After Chen Xing’s words, Ji Chenxi stayed silent for a long while. In the quiet so deep he could almost hear the other person’s breathing, he finally spoke, “What if I don’t want it?”
“Alright, I’ve got it… Your Highness is saying no.”
“Hope this is just a joke,” Ji Chenxi said calmly.
“Of course it’s a joke. I hope I didn’t scare Your Highness.”
Ji Chenxi responded with a cold, brief hum.
Just as his finger was about to hit the button to hang up, Chen Xing spoke again, “Your Highness… are you rejecting me because you don’t like me, or because you like that alpha?”
“Does it make a difference?” Ji Chenxi asked with a faint, playful smile.
“Of course it does. Not liking me is normal—after all, I’m twenty years older than Your Highness. But if it’s because you like that alpha, that’s a whole different story. If Your Highness isn’t happy with Queqi, I can try to find someone else suitable… maybe you just don’t like women.”
“Women, men, alpha, or omega… what I like seems none of Chen Xing’s business, right?”
After hanging up, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Ji Chenxi’s lips, though a slight annoyance crept in. There was a bit of a teacher-student bond between him and Chen Xing.
Having lost his mother at a young age, surrounded by rival packs, with a father whose attitude was unclear, he had gone through a period of isolation. It was during that time he met Chen Xing and later some online friends. Chen Xing had taught him a lot—he had even considered Chen Xing half a teacher. Back then, Chen Xing had been a truly good teacher. But now, all it took was a single ambiguous remark about an alpha to provoke probing words.
If he had known it would be this troublesome, he should have denied having any ambiguous connection with an alpha from the start.
But even if he could do it all over again, Ji Chenxi probably still wouldn’t deny it. Whatever he and Chi Zhuo had between them was their business, not for outsiders to poke their noses into.
Already irritated by the thought of having an old man looming around, Ji Chenxi’s mood sank even further.
Maybe getting involved with Chen Xing from the start wasn’t such a smart move.
Just as he was pondering whether to switch to a different ally, a message from Chen Xing popped up.
[Your Highness, you know my loyalty to you. I misspoke just now; I hope you won’t take it to heart.]
Ji Chenxi smiled faintly at the message. He typed his reply deliberately, each movement calm and measured, though the smile on his face was cold and sharp despite the words.
[How could I ever doubt your loyalty, Chen Xing? You guided me when I was lost.]
The help he received in his youth was priceless, so rationally, Ji Chenxi wanted to believe Chen Xing hadn’t spoken carelessly. But he had already investigated Chen Xing thoroughly a long time ago. If his memory served him right, Chen Xing was a perfectionist. And how could a perfectionist accept that the ruler he supported was caught up in an AA romance?
An alpha with another alpha? Even the public would have a hard time accepting it, let alone someone like Chen Xing. He was like an uncut jade being carefully shaped. Now, a blot of imperfection appeared on that jade. Some might call it a unique feature, but others would see it as a flaw. For Chen Xing, he would want to remove that flaw, even if it meant sacrificing a little of the jade’s value.
The royal guards arrived soon after. Carrying their orders without hesitation, they entered Ji Chenxi’s territory and bowed in greeting.
The young lieutenant with dark green hair wore dazzling armor, looking every bit the loyal knight. He knelt on one knee before Ji Chenxi, lowering his noble head in a display of complete loyalty. Behind him knelt over twenty other guards, all extraordinary in skill.
Calling them “guards” was almost an understatement. Most were born into privilege and trained to be strong; even the few from common backgrounds had been chosen with extreme care. After all, this was the personal royal guard of the Crown Prince.
Such an honor fell upon the Third Prince, yet he remained composed, neither cold nor overly enthusiastic.
Lieutenant Wu Xiang, head bowed in respect, recited the oath he was sworn to give the prince: “I swear on my life to dedicate everything to Your Highness. I will be your sword, your strongest armor. As long as I live, my sword stands—no one shall ever reach you. I will shed every drop of my blood for you.”
This was the captain of the empire’s royal guard. The moment he acknowledged a master, he would speak his oath aloud.
The oath sounded almost like a confession, beautiful and solemn, but Ji Chenxi knew perfectly well that Lieutenant Wu Xiang’s true master wasn’t the person he was pledging to now. His real loyalty lay with the current ruler of the empire. Never mind that Ji Chenxi wasn’t the Crown Prince— even if he were, Wu Xiang’s ultimate allegiance wouldn’t be to him.
Lieutenant Wu Xiang stayed on one knee for quite some time. Normally, after reciting such an oath, he would present a hand-kiss, pressing his lips to the prince’s hand to seal a lifetime of loyalty. But neither of them brought it up.
Ji Chenxi saw no point in it; the meeting was already a formality, a performance. And Wu Xiang didn’t make a move because Ji Chenxi didn’t offer the opportunity.
