“Has the Consort still not woken up?” Huayi asked with a face full of worry.
Dushun shook his head. “Get the meals prepared first; the Consort is likely to be starved once he wakes up.”
Inside the room, Ji Yanche was holding a jar of ointment, meticulously and carefully applying it to the friction wounds left by the ropes on Meng Qing’s wrists. His brow was tightly furrowed, his expression deeply focused and earnest, while his eyes brimmed with heartache and self-reproach.
Opening his eyes, Meng Qing was greeted by this deeply husbandly scene. How blissful, he thought, momentarily forgetting even to make a sound.
Just as Ji Yanche was about to apply the medicine to Meng Qing’s other wrist, he inadvertently lifted his gaze and discovered that the person on the bed had already woken up and was staring blankly right at him.
Huh?
Did the blow affect his head too?
“Qingqing, you’re awake. Why didn’t you say anything?” Ji Yanche reached out to feel his forehead; the fever had broken, so he should be completely out of danger.
“Wuwuwu, Husband, I’ve missed you so much.” Meng Qing could hold back no longer as he lunged straight into Ji Yanche’s embrace, tears bursting forth and flowing uncontrollably.
He had never been one prone to acting spoiled or crying easily, yet now, treated with such tender care and cradled like a treasured pearl in Ji Yanche’s hands, he found himself turning fragile, unable to stem the flood of tears.
“There, there, it’s all over now. From now on, no matter what happens, your husband will stay by your side,” Ji Yanche promised, using his thumb to wipe away the warm tears.
Meng Qing nodded tearfully, just about to continue pouring out his grievances when a sudden thought struck him. He jerked his head upward only to smack squarely into Ji Yanche’s chin. “Husband, how is that person?”
“He sustained some superficial wounds; nothing serious.” Reaching out, Ji Yanche pressed Meng Qing back into his embrace, lightly tapping his forehead with a feigned, scolding reproach: “You’re still recovering from illness, you shouldn’t be so reckless.”
“That’s a relief.” Learning that the person was safe and sound, Meng Qing let out a breath of relief. Raising a hand to rub the chin he had just bumped, he looked up with a face full of apologetic remorse. “Does it hurt, Husband? Should I blow on it for you?”
Looking at him with helpless amusement, Ji Yanche pinned his restless hand down and patiently explained, “His name is Shinian, and he’s from the Prime Minister’s Estate. Prime Minister Bai has already taken him back.”
“He’s actually from the Prime Minister’s Estate?” Meng Qing was somewhat surprised before adding, “If it weren’t for him, I never would have escaped. We must pay a formal visit to express our gratitude another day.”
“Silly Qingqing.”
Hearing him say this, Ji Yanche smiled and pinched his cheek. “You are honored as the Prince’s Consort; if anyone should be making a formal visit to express gratitude, it’s them.”
Oh, right. I suppose I don’t quite understand these things yet TvT.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Meng Qing buried his face against Ji Yanche’s chest to rub away his shyness, speaking in a muffled voice to change the subject: “Husband, I’m so hungry. Can we eat now?”
Ji Yanche picked up a lotus-pink outer robe from the side and draped it over Meng Qing’s shoulders before sweeping him up horizontally into his arms.
“Dushun, serve dinner.”
Dish after exquisite dish of mouth-watering food was carried to the table, causing Meng Qing’s eyes to widen into perfect circles as his entire being snapped back to alertness. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in nearly two days, and right now, these dishes looked incomparably alluring. However, the moment he reached out to pick up his chopsticks, Ji Yanche intercepted him.
Clack.
A glazed bowl filled with a pitch-black, bitter medicinal decoction was set down steadily right in front of him.
“Qingqing, you must drink your medicine first.”
Can I refuse?
As it turned out, no, he couldn’t. Under Ji Yanche’s unquestionable, unyielding gaze, Meng Qing pinched his nose and chugged it down in one go. An acrid, biting bitterness rushed straight to his crown, triggering an immediate wave of nausea.
Bleh.
Clutching his chest, Meng Qing fought down a physiological urge to vomit, swallowing it back with sheer willpower.
Heart aching immensely, Ji Yanche stroked his back and popped a preserved plum straight into his mouth.
“Why are you so obedient?”
