Provocation

“Alright.”

When those two words left Luo Zhao’s lips, everyone in the hall thought their ears were playing tricks on them.

Before they could recover, Luo Zhao continued:

“But I dare to give it—does he dare to take it?”

Her voice echoed through the bedchamber, the end of her sentence trailing upward slightly.

It carried provocation, mockery, and a brashness she had never shown before.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her chin lifted slightly as she looked down at Gu Chengyin, who sat in his chair.

Shangguan Yunying’s eyes went wide, but she couldn’t utter a single word.

She glanced at Luo Zhao, then at Gu Chengyin, then back at Luo Zhao, her gaze bouncing between them.

This was the first time she had heard Luo Zhao speak in such a tone.

It wasn’t the dignity of a heir apparent, nor the docility of hypnosis, nor the calm of restraint.

It was raw, unguarded provocation.

Gu Xiaoli blinked her large, dark eyes, her ears pricking up slightly.

She didn’t fully understand what was being asked, but she caught the meaning in Luo Zhao’s tone.

It was taunting, angering, driving a finger right under Gu Chengyin’s nose.

Then, arrogantly, asking him: Do you dare to take me?

Lin Qingyan’s brow furrowed slightly.

She truly hadn’t expected Luo Zhao to respond, let alone in this way.

The reason she had suggested Gu Chengyin take Luo Zhao was to bind their relationship together—to prevent future suspicion and conflict, since both people were very important to her.

But Luo Zhao clearly interpreted it differently.

She wasn’t agreeing.

She was gambling.

Betting that Gu Chengyin wouldn’t dare.

As for whether Luo Zhao had considered the consequences of losing that bet, only she herself knew.

Gu Chengyin sat in his chair, staring at Luo Zhao across from him.

He still hadn’t fully recovered from that crisp, straightforward “alright.”

He had seen many sides of Luo Zhao, but never this one.

This blatantly arrogant Luo Zhao, every tilt of her brow and glance from her eye a challenge.

Interesting.

Luo Zhao watched Gu Chengyin’s stunned expression, and a surge of exhilaration swelled within her.

Finally, she had seen something different on his face.

Not composed, not confident, but genuine surprise.

This man, who always had everything calculated—could she actually startle him?

Every pore on her body seemed to scream with satisfaction.

“What’s wrong, Junior Preceptor Gu?”

She tilted her head, the smirk on her lips deepening, her voice dragging out soft and languid:

“Did I hit a nerve?”

Gu Chengyin didn’t answer.

He simply looked at her, his gaze filled with scrutiny and curiosity, along with something Luo Zhao couldn’t decipher.

She automatically assumed that something was discomfort.

A cold sneer rose in her heart.

Too afraid to dare, huh. Don’t act so profound.

She shifted to a more comfortable position, crossing her legs and letting her foot dangle lightly.

“After all,”

Luo Zhao’s tone was airy, laced with casual cruelty:

“Some people talk a big game, all flowery words.”

“But when it comes time to actually act, they chicken out.”

She paused, letting her gaze travel deliberately over Gu Chengyin from head to toe, with an acute, intentional disdain.

“I thought Junior Preceptor Gu had real skill.”

“Turns out, this is all the nerve you have?”

Shangguan Yunying sucked in a sharp breath.

She instinctively inched away, as if trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

What in the world was Her Highness doing?

Was she provoking Gu Chengyin? Or humiliating him?

Does His Highness the Junior Preceptor forget who had him completely under control just moments ago?

Gu Xiaoli’s ears twitched, a flicker of confusion crossing her small face.

She didn’t fully understand these intricate games, but she could read Luo Zhao’s expression.

It reminded her of a scene she had witnessed before: a naive little kitten,

puffing up and hissing at its own reflection in the mirror, believing itself invincible.

Lin Qingyan’s brow furrowed even tighter.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but swallowed the words before they could come out.

A sudden regret for having made this suggestion washed over her.

Gu Chengyin still hadn’t moved.

He simply sat there in his chair, watching Luo Zhao with a calm as still as stagnant water.

Luo Zhao mistook that calm for retreat.

Her boldness swelled, and the fire inside her burned brighter.

She had waited too long for this day—losing, yielding, enduring, time and again.

Luo Zhao had thought she would never have a chance to turn the tables, but now, unexpectedly, the opportunity had come.

And it was Lin Qingyan who had handed it to her.

It was this very suggestion that made Luo Zhao suddenly see Gu Chengyin’s one and only weakness.

He didn’t dare have her.

If he truly dared, he would have taken her long ago.

From the moment they met, he had countless chances to possess her—

countless opportunities to use the most twisted methods to toy with her.

But Gu Chengyin hadn’t.

Because he needed her.

So it wasn’t that she needed Gu Chengyin, but that he needed her.

He was the Junior Preceptor to the Heir Apparent, a man of the Crown Prince’s faction.

His entire status and power were built upon her—the rightful Heir.

Would he dare cross that line?

No.

If he took her, it would be insubordination, treason against his sovereign, the destruction of his own foundation.

The more Luo Zhao thought about it, the more exhilarated she felt. And the more exhilarated, the more reckless she became.

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask for a long time.”

Her voice was lazy, like a cat basking in the sun.

“Junior Preceptor Gu, you work so hard to help me. What exactly are you after?”

Luo Zhao tilted her head, pretending to think deeply.

“Power? You already have that.”

“Status? Not low at all.”

“Reputation? The entire court respectfully calls you Junior Preceptor Gu.”

“So what else could it be?”

She suddenly sat upright and leaned forward.

Lowering her voice, she dripped with a mix of ambiguity and malice.

“Could it be... you like me?”

"So you pretend not to care about me, just to get my attention?"

Shangguan Yunying nearly fell off the bed.

She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, barely keeping herself from gasping aloud.

Her Highness had lost her mind!

She must have!

Gu Xiaoli’s dark, ink-like eyes were wide with shock.

Lin Qingyan’s lips twitched.

Gu Chengyin still said nothing.

He only gazed at Luo Zhao, his eyes even deeper than before.

Luo Zhao didn’t notice.

Or rather, she did, but she didn’t care.

She was drunk on the thrill of overpowering him.

“Relax. I was just joking.”

Luo Zhao leaned back again, the tip of her crossed foot swinging more cheerfully. “How could Junior Preceptor Gu possibly like me?”

“What you like isn’t me—it’s my identity, my position.”

“It’s this skin of mine that gives you a legitimate claim to power.”

“Isn’t that right?”

Luo Zhao’s tone suddenly turned biting, like a knife coated in honey.

"So you see, you come across as gentle and refined, but in truth, you're more calculating than anyone."

"You're only nice to those who are useful, and you discard anyone who isn't."

"When I was useful to you, you held me close like a prized possession."

"Once I became useless, you threw me away like trash, treating me worse than a stray dog on the street."