Chapter 113

Chapter 113

Luo Qianyu instinctively glanced back.

The moment his gaze landed on the newcomer, his first thought was... What a beauty!

Immediately after, a second thought followed—this person must be someone of great status.

Because his aura was too strong, a deep, almost oppressive presence. Those who possess such an aura are usually main characters.

Looking at that face, though he didn't recognize the man before him, this posture was far too close, inappropriate.

The young man quietly lowered his gaze, his fingertips twitching slightly as he tried to discreetly push the man away, but to no avail.

On the contrary, the hand at his waist tightened its grip.

Just as Luo Qianyu grew increasingly bewildered, the next moment, he heard the man's voice: "Qianyu?"

These two words made his entire body go rigid.

...How long had it been since anyone called him that? Only his father would call him 'son' or 'Qianyu' in private. His name now was Xiao Yu.

How did this person know his original name?!

Before Luo Qianyu could untangle his thoughts, the man spoke again, his voice raspy and low: "You're alive."

...

*He's alive?*

*What did that mean?*

While he was still confused, he heard the man part his lips, enunciating each word deliberately: "You're alive."

The voice was lowered to an extreme, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat, each word strained, nearly choked with suppressed emotion.

Luo Qianyu averted his gaze. The dim surroundings only heightened his discomfort, his Adam's apple involuntarily bobbing.

No, this person clearly knew him, or rather... knew the original owner?

So the original owner's name was also Luo Qianyu?

What was the situation now? Did this man think the original owner was dead?

His thoughts raced. In an instant, Luo Qianyu guessed the other's identity. A Da Xi person suddenly appearing on the painted boat, possessing such an aura and status—who else could it be but the late-arriving Da Xi chief envoy?

Luo Qianyu parted his lips: "Prince Huai."

He tried to struggle, but the force at his waist remained unmoved. Without a hint of hesitation, Luo Qianyu stated clearly in denial: "Your Highness, you must have mistaken me for someone else. I am the Third Prince of Zhao, Xiao Yu."

Trying to wrench free was useless. Luo Qianyu could only grit his teeth and say: "...Please release me, Your Highness."

The man's hand loosened slightly but remained on his waist, his gaze fixed intently on his face, scanning it inch by inch.

A chill shot through Luo Qianyu's heart.

He suddenly remembered: when he transmigrated, the original owner was trapped in the aftermath of an avalanche, with wounds on his chest and back, his head bandaged. The scent of blood mixed with the cold of melted snow—a picture of utter misery. Though he didn't know how the original owner survived the heart injury, it was certainly a fact that he had been hunted.

It was only natural for the outside world to assume the original owner was dead. But now, having finally established his identity as the Third Prince of Zhao and enjoyed two carefree years, he had almost forgotten the original owner's perilous past. If people from his past learned he was still alive, wouldn't he be hunted again?

Perhaps the man before him was one of those who had once sought his life.

Crap, he was going to be found out!

Luo Qianyu's heart tightened. The thought barely formed before he turned, intending to find a pretext to flee. But just as he nimbly dodged, before he could reach the cabin door, he was grabbed from behind.

The young man's pupils constricted sharply. The next second, the fabric on his shoulder was yanked down forcefully, exposing pale skin to the air, gleaming with a delicate sheen.

Luo Qianyu's heart lurched.

*What was he trying to do?*

Que Xilan's gaze rested on the young man's shoulder blade, from the shoulder down to the waistline half-concealed by his robe collar. Everywhere he looked was smooth and unblemished.

Not a single mark.

A chill touched his skin, making the young man draw his shoulders up slightly.

"Pre... presumptuous!" Luo Qianyu, with his back to him, trembled with anger but still held onto his princely dignity. "Prince Yanhuai, do you think that as a foreign envoy, you can disrespect this prince, act recklessly, ignore propriety, and do as you please?"

*Was this man insane?*

*Just come up and start stripping someone?*

*Did he like men? Wait...* Prince Yanhuai Que Xilan, the older beauty gong in the original novel, also known as the highly popular 'Imperial Uncle' stock.

