Qualification, You Have Let Down This Prince’s Good Intentions

Serena Feng froze on the spot, her mouth forming an O. Secretly annoyed, she realized there was no way to explain herself now—Nolan Eastlyn (Ninth Royal Uncle) probably thought she was even more troublesome than Wendy Summers.

What was up with Ninth Royal Uncle anyway? Why did his private wing have no servants or guards? Where had everyone gone, and why didn’t anyone come out to warn her?

Sweat... The unlucky servants were hiding in the shadows, wiping their foreheads nervously. If they tried to stop her and Nolan Eastlyn found out, they’d be the ones in trouble. They didn’t have the noble self-sacrifice of 'better me than my friend,' so Miss Feng, you’re on your own.

Nolan Eastlyn stared at her without blinking, waiting for her answer. Serena hesitated for a long moment before mumbling, "I didn’t mean to."

"Mm, I believe you didn’t mean to."—But you did it on purpose. To show he believed her, Nolan Eastlyn even nodded solemnly, but his expression said otherwise.

Serena could only rub her forehead helplessly. She knew she’d never be able to explain herself to Ninth Royal Uncle, so she gave up, bent her knees in a respectful bow and said, "I intruded by mistake and disturbed your peace, Ninth Royal Uncle. I’ll take my leave now."

If I can’t afford to offend him, I can at least avoid him. Ninth Royal Uncle is so impressive, but it’s not like I want to marry him—just... have a bit of a crush, that’s all. As long as he doesn’t come after me, these feelings will fade with time.

Leave?

Nolan Eastlyn didn’t try to stop her. But just as Serena turned to go, he suddenly asked, "Was the lotus-leaf chicken soup tonight good?"

There were so many dishes tonight, but Ninth Royal Uncle chose to ask only about the chicken soup.

Uh...

Serena paused in her tracks.

How was she supposed to answer that?

She’d been close with William Wang Jinling for ages. Sure, he was a little over the top tonight, but she didn’t mind. After all, being cared for by the Grand Heir could satisfy anyone’s little vanity.

Both she and William Wang were always open and straightforward, but with a question like that from Ninth Royal Uncle, it felt as if she’d deliberately shown off her closeness with William in front of him—just to get his attention or make him jealous.

Fine, she admitted she’d had a tiny bit of that thought—just a little. Because of that little impulse, she hadn’t refused and had even played along with William’s actions. Too bad Nolan Eastlyn’s reaction had completely killed her enthusiasm.

She’d thought Nolan Eastlyn didn’t care, but now he was asking about it—so he did care? And only after all this time? What a complicated man.

Serena let out a long sigh and turned around: "How could anything from Ninth Royal Uncle’s palace be bad?"

"So it’s just that food from my palace is good? I thought the soup served by the Grand Heir of the Wang Clan was something special." Nolan Eastlyn’s voice and gaze were both icy. Serena instinctively stepped back, feeling a bit guilty and looking away, but quickly glared back—why should she feel guilty? Who was Nolan Eastlyn to her? What right did he have to interfere?

In this world, the only people with the right to manage her life were her father and mother. No one else had a say—not even Ninth Royal Uncle.

Thinking of this, Serena felt even more confident. She met Nolan Eastlyn’s gaze and said openly, "It’s my honor that the Grand Heir served me soup." What are you complaining about? Back at the dinner table, I didn’t see you serving me anything.

Hmph...

Seeing Serena’s little-tigress look, Nolan Eastlyn suddenly smiled. "Looks like you enjoy ordering the Grand Heir around." His words lumped William Wang in with the servants, as if he wasn’t angry—just not bothered by a man who’d stoop to do servant work.

Serena curled her lip, not liking how Nolan talked about William Wang. "You can count on one hand the people the Grand Heir would serve. It’s a mark of his favor, but since you’re not used to ordering people around, I’m sure Miss Su Wan would be happy to do it."

Miss Su Wan went so far as to fake illness just to get close to Ninth Royal Uncle—obviously desperate to marry him. It also showed how uncertain things were: the Southern Lyn Su Clan was determined to forge a marriage alliance with the Eastlyn imperial family. Su Wan was anxious; if she couldn’t marry Nolan Eastlyn, she’d marry someone else. Either way, once she reached Eastlyn, she wouldn’t be going back.

"Too bad I’m not you. I have no interest in ordering around people who don’t matter." Nolan Eastlyn narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Serena glared warily at Nolan Eastlyn. "What do you want?" He was just too unpredictable; she really was afraid he’d do something crazy. Here, even if she cried for help, no one would come.

Of course, Nolan Eastlyn’s kind of crazy wasn’t about touching her—it was... about messing with her heart.

"With you, what could I possibly do? What do you want me to do to you?" Nolan Eastlyn whispered in Serena’s ear.

With their positions so close, the atmosphere was thick with ambiguity. Serena felt her heart tickled, feather-light, like something was about to leap out of her chest.

The faint scent of bamboo and his heated breath lingered around her neck. Serena’s face flushed despite herself. She retreated a few steps in frustration, only to find the railing behind her—any further and she’d fall.

Serena wailed inwardly... Just her luck—how did she end up backed into a dead end? "Ninth Royal Uncle..."

Serena called out weakly, silently pleading for Nolan Eastlyn to step back. The distance was far too intimate; there was no way to talk properly like this.

Her wide, watery eyes shone in the night, full of trust and hope. Nolan Eastlyn felt his heart skip a beat; his tone softened as he gently brushed a stray lock of hair by her ear.

Half teasing, half serious, he said, "What’s this? Jealous? I never let Miss Su Wan serve me, never let her hold my hand, and even threw away the clothes she touched."

His gaze fell on Serena’s own gown, a flash of cold light passing through his eyes. Nolan Eastlyn secretly decided—he’d throw out this one too!

Jealous? Why did it feel like his words were even more sour than hers? She must have misheard. Even if Nolan Eastlyn was jealous, he’d never show it.

Still, hearing those words made her secretly happy. Cough... Serena cleared her throat, smiling slyly: "Ninth Royal Uncle is joking. Who am I to be jealous? I don’t have that qualification."

"Qualification? What if I give you that qualification?" Nolan Eastlyn’s tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the moonlight.

What? Serena was stunned for a moment, unable to believe what she’d heard. What did Nolan Eastlyn mean? She wanted to ask, but...

With things as they were, even if she asked, what could she do? Even if Nolan Eastlyn liked her, he’d never marry her. Serena snapped back to reality, gave a bitter smile, and lowered her head: "I don’t have that qualification, and I couldn’t accept it anyway."

Jealousy? Even the future Princess Consort wouldn’t have the right to be jealous—so who was she?

"Serena, you’ve let down my good intentions." Nolan Eastlyn’s words were so soft, they hardly seemed real...