An Author and Protagonist Got a Happy Ending [Transmigration] - Chapter 10

The scene was, frankly, quite terrifying.

Xiao Muyu had to be thankful that the original owner’s heart was relatively healthy, otherwise, she might have been scared to death right then and there. Even so, her heart skipped a beat.

The morning sun rose quickly, soon carving a sharp line of light and shadow across the ground. The pale, early sunlight hit the Princess’s face, as if draping her in a sacred halo. Xiao Muyu squinted to avoid the direct glare; her body remained tense, but her wits had returned.

“I’m… I’m alright,” Xiao Muyu managed to stutter out.

The Princess didn’t seem to particularly enjoy physical contact; seeing that Xiao Muyu had regained her senses, she set her down. Just by standing there, the Princess made Xiao Muyu lose all courage to move, let alone run.

Xiao Muyu waited nervously for the Princess to announce her punishment, though she didn’t resort to disgraceful behavior like kneeling and begging for mercy. But the Princess merely looked up at the second floor of the loft and spoke without a hint of blame or anger.

“The Zhaoyang Pavilion has a viewing platform. If you wanted to see the scenery, you didn’t need to go to such great lengths.”

With one sentence, the matter was settled. It wasn’t even classified as an “incident” anymore.

Leaving behind this near-pardon, the Princess turned and walked away. “Let’s go.”

Xiao Muyu was stunned for a moment. Knowing she couldn’t escape from the Princess, she gave up all resistance. After a brief hesitation, she followed.

The Princess was waiting for her at the entrance. She hadn’t brought anyone else when she came looking, and as they left, she only gave a brief nod to the guards who were already there. The drowsy guard broke into a cold sweat as he stood up to salute, fearing the Princess’s next words would be to have him beheaded. But the Princess only gave him a mild reprimand before ignoring him. After all, this wasn’t an important place; being stationed here was a thankless job akin to being exiled to the Cold Palace.

Following behind, Xiao Muyu gradually calmed down.

The Princess clearly had no intention of making this public. Having found her, she didn’t take Xiao Muyu back immediately but actually took her to the so-called viewing platform.

“Zhaoyang Pavilion” (Morning Sun Pavilion) was likely named for the view of the sunrise. It was the size of a small garden with a small building in the center, specifically designed for sightseeing. The open platform was fully equipped with tables, chairs, and tea sets.

The Princess dismissed the maids and personally led Xiao Muyu upstairs. When they reached the platform, Xiao Muyu glanced down and found herself unable to look away.

In the distance lay a vast lake. Despite the perennial snow and cold, it hadn’t frozen. The water shimmered, and as the morning light hit it, it was gilded with a warm, golden glow. At first glance, one could even catch the faint, iridescent shadow of a rainbow. Framed by the surrounding snow and the scattered silhouettes of green pines and cypresses, it looked like a fairyland.

As a scenic spot, it was truly impeccable. Xiao Muyu had traveled many places during her ten years of flight in her past life, but none were as magnificent or unforgettable as this.

She was lost in the view for a moment, not noticing that the Princess had sat down on a stool. The Princess didn’t look at the scenery she had seen a thousand times; she only stared blankly at Xiao Muyu’s face.

Before this, she still had doubts about Xiao Muyu’s identity—perhaps it was a coincidence, or someone had pried into her thoughts, or it was a trap set from the start. She had dove in headfirst despite losing her reason, yet she still refused to let go.

But at this very moment, the last shred of doubt vanished.

“I heard someone went to see you last night,” the Princess finally spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Xiao Muyu was startled. She turned her head to look at the Princess but didn’t answer.

The Princess said indifferently, “Is this not enough to show you my sincerity?”

If she truly wanted to do something bad to Xiao Muyu, she would have found a thousand reasons to act already. Why bother going through the trouble of covering for her now? While the Princess wasn’t yet “burdened by ten thousand affairs,” she was certainly not so idle that she would waste time on someone insignificant.

Xiao Muyu composed herself. Having calmed down, she turned back toward the lake, smiling for reasons unknown.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Xiao Muyu sighed, her face still bearing a look of suppressed frustration.

“I will go and explain things to my father myself. You only need to stay in the palace with peace of mind,” the Princess said. “If you are still uneasy, I will keep you by my side.”

This amount of time was enough for her to figure out the anomalies of the previous night. She knew far more than Xiao Muyu.

“As for the Noble Consort, perhaps it was just a slip of the tongue that she mentioned you. But matters of my palace do not easily reach her ears. No matter how noble she is, she will never surpass me. If you feel wronged, just come and tell me. I will stand up for you.”

These words were spoken with total sincerity. At this point, if Xiao Muyu didn’t show appreciation, she would truly be ungrateful. So, she lowered her head and whispered, “Thank you, Princess.”

