‘A little girl?’
Ji Chenxi tasted the word on his tongue and couldn’t help but laugh.
Que Qi was a tough one — maybe too familiar with him after all these years of being online friends. There was just no way he could link her with something as harmless as ‘a little girl.’
After reading the message, he simply switched off his lightbrain, quick and clean, and when he looked up, Lu Churan was already watching him with curiosity in her eyes.
“What was that?” she asked with a smile.
“Just a message,” Ji Chenxi said, calm and casual.
“What kind of message? A scolding from your secret lover?” she teased lightly, swirling the juice in her hand.
“Why are you so sure it’s a scolding?” His lips curved faintly.
Lu Churan’s eyes lit up, as if she’d just found something really interesting. “Oh? So if it’s not a scolding, then what is it?”
The smile stayed on Ji Chenxi’s face, but he didn’t answer this time.
Lu Churan wanted to push a bit further, but she also knew when someone didn’t want to talk.
“Our lovely little Rose,” she said, her tone soft but teasing, “can’t you satisfy my curiosity just a little?”
This time, Ji Chenxi replied—two simple, heartless words. “I can’t.”
From a distance, the two of them looked like they were chatting happily. Lu Churan even noticed someone secretly snapping pictures of them again. Who would’ve thought she’d just been turned down by a man whose lips still carried that polite, gentlemanly smile?
“Bai Wei, you’re not as cute as you used to be,” she sighed, lowering her head to take a sip of the juice she’d barely touched. The cool breeze brushed past, and she narrowed her eyes slightly against it.
A while later, Ji Chenxi’s lightbrain buzzed again—several times in a row this time. He glanced down, then switched it straight to Do Not Disturb.
Watching him, Lu Churan waited until the little boat drifted to the middle of the lake before speaking again. “That person seems pretty invested in you. Aren’t you gonna reply?”
“How do you know it’s him?” he said.
Lu Churan seemed to catch on. “Manye Zhe said you’ve got someone you’re flirting with, so I just naturally pushed it a bit deeper. If they’re your flirt, they wouldn’t just ask one question and stop, right?”
Ji Chenxi smiled. “So what do you think our relationship is?”
“Obviously a flirtation. I’ve probably said that word plenty. Or wait — maybe that person’s into you but you’re not into them?” Her teasing eyes cooled a little. “If that’s the case, you could ask Manye Zhe to off them. Manye Zhe’s assassin skills are top-tier.”
“No need for that.”
“Oh?”
“I think I’m actually pretty interested in him. Since I didn’t kill him myself earlier, I don’t want someone else doing it for me now.”
“Being interested isn’t the same as liking, is it?” Lu Churan only said after finishing the last of her juice. “Being interested means something about them caught you; liking usually has a sexual pull to it. So is he not attractive to you that way?”
Now that was a bold question.
Ji Chenxi pushed the untouched sip of juice in his hand toward her. “Want it?”
Seeing him steer the topic away, Lu Churan didn’t press. She pretended to be shy, then — a little embarrassed — took the drink.
Watching her pout turn into a faint blush, Ji Chenxi was quiet for a moment. “Que Qi, what kind of persona are you building for yourself?”
“In front of others I’m proper and poised; in front of the one I like I’m a spoiled, open-hearted lady who can’t hide her feelings. That way, whatever you choose, I can reasonably be your public support.” She said it like it was perfectly logical.
Ji Chenxi gave a soft laugh. “That’s a lot of trouble for you.”
“It’s fine.”
The two of them idly floated at the center of the lake for quite a while, chatting on and off. It wasn’t until over an hour later that Ji Chenxi finally steered the little boat again.
“Heading back?” Lu Churan asked.
“Mm. The main show is about to start,” he replied.
“How do you mean?”
“You suddenly said yesterday that you wanted me to take you around, and today you specifically dragged me to a crowded forest park. Naturally, I could guess what you had in mind.”
“And…?”
“So I’ve prepared a little script for today.”
Lu Churan wasn’t some naive teenage girl, nor a pampered young lady oblivious to the world. She had never liked the persona and script that Morningstar had set for her, but now, with a different script on the table, her interest piqued instantly.
A spark of curiosity flashed in her lowered omega eyes. “What kind of script?”
“Framing and pinning the blame,” Ji Chenxi said, smiling gently as always.
While Ji Chenxi and Lu Churan had been drifting on the lake, a storm had already erupted online.
