm.
He knew perfectly well Damien’s words were aimed at Serena, but since Damien hadn’t named her, calling it out would only make things worse for her.
Adrian and the other princes looked furious too. However they fought or looked down on Serena, that was an internal matter—when a foreigner insulted Eastlyn’s women, they instinctively closed ranks. But this wasn’t the moment for them to speak.
The hall fell silent, but Damien acted as if he didn’t notice, letting out a soft laugh like a dissipated young lord.
"Second Prince, what do you mean by this?" Grand Tutor Xia, with his half-meter long white beard, was the first to lose his composure, standing up to sternly rebuke him.
But who was Prince Damien? Arrogant, reckless—a warmonger who had started several wars between Eastlyn and Southern Lyn in recent years. He never cared about civil officials like Grand Tutor Xia.
Lounging like a playboy, Damien put away his smile and fiddled with his cup, not even bothering to look at Grand Tutor Xia. After a long pause, he lazily replied, "I meant exactly what I said. Surely you understand, sir? I’m just a rough man—what I think, I say. Unlike you Eastlyn people, always gilding your faces, pretending to be pure when you’re rotten to the core."
Damien’s looks were striking—beautiful, though a bit androgynous, yet clearly male. Dissolute but not vulgar, he still carried a royal air. Calling himself ‘rough’ was just another jab, meant to redirect Eastlyn’s anger toward Serena, reminding them that it was because of her that Eastlyn was being humiliated.
Today, Damien was determined to strike at Serena Feng!
Ninth Royal Uncle’s left hand hung at his side, slowly clenching. His face was still utterly cold…
Nolan drained his wine in one slow, elegant motion, then set the cup down with exaggerated calm.
He knew perfectly well that Prince Damien’s words were aimed at Serena Feng, but since Damien hadn’t named her, calling it out would only put her in greater danger.
Serena could only think: easy for him to say, standing on the sidelines. How was she supposed to prepare for something like this?
But that bastard Dominic, after finishing his tea, must have realized he’d grabbed the wrong cup. Face flushing, he tossed out, "Serena Feng, you’re on your own now," and bolted, leaving her staring at an empty chair, lost in thought.
‘On your own now’—that was the bitter truth. Even with advance warning, she was powerless to change anything.
Prince Damien of Southlyn had already arrived, and this time, he came openly. If a foreign prince wanted to make her suffer, he had endless ways to do it.
Killing was quick—just a matter of touching the ground with your head. But living in fear? That lasted far longer. What about her?
Serena grabbed the tea cup in front of her, about to drink—then suddenly remembered it was Dominic’s. With a bang, she let go, and the porcelain shattered on the floor.
"Master, are you alright?" Simon Sun had just watched Dominic dash off and was worried something had happened. He rushed in to find Serena dazed and distracted, and immediately stepped forward, anxiously asking after her.
"I’m fine. Have the servants clean up." Serena forced out a stiff smile and walked past Simon Sun, heading outside.