Shen Lizhuang had begun a comfortable life in the Prince’s Manor, fully devoted to her exam preparations. The collection of books at Consort Yun’s Wangjiang Courtyard seemed inexhaustible; it contained everything from policy treatises to academic essays, all exquisite and peerless. Because she intended to take the examination for the Ministry of Works, she had also recently dabbled extensively in ancient texts concerning engineering and construction.
For the past month, Shen Lizhuang had remained almost entirely within the confines of her residence. If she encountered any academic confusion, she would approach the Prince of Jing for guidance, testing the waters, and to her surprise, he was able to answer her every question.
It was evident that he had possessed a wide breadth of knowledge in his youth. He was already well-read and learned, and having served for several years as a military general in various campaigns, his practical insight was even more extraordinary—especially regarding weaponry and engineering. He spoke of them as if reciting a familiar family history, drawing from extensive sources in his speech. Often, he would resolve her confusion in a mere two or three sentences, and listening to his words felt like drinking sweet dew, instantly clearing the fog from her mind.
He is truly worthy of the title “Master Teacher,” Shen Lizhuang could only sigh. Even though she certainly would not use the title of Princess Consort to take the exam next year, could this day-by-day academic discussion with a master teacher be considered private tutoring in secret?
Sometimes, she would spontaneously write a piece or two in the style of the examination essays and present them to him for his critique.
Since Ji Mu was blind, she would read them to him word by word.
After listening, Ji Mu would offer his evaluation: “There is some improvement. However, The Exploitation of the Works of Nature states, ‘For bowstrings, one should take the silk from silkworm cocoons fed on mulberry leaves; such silk is more resilient.’ That bow of mine has a string made from such silk. While using horsehair reduces the cost of a single bow, it is not practical during wartime and consumes too much. Blending the two would make cotton thread a suitable choice as well.”
Shen Lizhuang had never experienced combat and did not know the specific advantages and disadvantages of bowstring production; her knowledge came purely from books. But after hearing the Prince of Jing’s words, she felt that her own writing could still be refined in the finer details.
“There is no need to be too hurried. With nearly a year to go, this Prince has plenty of time to teach you in detail.”
During this period, Ji Mu had faintly perceived one thing: his Princess Consort was wholeheartedly devoted to the exam. While there was nothing inherently wrong with this, she remained completely indifferent to—and showed no interest in learning about—the intimacies of their shared bedchamber or the way of life between husband and wife.
He did not wish to forcibly pry open the narrow alley and cause her pain when she felt no desire. Yet, if he were to tease her to stir her passion, it would be beneath his station.
They had been married for nearly two months. Aside from the occasional display of diligence when she had need of him, she treated him with a cold indifference once her needs were met, as if all her heart and soul were poured into the study of texts, with not even half a part willing to be spared for him.
This left Ji Mu feeling deeply uncomfortable. At times, he wanted to bring it up with her, but in the pitch-black darkness where he could not see her presence, he was struck by a sudden, powerless feeling of being unable to grasp hold of her. Even though she was right in front of him, within arm’s reach, there was a possibility that she would fly away at any moment. If she truly passed the female examinations and was appointed as an overseer or supervisor in the future, sent off to the southern frontiers or the northern lands, wouldn’t they be living apart?
Yet, she was entirely focused on her studies and examinations, failing to perceive even a sliver of his hidden displeasure, and even seemed to exhibit an impatient yearning for passing the female examination and leaving Yujing.
Beyond his discomfort, this left the Prince of Jing even more bewildered.
People strive for upward mobility; it was not hard to understand her desire to hold office. But the female academy was merely a narrow door opened to women, not even reaching the level of the imperial examinations. Even at its peak, the highest rank would only be a minor fifth-rank official. Could it truly be more attractive than being the first-rank primary consort of a Prince?
