An Author and Protagonist Got a Happy Ending [Transmigration] - Chapter 7

What kind of person would the Princess like?

Pei Qiuyue had never considered this question before. Even though the old Emperor had started worrying about the Princess’s marriage long ago—scouting out one talented young man after another—Pei Qiuyue had only viewed it as a bit of leisure-time entertainment. Occasionally, she would seriously analyze the political factions behind a blind date candidate and offer her advice.

But from beginning to end, she had never associated the matter with the word “like.”

It was mostly because the Princess had always displayed absolute indifference regarding her emotions. Could the Princess truly fall in love with someone? Pei Qiuyue highly doubted it.

Until the Saintess appeared. The Princess had leaped from clear dislike to the word “marry” in an instant, forcing Pei Qiuyue to ponder the question:

The person the Princess liked should, logically, be someone equally powerful. Someone with brilliant strategic mind, outstanding ability, an interesting soul—or at the very least, a gentle, understanding person who could soothe her moods. Appearance should be the last factor considered; as a noble Princess, what kind of beauty had she not seen?

The Saintess ran contrary to almost all of those requirements. She didn’t even seem to possess something as basic as a “self.”

Pei Qiuyue did not believe an empty-headed “vase” of a beauty could catch the Princess’s attention, let alone her heart. Thus, the moment the word “substitute” came to mind, it occupied her entire brain. There seemed to be no other explanation.

The remaining question was: who was the person being “substituted”?

As Pei Qiuyue drifted in thought, the Princess looked up and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking…” Pei Qiuyue weighed her words before finally confessing, “Exactly what kind of person does the Princess like?”

She was curious about the person in the portrait. But she didn’t expect the Princess to reveal the details.

The Princess seemed fully aware of the doubts Pei Qiuyue had harbored over the past few days. Hearing this, she gave a noncommittal “Oh.” “What is it you want to ask?”

“The Saintess is merely a puppet of the Temple. She has no talent for cultivation, nor the insight to make one look twice. Her life and death are controlled by others. How could such a person… catch your eye and move your heart?”

“Move my heart?” the Princess repeated the words playfully. She glanced at Pei Qiuyue. “You think I like her?”

The confusion in the Princess’s voice was evident.

Pei Qiuyue countered, “There are a thousand ways to keep someone under surveillance, yet Your Highness insists on marrying her. If not for love, what other reason could there be?”

The Princess looked down at the portrait, lost in thought. A flash of vacancy crossed her eyes, so quick that even Pei Qiuyue missed it.

“Aside from marrying her, what other way is there to keep her by my side forever?” she murmured softly.

The words sounded light, but they carried an inexplicable ruthlessness—like a hunter watching a prey trapped in a pit.

The Princess recalled that long, hazy dream. Countless times, she had reached out her hand, wanting to grasp the person at the end of the wind and snow, only for her fingertips to touch the icy chill of the frozen world. That person had looked at her through the white blizzard, but the Princess’s reflection had never remained in those eyes.

Day after day, that obsession had been planted in her heart, eventually taking root and growing into a towering tree. Every leaf reached toward the distance; the moment a familiar shadow appeared, she couldn’t wait to reach out—even if there was only a sliver of a possibility, she would bind that person to her side completely.

But… was it “like”?

The Princess thought about Pei Qiuyue’s words, yet she lacked such a clear realization. Can this obsession be called ‘liking’?

“But Princess, regarding His Majesty—” Just as Pei Qiuyue was about to speak, the Princess’s face suddenly turned a few degrees colder.

The Princess put the portrait away, signaling the end of the topic. She turned toward the window, glancing in the direction of the small courtyard.

“It seems a ‘guest’ has arrived.”

The doors to the room were tightly shut. The maids, who usually seemed to appear out of nowhere, were now nowhere to be found.

Xiao Muyu sat stiffly on a stool, watching the great villain arrogantly pace back and forth in front of her. Her feelings were complicated. Her instinctive fear was mixed with an ill-timed frustration—this was the downside of setting the villain as too powerful at the start.

In the early stages, the young Princess was no match for the experienced Old National Preceptor. She might not even notice him coming and going freely on her own turf. Moreover, this world was too realistic; it seemed to have filled in details the original plot hadn’t written.

For example, the National Preceptor’s control over the Saintess.