Indeed, Que Xilan liked men, but his affection was for Wen Yu. If that were the case, why would he suddenly accost him like this?

While Luo Qianyu was momentarily stunned, that hand had already moved to his chest. Cool fingertips grasped the edge of his collar, pulling with irresistible force to tug it down.

Luo Qianyu's pupils tightened. The wound on his back had long healed, but the wound over his heart was too deep, and a scar still remained.

*Any further down, and the scar on my chest would be visible!*

...

At that very moment, the cabin curtain was flung open violently.

The wind from the lake, laden with chill, swept in. The person who appeared before them was none other than the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince's gaze swept over the scene inside the cabin. His pupils abruptly constricted, then, his eyes nearly splitting with rage, the pressure around him plummeted, his brows and eyes churning with an almost sinister fury.

The next moment, the long spear in the Crown Prince's hand shot toward Que Xilan's face with a cold whistle.

The spear shot forth with fierce momentum, but Que Xilan deflected it just before it touched him. With a loud *splintering crash*, the spear tip brutally pierced through the wooden window behind him.

Wood splinters flew everywhere.

Seizing the opportunity, Luo Qianyu swiftly sidestepped and retreated to the cabin door, putting distance between them. His fingers quickly tightened his collar, completely concealing the healed scar on his chest beneath the fabric. The next second, a thick, heavy cloak was draped over his shoulders.

The Crown Prince stepped forward, firmly shielding Luo Qianyu behind him.

His gaze fixed directly on the man as if looking at a lifeless corpse. He sneered coldly: "I want to hear from the chief envoy how my brother ended up disheveled and held in your embrace?"

Que Xilan remained silent.

His gaze still lingered on the young man, the emotions in his eyes inscrutable.

Seeing him remain tight-lipped, Xiao Che knew his intentions were now glaringly obvious.

The veins on his forehead bulged abruptly, his hand on the sword hilt, and in one swift motion he drew the blade. The sword gleamed, its light cold and sharp.

Luo Qianyu’s heart tightened at the sight, thinking, *This is bad.*

If they really came to blows with Da Xi’s chief envoy, it wouldn’t just be a conflict with a prince—this man was the crucial, senior and captivating imperial uncle in the story, entangled in a love-hate relationship with the protagonist Wen Yu, an absolutely pivotal character.

They were merely supporting characters in the book. A head-on confrontation like this—it was unknown if they could even injure him, but they themselves would surely end up either dead or injured.

Seeing the situation turn dire, Luo Qianyu didn’t dare delay. He covered Xiao Che’s mouth before he could speak, dragging and pulling him out of the cabin.

The young man’s steps were hurried, but he raised his voice with a light, cheerful tone, loud enough for Que Xilan in the cabin to hear, yet framed as an explanation to Xiao Che: “A bug just fell into my collar earlier, and the chief envoy kindly helped check. Brother Crown Prince, what brings you here? Where’s the boat we were on before? We need to hurry over—Father is still waiting at the banquet. If we’re late, he’ll scold us again.”

Xiao Che, his mouth still covered, could only manage a muffled: “…Mmph?!”

Another boat swiftly approached the side, and Luo Qianyu pulled them both aboard.

.

As dusk settled, the welcoming banquet was in full swing along the lakeshore.

Vermilion palace lanterns hung along the covered walkways all the way to the main hall. Candlelight reflected off the carved beams and pillars, bathing the entire hall in a warm glow.

Servants carrying fine wine pots weaved through the crowd, the clinking of cups faintly mingling with the sound of strings and flutes. The aroma of roasted meat and fine wine filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere.

Suddenly, there was movement at the seat beside the main position in the hall. A young man, now changed into a moon-white brocade robe with a jade belt at his waist, stepped into the room.

The clamor of the banquet quieted slightly—this was Zhao’s Third Prince, Xiao Yu.

Amid the noise, an unusual stir arose from the Da Xi envoy’s seats on the eastern side.

