Chapter 3: I Have This Right

She gently pressed the device on her wrist, and immediately, information about the man standing before her appeared in her vision. Temperature, normal; heartbeat, normal. It seemed his emotions were steady, without the slightest fluctuation. His body was in excellent health—even exceeding that of an ordinary person.

This was the conclusion Sinorsang arrived at.

She hadn’t expected this equipment to still be usable, though its energy was running low. She’d have to find a way to recharge it. Looking at the sun outside, she thought she might as well get a little darker.

“Is that so? Then I apologize. If one day I end up killing you, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

Sinorsang looked at him, wondering just how far he intended to go.

“Very well. Let’s talk about your plan now.”

She didn’t care for unnecessary words. Sinorsang wanted to know what he was really after.

“The plan is actually quite simple. Princess Fusang has been missing for over three months. I need someone to take her place.”

“What? So you just picked someone off the street to impersonate her? Isn’t that a bit reckless?”

So this was his reason.

“You’re perfect. Your temperament, your courage.”

Xuan Yuan Juesi gazed at Sinorsang and smiled.

“Oh? And you can tell what kind of person I am? Just from a single meeting?”

“Not entirely—but close enough. Will you accept my plan?”

“Of course. But what about my compensation? Don’t tell me you’ll just toss me a few pieces of silver. You know I’m not exactly well-off.”

“One hundred thousand taels of silver—enough to last you several lifetimes.”

Xuan Yuan Juesi made his offer without hesitation. Truly, the wealthy were a breed apart.

“Is that so?” Such a sum? Considering the price of a few copper coins earlier, even a single piece of silver would last her over ten days.

“Yes. Well? What do you think?”

“Wow, you really are rich. Fine, I agree.”

“Good. From today on, you are my wife—the Fifth Leaf Princess of Fusang.”

“What? Your wife?”

“Yes, my wife.” At this moment, Xuan Yuan Juesi was every inch the prince—though it was mostly his domineering nature.

“Fifth Leaf? Don’t you think that name is a bit of a mouthful? I’m not calling myself that.” She didn’t care for it at all—what Princess Fusang?

“Don’t worry, it’s only for two months. I’ll do my best to find the princess within that time. Then you’ll be free.”

“How do I know you’ll manage it in two months? She’s already been missing for several. If your abilities are as you claim, I seriously doubt you’ll find her.”

Sinorsang looked at him, reluctant to discuss this any further. If he hadn’t managed in months, what were two more going to change?

“How about this: I’ll help you search for the Fifth Leaf as well. I’ll impersonate her for now, and we’ll both look. That way, we’ll find her faster, and I can get my money and leave sooner. How about it?”

Who wouldn’t agree to such a proposal?

“You would help me find her?”

“No promises. But you have to give me the freedom to do so. If you keep me locked up, I’ll go mad.”

Sinorsang had no desire to be caged. Perhaps she’d watched too many dramas—her IQ was certainly affected.

“Rest assured, I have no intention of locking you away. That would defeat the purpose entirely. I grant you permission to search for the princess. But from this moment, you will also begin playing the role of my consort.”

Xuan Yuan Juesi made no move to reject the stranger’s request. Finding the Fifth Leaf as soon as possible was all that mattered. If they couldn’t produce an answer, the truth would inevitably come out. Then, war with Fusang would become unavoidable—one spark igniting the whole powder keg.

“Very well, My Lord,” Sinorsang replied, feeling as though she were stepping into a role. To transform in an instant from an ordinary woman to the prince’s consort was indeed an odd sensation.

“Then you’ll stay here for now.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Sinorsang replied, adopting an old-fashioned English style, though Xuan Yuan Juesi surely wouldn’t understand—such things were a millennium away from his time.

Every time she addressed him as “My Lord,” Xuan Yuan Juesi felt vaguely unsettled, though he couldn’t say quite why.

Was it too great a risk to let this woman take the place of the Fifth Leaf? To choose a stand-in at random from the street? The thought left him uneasy.

“Fuan, take the princess to meet the household staff. Remember, she is the princess consort.”

Only a handful of people knew the truth—the fewer, the safer. No one had ever seen the real Fifth Leaf, so long as everyone accepted Sinorsang as the princess, the ruse would hold.

He had never wanted to marry her in the first place; but with her disappearance, he had no other choice. The matter could only be decided once the real princess was found.

“Yes, My Lord. This way, Your Highness.”

Fuan, the elderly eunuch, looked none too pleased with Sinorsang, clearly unhappy with the prince’s decision. But there was nothing he could do about it. Sinorsang, for her part, cared nothing for his approval.

She had no desire for anyone’s affection; solitude suited her just fine. She had no wish to change.

Love, after all, is the thing that wounds most deeply. She neither wanted nor would allow herself to feel again. Yet even as she thought this, tears brimmed in her eyes.

They would never see each other again—this time, it was truly as she had wished. But the satisfaction brought little joy. Wen Shuan, it’s really over between us. I hope you can start anew.

She repeated the name in her heart, his memory seared into her chest like a brand. She had once believed that losing him would kill her. Yet loss did not mean death—it only took something away.

Her hands still trembled. She really had fired the gun at Shuan.

The so-called “internal disagreement” was a lie; in truth, her conduct had enraged her superiors—she had wounded a man of Wen Shuan’s stature.

Fortunately, it hadn’t been fatal, or Sinorsang would have ended up in prison. In fact, her actions warranted imprisonment anyway. But Wen Shuan had withdrawn his complaint, insisted it was accidental, and asked that the matter be kept quiet.

So Sinorsang had merely resigned.

And with that, the golden couple was finished forever, leaving many to sigh. No one knew what had happened; perhaps only the two of them understood.

Now, having vanished from the modern world, perhaps no one would look for her. No longer a police officer, with no friends, her disappearance hardly mattered.

Sinorsang lifted her head to the sky, refusing to let the tears fall. It seemed sentimental, but this was all she could do. Tears were cheap. She would have to adapt to this place, and make the best of it.