There was a reason Xiao Muyu had suddenly fainted before: a Silencing Curse.

To think such a perverted spell actually existed in this world. Listening to the National Preceptor boast about his plans in front of her, she finally understood—he held all the trump cards. Having raised the Saintess for so many years, he had placed countless curses on her. A single act of rebellion would result in a fate worse than death.

Wishful thinking was a mistake.

So, this time, Xiao Muyu kept her mouth shut, seriously pondering the possibility of unexpectedly stabbing the National Preceptor to death.

Known facts: The National Preceptor is the primary villain of the first half of the book. His intellect and combat power are top-tier. The original Saintess is a mascot with no cultivation talent; she can’t even lift heavy objects, and she probably wouldn’t have enough strength to deliver a meaningful slap. Combined with her unhealed injuries, her bones creaked at even small movements.

As for herself… Xiao Muyu glanced at the vase on the table. The ability she had awakened in the apocalypse seemed to still be there, but it was so weak it was negligible. Starting a fire for a campsite was one thing, but burning the National Preceptor to death was a fairy tale.

The probability was effectively zero.

She wondered if it was too late to rewrite the script in her head in real-time. On the surface, she looked like she was staring at the table in a daze, her face pale as if paralyzed by fear.

“How does the ‘grand gift’ I gave you taste?” the National Preceptor laughed sinisterly. “You are tougher than I imagined, though. It seems my years of training you weren’t in vain. I’ll forgive you this once, but if there is a next time—”

The threat was self-evident.

Xiao Muyu ignored him. She was busy trying to rewrite the script in her mind. She couldn’t remember the plot well, but as the saying goes, “all roads lead to Rome.” She decided to start with the character traits.

In her mind, a fountain pen rolled back and forth over the National Preceptor’s face, leaving messy scribbles that reflected her most urgent wish. She mentally wrote “The Old National Preceptor is an idiot, a moron, brain-dead, and has Rank E Luck” a hundred times.

In any other context, this would be called the “Method of Spiritual Victory.” Xiao Muyu wanted to sigh, but she couldn’t; she could only continue cursing him in her head. She was the author of this world—or at least the original creator. Couldn’t she have a little privilege?

The National Preceptor suddenly stopped in front of her. His gaze swept over her as if he had just thought of a brilliant idea, and the smile on his face grew more sinister.

Xiao Muyu held her breath and instinctively blinked. Her obsidian-like eyes reflected no light, looking as numb and stiff as a puppet. Lacking a spark of spirit, she looked like a clumsy handicraft—striking at first glance, but unremarkable upon further inspection.

But she was still beautiful. Even if she wasn’t as lively or eye-catching, no one could deny her beauty.

“I almost forgot, the title of ‘Number One Beauty’ is still pinned to your head.”

The National Preceptor leaned across the table, closing in on her face. He sized her up, a look of realization gradually appearing.

“It seems I underestimated you.” When the National Preceptor laughed, it fit his villainous identity—wanton and joyful, as if he had seen an unexpected surprise. “Indeed, you are my most proud work. I nearly forgot this particular use for you.”

Xiao Muyu felt a chill run down her spine. The hand pinching her chin was so forceful she wanted to cry out in pain. The same icy temperature, but coming from this man, it made her want to vomit.

Her brow furrowed, and a spark finally appeared in her eyes. But deep down, they remained like a still pool. An unconscious anger hid beneath the surface ripples, which actually made him feel a flicker of unease.

The National Preceptor’s fingers paused, and he instinctively loosened his grip. But he didn’t believe this thing he had raised from childhood possessed any power he didn’t know about. His doubt vanished instantly, replaced by a profound, mysterious smile.

“You stay here and marry Hua Feixue in peace. There is no need to return to the Temple. I will handle everything afterward,” the National Preceptor said. “Before long, you will be the Empress of Xuefu Kingdom. At that time, I will certainly prepare a grand gift for you.”

Xiao Muyu’s first thought was that her curse had worked—the National Preceptor’s brain had suddenly broken. But she quickly realized his meaning.

“Of course, you must be obedient. Once Hua Feixue makes a move, you must report to me.”

The National Preceptor looked at Xiao Muyu’s face with contempt. “Staying here will finally allow you to make good use of your talent for seduction.”

Author’s Note:

Xiao Muyu: ??? I didn’t, I don’t, don’t slander my innocence.