At first, when the photos appeared, everyone just thought they looked good together, and the usual swarm of “face worshippers” came out on StarNet. But a few minutes later, someone gasped: ‘That stunning female omega—isn’t she the heiress of one of the Twelve Fairy Stars?!’
And not just any wealthy family—the top-tier kind. The Lu family controlled the financial lifeblood of the Twelve Fairy Stars, and behind them stood numerous high-ranking officials. Even in the entire empire, the Lu family was considered elite, practically the peak of the social pyramid.
Soon, people started explaining just how wealthy and powerful this young lady was, and how nearly impossible it was to pursue her. Neither wealthy heirs, rising stars of the empire, nor influential politicians had succeeded. One young general, who had admired her for years and even offered to marry into the Lu family, had failed as well.
After all that halo effect, people who initially thought the two looked adorably sweet together started asking: ‘Wait, what about that silver-haired beauty next to them? Don’t tell me we’re only allowed to look at one face.’
But for the next half hour, no matter how hard the crowd dug, no one could figure out the identity of the silver-haired young man. That is, until a young heir from a huge financial empire with plenty of followers dropped a hint: ‘Don’t ask—this isn’t someone we can talk about casually.’ And of course, that only made everyone even more curious.
What had started as a small ripple soon turned into a tidal wave. By the time the crowd’s curiosity reached a fever pitch and they were desperate for any news, someone finally dared to speak up:
‘Actually, this is the Third Prince of our Empire.’
The moment the revelation came, the online heat instantly hit its peak.
Anyone who knew a little would realize that someone had clearly been controlling the comments. Otherwise, how could a few simple photos generate such insane attention?
Being at the center of this storm, Ji Chenxi and Lu Churan might have been pestered had they gotten off the little boat earlier. But as it was, even if tourists were scrolling StarNet and discovered their identities, no one dared to approach or offend them.
Ji Chenxi seemed completely oblivious to the gazes, whether intentional or accidental. He acted as if he were genuinely hosting a visiting friend, explaining the stories behind every scenic spot to Lu Churan.
He was calm, polite, and gentle, while Lu Churan deliberately let herself show tiny, unconscious glimpses of shy little-girl charm.
They didn’t have to do anything extra—their subtle, almost accidental flirtation was just right. Not overly intimate, but leaving plenty to the imagination.
At one point during their outing, Lu Churan was examining a butterfly specimen when Ji Chenxi suddenly seemed to notice something. In an instant, he pulled her away from where she was standing. Despite his speed, the attack from a photonic gun still grazed his arm.
Blood welled up, and many onlookers screamed at the shocking sight.
Lu Churan froze as if she’d been scared stiff, her eyes wide as she stared at the spot where Ji Chenxi had been injured.
The first strike missed, but it was immediately followed by several more attacks—this time not only aimed at Lu Churan but also at Ji Chenxi, with two photonic bullets coming straight for his position.
Ji Chenxi quickly pulled Lu Churan to cover, while the two people protecting her surged forward just behind.
Chaos was about to erupt.
Security arrived at the park quickly, and luckily, both of them came through without serious harm.
But the sight of Lu Churan, teary-eyed and frightened, combined with the images of Ji Chenxi’s injury being posted online, sent another wave of uproar through StarNet.
Who could dare attack both an imperial prince and a wealthy heiress in the heart of the empire?
After the danger, having two protectors appear around Lu Churan made the scene even more dramatic. Think about it: is it normal for a wealthy heiress to have bodyguards? Of course it is. But then why does the imperial prince have no protection and has to wait for the park’s security to save him?
Suddenly, some not-so-secret facts came to light. The Third Prince, the youngest member of the royal family, had once been called the “Imperial Rose.” A photo of young Ji Chenxi holding a snow leopard went viral, and everyone squealed over how cute he was. Yet this adorable prince, the sole child of the emperor and empress, had no one guarding him. And if anything happened to him, who would benefit?
Bold speculations were quickly censored, but that only made the public even more curious—and angry.
Lu Churan kept up her frightened omega act all the way. Only after parting ways with Ji Chenxi and boarding the hotel’s floating car did she drop the pretense. Logging into her secret channel, she sent Bai Wei a single word: ‘Flawless.’
Ji Chenxi’s little performance had clearly outdone Morningstar’s plan. It achieved three goals at once: boosted their presence, framed someone, and stirred up a wave of conspiracy theories among the crowd. Anyone else thinking of making a move afterward would have to think twice.
