Meng Qing bit his lower lip nervously, his fingers curling up unconsciously while his eyes gazed at Ji Yanche with steady determination and eager anticipation. Suddenly, he felt a broad, warm palm wrap around his hand, gently drawing it forward to rest against Ji Yanche’s chest.
Feeling the rapid, strong thudding of Ji Yanche’s heart, Meng Qing heard him say:
“I am fond of Qingqing, too.”
“Very much, very much.”
Like a drowning person rescued at the very moment of near death.
Meng Qing’s tense body lost its tension and went completely limp, caught right into Ji Yanche’s arms.
After making his confession, Meng Qing belatedly grew shy, his ears dyeing themselves a faint, pretty shade of pink. At a loss for what to do, he fixed his slightly reddened, almond-shaped eyes pleadingly on Ji Yanche.
Shouldn’t we have reached the kissing part by now? The atmosphere is already set right here.
Meeting Meng Qing’s yearning gaze, Ji Yanche did not follow his lead; instead, he moved the hand that had been resting against his chest up to his own cheek.
“Doesn’t the Consort want to do something?” As he spoke, he lightly brushed his lips back and forth across Meng Qing’s palm, his gaze direct and burning, radiating boundless affection as if entirely at his mercy.
…Seduction. He is trying to seduce me, isn’t he?
Yet there was no helping it; Meng Qing’s self-control completely shattered in front of Ji Yanche, leaving him utterly incapable of resistance.
Crooking his arms around Ji Yanche’s neck, Meng Qing leaned up and pressed his lips to his.
A long while later, Meng Qing lay in bed with flushed cheeks, breathing lightly as his garments were slightly disheveled, several fresh red marks newly added to his collarbone.
In high spirits, Ji Yanche leisurely and methodically straightened Meng Qing’s robes. “So, why was my wife unhappy today?”
Ah, he just knew Dushun would rat him out to the Prince QAQ.
Since things had already progressed to this point, Meng Qing figured there was nothing left to hide, and he spilled out every single worry that had plagued him all day long, detail by detail.
Ji Yanche, however, was stunned for a moment before sighing softly. “It is this husband’s fault for failing to give Qingqing a sense of security.” He grasped Meng Qing’s hand, their fingers interlocking, and gazed at him with eyes as tender as water.
“Qingqing, I only like you, and only you.”
The Patrol Office
With a focused expression, Chen Ping reported to Ji Yanche, “Your Highness, the Zhao Family Gambling Den has now been successfully sealed. Aside from Zhao Tianying, all other members of the Zhao family have been arrested and brought to justice. The land deeds and real estate documents collected fill four large boxes, and the confiscated gold is countless. How should these assets be disposed of?”
Ji Yanche pondered for a moment, speaking with clear, organized logic: “Allocate fifty percent to the Jiangnan region to ensure next year’s grain harvest remains unaffected; use thirty percent as military rations to be transported to Liaodong, and hand them over to the Second Prince for proper handling; turn the remainder over to the Commoner Bureau so they can produce more winter clothing for those in need.” In just a few brief sentences, he neatly settled the complex financial distribution.
“Zhao Tianying…”
“He is the eldest son of the Zhao family. This subordinate discovered that he left the capital for Suzhou two months ago, claiming externally that he was visiting relatives. Calculating the timeline, he should be returning soon,” Chen Ping added. “However, this subordinate checked the Zhao family genealogy, and they have no relatives whatsoever in Suzhou. Instead, they have numerous trade transactions there, and the items they purchased turned out to be cosmetic powders and rouges.”
“Rouge? What kind of rouge requires a special trip to Suzhou to haul back cargo?” A mocking smirk curved the corners of Ji Yanche’s mouth, suspicion flashing in his eyes. “Chen Ping, make sure to apprehend Zhao Tianying and interrogate him thoroughly.”
“This subordinate understands.”
