“Damn it, little wretch! Little wretch!” Ling Yue stayed stiff-faced, murmuring her complaints as she walked. The young attendant trailed behind, head bowed, breath held tight, as if afraid to breathe too loudly. “You’re dead already,” Ling Yue turned sharply toward the trembling servant, her face flushed with indignation. What a terrible thing—Cold Wan-wan had sent Qiu Tang off to the laundry quarters! Now she was left with no trusted attendant at all. “Hurry up!” With a red-faced scowl, Ling Yue glared coldly at the timid girl. “Yes, mistress.” The young woman wore a light blue dress, her face delicate and refined. Her eyes glistened with helpless longing as she watched Ling Yue’s rising fury, bowing politely in response. “Hmph!” Ling Yue swept her sleeve aside and sharply slapped the nearby shrub beside her—leaves tumbled down, scattered like fallen petals, leaving a patch of desolation behind. After a thorough bath and change into a moon-colored robe, Yi Chen moved through the well-tended garden paths. The flowing fabric of his gown trailed gently with each step, swaying in the breeze. His long, dark hair, still slightly damp from the morning dew, cascaded over his shoulders. Even the lush blossoms and graceful groves seemed to lose their charm under his presence. As soon as she saw Yi Chen, Ling Yue’s expression of anger softened into sudden astonishment—what on earth was this young man? His dark hair flowed like ink, his face clear and refined, his deep purple eyes so tranquil and profound they seemed to draw one's very soul. The sleeves of his robe were slightly unbuttoned, revealing the graceful curve of his collarbone. He exuded both charm and magnetism—so captivating that even the ten-year-old girl in her heart now felt her pulse quicken. Her cheeks blushed softly; he was indeed more beautiful than her elder brother, Zhi. Yi Chen’s deep purple gaze swept over the young girl who stood staring at him in wonder. He remained expressionless, glancing from side to side as if trying to find his way through this vast mansion. How had he forgotten where Cold Wan-wan was? She had just bought him—the very moment she set eyes on him, he became her servant. Though proud of his dignity and unwilling to bow low, Yi Chen understood the value of courtesy. More than that, he found himself genuinely curious about Cold Wan-wan—no ordinary child, this one. He walked past Ling Yue without a glance, moving steadily forward. Seeing the young man completely ignore her, Ling Yue’s gentle embarrassment transformed into outright irritation. “Wait! Stop!” She pointed at him with an air of command, her tone bright and impatient. Yi Chen turned, his gaze cool and steady, seeing her face full of self-importance. A faint sense of distaste stirred within him—another spoiled, self-centered young lady. “Do you know who I am?” Ling Yue raised her chin proudly, her expression now beaming with confidence. “I’m the noble lady of the General’s household. You see me and don’t even bow or offer a greeting.” "...” Yi Chen deeply disliked such arrogance. He gave a single, sharp exhalation and turned away again. “Wait!” Ling Yue couldn't believe it—after hearing of her status, he still treated her this way. With every step she took, her feet tapped impatiently. Watching Yi Chen’s form grow farther from hers, she could only stand there helplessly. “So who is this young man?” Ling Yue murmured to herself, still seething with anger yet driven by an insistent curiosity. “Miss,” the attendant thought Ling Yue was asking about her, so she quickly answered, “It seems the young lord arrived together with Miss Wan-wan.” “What?” Ling Yue burst out in fury. “So he’s actually been brought here by that little wretch!” That explained his aloofness now. The attendant remained silent, bowed low, absorbing Ling Yue’s wrath. “Go,” Ling Yue pulled at the shrub leaves twice with vigorous hands and said firmly. The young servant followed closely, barely daring to speak. Yuan Yan Pavilion A scene of utter chaos—everything scattered. Mu Zhaoyun sat by the edge of her bed, breathing heavily as waves of anger surged through her chest. Her carefully applied makeup now seemed slightly blurred under the force of her emotions. With each movement, she reached for a silk pillow only to fling it aside again and again. “Damn that little wretch! One day, I’ll make you regret this!” The memory of Cold Wan-wan’s words stirred fire within her. Everyone admired her—distinguished as a county princess and the wife of the General of Northern Towns. Her influence stretched across the nation—but how many knew her hidden struggles? Now, even the very mistress of this grand household was being dominated by a child only three years old! What would become of her dignity if this were revealed to the public? Thinking deeper, she began pounding on the floor—more porcelain shattered beneath her feet. “Mother,” Cold Yue entered just in time and saw the scattered wreckage, with Mother seated there, still intensifying the chaos. Her own initial anger at being ignored now transformed into sheer surprise—had she ever seen Mother so overwhelmed before? Gently stepping through the debris, she moved carefully toward Mu Zhaoyun’s side. “Mother, what is it?” Mu Zhaoyun looked at her beloved daughter and softened slightly from her sharp frown, though her expression remained still tight with concern. Upon hearing the question, Cold Yue recalled why she had come. With a pout of disappointment, she leaned on her elbow and said proudly: “Mother, I saw a very handsome young man just outside today. He has deep purple eyes—like two precious gemstones.” As she remembered Yi Chen’s eyes, her heart fluttered once more. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment and bashfulness. “Is that so?” Mu Zhaoyun observed her daughter’s demeanor and felt a growing concern. It seemed clear now that Cold Yue had fallen deeply for this young man—though only seen briefly. Yet how could such a mere visitor possibly match the status of someone born into noble lineage? “When did this purple-eyed youth arrive at our household?” “He came with that little wretch,” Cold Yue said, her tone growing colder as she recalled Cold Wan-wan. Why was it always the little girl who had so much fortune—her father now favored her, and even this handsome young man had been introduced to them through her? Unhappy, her own standing seemed gradually being eroded by the child. “Ah,” Mu Zhaoyun nodded, then called out softly, “Nianzhu! Nianzhu!” “At your service.” A young attendant of about seventeen rushed in upon hearing the call. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of such disorder—then quickly regained composure as if she had just recognized something profound beneath the surface. In an instant, her calmness returned. “Your grace, what may I do?” She bowed gracefully. “Go find out who this purple-eyed young man is,” Mu Zhaoyun instructed firmly. “I don’t want him to be a mere assistant sent by that little wretch—otherwise, it will only make things more complicated.” “Yes, mistress.” The attendant nodded and quickly departed. “What is it, Mother?” Cold Yue asked, puzzled. “Why send Nianzhu to investigate this young man?” “Know yourself and know your opponent,” Mu Zhaoyun said as she guided her daughter to a chair beside her, gently stroking her hair. “You’re still young—you don’t yet grasp the complexities of human nature. Your persistence alone will only lead you to repeated injuries.” “My mother,” Cold Yue lifted her small face, her dark, bright eyes now blazing with both determination and longing, “I want that very young man.” She spoke with unwavering resolve. “He dared to ignore me so openly—I must see what happens when he disrespects me.” “Then I’ll ensure it,” Mu Zhaoyun said, her gaze deepening. “Whatever you desire, I will secure for you.” No one—no matter how powerful—could take away the things that belonged to them—the little wretch included. The wind blew softly through the window, stirring the woven curtains. Mu Zhaoyun’s eyes, sharp and cold, swept past the glass, fixed on a distant figure—like a silent watchful gaze. ——————— *Nine-Year-Old Fairy Princess* ———————— Moon apologizes: Starting today, due to my busy schedule during work hours, I won’t be able to guarantee daily updates at two installments—but I’ll still ensure one update per day. Thank you so much for your understanding! As we approach the Spring Festival, things are getting quite hectic.