Chapter 4: Princess With A Question Mark
1111 Words
Stuck in an awkward standoff and staring death-by-eyes straight in the face, Princess Meng’s brain finally kicked into gear. It was more of a desperate sputter than a spark, like trying to start a fire with wet twigs but hey, it was something.
“I-I meant,” she stammered, hand fluttering vaguely toward Yu Qingchen’s head, “there was… something repulsive on top of your head a while ago…”
The words stumbled out like drunk soldiers, and her voice trailed into nothingness as Yu Qingchen’s gaze pinned her like a cold steel spear. Was he always this intense? Had she unknowingly stomped on his childhood pet or committed the grave sin of burning his ancestors’ memorial tablets?
“Your Highness,” he said, voice as stiff and dry as old parchment, “please take this seriously. Our kingdom teeters on the brink of chaos because of your actions. His Majesty left you in my care during his absence, Confucius knows how many times I’ve spoken to you about this.”
Meng blinked. Once. Twice. Her thoughts sloshed around like half-set jelly.
But then...a flicker.
“Oh, he does care.” A smug little smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Finally, some positive attention from someone taller than the garden shrubs.
But alas, that tiny ember of joy was immediately stomped out by her own mouth.
“What exactly about this whole mess is enough to destroy a country?” she asked, tilting her head with the innocent curiosity of a rabbit in a lion’s den. “I mean, sure, my dad’s the king, but like...what’s the worst that could happen?”
Yu Qingchen sucked in a breath so sharply it might’ve shaved off part of his sanity to baldness.
“It seems…” he began slowly, dangerously, “that the princess is a dimwit after all.”
Meng’s blank stare could have won awards.
Yu Qingchen pinched the bridge of his nose so hard you’d think he was trying to teleport. It wasn’t working, much to his dismay.
“I believe your nanny tried to instill the basics of diplomacy, Your Highness,” he said through gritted teeth, “but clearly, it didn’t stick. You are the only daughter of King Yun. Every decision you make is a thread in the tapestry of this nation’s alliances. Currently, your father is negotiating with the southern kingdom for peace and support.”
As he spoke, Meng couldn’t help but get distracted by the glowing pink screen hovering above his head again. It pulsed softly like a taunting neon sign, the word ‘REPULSED’ blinking on and off like it had a vendetta against her entire bloodline.
“The visiting prince, Gongfang Yue, is one of your arranged marriage candidates,” Yu Qingchen continued, completely unaware of the imaginary text shaming him above his perfectly symmetrical head. “Let me be clear, he is the favored son of King An, who controls the southern trade routes and holds one of the largest armies in the region. We need their support.”
“Oh, the robe guy!” Meng perked up, eyes sparkling at the memory. “He’s a sweetheart. Total dreamboat.”
Yu Qingchen raised a single brow. The kind of brow that said, ‘one more word and I’ll break into a Shakespearean monologue about how much I regret every decision that brought me here.’
“If the prince hadn’t intervened last night,” he said with practiced patience only found in monks and middle-aged tea sellers, “you would have been married off to Young Master Long Yi. Which, in case your amnesia has clouded even that nugget of knowledge, would have spelled disaster.”
“Wait, Long Yi?” Meng echoed. “He’s my childhood sweetheart?”
“Unfortunately,” Yu Qingchen muttered, eyes darkening.
Meng, meanwhile, was still stuck on the ‘I’m engaged to hunks now?’ part.
She stared into space with the vacant joy of someone whose brain had quietly exited stage left. “So I’m stuck in a political drama… but the upside is, there are hot guys competing for my hand? I mean, yeah, terrifying military tension, kingdom-on-the-verge-of-collapse… but did I mention I get to choose a boyfriend?”
Yu Qingchen’s temple twitched.
“Princess!” he barked, voice sharp enough to shave ice. “Focus!”
Meng snapped back to attention with the grace of a deer caught mid-chew.
“As I was saying,” he pressed on, “Young Master Long Yi’s detainment has put his father, the Grand General on edge. That man commands more of our military than the royal family does. If he sees this as a slight, he might make his move.”
Meng blinked. “Make his move…like...ask for a duel?”
Yu Qingchen closed his eyes and silently cursed the stars, the gods, and whatever celestial committee had thought this woman was qualified to be born royalty.
“No,” he replied through clenched teeth. “A coup d’état. Overthrow. Bloodshed. Civil war. Does that ring any bells?”
Meng nodded sagely, though her expression was more 'baby learning to walk' than 'future diplomat.'
“Well,” she said, trying for confidence, “I hear you. Loud and clear. But...what exactly do you want me to do?”
The silence that followed was so heavy, a feather dropping might’ve sounded like thunder. Yu Qingchen looked one emotional twitch away from jumping off a cliff.
“I want you,” he said, voice trembling like a teacup during an earthquake, “to speak to the Grand General. Calm him. Remind him of your father’s authority. Convince him that this is all temporary and politically necessary.”
“But what if he gets mad and throws a chair at me?”
“Then dodge,” Yu Qingchen snapped.
Meng sighed dramatically and flopped backward into the silk cushions behind her, arms flailing like a child denied candy. “This is so hard! Back home I just had to deal with ghosting men and dodgy Tinder dates, now I have to calm warlords?”
Yu Qingchen blinked. “Tinder…?”
“Never mind,” she said, waving him off. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to say to the angry military guy.”
Yu Qingchen’s entire posture slumped like an exhausted willow. “Anything that doesn’t make him feel insulted, threatened, or homicidal.”
“Oh, so like, the opposite of what I usually do.”
“Exactly.”
And just like that, a new alliance was forged, between a jaded advisor with thinning patience and a princess who had clearly taken a wrong turn at reincarnation.
- Writer