Ji Chenxi’s injury looked severe enough to alarm the park director, who immediately called medical staff to treat him and even suggested he spend some time at the empire’s top hospital to recover properly. Naturally, Ji Chenxi refused the offer and, injured as he was, boarded the floating car on his own.
After setting the car to automatic mode, he checked his messages again.
Su Yu had sent a string of messages, along with several calls—first asking how he ended up walking with the Lu family heiress, then anxiously inquiring about the assassination attempt.
After reading them, Ji Chenxi called back directly, giving a brief explanation. His eldest brother and second sister weren’t foolish enough to strike at him openly on the Imperial Star; the assassination attempt had obviously been orchestrated by someone else. For a moment, Su Yu didn’t know whether to be angry or admit that his friend finally understood how to control the narrative.
Another friend, Gu Hechuan, also reached out with concern, and Ji Chenxi responded.
After replying to several messages, he turned to the dark web, where there were updates from Morningstar, Que Qi, and Manye Zhe.
He first spoke firmly to Morningstar, making it clear that any future operations must be communicated to him in advance instead of forcing him to react passively. Then he looked at Queqi’s messages.
Que Qi: Flawless!
Que Qi: Although I know, Bai Wei, that you’re framing someone, can you say who it’s for?
Bai Wei: The one who made the move is my brother’s man.
Que Qi: Framing the Eldest Prince fits perfectly—after all, that Star Pirates incident earlier seemed like his doing.
Bai Wei: Since we’re doing this framing, letting my second sister off without consequences would be too unfair. Plus, my brother wouldn’t act at this time anyway, so he’ll investigate deeply. He’ll find that the person has been in contact with my second sister’s trusted aides. If my brother’s men were even slightly more competent, they’d realize that person is actually an undercover agent sent by my second sister. But how could my sister admit it? She’d end up bringing up my brother’s previous actions to defend herself.
In reality, making his eldest brother and second sister clash was only one small part of the plan. The old man wanted to draw Ji Chenxi into the game, so he deliberately didn’t assign him a bodyguard, forcing him to be pushed into the situation by the two of them.
No matter how complicated his feelings for him had become, he had once been someone he truly cared for. So when he got hurt right under his eyes, could he really stay indifferent?
A power struggle only begins once the waters are fully stirred, and he was the most innocent player in this game.
After replying to the messages, Ji Chenxi let out a soft sigh. His fingers swiped, and somehow he was back at the very first message from Chi Zhuo.
It felt like quite a long time had passed.
He tapped his fingers lightly and, clearly in a good mood, typed out a few words:
[So concerned about my recent situation? By the way, Brother Chi Zhuo, are you flirting with me?]
Chi Zhuo was busy handling some family businesses, reviewing profits and planning future directions. He gave a few suggestions for adjustments, and it wasn’t until the third time he looked at the photo of Ji Chenxi protecting Lu Churan with his own injury that he finally received Ji Chenxi’s reply.
Asking such a direct question when the two had no relationship — Chi Zhuo had expected him to be annoyed, but instead, the response was so candid.
Chi Zhuo’s finger brushed over the word ‘flirting’, pretending not to see it as he asked:
[I heard His Highness was injured protecting the beautiful omega lady.]
Ji Chenxi raised an eyebrow slightly, his mood lifting, and his handsome features relaxed with a faint smile.
[Yes, I got this wound on my hand for that beautiful omega lady. It really hurt.]
Chi Zhuo’s normally dark expression deepened even further, as black as water. He clicked his tongue in displeasure but didn’t say more about the omega. He glanced over the woman’s profile—she wasn’t just some simple girl. All those online rumors about a wealthy heiress instantly falling for the Third Prince were nonsense. If Ji Chenxi wasn’t careful, he could even end up getting caught off guard.
When it came to disobedient children, the usual approach was to give them a harsh lesson. But Chi Zhuo was willing to be a bit gentler, so he typed:
[Third Prince, that Lu family lady runs deep waters.]
The reminder made Ji Chenxi’s expression flicker strangely. At first, he had assumed Chi Zhuo, like himself, was merely curious about her. Now, it seemed Chi Zhuo might actually be serious.
For a moment, Ji Chenxi didn’t even know how to respond.
Then another message arrived, replying to his very first one:
[And if I am flirting with Your Highness, what would you do?]
Chi Zhuo lifted a glass of tequila, the liquid shifting gently in the glacier-patterned glass, catching the light beautifully.
His eyes darkened slightly, a trace of anticipation flickering.
How would a mischievous, naughty child respond? Ignore it… or answer back?
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)
