Mu Hanjin was startled once again, his heart suddenly clear—just as he had suspected, it seemed that the Regent Prince intended to take him here?
At this thought, he felt deeply uneasy, but there was nothing he could do. Without hesitation, he raised his arm once more, his fingers moving to remove his outer robe.
Feng Aotian cursed under her breath and lifted her gaze, her phoenix-like eyes sharp and cold as she stared at him. “Who told you to take off your clothes?”
Mu Hanjin met her gaze with a calm expression, his meaning clear in his eyes—if not his clothes, then what else was he supposed to remove?
“Come here,” Feng Aotian beckoned with a curl of her finger, her voice cold. This man—why was he always thinking about taking off his clothes? Even if she were desperate, this was hardly the time.
Mu Hanjin hesitated for a moment before moving forward with graceful steps. As he reached the soft couch, the afternoon sunlight filtered through the gauzy window screens, casting a warm glow on his pristine white robes. His long, serene eyes flashed with a hint of confusion as he looked at Feng Aotian, calm yet silent.
“Sit down,” she ordered, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Mu Hanjin wanted to refuse, but knowing the Regent Prince’s temper, he knew it was unwise to provoke her now. He didn’t want to displease her—otherwise, he would suffer even more later. Forcing down his discomfort, he sat down with measured elegance.
Feng Aotian took a step forward, standing before him. Before he could react, she bent down, reached for his ankle, and swiftly removed his shoes. The movement was smooth and quick—by the time he registered what was happening, she had already removed her own shoes and taken a seat opposite him.
Snapping out of his daze, Mu Hanjin was instantly alarmed. Wearing only his socks, he slipped off the couch and knelt on the floor. “Your Highness, this humble servant deserves death!”
Feng Aotian rolled her eyes. Getting him to abandon his rigid formalities was proving to be quite the challenge. With a flick of her sleeve, she lifted him to his feet.
“Didn’t I ask you earlier whether you wanted to take them off yourself or have me do it? You didn’t answer, so I had no choice but to do it myself. Now stop standing there and sit down—I have things to discuss.”
For the first time, a trace of unfamiliar emotion flickered across Mu Hanjin’s handsome, jade-like face.
In all his years, he had never imagined that someone would kneel before him and remove his shoes—and that this person would be the very one he least wanted to face, the Regent Prince. This was more shocking to him than any humiliation.
Yet as he listened to her so-called “righteous” reasoning, he found himself unable to refute it. The cool sensation of her fingers still lingered on his ankle, seeping into his heart like a ripple. For a moment, his heartbeat quickened—and even now, its erratic rhythm had yet to settle.
She had unsettled him.
And at that moment, he realized—this version of the Regent Prince, calm and unreadable, was far more difficult to deal with than the one who openly displayed her emotions.
“Kneel or sit?” Feng Aotian asked coldly when she saw that he remained motionless.
“This humble servant thanks Your Highness,” Mu Hanjin suppressed the unease in his heart, rose calmly, and sat down with his head lowered—though he felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles.
Earlier, Feng Aotian had already ordered Hun and Po to bring the memorials that had accumulated during her time away. While she had been absent from the capital, state affairs had been left to the Left and Right Prime Ministers to assist the emperor in handling.
As she understood it, the Left Prime Minister, Lan Feng, was a deep and shrewd man—smooth in conduct, steady in action. Moreover, his son, Lan Jingshu, was now kept in her palace as one of her playthings, serving as leverage against him. Because of this, even if Lan Feng harbored ulterior motives, he dared not act recklessly.
The Right Prime Minister, Xing Yan, however, was a different story. He was not only a prime minister but also the emperor’s father-in-law—his daughter, Xing Zhiyan, was the current Empress Dowager. To the outside world, the Empress Dowager was the perfect example of a motherly model—gentle, virtuous, dignified, and impeccable in her conduct. The late emperor had showered her with affection, and after his passing, his seven-year-old son had ascended the throne. Were it not for Feng Aotian serving as Regent, Xing Yan would have been the most powerful man in the empire, second only to the emperor himself.
At present, the court was divided into factions. About thirty percent of the officials were forced to stand on Feng Aotian’s side—outwardly loyal, but secretly praying for her downfall. Another thirty percent were unwavering royalists, loyal to the emperor. The rest were neutral, choosing to watch and wait. This last group was largely aligned with the Left Prime Minister, Lan Feng—he opposed the Right Prime Minister but had little hope in the Regent, thus maintaining his neutrality.
While she had been away from the capital, the Right Prime Minister had secretly been pulling strings, attempting to win over those reluctant officials. Additionally, her palace was filled with the beautiful men she had taken captive—if they conspired with outsiders, they could become a threat. Their plan was clear: they wanted to seize the opportunity to overthrow her.
However, human schemes often fail against fate. What they hadn’t expected was that not only had she survived the border campaign, but she had also recruited Mu Hanyao into her service, securing the frontier’s stability. Now, she had returned to the capital unharmed. The royalist faction was likely planning something in the shadows even as she sat there.
On her journey back to the capital, Feng Aotian had been contemplating the current state of Feng Country—one that could be summed up in four words: internal strife, external threats. The external threats could not be handled by Mu Hanyao alone—she needed to find reliable and loyal generals as soon as possible. As for the internal struggles—the court politics, the sycophantic officials, and the royalist faction eyeing her downfall—she would deal with them step by step.
But the most urgent priority now was to stabilize public sentiment and strengthen Feng Country’s economy and military. That was the true key to power.
Among the memorials presented from various provinces, most were filled with empty praises and flattery, avoiding any mention of real issues. She had already sent trusted subordinates to investigate the true situation, but the number of people she could rely on was too few, and for now, there was no quick solution.
Seated cross-legged at the low table in the center of the couch, she quickly sorted through the memorials, classifying them as she read. Then, she lifted her gaze and looked at Mu Hanjin, who was sitting quietly across from her. She pointed at the memorials on the table.
“I’m giving you half an hour. Go through all these memorials and write proper annotations. If you fail, I’ll deal with you right here.”
Mu Hanjin’s tranquil eyes flickered with a brief moment of surprise. Lowering his gaze, he looked at the neatly categorized memorials before him. His voice was as calm as a passing cloud.
“This humble servant obeys.”
He raised his hand and continued flipping through the memorials.
Meanwhile, in the warm pavilion, Ye Meixi, who had been frozen solid, had cursed Feng Aotian countless times in his heart. It wasn’t until the ice encasing him began to melt from the warmth of the hot spring that he suddenly lost his balance and plunged into the water with a loud splash. Only then did his nearly frozen body regain some warmth.
Gasping for breath in the hot spring, his enchanting eyes flickered with grievance as he glared at the red-clad figure on the shore. Inwardly, he swore that once he regained his martial prowess, he would make Feng Aotian suffer—strip her bare, freeze her solid, and cover her body with bite marks…
