The Mute Canary of the Crown Prince

In the high society of Kinh thành, I am the renowned mute Canary of Thẩm Yến Cảnh, the cold and aloof Crown Prince. My role is clear, my duty fulfilled: I am a docile doll who spends his money, and in bed, a compliant mistress, always ready to indulge his strange fetishes. Lately, Thẩm Yến Cảnh seemed strangely addicted to cosplay, bringing home soft fur tails every night to use in our bedroom activities. His energy was terrifying, like a wild beast.

I was exhausted, helplessly surrendering full control of my body to him. One night, I showed my exhaustion by covering my mouth, signaling my protest. Thẩm Yến Cảnh smirked, bent down to kiss my eyes, his voice impossibly gentle: “Baby, let’s play a game. Call me husband, this will be the last time tonight.”

I felt irritated. He knew perfectly well I couldn’t utter a sound. The unfairness brought tears to my eyes, soaking half the pillow.

Panicked, Thẩm Yến Cảnh wiped my tears and quickly apologized, finally appeasing me with two brand-new designer bags. Before falling asleep, he buried his head in my neck, murmuring drowsily, “Baby, I love you so much.”

No ripples stirred in my heart; instead, a silent alarm went off. The Canary’s number one rule: Never believe a man’s sweet talk in bed, especially after the deed is done. In our profession, falling in love with a client is the greatest taboo.

Thẩm Yến Cảnh was my first sugar daddy. In my poorest years, my father wanted to marry me off to a man 40 years my senior for 100,000 sính lễ (betrothal gift). I ran away, dizzy with hunger, and was introduced to the Crown Prince by a hostess at a club.

“If you can catch his eye, you won’t have to worry about food and clothing for the rest of your life,” she said.

In the private room, Thẩm Yến Cảnh sat in the center, drinking, his expression cold, his eyes fierce. After all the girls showcased their talents, I, unable to sing or dance, used sign language to introduce myself.

The Crown Prince spoke for the first time, lazily lifting his gaze, his voice hoarse: “Your hands are skillful at dancing.”

That is how I, Tô Tịch Nhiên, was vaguely taken to a thousands-of-acres large villa by Thẩm Yến Cảnh. Later, I realized the villa was the metaphorical golden cage they spoke of.

One day, I snuck out to meet Sơ Sướng, a colleague and close friend. After drinks and complaints about her sugar daddy, I got up to leave, as it was past my curfew.

I confessed to her, “Lately, I’ve felt my body getting significantly weaker, constantly fatigued, poor appetite, and frequent nausea.”

Sơ Sướng’s face darkened: “Tô Tịch Nhiên, don’t tell me you’re pregnant!“

I froze. Counting on my fingers, my period was two or three months late. I bowed my head, confessing, “That time, he was drunk, and we ran out of protection. I thought it was a safe period, so I… took the lead.”

When the pregnancy test arrived, we rushed to the bathroom. Two bright lines—my heart sank to the bottom.

Sơ Sướng lowered her voice: “Tống Vãn Thanh is back, did you know? Thẩm Yến Cảnh is throwing a party to welcome her. The White Moonlight is back; how long do you think a stand-in like you can last?”

She showed me her phone: The Crown Prince appeared at a welcome party for Miss Tống, fueling engagement rumors. The photo showed their backs, a truly well-matched couple.

Sơ Sướng hugged me tightly: “Nhiên Nhiên, I support whatever you do. We have enough money; worst-case scenario, you get pregnant and run.”

That night, Thẩm Yến Cảnh returned, smelling of alcohol. He held me close, his hands beginning to wander.

I pulled his hair, sat up, and signed seriously: “I’m tired.”

He didn’t press, just gently kissed the corner of my mouth. I tried to sound casual: “Do you like children?“

He paused, his eyes turning inscrutable, his lips curving slightly: “Why do you ask, baby? Are you pregnant?“

He was clearly smiling, but that smile sent chills down my spine. It was the first time I saw that terrifying half-smile on his face. I immediately shook my head, lying.

The tension eased, and he regained his usual gentleness. But I pressed further: “If I really were pregnant, what would you do?“

He whispered, his warm breath wrapping around my ear, like a snake’s tongue: “Then our relationship should change. What do you think, baby?“

I understood. His meaning was: only one of us could stay, either the child or me. No, the White Moonlight was back; maybe even I couldn’t stay.

The next morning, Sơ Sướng and I went to the hospital. The pregnancy was over two months along. The doctor was serious: “Your constitution is weak. An abortion would cause severe damage and might affect your future ability to conceive. You need to consider carefully.”

In the hallway, I saw Thẩm Yến Cảnh. Next to him was Tống Vãn Thanh. They walked into the OB-GYN department together. We immediately hid in the emergency exit.

I vaguely heard the doctor say the fetus was very healthy. When they came out, Tống Vãn Thanh gently rubbed her belly and smiled softly: “When will you propose?“

Thẩm Yến Cảnh mused: “The ring isn’t ready yet, wait a little longer. And there are still a few things I need to resolve.”

Returning home, I saw Assistant Lâm leaving the study. His eyes darted away, looking awkward, like someone who had just done something wrong. I walked in, opened a drawer, and found a red velvet box. Inside was a simple grey silver ring.

I tried it on my left ring finger—it was too loose.

The small bubble in my heart popped. It wasn’t for me.