Chen Boyu had just raised his wine cup when his gaze swept toward the young man. His hand jerked to a halt, wine sloshing over the rim and staining his lapel. Beside him, Guan Mingyang, who had been chatting and laughing with colleagues, caught sight of that figure from the corner of his eye. The smile froze on his face, and he nearly dropped his chopsticks.

The two of them stood up almost simultaneously.

Their chairs scraped sharply against the brick floor, drawing sidelong glances from the surrounding guests.

It took Chen Boyu a moment to squeeze out a few words: “It’s Luo…”

Guan Mingyang’s voice was even more startled: “It’s Luo Qianyu…!”

A Zhao minister nearby, noticing their reaction, set down his cup and asked curiously, “What is the matter, esteemed envoys? Are you feeling unwell?”

Chen Boyu snapped back to his senses first, hurriedly pressing down on Guan Mingyang, who seemed about to say more. Exchanging a meaningful glance, they forced down the shock raging in their hearts and managed strained smiles for those around them. “N-nothing.”

“We just spotted a rare bird outside the window and lost our composure for a moment. Our apologies for the spectacle.” With that, they stiffly resumed their seats.

Yet their eyes still drifted involuntarily toward that figure.

Bronze lanterns hung from the hall’s beams, their flickering candlelight casting a shimmer over the lavish feast. As the music faded, a Zhao envoy suddenly rose with a smile and said, “In the past, when our country sent envoys to Da Xi, we often entertained ourselves with martial contests. Now that roles are reversed as host and guest, why not revive this old tradition? It would allow us to witness Da Xi’s prowess firsthand.”

The crowd murmured in agreement.

After the emperor gave his approval, palace guards swiftly moved aside the tables, clearing a space in the center of the hall. Such occasions typically avoided blades and spears, focusing instead on physical skills and archery. Everyone craned their necks, eager to watch.

Only in a corner did Guan Mingyang lean lazily on his chin, idly spinning his wine cup with his fingertips. His gaze swept past the arena but fixed directly on Third Prince Luo Qianyu seated beside the main position.

He suddenly stood up, his brocade robe brushing the table’s edge and causing the cups to clink softly. Instantly, all eyes in the hall gathered on him.

Guan Mingyang cupped his hands and declared loudly, “Your Highness, I have long heard that all of His Majesty’s sons are exceptional, excelling in both civil and martial arts, with the Third Prince being the most outstanding. Since we have the mood for a contest today, why not allow me to spar with the Third Prince? It would add some refined amusement and let me witness the royal demeanor firsthand. What does Your Highness think?”

As soon as he finished speaking, a stern rebuke echoed from the banquet tables.

The Minister of Revenue, Lord Chen, rose to his feet, his beard trembling slightly with anger. “General Guan, that is inappropriate! The Third Prince is of noble lineage, devoted to scholarly pursuits. How can we allow anyone to drag a prince into wielding weapons? If you wish to compete, there are plenty of military officers present. Why trouble the Third Prince?”

Others immediately chimed in agreement, nodding around him.

Everyone knew the Third Prince had no martial skills and never involved himself in such matters. Guan Mingyang was clearly deliberately provoking him.

Yet Guan Mingyang acted as if he hadn’t heard the dissenting voices, his gaze fixed intently on Luo Qianyu as he curled his lips into a smile. “Do not fret, my lord. I am but a rough man, and blades have no eyes—I naturally wouldn’t dare to truly cross swords with His Highness. But… how about an archery contest?”

He took half a step forward, deliberately raising his voice so every word fell clearly on the ears of the assembly. “It’s merely a matter of drawing a bow and nocking an arrow—no life-threatening risks, nor any harm to royal dignity. As a prince, surely His Highness wouldn’t lack even this bit of courage and let all the guests in the hall laugh at him?”

At these words, the hall fell silent.

Guan Mingyang was a fierce general in the army, famously known as the Young Prince, and archery was his specialty. His words now appeared to be a concession but actually left the Third Prince with no way out.

