Chapter 1788: Taylor Is Quite Cute Too

"This took the spotlight off your mess, otherwise you’d be on the front page, and do you want your reputation as Prince Taylor to be tarnished? Do you want people to say you’re irresponsible and reckless?"

"I’ve already written my reflection, and you’re still nagging?" Taylor was a bit sullen, rebelliously staring at her, "Go mind your own business! Stop hovering over me every day!"

"You need to stop eyeing Jocelyn." Catherine warned her son again, "She’s your sister-in-law, that’s an unchangeable fact, and you need to accept it from your heart!"

"I got it!" Taylor was truly annoyed, "Hurry up and leave! Stop bringing up things that shouldn’t be mentioned!"

Catherine knew he was listening, so she set the medical ointment down and calmly said to him, "Then rest well, I’m going to check on the castle’s construction progress."

This matter had always been on her mind, and she would check on it every now and then, because once the castle was built, she had other plans for it, with an idea already in mind.

After his mother left, Taylor remained seated in front of the mirror, playing with the ointment sent by Prince Louis’s people, amazed at how effective it was.

It was like some kind of magical effect.

He had bumps and scrapes countless times growing up; once he had a particularly bad bike fall, his knee took four months of ointment to heal.

If he had this stuff back then, it probably would’ve healed in three days, right?

So upon hearing that the ointment was developed by Louis himself, Taylor found himself with newfound admiration for him. To study medicine to such a level, that was truly impressive.

Taylor considered for a moment, then looked himself over in the mirror; he could finally face others now, having been cooped up in the palace for too long, he needed some air.

So he set down the ointment and got up to leave.

Ten minutes later.

In Prince Louis’s palace, inside the study.

Ian Shelby had just finished discussing the inauguration procedures with two dukes, and the communication was pleasant. As the dukes were just leaving, a servant knocked and entered.

Ian stood at the desk, ready to head out. Seeing someone enter, he paused, his gaze falling on the servant.

"Greetings, Prince." The servant entered, respectfully saluted, then reported, "Prince Taylor is here, he wants to see you."

Ian was a bit surprised at these words; the last time he had seen him was when he went to deliver the ointment to his palace, where he was so beaten he could barely get out of bed.

The time before that, he had personally come over to deliver his reflection letter.

Ian said nothing, but stepped out.

Hearing footsteps, Taylor lifted his eyes. His expression was nonchalant as if he had the memory of a goldfish, feeling no guilt; after all, he had already written his reflection and considered the matter closed.

Ian saw Taylor standing in the hall, looking much like he did before, with his swollen face largely recovered.

Walking towards him, Ian stopped in front of him, examining him with curiosity, unsure of why he was visiting today.

"Brother." Taylor said unabashedly, using the same term as before, not caring whether the other accepted it, his eyes showed a hint of determination.

To be honest, Ian was taken aback, feeling unexpectedly surprised.

But Taylor’s compromise and concession left Ian unable to snub him, so he asked, "What would you like to drink?"

"Anything is fine." Taylor replied, "I’m not much into tea, as long as it quenches thirst. I came to see you today on some business."

Then Ian instructed the servant, "Brew a pot of Pu’er tea for Prince Taylor."

"Yes, sir."

Then Ian gestured to him, "Come, take a seat here." As he spoke, his gaze retracted, and he turned and walked towards the chairs.