Chapter Twelve: Bringing My Younger Brother into the Prince’s Mansion

Who exactly was Shen Hezhi? Others might not know, but Yan Heru had already formed a rough idea—he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing! The kind that devours its prey without leaving a single bone behind! And he loved to play the fool to catch the wise. Yan Hecheng had just confronted him like that—would Shen Hezhi bear a grudge in his heart?

Just as Yan Heru was worrying, Shen Hezhi crouched down to look at the indignant Yan Hecheng. He reached out to pat Yan Hecheng’s head, but his hand was promptly swatted away.

“Don’t touch me! You’re a bad man!” Yan Hecheng glared at Shen Hezhi.

Shen Hezhi shook his head helplessly and explained, “I’m not a bad man, and I didn’t bully your sister. Your sister and I have come to take you to live at the Prince’s residence. That way, no one will bully you anymore.”

Yan Hecheng’s brows furrowed as he regarded Shen Hezhi, as if weighing the truth of his words.

At that moment, Yan Heru walked over. “Cheng’er, you mustn’t be so rude to His Highness. What nonsense were you just spouting?”

“Sister…” Hearing Yan Heru’s voice, Yan Hecheng instantly looked aggrieved and hid behind her, continuing to size up Shen Hezhi warily.

“Your Highness, please don’t mind him, he—”

“He’s quite something,” Shen Hezhi interrupted Yan Heru’s explanation. “Let’s go. Back to the Prince’s residence. You’re troubled just staying here.”

Turning away, Shen Hezhi walked off. There was no anger to be sensed from him, so Yan Heru couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking or what he truly meant.

“Sister.” Yan Hecheng tugged at her sleeve, and after a glance at her brother, Yan Heru led him away.

Just as they had arrived, they returned in the same carriage. This time, however, the servants were far more subdued, silent as they escorted them to the carriage, though Yan Heru still caught a glint of resentment in their eyes.

There wasn’t the slightest trace of punishment on them. Yan Heru smiled bitterly to herself—her father truly knew how to play both sides. He’d acted as if the prince would punish them, but secretly did nothing, even allowing them to remain at the gates. Clearly, Master Yan was not the least bit afraid of Shen Hezhi.

What chilled her even more was that her father knew she had been bullied, yet to him, she mattered less than a pair of servants—not even willing to discipline them for her sake.

Is this what family is supposed to be…

Yan Heru sat in silence the entire carriage ride. Yan Hecheng and Shen Hezhi stared at each other—one on guard, the other ever-smiling, leaving Yan Hecheng full of wariness with nowhere to direct it.

“Your Highness, we’ve arrived.”

“Mm.” Shen Hezhi was the first to alight, followed by Yan Heru. When he offered her his hand, she hesitated for a moment before placing hers in his.

Right behind, Yan Hecheng caught this exchange and his eyes darted swiftly between the two of them.

They returned to the Prince’s residence. Confronted with the ruinous state of the place, Yan Hecheng curled his lips—it was even more dilapidated than his own shabby little courtyard.

“Your Highness, your cloak.” Shen Yi stepped forward and draped a cloak over Shen Hezhi’s shoulders.

“This is my wife’s younger brother. Arrange a place for him to stay,” Shen Hezhi instructed before taking his leave.

Yan Heru felt Shen Hezhi was inexplicably odd today—as if he was angry, but why? Where had she offended him?

“Princess, Young Master Yan, please come this way. Two rooms have been hurriedly prepared this morning—they’re ready for you now.” Mo Yi led them with a bright smile.

The house was brand new, freshly painted. Yan Hecheng, being a child, was delighted to see it and wanted to explore. But his upbringing held him back—he feared a wrong move might cause trouble for his sister, and he didn’t want that.

“Cheng’er, go on in and take a look,” Yan Heru encouraged, patting his back. With his sister’s reassurance, Yan Hecheng finally dared step inside.

Yet Yan Heru, eyeing the freshly painted walls, was reluctant to let her brother stay there—the air would still be heavy with fumes.

“Mo Yi, find a run-down room for Cheng’er instead. No freshly painted ones,” Yan Heru instructed.

Mo Yi looked at her, puzzled. “But Princess, this is brand new—much better than the old ones.”

“He’s not used to it. Go find another,” Yan Heru insisted.

Mo Yi still didn’t understand, but she obeyed and left.

No sooner had Yan Hecheng’s lodgings been settled than Cen Changxiao arrived, sword in arms, leaning on the doorway. “Princess.”

“Mr. Cen? Is something the matter?” Yan Heru looked up.

Cen Changxiao left the doorway. “I’ll take you somewhere.”

Yan Heru frowned. He offered no further explanation, simply walking into the courtyard to wait for her. After a moment’s thought, Yan Heru followed.

“Whatever you see or hear later, say nothing, reveal nothing,” Cen Changxiao suddenly warned her on the way.

This only made Yan Heru more curious—what could warrant such caution?

Cen Changxiao led her to a remote corner of the Prince’s residence. There, he paced a bit, then crouched down and lifted a floor tile.

Yan Heru was momentarily stunned—there was a hidden passage?

Cen Changxiao said nothing more and descended first, Yan Heru close behind.

Inside, she found the tunnel was nothing like she’d imagined. She’d expected it to be damp, gloomy, and reeking of mildew—but it was the opposite: clean, tidy, clearly well maintained.

“Go on, kill me! You’ll never get a word from me!”

“Oh? Kill you? How dull.”

Hearing voices ahead, Yan Heru stopped in her tracks. She recognized one as Shen Hezhi’s. The other, too, was familiar—a scar-faced man she’d seen before.

Cen Changxiao stopped a short distance ahead. Yan Heru soon joined him, from where she could clearly see inside.

“So what if I tried to kill you?! If you’re dissatisfied, just end me—why torment me like this?” The scar-faced man’s expression was twisted in pain, though Yan Heru saw Shen Hezhi doing nothing to him.

All she could see was Shen Hezhi sitting opposite the man, who was tied to a chair. Yet there was no apparent cause for such agony.

“If you tell me who sent you to assassinate me, I’ll make your end swift,” Shen Hezhi said, still smiling as he delivered his threat.

“You deserve to die! No one sent me! I acted alone!” the scar-faced man howled.

“Oh? Still refusing to speak?” Shen Hezhi shifted, angling his body. Only then did Yan Heru see why the scar-faced man was in such pain.