Wu Xiang, who had a crocodile as his spiritual form and was infamous in the outside world, remained kneeling before Ji Chenxi for a while longer, until Ji Chenxi finally reached out to help him up.
“Lieutenant Wu Xiang, you really don’t need to swear loyalty to me. After all, I’m not the Crown Prince. If the person you truly serve in the future were to find out, wouldn’t that create a barrier between you?”
Ji Chenxi’s tone was gentle, unlike the cold, detached air he had earlier while sitting on the sofa, watching someone kneel and casually playing with a glass bead.
He stood and personally helped Wu Xiang to his feet. Wu Xiang, however, knelt once more. “Your Highness, since I have already sworn my oath to you, you are naturally my lifelong pursuit. I will be your protector.”
Ji Chenxi’s response remained nonchalant. “Let’s hope so. I also don’t want my daily movements ending up on someone else’s desk. You understand, right?”
After sending Lieutenant Wu Xiang off, Ji Chenxi flicked a glass bead, making it collide with another.
A snow leopard, silently appearing, kept itself at the size of a cub. It stood on the black coffee table, playing with one of the glass beads with its paw.
“Master, what do you think of Lieutenant Wu Xiang?” the butler asked quietly.
“It’s hard to say. When he swore loyalty to me, it didn’t feel fake, yet he also didn’t deny that my movements might end up on someone else’s desk. Maybe, in Lieutenant Wu Xiang’s eyes, that’s not a conflict. But trying to secure your position by relying on someone’s favor? That’s just a ridiculous choice.”
“I understand.”
Ji Chenxi hadn’t gone out much recently. Even with the protection of the royal guard, he had become more of a homebody. As for the previous public uproar, the royal family had already squashed it. The end result? Clearly some schemer wanted to stir trouble among the royal members.
Those in power certainly had a way of making black seem white.
Ji Chenxi hadn’t reached out to Chi Zhuo in days, and Chi Zhuo hadn’t sought him out either.
At first, looking at the roses in the vase would occasionally remind him of their original owner. But once the flowers completely withered, Ji Chenxi’s life rhythm returned to its usual pace.
He always found something to do each day. Even when he didn’t, he would leisurely enjoy his afternoon tea and read all kinds of books.
Ten days passed like this, quietly. Then, an account that hadn’t messaged him in ages sent him its first message in a long time.
[How about coming by to see Your Highness this afternoon?]
Ji Chenxi couldn’t read any hidden meaning in the cold, simple words. But having Chi Zhuo visit his home didn’t seem wise. If Chi Zhuo came, the message would likely reach the emperor in less than five minutes.
Not wanting to appear to tacitly agree, Ji Chenxi immediately replied.
[You should know I won’t agree.]
Chi Zhuo: [Since Your Highness has refused, I’ll make my second request. Can we have a video call? I’ve been hopping between other planets lately and probably won’t return to Imperial Star until next week.]
Most people, after having their first request denied, would go along with the second, more reasonable one. Sometimes, people deliberately ask something they know will be refused just to reach their true goal.
Would Ji Chenxi be the kind to refuse someone twice? Of course not—at least not in the way most people think. To him, sometimes refusing is its own kind of virtue.
Yet, despite himself, Ji Chenxi saw Chi Zhuo’s request and immediately sent a video call invitation.
Chi Zhuo accepted the moment it popped up. Ji Chenxi’s eyes landed on Chi Zhuo’s expressionless face and the rose-colored nebula behind him.
Smiling, Ji Chenxi greeted him casually from his room. “It’s been a while. Is there a reason you suddenly decided to look me up?”
“Good day, Your Highness. I heard the emperor assigned the royal guard to you.”
“Isn’t it a little late to be hearing about this now?” Ji Chenxi remarked.
“I only found out after finishing up some other tasks.”
Ji Chenxi smiled without saying a word, clearly skeptical of the excuse.
Chi Zhuo’s brows furrowed slightly, the fleeting crease vanishing almost as quickly as it appeared. “Alright… I deliberately avoided receiving information about Your Highness. Didn’t expect this to happen in the meantime.”
“Actually, it’s not bad. Lieutenant Wu Xiang is a very capable alpha, and he even swore to protect me.”
Seemingly recalling that almost-confessional oath and the hand-kiss from the royal guard, irritation and deep displeasure rose in Chi Zhuo’s chest. He pressed his lips together, feeling completely passive in this ambiguous relationship, almost without even the right to be upset.
Unhappy.
The thought popped into Ji Chenxi’s mind, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Chi Zhuo hadn’t even frowned, yet he had pinned an “unhappy” label on him.
“Your Highness, those meaningless oaths… don’t take them too seriously. Don’t trust Lieutenant Wu Xiang too much.”
Ji Chenxi’s lips curved slightly as he looked at Chi Zhuo. “Then who should I trust?”
The gentle question made Chi Zhuo’s heart skip a beat, almost stopping entirely for a moment.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