If he accepted, he would surely humiliate himself; if he refused, he would confirm the accusation of “lacking courage,” and rumors would spread mocking the royal family for cowardice.

Luo Qianyu frowned slightly.

He looked up at Guan Mingyang, whose eyes held undisguised provocation. Scanning the hall, he saw expressions of concern, amusement, and even secret schadenfreude.

…

*Strange.*

*Who is this guy? Do I even know this Guan Mingyang?*

*Why does it feel like this Young Prince, who came out of nowhere, is deliberately targeting me, luring me out?*

But now he was caught between a rock and a hard place. The young man took a deep breath and slowly rose. “Since General Guan is in the mood, I shall accompany you in this attempt.”

As he spoke, guards had already brought two bows and a quiver of arrows, placing them in the cleared space in the hall.

Guan Mingyang stepped forward first. Taking the longbow, he lightly pulled the bowstring with his fingers, producing a crisp twang. He stood sideways, his gaze fixed on the target fifty paces away. Holding the bow with his left hand and hooking the string with his right, his movements flowed seamlessly without the slightest hesitation.

*Whoosh!* The first arrow shot through the air, striking the bullseye directly, its fletching still quivering slightly.

Just as exclamations rose throughout the hall, the second and third arrows followed in quick succession. All three arrows stacked together at the center of the target, their tails nearly aligned in a straight line.

Guan Mingyang lowered his bow and turned, tilting his chin toward Luo Qianyu. “Your Highness, your turn.”

Luo Qianyu walked slowly toward the longbow, each step feeling as if he were treading on blades. His heart pounded wildly, panic threatening to spill over.

…

*Help.*

*Since when do I know how to shoot arrows!?*

The original owner was clearly a delicate, pampered noble—forget drawing a bow, he rarely even ran or jumped. Over the past two years, although he had regained his health, occasionally riding horses or strolling through the countryside, he had never touched swords, blades, or bows and arrows.

He had agreed earlier only to preserve his dignity as a prince, but now that he actually had to pick up the bow, he didn’t even know the basic stance.

*Forget it.*

*Things have come to this. I’ll just brace myself and go through with it. Better to lose face than to not dare step forward at all.*

He reached out, and as his fingertips touched the bow, he felt a surprising heaviness—it was much weightier than he had imagined. Relying on instinct, he hoisted the bow onto his shoulder, supporting the bow arm with his left hand while his right hand hooked the string. But as soon as he exerted force, his arm trembled uncontrollably; he couldn’t even draw the string taut.

A few suppressed chuckles came from the surroundings. Luo Qianyu bit his lower lip, took another deep breath, and tried again. Yet his arm still refused to obey; the bow swayed unsteadily. Forget aiming at the bullseye—he nearly dropped the arrow on the ground.

What should he do?

Was he really about to embarrass himself here?

Luo Qianyu's heart raced faster, and a fine sweat broke out on his temples.

Just then, a gentle breeze swept through the hall, carrying the faint fragrance of crabapple blossoms from outside the window, brushing past his ear.

As if in a daze, a cool, clear voice sounded in his ear:

—"When drawing the bow, keep your shoulder down and your arm steady."

Luo Qianyu started.

—"Don't rush to release the arrow; first, feel the wind's direction."

Luo Qianyu instinctively looked at the fletching and indeed saw the feathers tilting slightly to the left. Following the guidance of that voice, he slowly lowered his shoulder, steadied the bow with his left hand, hooked the bowstring with his right, and drew back bit by bit.

This time, his arm did feel steadier, and the bowstring was drawn back a small distance.

—"Young Master, your mind must be calm."

A tremor passed through Luo Qianyu.

—"When the wind stills, that is the moment to shoot."

The instant the final words fell, the wind in the hall suddenly ceased.

The young man's breath hitched, and he subconsciously released his fingers.

Wait, whose voice was that?

Luo Qianyu thought, bewildered.

The next moment, the arrow shaft shot forth with a sharp, whistling sound!