“Let’s go to the chancellor’s residence,” Feng Ruchu declared after thinking about it, not wanting to argue with a cat.
“The chancellor’s residence?” Little Zhu repeated in surprise. “Why would you go there? It would be like a sheep entering the tiger’s den!”
After all, everyone in the Feng Family hated Feng Ruchu’s guts.
“Nianchu is still there and I don’t know if he is well. I want to find out.” Since she had been reborn as this girl, she should do all she could to protect her only brother. If the Feng Family was malicious enough to harm him, she would make sure that they paid for it.
Feeling her intention to kill, Little Zhu looked at Feng Ruchu with wide eyes.
Feng Ruchu rubbed Little Zhu’s chin like she was a cat when she saw her staring blankly.
“Do I look like a sheep to you? Even if I do, I am closer to a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” said Feng Ruchu with a smirk.
Suddenly, they heard a voice that sounded like Feng Mo’er’s coming from behind them.
“That filthy slut! How dare she act so arrogantly when she is merely the product of an entertainer? How dare she make a fuss about the crown prince? She had better not fall into my hands, or I will-”
A scream pierced the air before Feng Mo’er could finish.
A knife had been thrown in the direction of her neck, and the blade had cut off a lock of her hair. The knife would have cut her face had it been closer by just one millimeter.
Feng Ruchu was leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, watching leisurely as Feng Mo’er panicked.
“What would you do if I fell into your hands, Feng Mo’er? Instead of badmouthing me, you really should be latching onto Feng Fei’er and begging for some medicine that will heal your neck, or that scar will be a permanent reminder that you were almost killed by a good-for-nothing.”
“You…” Feng Mo’er was about to punch Feng Ruchu but was stopped by Feng Zheng.
“Why are you here, Ruchu?” Feng Zheng asked. He looked more serious than usual and the creases around his eyes were deeper as he squinted at Feng Ruchu.
Feng Ruchu had been rude and arrogant earlier which ought to have given the emperor millions of reasons to convict her, but he did not, and instead allowed her to keep going.
Was the emperor worried about offending the Saint?
Feng Zheng looked at Feng Ruchu contemplatively as she fidgeted with her spiritual, crystal clear ice knife, then turned to Little Zhu who was hissing with her hair standing up.
Were these gifts from the Saint? This must be the reason for her unfounded arrogance, Feng Zheng scoffed as he thought.
There was contempt and disdain in his eyes, but also anger from having to be cautious in front of Feng Ruchu.
“Why are you here and not at Jiuchong Palace, Feng Ruchu?” Feng Zheng asked again.
“Did the Saint chase you out so that your filth and uselessness does not besmirch his holy palace?” Feng Mo’er sneered, jumping on the chance to mock Feng Ruchu.
The air was suddenly filled with the scent of buckwheat flowers as Mo Qing appeared in his flowy, ivory attire behind them.
“Your Grace!” The people from the Feng Family turned around and bowed at Mo Qing.
Mo Qing let out a humph to excuse them. His tone was not cold—just distant.