10 – Never seen a Princess Consort act like this
The imperial physician’s frown deepened as he hurriedly examined the wound again, until Fu Qingzi prompted, “Could it be that Fourth Master’s wound has become inflamed?”
Fu Qingzi lightly touched Yin Zhen’s wound with her fingertip, revealing several rather deep claw marks exposed on the surface. “Take a closer look.”
Yin Zhen simply rested his head directly on Fu Qingzi’s thigh, extending his uninjured arm to gently massage his temple. His brow showed signs of unbearable discomfort as he weakly said, “Azi, my head is growing increasingly dizzy.”
Fu Qingzi feigned heartache and grasped his large hand.
The imperial physician wiped the fine sweat from his forehead. Whether the couple was putting on an act together, he did not know, but he understood that at this moment, he had no choice but to follow Fu Qingzi’s lead.
The physician bowed respectfully and said, “Fourth Master’s wound is indeed inflamed.”
After giving further instructions, the physician went to the front to report to Kangxi.
Fu Qingzi summoned Su Peisheng, her eyes carrying a hint of amusement as her red lips curved slightly. “Trouble Su Gonggong to go to the front and inform them that the physician has also said Lord truly cannot move. It seems he will be unable to participate in the hunting expeditions these next few days.”
Su Peisheng immediately understood Fu Qingzi’s meaning. He glanced up at Yin Zhen, who was watching him with a half-smile from behind Fu Qingzi, then quickly lowered his head and acknowledged before leaving.
Only after Su Peisheng had departed did Fu Qingzi shift her position, moving a bit farther away from Yin Zhen, and pulled out the handkerchief from her waist to wipe her hands.
Yin Zhen witnessed all of this: “…”
“What do you mean by this, Fu Qingzi? Disgusted by me? Who are you to be disgusted by me?”
Fu Qingzi returned to her usual cool composure. She glanced back at Yin Zhen before calmly explaining, “Bloodstains have soiled my hands.”
Yin Zhen’s irritation dissipated somewhat, but a lingering resentment remained. Throughout the day, he found fault with Fu Qingzi in every way.
Fu Qingzi paid him no mind, sitting to the side and reading the book Qiao An had written for her—or in the proper terms of this place, a storybook.
Yin Zhen, meanwhile, subtly made his presence known, occasionally stealing glances at Fu Qingzi to see if she was looking at him. Yet by the end of the day, he hadn’t caught her looking his way even once.
At some point in the storybook, Fu Qingzi cast a peculiar gaze upon Yin Zhen’s face.
First there was Lady Li, then Lady Nian—both women whom Yin Zhen had favored. Fu Qingzi happened to be reading a passage where Yin Zhen exploited Lady Nian.
Yin Zhen: “…” What does she mean by that? What is that look supposed to mean?
Yin Zhen placed his hands behind his head, his brow slightly raised, completely unaware of how infuriating he appeared. He commanded, as a matter of course, “Fu Qingzi, I’m hungry.””
Fu Qingzi stood up and looked down at the lord on the bed. If he truly couldn’t walk, that would be one thing, but he simply refused to move his precious body even an inch.
“Must the meal be delivered to your lips, Lord?” Fu Qingzi said seriously, yet her words carried a hint of sarcasm.
The servants had already brought the evening meal earlier. Yin Zhen had said he wasn’t hungry—it was all bland food—so Fu Qingzi had let him be, assuming he would eat when he felt hungry.
Fu Qingzi brought the plain congee to him and offered it, but Yin Zhen did not take it.
Fu Qingzi’s delicate brows furrowed slightly, showing a trace of impatience, though she tried hard to suppress it. “Must it truly be delivered to your lips?”
Only then did Yin Zhen take it, as if provoked by the impatience in Fu Qingzi’s eyes.
To say this woman Fu Qingzi was truly dull would be an understatement, yet he inexplicably felt a desire to tease her.
Fu Qingzi had no mood to care about Yin Zhen’s inexplicable little moods.
Recently, she had been so bored that she became increasingly fond of reading novels, so Qiao An was diligently writing.
Fu Qingzi put down her book and went to the table for a meal. The weather was hot, perfect for eating cold dishes, so when she lifted her gaze, she caught Yin Zhen’s somewhat eager look.
She tentatively asked, “Do you want some too?”
Yin Zhen gave her a look that said, “How can you be so oblivious?” and replied, “Hurry up and bring it over. How can you have the nerve to eat alone?”
Fu Qingzi’s eyes, deep as an autumn pond, grew even more profound. Her tone was indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with her. “You have legs of your own, yet I haven’t seen you walk over.”
Though Yin Zhen stood up and walked over, he still let out a cold laugh, his tone betraying little emotion. “I’ve never seen a consort like you.”
Fu Qingzi returned the smile without hesitation, her voice gentle. “Now you have.”
Fu Qingzi grew increasingly fond of this little fox—small, delicate, and well-behaved. She even became a bit gentler toward Yin Zhen.
She placed the little fox into Yin Zhen’s arms and said with a smile, “Feel it. Isn’t it much cuter than Qianjin?”
Following Fu Qingzi’s suggestion, Yin Zhen reached out his large hand and stroked the little fox’s head. Lowering his voice, he said, “These past few days, I’ve kept you by my side in the tent, not even letting you see the sun outside. I’ve wronged you.”
Fu Qingzi looked up at Yin Zhen in surprise, finding it hard to believe these words came from him. His sudden politeness made her somewhat uncomfortable.
Yin Zhen unexpectedly met Fu Qingzi’s gaze and immediately understood what she was thinking. His tone sharpened. “You just can’t handle kindness, can you?”
Fu Qingzi: “…”
Not having to deal with those women was a relief to her, so there was no question of being wronged or not.
They were to return to the mansion tomorrow. Kangxi still made time every day to visit Yin Zhen in the tent, but Consort De, his own mother, remained as cold and indifferent as ever.
Fu Qingzi slept properly in bed, but Yin Zhen couldn’t fall asleep. Hearing Fu Qingzi’s steady and rhythmic breathing beside him, he pulled her into his arms, breathed in her faint and comforting scent, and drifted off to sleep.
The only trophy Yin Zhen had from the autumn hunt was this little black fox. Its round, bright eyes stared at Fu Qingzi, its large tail wagging incessantly.
Sitting in the carriage, Fu Qingzi glanced at Yin Zhen again, then lowered her gaze, somewhat embarrassed. “Thank you, Lord.”
Yin Zhen narrowed his dark eyes, lifted his chin slightly, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
After returning to the mansion, Fu Qingzi couldn’t resist taking a nap, while Yin Zhen went back to the front courtyard.
Qiao An also quietly waved to Su Peisheng. Over the past few days, Fu Qingzi had been sticking close to Fourth Master in the tent, while she had been spending time with Su Peisheng. After all, writing stories required inspiration, and who better to provide it than Su Peisheng, who understood Fourth Master’s preferences?
When Fu Qingzi woke up, Qiao An excitedly entered the room, looking eager to show off. “Azi, look! Three days—three whole days, and I’ve written over a hundred thousand words.”
Fu Qingzi lay lazily on the couch, took the stack of papers from Qiao An, skimmed through them briefly, and then fixed her smiling eyes on Qiao An’s face. Her tone carried a hint of probing curiosity. “Some of this handwriting looks a lot like Su Peisheng’s.”
Qiao An’s gaze shifted evasively as she stammered, “He just helped me write a bit, nothing else really.”