Shen Lizhuang noticed that the air pressure around her seemed to have been stagnant and gloomy for who knew how long. Finally unable to bear the icy, sinister chill, she gently turned her face to look at the Prince of Jing, who sat in an armchair fiddling with a teacup, his expression revealing a trace of impatience and agitation.
She did not know much about the affairs between men and women, but she had a vague, subconscious intuition: the Prince of Jing seemed quite interested in her body. Every time they were on the couch, he was either fierce or lost in passion, as if he longed to shatter her very soul. Such intensity of passion was clearly, and somewhat abnormally, fierce, and it was inevitable that he would become emotionally attached due to physical satisfaction.
Shen Lizhuang simply understood that he perhaps needed her to initiate some closeness to coax him. After all, she had been “using” him for so long; she couldn’t just use someone when it suited her and abandon them when it didn’t.
After some thought, Shen Lizhuang called out in a low voice: “Your Highness.”
The teacup rotating in Ji Mu’s palm stilled. The lid clicked shut.
He could not see, so he did not lift his gaze to look, but his ear tips twitched slightly.
Thinking about how they had stayed in the Prince’s Manor all day without going out, which was indeed stifling, Shen Lizhuang said, “The day after tomorrow is the eighth day of the fourth month, the Buddha Bathing Festival. All ten great Zen temples in Yujing City will hold ceremonies, and the one at Ci’en Temple is the most magnificent. I would like to go see it; I have never been in previous years. May I?”
Ji Mu set his teacup on the table. His expression was very faint, the corners of his lips suppressing an arc. “And what difficulty is there in that? The evening after tomorrow, this Prince will bring a carriage to pick you up. Remember to dress modestly; there are some unnecessary conventions in the pure land before the Buddha.”
Shen Lizhuang agreed, never anticipating at that moment who she might encounter at Ci’en Temple.
That night, the Prince of Jing, having suffered through several days of a “monk’s life” of thin congee and vegetarian meals, was filled with particularly intense desire. He suppressed her onto the writing desk she used for practicing calligraphy and had his way with her twice. The xuan paper was soaked through with the “rain,” wrinkled and difficult to use anymore.
When she gasped for breath, thinking she would be granted a reprieve, the Prince of Jing—having tasted the sweetness—was not about to let her go easily. He promised to take her to the bathing room, only to bully her until she was sobbing in the water-splashing tub. The water light in her eyes shattered and reformed, and reformed only to shatter again.
It was like a spring pear blossom from the third month falling into the rippling water, the shadows of the reflections swaying endlessly with the ripples.
She could not take it; she truly could not take it anymore. But begging for mercy was useless. Moreover, this man Ji Mu seemed to have some perverted habits; the more she begged him, the less she would be spared. By the end, she only knew that it was best to bite her lips to prevent herself from making a single sound.
What a difficult ordeal. Several times, Shen Lizhuang even felt that she might be destined to have no connection with the female academy for the rest of her life. If she could not escape, she would be killed on the couch by the Prince of Jing before the examination next year!
As for the following night, it was the same. The study was turned into a mess; even the curio cabinet toppled over, and precious antiques fell to the floor. Fortunately, no glass or jade items were kept on the shelves, or they would have been cruelly destroyed, smashed beyond repair.
Even so, he was still not satisfied, pinching her waist and relentlessly forcing her to speak, forbidding her from being silent, and even more so forbidding her from covering her lips with her hands.
Shen Lizhuang did not dare disobey, yet she did not know what to say, or what she could say. Her head sank repeatedly into the soft, flowery pillow that had been squeezed into a triangle, calling out “Your Highness” in a broken voice. Other than that, she said nothing else.
Having sacrificed nearly two full nights, it was with great difficulty that she endured until the day of the Buddha Bathing Festival.
There were simple and elegant clothes in the wardrobe, but as she picked out an outfit, Yingluo and Zhuji were watching her with tiger-like vigilance.