No resistance, no argument. Just groundless compliance. As for what she was actually thinking, that was another matter.

The Princess stared at her, trying to see through that pale face to her true thoughts. This “replaced” Saintess wasn’t much better than the old one; she just wasn’t as willful. She was still numb and guarded.

She seemed even more “cowardly”—or to put it politely, “pragmatic.” To stay alive, she could swallow any discomfort; yet to stay alive, she could also impulsively do something brainless, like this midnight escape.

If Pei Qiuyue were to judge, she would never look twice at such a person, even knowing she had been replaced. People like them, born noble, possessed an inherent, unconscious arrogance. Weak and timid “common grass” could not easily catch their eye, nor could they appreciate the pathetic sight of a desperate flight.

Pei Qiuyue had once made an unintentional point: they would only like someone stronger—be it in talent or will. Someone had to exceed the ordinary in some way to be worth their notice. This was why Pei Qiuyue remained baffled as to why the Princess favored this “empty vase” Saintess. After this escape attempt, her confusion would only deepen.

But the Princess did not feel disappointed in this person she had obsessed over. She simply felt she was missing something.

The Princess turned her gaze back to Xiao Muyu. The latter was watching the distant morning light again, her eyes a bit glassy as if her mind had wandered. Only the occasional twitch of her lips proved she wasn’t wound too tight.

The sun had risen high, piercing through the ambiguous mist and falling on that exquisite face, creating a clearer, brighter illusion.

The Princess recalled the moment she first spotted Xiao Muyu below the loft. The girl had stretched toward the rising sun, and the way she leaped over the railing was like a petrel taking flight—fluid and relaxed, not at all like someone in the middle of a frantic escape.

In that instant, the Princess even had the illusion that the other woman was “in total control.” Unfortunately, the moment she saw the Princess, her face turned rigid, shattering the fantasy. She certainly changed her expression quickly.

In the “apocalyptic survival movie” of her dreams, Xiao Muyu was the same. She often fell into danger and ended up in a miserable state, making many compromises to survive, yet she never seemed truly pathetic. Perhaps it was because she seemed too “Zen”—never actively seeking anything, never calculating. She looked aimless, as if simply being alive satisfied all her desires.

Adapt to the situation and take things as they come seemed to be her motto. Her companions in the dream often teased her for being too thick-skinned and careless, yet her luck was incredible; she could court death several times and still emerge unscathed.

Xiao Muyu usually just laughed it off, never refuting it, essentially accepting that description. But the Princess, who had been watching her, knew better.

As for why—

The Princess’s thoughts were suddenly pulled back as her gaze fell forward. Xiao Muyu had lifted her skirt and sat down on the ground, propping her upper body up with her arms, still staring at the scenery. Perhaps having run all night, she finally felt the exhaustion now that she had relaxed; she couldn’t even stand anymore.

The Princess’s eyes flickered, and she suddenly understood. “You… were testing me?”

Any normal person with a brain knows that an isolated individual trying to run out of the Imperial Palace on two legs is sheer fantasy. Once caught, the punishment would be severe. How could someone as afraid of death as Xiao Muyu suddenly do something so suicidal?

Even if she ran because she sensed danger from the visitor last night, such a sensitive person would know the consequences of a failed escape. If she really wanted to avoid the risk, she should have asked the Princess for help.

Yet Xiao Muyu ran overnight anyway.

If it were the old Saintess, there might be a microscopic possibility of it being a blind panic. But if it was the Xiao Muyu who lived on the edge of life and death, she would never lose her reason due to fear.

The only remaining explanation…

The Princess’s gaze lingered on Xiao Muyu, her cold demeanor showing a hint of scorching intensity. Xiao Muyu felt that gaze was almost physical, nearly burning through her back. She broke into a cold sweat; her already weak arms gave out, and she slumped backward onto the ground.

The dull impact made her head ring. It wasn’t too heavy, but it left her dizzy for a moment. Her field of vision suddenly cut away from the snowy scenery to the Princess’s cold but beautiful face.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Xiao Muyu gave a hollow laugh.

The Princess kept watching her. Xiao Muyu felt her own laughter was awkward, so she simply closed her eyes. The dark void was quickly replaced by the memory of that face under the moonlight.

Even after several days, the way the Princess had looked at her—as if she were the only thing in her world—and the moment those icy fingertips touched her, remained vivid in her mind.

Xiao Muyu let out a microscopic sigh. A smile flashed across her lips, so fast the Princess didn’t see it.

She did want to run. If she got away, great. If not… it wasn’t a big deal.

In reality, she had known long ago: if the Princess didn’t kill her, she would certainly protect her. And if she truly wanted her dead, she wouldn’t have waited until now.

To put it bluntly, she was simply “relying on being favored to act without fear.”