Qi Yuan smiled without saying a word and personally carried the food box back to Mingyue Pavilion.
As soon as she left, the kitchen maids who had been serving nearby exchanged glances and all curled their lips.
One of them stirred the pot with a sarcastic tone: “What is this sticky stuff? That young lady… really a wild boar that can’t handle fine bran!”
She’s already back home, eating delicacies from the mountains and seas, yet still longs for the pig slop she had in the countryside.
Does she feel no shame?
Another maid opened the steamer and found a few small grayish-brown bun-like items inside. She couldn’t help but click her tongue.
She had meant to chime in with a mocking comment, but seeing the buns—translucent despite their gray-brown color, the meat inside faintly visible—her curiosity got the better of her.
On impulse, she picked one up and took a bite, then let out a surprised “huh.”
“This taste…” she couldn’t help but say, “is quite unique!”
Meanwhile, Qi Yuan had already returned to Mingyue Pavilion.
The lanterns hanging under the eaves gave off a dim, yellow light. Just before stepping inside, Qi Yuan paused, then turned to Lianqiao and Baizhi and said, “No need to follow me. I want to rest alone for a bit.”
Lianqiao didn’t question her at all. She always did whatever Qi Yuan asked.
Baizhi, on the other hand, felt something was off—after all, Qi Yuan had just cooked something and said it was for a guest.
But she obediently said nothing and simply responded with a quiet “yes.”
Qi Yuan entered and closed the door behind her.
Almost instantly, she felt a cold blade press against her throat.
Despite the sword at her neck, she didn’t panic. Instead, she turned her head with a smile and looked at the man stepping out from behind the curtain—Xiao Yunting.
His name sounded almost identical to Qi Yunting’s, but their appearances and temperaments couldn’t be more different.
Xiao Yunting had naturally alluring eyes, the corners always slightly lifted as if he wore a faint smile—even when he wasn’t.
And yet, he exuded a murderous aura.
That aura, paired with his striking features, made him seem like a mountain that could neither be climbed nor shaken.
Qi Yuan softly greeted him, “Your Highness.”
A mocking smile played on Xiao Yunting’s lips as he stepped closer. Seeing her quietly standing with her head bowed, he raised a brow and tilted his sword upward, nudging her chin to make her look at him.
“You knew I would come?”
The sword’s tip was sharp and icy, but Qi Yuan showed no fear. She calmly tilted her head up and met Xiao Yunting’s gaze head-on.
Their eyes clashed mid-air, both reading the other’s expression.
After a moment, Qi Yuan spoke first: “Since Your Highness is here, it proves I’m still useful. In that case, why not lower the weapons and sit down for a talk?”
This girl was something else—like a puppet devoid of emotion.
The first time he met her, she had just killed someone in the lake.
Even when caught in the act, she remained calm and unafraid.
The second time, while the other girls of the Xiang family were pale with fright, she alone not only stayed composed but deliberately baited him with a signal, drawing him to her.
Now, with a sword at her throat, she still showed no panic.
Qi Yuan’s room wasn’t lavish—by capital standards, it was merely average.
She pointed to the small table by the window and carried the food box over, sitting on a cushion.
Xiao Yunting studied her for a moment before following and sitting across from her.
He was always composed, like a poised and patient predator ready to pounce.
If he truly wanted to kill Qi Yuan, it would take but a moment.
But then, when Qi Yuan opened the food box and placed the bun-like items on the table, his expression changed instantly.
He reached across and grabbed Qi Yuan by the neck.
His hand was large enough to easily snap her neck with one twist.
Murder flashed in his eyes as he coldly demanded, “You investigated me?!”
Jing Wang—Xiao Yunting—had been sickly since childhood and was supposedly raised in seclusion at Maoshan in Jurong by the crown prince. He had only returned to the capital less than three years ago.
Yet few knew he had barely spent any time in Jurong at all. Instead, he had followed his master to Jiangxi and was raised there.
And the food Qi Yuan had taken out? Most people wouldn’t even recognize it.
But Xiao Yunting did.
It was a regional specialty from an obscure corner of Jiangxi.
Taro flour buns—made by boiling taro until soft, mashing it into flour, kneading it into dough, and wrapping it around minced meat, celery, and radish.
He was certain that no ordinary person would know about this.
Qi Yuan tilted her head slightly, signaling she couldn’t speak.
Xiao Yunting narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, then released his grip.
Qi Yuan immediately started coughing, then patted the table, signaling him to sit down again.
This girl truly had no fear of death!
Suppressing the urge to strangle her, he sat down once more, scrutinizing her.
Qi Yuan knew when to push and when to stop. She said softly, “When Your Highness was at the Xiang residence, you saw the hand signal I made. That’s why you came to find me, isn’t it?”
Yes—there were many people around at the time, but she had desperately needed Xiao Yunting’s help.
So she made a gesture.
A hand sign known only to the assassins who had been chasing Xiao Yunting all these years.
She knew he would recognize it.
And he did.
The taro buns on the table were still steaming. For nobles used to delicacies, the appearance of this dish was nothing special.
But Xiao Yunting picked one up, ate it, and fell silent.
After a long pause, he looked at Qi Yuan and said flatly, “Butcher Xu and that guy named Chengyong—you killed them, didn’t you?”
Qi Yuan looked up at him.
Xiao Yunting gave a half-smile: “I’ve already looked into it. Chengyong had been lusting after you for some time. He tried to make a move on you more than once.”
Qi Yuan lowered her eyes, her voice chillingly indifferent: “That doesn’t prove I killed them.”
“No, it doesn’t. But what if Butcher Xu had met with Qi Jin beforehand and was instructed to sell you to Chengyong?” Xiao Yunting smiled meaningfully. “That night, Chengyong tried to force himself on you, didn’t he?”
He tapped the table with his long, jointed fingers: “He tried to force you. You resisted. So you killed him. Am I right?”
