Which Grandson?

His eyes were like cold stars, sharp and icy as blades.

Even An Ziran, who had prepared himself mentally, could not help his scalp going numb. He could tell that the scent of blood on this man was the strongest among everyone in the hall. This must be Fu Wutian, the current master of Prince Fu's Residence.

Fu Wutian commanded hundreds of thousands of troops. Judging by his bearing, he truly lived up to his name—his gaze was arrogant and lawless enough. There was also an impossible-to-ignore murderous aura about him. Though he had tried his best to suppress it, it could still be sensed. He was not too different from what An Ziran had imagined.

The man's tall, straight body stood like a poplar tree in the center of the hall, making his presence nearly impossible to ignore. His features were handsome and resolute, his sword-like brows brimming with heroic vigor. Not a single line of his face was soft. His broad shoulders seemed capable of holding up the sky. Such a man indeed matched people's image of a hero—if not for the blood-soaked man beneath his foot.

An Ziran thought that if An Yuzhi saw this scene, he wondered whether she would still be willing to marry Fu Wutian.

He could not fathom the thoughts of girls. Although An Yuzhi looked delicate and frail on the outside, one could not judge what she thought inside by appearances alone. That was the lesson of experience.

After zoning out for a moment, An Ziran quickly came back to himself. In an instant, he realized that Fu Wutian and his subordinates were all looking at him. Most of them had a hint of astonishment in their eyes, as though they had seen something unbelievable. He frowned slightly, then immediately calmed down as if nothing had happened.

The expressionless man in the center of the hall stared at him for a while before suddenly saying to the young man at his side, "Take him away."

Steward Su shuddered, thinking the man meant them.

Afraid that he might fall, An Ziran gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.

The young man did not spare them even a glance. He immediately had two people drag the blood-soaked man out of the hall. The others briefly cleaned the blood from the floor before withdrawing as well.

The bloody stench in the hall finally faded somewhat.

The man turned and walked to the seat of honor. Picking up the hot tea a servant had poured for him, he drank it unhurriedly, showing no sign of impatience. Yet this only created an invisible sense of pressure and unease.

An Ziran did not feel much. He had prepared himself before coming here. Steward Su, however, was different. His expression had already betrayed the panic in his heart. He was old, and the other party was no ordinary prince. The fact that he had not fled in terror already took great courage. If An Ziran had known things would turn out like this, he would have left Steward Su waiting outside.

Just as he was thinking this, the man's voice suddenly rang out in the hall.

"Where is the jade pendant?"

An Ziran looked up at the man and found that he was watching him. His dark eyes did not ripple in the slightest, seeming almost too calm. An Ziran could not read any thoughts from them. For the first time, he felt at a loss. He was accustomed to first observing someone's expression before deciding how to respond.

He was not used to dragging things out. He immediately took the jade pendant from his robes and cut straight to the point. "Does Your Highness recognize this jade pendant?"

Seeing not a trace of fear in him, Fu Wutian's deep gaze paused briefly on his face before calmly shifting to the jade pendant. With just one glance, he recognized it as the female half of the pair of Mandarin Duck Jade Pendants his grandmother had owned—the Drake Jade.

The mandarin duck jade pendants had been carved from the finest mutton-fat white jade, an exceptionally rare type of soft jade only the imperial family could possess. The craftsman who had carved them had been a very famous engraver, but he had died more than a decade ago. Thus, the mandarin duck jade pendants had become one-of-a-kind treasures that no one could imitate.

"You have quite the nerve, stealing a jade pendant from Prince Fu's Residence."

The sudden shout made An Ziran's heart give an abrupt, rapid thump. Looking up, he saw Fu Wutian's dark eyes fixed on him, a crushing sense of pressure bearing down on him. Steadying himself, he said, "Your Highness, this jade pendant was given to the An Family by the Old Prince Fu ten years ago as a token of betrothal. If you do not believe me, you may ask the Old Prince Fu. I believe he will give you an answer."

As soon as he finished speaking, Fu Wutian's lips curved faintly, so briefly that it seemed like an illusion. Then his deep voice rang through the hall.

"Since Young Master An wishes to confront him, go invite the Old Prince Fu!"

Outside the hall, Steward Li immediately answered in a deferential voice, and his footsteps soon faded into the distance.

Seeing him agree so readily, An Ziran grew even more doubtful. From the look of it, Fu Wutian seemed not to know about the marriage arrangement or the jade pendant. Could it be that Old Prince Fu truly had not mentioned this matter to him? Before he could make sense of it, a burst of noisy footsteps sounded outside the hall, followed by a loud, forthright voice.

"Which grandson is looking for me?"

An Ziran turned and saw a plump old man striding in from outside. He held his head high and his chest out, his face imposing and majestic. He looked utterly dignified, yet his exaggerated swaying gait was impossible not to laugh at. He was clearly a rosy-cheeked old child with a lively temperament.

Could this be Old Prince Fu?

The moment Old Prince Fu entered, his seemingly mischievous eyes swept blandly past his own grandson before suddenly landing on An Ziran at the side. He abruptly rushed over, happily grabbed An Ziran's hand, his eyes gleaming with roguish brightness, and shocked everyone with his first words. "Grandson, what do you need Grandfather for?"

An Ziran: "..."

Steward Su was about to faint.