Nangong Jin didn’t mind; his sister’s pranks were nothing more than childish tricks, like putting salt in his tea—harmless and amusing.
Half an hour later, Nangong Yi returned to the residence.
Song Yao had been awake for some time, roused by hunger. After filling her stomach, she found another spot to lie down, drowsy and lethargic.
She was in the largest self-watering pavilion of the Eastern Palace. Unlike other pavilions, which were generally modest in size, this one was grand, with two levels.
Built beside water, a waterwheel continuously drew water to the pavilion’s roof, where it cascaded down like a curtain.
Surrounded by flowers, trees, rockeries, and flowing streams, the scenery was picturesque—a perfect retreat for nobility to escape the summer heat.
“Greetings, Crown Prince.” Maids and servants bowed in unison.
Song Yao, however, couldn’t be bothered to move. She lay bonelessly on a rosewood couch, growing increasingly lax. In the past, she would have at least made a show of propriety in such situations.
But it didn’t matter—she had plenty of tricks up her sleeve.
When Nangong Yi approached, she stretched out her arms and cooed softly, “Your Highness, this humble servant ate too much for breakfast and is so tired~”
The soft, lingering tone of “so tired” made the man in the heir’s python-patterned court robes disregard the servants’ presence. He bent down unabashedly, gathered her into his embrace, and lay her back down on the couch.
His dry palm rested on Song Yao’s slightly protruding upper abdomen. After a chuckle, it slid to the acupoints that could relieve discomfort.
“Seven-tenths full is best. Eat smaller meals more frequently.”
Since he wasn’t tickling her, Song Yao happily enjoyed the attention but still feigned displeasure, acting spoiled. “Listen to Your Highness—you sound just like my elder sister and second brother.”
“Not surprising, since I am three years older than Yao Yao.” Nangong Yi’s palm paused again, this time over the place where a woman carries a child.
His dark eyes deepened, as if pondering something. After a moment, he snapped out of it, kissed his beloved wife’s cheek, and ordered the servants in the pavilion to withdraw.
“Yes.” The servants dared not ask or think anything, bowing respectfully before quietly departing.
Song Yao didn’t question why the maids and servants were dismissed. Admiring the poetic scenery beyond the water curtain and leaning against his sturdy frame, she wholeheartedly enjoyed the massage.
Silence lingered in the pavilion for a long while before Nangong Yi spoke. “I wish to discuss something with Furen.”
Song Yao had been waiting for this. She turned to look at him.
Meeting her gaze, Nangong Yi fell silent for a moment, weighing his words carefully. Only when Song Yao’s neck began to ache from waiting did he finally speak.
“It’s about heirs.”
Song Yao understood, her enchanting eyes unwavering as she continued to stare directly at him, adopting an obedient, attentive demeanor.
The more she acted this way, the more guilty Nangong Yi felt. Even knowing her current expression was half-genuine, half-feigned, he still felt indebted to her.
He leaned down, lowering himself to kiss her lips, appeasing her before saying, “My next words carry no ulterior meaning. Whether Furen agrees or not, you can tell me—just don’t be angry with me, alright?”
“Alright, Your Highness, speak.” Song Yao, thoroughly pleased by the Crown Prince’s flattery, agreed while her mind raced with possibilities.
How others perceived Song Yao in this state was unknown, but to Nangong Yi, she looked unbearably docile—so much so that it pained him.
He shifted his embrace, showering feather-light kisses on the cunning eyes that had captivated him since their first meeting. Pulling back slightly, he began to speak.
“I plan for us to have children in the latter half of next year.”
The sound of water flowing through the curtain and the scene of birds singing amid fragrant flowers remained unchanged as Song Yao waited for him to continue.
After a long wait with no further words, her eyelashes fluttered several times in disbelief. Finally, she asked uncertainly:
“Is this all Your Highness wanted to say?”
…
Silence fell between them in the self-raining pavilion.
After what felt like an eternity, it was Song Yao who surrendered first. Struggling to contain her obvious amusement, she leaned in and nibbled Nangong Yi’s chin, leaving a faint red mark of kouzhi.
When their eyes met, her radiant smile outshone even the most vibrant summer blossoms:
“Waiting until next year is perfect. This humble servant also wishes to spend more time alone with Your Highness.”
Even if Nangong Yi hadn’t mentioned it, she hadn’t planned to have children so early anyway.
She wasn’t ready to become a mother yet. Moreover, with Nangong Yi currently having only her in his rear courtyard, there was no urgent need to “keep the child and discard the father.”
Yes, discard the father.
When she became Crown Princess, she never entertained fantasies of eternal monogamy. This was an era where imperial power reigned supreme, and she had married the future heir to the throne.
She would enjoy the Crown Prince’s exceptional masculine charms, bear a child when necessary, and with her second brother in the Prime Minister’s Residence ensuring its stability, she could securely maintain her position whether as Crown Princess or future Empress.
When the day came that new women entered Nangong Yi’s rear courtyard, she had ways to ensure she could no longer share a bed with him.
Nangong Yi watched Song Yao quietly for a long moment. In the end, it was unclear whether he believed her words or not—or perhaps it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that their shared perspective on delaying children pleased him greatly. He gently stroked her cheek with his palm and said softly:
“As long as Furen isn’t upset.”
Song Yao certainly wasn’t upset. Remembering something important, she said: “Then this humble servant should drink contraceptive soup. After all, we did it so many times last night, what if…”
Her remaining words were swallowed by an overwhelming, demanding kiss. Nangong Yi’s large hand, which had been massaging acupoints on her abdomen, began moving upward.
With no one around, Song Yao felt no shyness. She pressed her curvaceous body forward actively, though they eventually restrained themselves since they were outdoors.
Song Yao brought up the unresolved matter again, casually plucking a crystal-clear grape from the fruit bowl and offering it to the man’s lips.
“Should Your Highness arrange for the contraceptive soup, or shall this humble servant have her people prepare it?”
“No need. I’ve already taken it.” Nangong Yi accepted the grape fed to him, using his thumb to carefully wipe away her slightly smudged kouzhi.
His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed as he stole another kiss before lowering his gaze to smooth the wrinkled collar of her dress, explaining:
“Contraceptive concoctions harm women’s health. Henceforth, I will take preventive measures before we engage in intimacy. I will also keep this concealed from the Empress Dowager and Granny Rong. Furen need not trouble herself with these matters.”
Song Yao was thoroughly satisfied with these arrangements and Nangong Yi’s current behavior. Overflowing with delight, she no longer minded the inconvenience.
Wrapping her arms around Nangong Yi’s neck, she played the obedient wife, her words flowing like honey as sweet nothings spilled effortlessly from her lips:
“Husband, you’re so good to me.”
Nangong Yi froze momentarily before bursting into hearty laughter while holding the bewildered Song Yao, his laughter echoing beyond the pavilion.
This caused the guards and maidservants waiting outside to exchange bewildered glances, each inwardly astonished: What had the Crown Princess said or done to make the Crown Prince so delighted?
Song Yao was no fool, and she gradually emerged from her confusion.
Never would she have imagined that her impulsive utterance of “husband” could bring Nangong Yi such joy. So it turned out he cared this deeply about that form of address?