Darling Diary

Chapter 3: Men Everywhere

Meng could hear sparkles.

Yes.

Hear. Freakin’. Sparkles.

A soft, chime-like melody twinkled in the background as her eyes landed on a ragged little book sitting smugly on a carved rosewood table. Its title gleamed in nauseating cursive "Darling Diary" complete with glitter that somehow refused to fade despite its obviously ancient condition. It felt like someone had dipped the remains of a teenage girl’s Tumblr page in perfume and sealed it in paper form.

Meng stared at the book like it was radioactive. She reached out slowly, skeptically pinching the first page like it might bite her. Was this cursed? Was she about to discover some tragic, f*******n royal love triangle? A diary detailing betrayal? Secret crushes? An ancient curse?! She was halfway to flipping the page when--

“Princess!”

A flurry of slippers against marble shattered her trance. Maids skittered into the room like nervous squirrels, kneeling before she could ask a single question. Reflexively, Meng slapped the diary back onto the table like it burned.

"A eunuch has arrived..."

Meng blinked. At the door stood an elderly eunuch flanked by guards in ceremonial armor, their serious expressions suggesting either an arrest or an execution. She glanced at the maids, who were already pressing their foreheads to the ground like they owed the floor money. She hesitated. Should she kneel too? Her instincts screamed yes, however...

Too late.

As she began to lower herself awkwardly, she noticed everyone else gaping in horror. The maids looked like their souls had left their bodies. The guards stiffened. Even the eunuch had raised a brow.

Meng froze. Mid-squat.

Oh no. She was kneeling to a eunuch.

"Princess," the old man coughed pointedly, eyes practically begging her to stop whatever sacrilege she was about to commit.

Meng’s face flushed a brilliant tomato red as she sprung back up and brushed off her (completely clean) satin dress. She stood tall, faked a ladylike sniff, and tried to channel her inner regal drama queen.

"I was just, uh… inspecting the flooring. Quality marble," she lied smoothly.

The eunuch gave her a please don’t ever talk again look, and she returned it with her best fake smile. Inside, Meng was melting, her brain fogging at the wrong time.

"So..." she cleared her throat, grasping for words. "To what may I owe this…visit?"

She mentally fist-pumped. Fancy. Vaguely royal. Nailed it!

"The Imperial Scholar has sent this humble servant," the eunuch began in a tone dipped in soy sauce and ceremonial gravitas, "to foretell Your Highness of a message. His Lordship wishes to instruct Your Highness by the Moon Garden in preparation for the afternoon’s Imperial Court session. Ministers, especially the Grand General Long Yuan, await Her Highness's presence."

That name. Long Yuan?

Meng's brain did a backflip.

"Long Yuan?!" she repeated mentally. Isn't that the family name of that sleazy p*****t, Long Yi, the same guy who basically kicked off this whole disaster last night?

Her mouth dried up. Still, she forced a smile. "F-for sure. I'll come along," she squeaked, voice cracking.

With that, she was swept into the most embarrassing parade of her life: two lines of handmaidens, four stern-faced guards, and a eunuch whose eyes radiated like they've seen every rumors in the palace halls. She felt like a fugitive princess being escorted to her own public shaming. Or worse, like she was in a really low-budget historical drama where the director said, "Just wing it."

They finally arrived at the Moon Garden.

Meng nearly forgot to breathe.

The place looked like it had been designed by a deity with a flower obsession. Vines with ghostly white blossoms curled around delicate wooden arches. Petals thin as tissue trembled in the wind, each bloom centered around a crescent-shaped seed pod that looked like a half-moon dreaming. The air was thick with a sweet floral scent, honeysuckle, maybe? And something else, something almost intoxicating.

Meng's inner voice screamed: This must be the setting for a tragic love confession!

She was so busy soaking in the Disney-level scenery that she didn’t notice the tall figure ahead. Not until she walked face-first into a wall of muscle and satin.

“H-huh?” Meng stepped back, dazed. She blinked up.

And forgot how to breathe for the second time that day.

The man standing before her was gorgeous. Ridiculously so. A perfectly carved jawline, long dark lashes framing amber eyes, and hair so silky it made her want to sue her shampoo. But those eyes…

Cold.

Like winter in a bottle.

Still, Meng smiled like a schoolgirl. "Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there!"

"Hi, I believe we haven’t met? What’s your name?"

She extended a hand.

He stared at it like it was diseased.

"Your Highness," the man said flatly. "Please refrain from further embarrassment. I beg you."

Meng blinked. Rude.

But she knew this type, uptight, bossy, looked like they belonged on the cover of Brooding Aristocrats Monthly, the magazine Batman was in for. The kind of man who never smiled unless it was to ruin someone’s day.

Wait… he called her Your Highness. So handsome icicle is below her position?

"You mop up my dirty linens or something?" she shot back.

Silence.

Cold, deadly silence.

Even the flowers seemed to wilt in response. Meng was sure she heard a loud gasp behind her, probably someone had fainted.

The man’s amber eyes narrowed into lethal slits.

“You...” he hissed.

Meng winced. Her thug reflex had slipped out again. Not good!

The man; Yu Qingchen, she’d soon learn, exuded murder vibes. The scholarly kind, where he’d kill her with a hundred years’ worth of perfectly crafted passive-aggressive essays.

"Everyone. Leave," he commanded.

And like that, the maids and guards disappeared through the moon gate like smoke. No one questioned him. Not even the eunuch dared to glance back.

Meng stood frozen, caught between confusion and fear. Was he about to slap her with etiquette scrolls?

Yu Qingchen stepped forward.

“And you, Your Highness,” he said with frost in every syllable, “we are going to have a long discussion on how you shall behave from now on.”

Meng groaned. “If this is about last night, blame Long Yi, okay? I didn’t ask to be dragged into his crap-”

Then something bizarre happened.

Above Yu Qingchen’s head, a pink, pixelated screen blinked into existence.

“R-Repulsed?” Meng read it aloud in confusion.

Yu Qingchen stared at her like she’d grown a third eyeball.

"...What?"

Meng pointed at the glittery digital text floating over his head. “Your screen just updated.”

“What screen?”

Her eyes widened. “You don’t see it?”

He gave her a look that could curdle milk.

Meng’s brain spiraled.

Wait.

Is this a romance sim?!