Deliberately Making Things Difficult

After folding the freshly washed clothes neatly and putting them away, Yun Xueyan carefully treated the blisters on her injured hands before picking up the clothes and leaving Xuan Yue Pavilion.

She carried the clothes with utmost caution, her steps steady and deliberate, afraid of letting them scatter. The path beneath her feet was paved with pebbles, the thin soles of her shoes bending with each step. Her head was half-bowed, a gentle breeze sweeping past, stirring the black hair that veiled half her face.

The sunlight poured down warmly, lifting Yun Xueyan’s spirits in spite of everything.

“What are you doing!” A chilling voice cut through the air behind her, making Yun Xueyan’s steps suddenly falter. Her foot twisted on a pebble, and she fell heavily to the ground.

The neatly folded clothes in her arms scattered everywhere, spreading around her in disarray.

Duan Nanyu stood motionless, watching coldly as the scene unfolded before him. His tall, imposing figure blocked the sunlight, casting a shadow that completely enveloped Yun Xueyan.

She kept her head bowed, trying to stand, but the searing pain in her ankle made her body tense involuntarily, and she fell back to the ground. After two or three attempts, realizing she truly couldn’t rise, Yun Xueyan finally lifted her gaze with apprehension, meeting Duan Nanyu’s somber face.

“Your Highness, forgive this servant for being unable to pay her respects,” she said, trembling. She simply could not stand up.

A strange look flashed across his face. Was she so insistent on standing—simply to pay respects to him?

He glanced at the scattered clothes—all peony-embroidered skirts. In his entire residence, only one person wore such garments: Mu Wanying.

“Why are Mu Wanying’s clothes with you?” Duan Nanyu’s icy gaze swept over the scene and landed on Yun Xueyan, the chill in his eyes so sharp that even with her head lowered, she could feel it piercing her.

Such intensity was hard to endure. Perhaps she would have preferred a gentle man, someone who would hold her close and protect her... But that was nothing more than a dream. The man before her was not gentle—he was the cold-faced prince, Duan Nanyu. Even if he had a gentle side, it was not meant for her.

“Madam Wanying happened to give them to this servant as I was passing by,” Yun Xueyan answered respectfully. She remembered that, in the absence of an official consort, all women of the household should be addressed as “Madam.”

She hadn’t expected her reply to provoke Duan Nanyu’s anger. His tall figure leaned down, bringing their eyes level. In the depths of his sharply contrasting black and white eyes, Yun Xueyan saw a burning rage.

“There is no shortage of laundry maids in King Xiao’s residence!” Duan Nanyu’s voice pressed down on her, so oppressive that Yun Xueyan could barely breathe.

She panted anxiously, dread rising within her as she waited for his next words. “I believe I made myself clear: if you so enjoy being a servant, then you shall be one to your heart’s content!”

“Now, even if you have to crawl, you will deliver Mu Wanying’s clothes yourself.”

Staring at Yun Xueyan’s suddenly widened, watery eyes, a cold smile curled on Duan Nanyu’s lips, sending a chill through her very soul.

“Yes…” she replied softly, but even she could not hide the tremor in her voice, betraying her panic and confusion.

She was terrified of Duan Nanyu—afraid that, should he truly lose his temper, her life would be forfeit. She had to survive, at any cost.

Her face, small and delicate, turned pale with fear and grievance. Her hands, pressed against the cold ground, were already numb, the red blisters on her slender, fair fingers looking especially raw.

Under Duan Nanyu’s unyielding gaze, Yun Xueyan painstakingly gathered the scattered clothes one by one into her arms…