Near evening, Thẩm Yến Cảnh returned. He opened the safe, taking out a contract.

“Nhiên Nhiên, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” What had to come, finally did.

He pulled me into his arms, his voice faint: “The family is urging me to make a decision this year. Nhiên Nhiên, what do you think?”

Then he placed a check in front of me.

“It’s been three years, Nhiên Nhiên. Our relationship can’t continue like this. Here is 52 million. If you agree…”

Dazzled by the multitude of zeros, I didn’t hear the rest. He said more, but not a word registered; only the sheer amount of money did. Generous, as expected from the Crown Prince.

I took the check, carefully put it in my pocket, and tossed the contract into the shredder. I’m free.

Thẩm Yến Cảnh was momentarily stunned. Then his dark eyes lit up, and he hugged me tightly, ecstatic: “Baby, you agreed?“

My neck felt cold and wet. He was crying? Was leaving me that joyful? My heart was a mess.

He then took out a wedding planner book, his voice low: “I’m not good at choosing. Please look through it. Pregnant women find it inconvenient to walk around, so once you choose, they can bring it to her to try on.”

I froze. Not me. Tống Vãn Thanh was pregnant. Having the stand-in prepare the wedding for the Main Partner—what a brilliant idea.

I made my decision. With a family like Thẩm’s, an illegitimate child absolutely could not exist. I would take the child and leave.

While Thẩm Yến Cảnh was away on a week-long business trip to “clear his schedule for the wedding,” I began my plan. I sold all the designer bags, jewelry, and necklaces—all the gifts he had given me over the years—converting them into a long number of zeros in my bank account.

I placed a newly purchased book on Male Virtue on the nightstand, with a note:

“Husband (no, CEO Thẩm), congratulations on your marriage. I hope after the wedding, you uphold your male virtue. Listen to your mother at home, your wife outside, and your daughter if your wife dies. Don’t flirt with other women, don’t tarnish the family name…”

The next beautiful morning, I changed my SIM card, cut off all contact, and left Giang Thành on a coach bus.

“My poor little one. But it’s okay. Your mother has almost reached her small goal in the bank account. I can raise you.”

Half a month later, as I was eating a hawthorn candy skewer in my small rental room, the entertainment news on TV reported: “The Crown Prince of Kinh thành cancels his wedding. The bride is suspected to be pregnant and has run away.”

Tống Vãn Thanh ran away? I didn’t understand.

I went across the street to buy more hawthorn skewers. Just as I unwrapped the third one, a knock sounded on the door. The lock was broken; the repairman said he’d come tomorrow. Suddenly, a noise came from the entryway, the doorknob slowly turning.

The next second, the door burst open. A wave of cheap alcohol and stale sweat smell flooded in.

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time. So you were hiding here. Nhiên Nhiên, come home with Dad.”

It was Tô Dũng—the abusive father who had choked me, thrown a boiling kettle at me in my childhood, the one who caused my mother to divorce him and leave without me. I instinctively backed away.

He lunged, slapping me hard and throwing the phone into the corner: “Trying to call the police again? Being mute isn’t enough, you want to be blind too? If you’re blind, you can’t run.”

His eyes were bloodshot. He squeezed my neck. I tried to scream but couldn’t make a sound. His strength was immense. I could barely breathe, staring wide-eyed as the gleaming knife got closer and closer. My abdomen was throbbing with pain.

In the moment I was about to suffocate, the body pressing down on me was suddenly kicked away.

In a daze, I saw Thẩm Yến Cảnh’s face. He held me tightly, his voice trembling, almost a sob: “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m late.”

When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. As Thẩm Yến Cảnh and the doctor walked in, I instinctively shielded my belly.

“The baby is fine,” he said softly, noticing my action.

I rushed to ask: “Where is Tô Dũng? What did you do to him?”

His expression darkened, his lips slightly curved: “Nothing much. He was in debt from gambling and ran away. I just conveniently brought him back. As for his broken arm and leg, I didn’t specify.”

After the discharge procedures, Thẩm Yến Cảnh carried me home, never letting my feet touch the ground. The butler rushed out: “My goodness, Madam, where have you been these past few days? The Young Master was frantic looking for you.”

Thẩm Yến Cảnh said nothing, his face dark, and carried me straight to the bedroom. He threw the Male Virtue book onto the table: “Explain what ‘boss’ means in that note.”

I made a face at him: “Hmph, let’s see what you can do to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, then suddenly performed several sign language gestures.

My eyes widened. Wait, he learned sign language in half a month?

He signed a very indecent sequence of gestures: “You’re being naughty. The penalty tonight is that we will do it until you make a sound. Shall we?“

My face flushed, my heart racing. It was impossible; he was about to marry! If I stayed, I would be the other woman! I hated Thẩm Yến Cảnh!

I closed my eyes, covered my ears, and burrowed into the blanket like a small worm.

He pulled the blanket away, held my head firmly, and kissed me hard. The kiss was too skillful, making my whole body tremble, my mind hazy. Ah, an unfair surprise attack!

The anger in him was like a storm, but then slowly transformed into the most gentle caresses. His movements softened until they completely stopped.

Just as I was about to ask, a warm drop of water fell onto my face and rolled down to the corner of my mouth.

I turned my head and saw his red-rimmed eyes.

Wait, the one who was supposed to be crying was me.