Shen Lizhuang pulled out a spring silk robe in a misty green with subtle patterns of flowers and bamboo leaves, and was in the middle of comparing it in the glass mirror when she suddenly heard Yingluo ask a question that seemed heavy with sorrow.
“The Second Miss has already become too skilled at being the Princess Consort. If the Eldest Miss returns, can the Second Miss still accept switching back identities?”
In Yingluo’s view, the Second Miss neither avoided the contraceptive decoction nor escaped the affairs of the bedchamber, and now she was even going to celebrate the Buddha Bathing Festival with the eldest sister’s husband—she was clearly becoming more and more like a true Princess Consort.
Yingluo was probing, hoping to get a definitive answer.
Shen Lizhuang pressed the silk robe against her chest, turned her side toward the glass mirror, and kept her eyes fixed on the reflection as she replied, “It has been two months; can Eldest Sister even come back? She can talk about returning if she can return.”
Yingluo furrowed her brows. “Second Miss’s words are so vague. Do you really want to keep up the charade of being a fake wife with the Prince for a long time under the Eldest Miss’s identity?”
Shen Lizhuang let her fingers fall from the robe she was holding. “Yingluo, did I force my elder sister to elope? Did I force you to feed me that cup of Heart-Clearing Tea, or did I force the Prince of Jing to consummate the marriage with me?”
Yingluo knew she could not argue back and lost her words, but the crease between her brows remained deep.
Shen Lizhuang continued, “In the perception of Eldest Sister and yourself, I should just obediently accept the arrangements. If she wants me to impersonate her, I must sacrifice myself and follow the Prince of Jing, taking on her disasters and blocking her misfortunes. If she wants to come back and take over the Prince of Jing, I must obediently abdicate and return her husband to her.”
Yingluo pressed her vermillion lips tight, snatched the silk robe from Shen Lizhuang’s hand, and lowered her voice: “There will be many people at the Buddha Bathing Festival; the Second Miss cannot go.”
Shen Lizhuang snatched the clothes back, ignoring Yingluo’s aggressiveness.
“I will wear a mili (veil hat); no one will notice. The Prince of Jing is a blind man—do you expect him to remember my face?”
Yingluo, at her wit’s end, inexplicably pinned her hopes on Zhuji, glancing sideways at her.
That foolish girl Zhuji was indeed not to be counted on. As soon as she opened her mouth, she said: “Second Miss, this outfit looks too good on you. You have to change into that lake-blue one so you won’t attract so much attention.”
“Thank you for the advice.” Shen Lizhuang put down the green robe and took out the lake-blue dress from the wardrobe.
She held it against her waist to measure it and earnestly asked Zhuji, “Does this look good? Would this dress look good paired with a green vest?”
Zhuji nodded. “Looks good. Good-looking in a way that doesn’t attract eyes.”
Shen Lizhuang took the honest person’s suggestion. “Alright, then this mismatched outfit it is.”
Yingluo, standing to the side, was so angry that she could not resist right in front of Shen Lizhuang; she reached out and pinched Zhuji’s plump, soft cheeks. The pain caused Zhuji to cover her face and scurry away, begging Yingluo for mercy.
Shen Lizhuang watched the farce between the two sisters, thought of something, breathed a long, melancholy sigh, and went into the inner chamber to change.
She had said those words to provoke Yingluo. Whenever Yingluo used an “it goes without saying” tone to demand she leave, Shen Lizhuang could not help but indignantly retort.
But she herself truly did not want to stay in the Prince’s Manor for even a single day. Every time they were on the couch, she had to endure the torment he inflicted; it was agonizing to the extreme. No matter how handsome the Prince of Jing was, no matter how wonderful his mother was—none of that mattered!
She wished that her elder sister would appear at the Buddha Bathing Festival tonight, like a Buddha saving all living beings, to rescue her from this peril, to swap back their misplaced identities, to sacrifice herself to feed the tiger, and offer her flesh to the eagle!