As early winter set in, the courtyard behind the Prince Ning’s Manor presented a desolate scene, with only a few scattered patches of green leaves swaying in the chilly wind. Meng Qing had recently taken a deep interest in Go, teaching himself numerous techniques from books. As today happened to be Ji Yanche’s day off at home, Meng Qing enthusiastically dragged him out to the pavilion, insisting on a match against him.
“Ah, no, no, I played that wrong, let me take it back.”
Watching the person frowning as he took back his move for the third time, Ji Yanche smiled helplessly, patiently waiting for Meng Qing to finish pondering.
“Alright, right here.” Meng Qing looked confident.
Ji Yanche glanced at the board; he knew perfectly well that this move wasn’t ideal, but he still offered a gentle encouragement: “Qingqing has improved.” With that, he deliberately dropped his black piece in an inconsequential spot, letting the white pieces connect his main army right through the middle.
Meng Qing stared at the chessboard for a moment before finally noticing something, his eyes lighting up with bright anticipation.
“Oh? Husband, did I win like this?”
A gust of chilly wind swept past, causing those few surviving green leaves to flutter down, one of them landing squarely on Meng Qing’s shoulder. Ji Yanche raised a hand to brush it away gently, his fingertips gliding along the ends of his ink-black hair as he smiled and said:
“Yes, Qingqing is amazing.”
Though Meng Qing knew he was deliberately throwing the game, he couldn’t help feeling immensely pleased with himself. He stepped forward, cupped Ji Yanche’s cheeks, and planted a kiss, acting a bit shy. “Husband, pamper me.”
Ji Yanche covered his hand, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Just a kiss on the cheek?”
Trying to seduce me again. Meng Qing wasn’t going to fall for his tricks anymore; every time they started kissing it invariably ended up in bed. Although they were both restless novices still tasting the novelty of intimacy, they couldn’t keep tossing each other around every single day. Besides, his lips had been gnawed on so much lately that eating had become troublesome.
“Hmph, only a kiss on the cheek!”
“Your Highness, Your Highness the Consort, it is time for dinner.” Dushun appeared right on cue, smiling so broadly that the wrinkles on his face smoothed out into blooming lines at the sight of their sweet interaction.
Although their Prince had always been gentle and polite, people had previously always felt something was missing, a lingering sense of strong detachment radiating from him. Even when afflicted with a fatal poison, he had faced death without the slightest emotional fluctuation, as if his heart were made of ice, like an emotionless dummy.
To put it crudely: Living is fine, dying is fine too.
But now, with the Consort by his side, he possessed vitality, warmth, and a soft spot in his heart.
“Huayi went shopping on the street yesterday and said a hot pot restaurant just opened on Vermilion Bird Avenue. The aroma could be smelled from ten li away, and business is booming. I’d love to taste what it’s like,” Meng Qing said, chewing his food while gazing longingly at Ji Yanche.
He must understand my hint by now.
Ji Yanche naturally grasped his intention, pinching Meng Qing’s cheek with fond indulgence as he said helplessly, “Then how about this husband accompanies my wife there tomorrow after coming down from court?”
Meng Qing nodded eagerly like a chick pecking at rice, beaming with joy. “That’s wonderful, wonderful! I just knew Husband treats me best.”
“Be a good boy and finish your meal.”
The Prime Minister’s Estate
“Damn, damn, damn, damn! That accursed Bai Wujou—was he born a dog?!”
Supporting his aching waist with one hand and holding a mirror in the other, Shinian stared at the conspicuous bite mark on his neck. The more he thought about it, the more he felt he couldn’t stay here any longer; otherwise, he’d sooner or later be tortured to death in bed by Bai Wujou, which would honestly be worse than being trampled to death by others.
The more Shinian thought about it, the more resolute he became. He a high-caliber criminal investigator from the twenty-fourth century refused to be pinned down and bullied in bed; it was simply too humiliating! Pack up his bundle and escape once more.
This kind of forced-love, substitute-trope, angsty melodrama wasn’t suited for him. A simple, down-to-earth farming life in the countryside was the true path to survival!