The sweetness of the plum rapidly suppressed the lingering bitterness in his mouth. Collecting himself, Meng Qing flashed a sweet smile at Ji Yanche: “I mustn’t fall sick ever again; this medicine is far too awful to drink.”
Watching his reddened eye rims, Ji Yanche felt his heart skip a beat. He leaned forward to press a kiss against the corner of his tear-stained eye, then brushed a light peck across his lips.
“Mhm. May our Qingqing be safe and sound through the years.”
[The Prime Minister’s Estate]
Waking up slowly, Shinian was greeted by the sight of a face even darker than coal. Better close my eyes again.
Fuck, why am I back here?
Daring not open his eyes, he prayed this was merely a hallucination.
“Grown bold enough, haven’t you?”
Bai Wujou truly admired Shinian’s knack for slipping away the moment he looked away, only to stir up yet another mountain of trouble.
“How can anyone stay obediently stuck in this place?”
I can’t take this anymore.
Drawing a deep breath, Shinian vaulted straight up from the bed.
“I don’t want to stay here!”
“I hate you, I hate the Prime Minister’s Estate, I hate everything about this place! Do you not understand?”
“Why must you insist on keeping me trapped here? Isn’t it Shiyan whom you actually love? Why must you still sleep with me?”
“Why force me to do things I despise? Have you ever respected me? Have you ever treated me like a human being?”
Shinian’s voice carried a distinct tremor as the grievances and fury suppressed deep within his heart erupted completely.
“Bai Wujou, let me make this crystal clear to you today: I find you utterly disgusting, and I’m sick to death of this place. I can’t stay here for even a single second longer. So you damn well better let! Me! Go!”
Bai Wujou gazed fixedly into Shinian’s eyes, blazing with fury, and listened to those harsh, unfiltered curses. Strangely, a bizarre sensation welled up within his chest, and he even found the scene somewhat exhilarating.
A long while later, Shinian heard him say:
“In your dreams.”
A light, misty drizzle began to fall over the capital, soaking the grey-blue flagstones of the long streets and stirring up ripples of expanding concentric circles.
“Head to Xiuyun Bakery on East Street.” Inside the carriage, a steady, deep voice resonated.
“Is Your Highness planning to buy pastries for the Consort? Truly a picture of deep affection and harmony, the envy of everyone!” Liu Wenyuan gently fanned himself with a folding fan, a teasing, playful smile curving across his lips as he bantered.
Ji Yanche sat with his eyes closed in meditation, his expression serene and his tone calm yet brooking no dissent: “Step out if you want to flap your jaws any more.”
Hearing this, Liu Wenyuan swiftly snapped his folding fan shut and obediently submitted: “I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness.”
Yet, being someone entirely incapable of keeping his mouth shut, he felt as though he might suffocate if he stayed silent. Thus, hesitating for a moment, and braving the risk of being booted out of the moving carriage, he opened his mouth once more: “The matcha cakes from Xiuyun Bakery are truly peerless; one bite fills your mouth with a rich tea aroma, making you feel as though you’re standing right in the middle of a tea plantation, and the crust is wonderfully crisp with a hint of toasted fragrance…”
“And their signature mung bean pastry—the outer crust is as thin as a cicada’s wing, while the filling is sweet without being cloying. The Consort will definitely love it.”
“The most classic choice is still the pineapple pastry, sweet and tart…”
Annoyed beyond endurance by his endless, menu-reciting chatter, Ji Yanche finally cut him off:
“How is the investigation proceeding regarding that batch of cosmetic powders and rouges linked between the Jiangnan region and the Zhao family?”
That batch of cosmetics had been exceedingly bizarre and suspicious. Following Zhao Tianying’s death, Zhao Tianlu had also committed suicide in prison. They had covered their tracks exceptionally well, and the remaining members of the Zhao family knew nothing about it whatsoever, causing this lead to snap dead in its tracks.
Hearing this, Liu Wenyuan abandoned his food recommendations, his expression turning serious as he replied with a hint of puzzlement: “No leads yet. On the surface, they’re just completely normal cosmetic powders. Why did Your Highness suddenly bring this up?”
“Mhm, keep investigating.” Ji Yanche did not answer his question, turning instead to instruct Chenbi who was driving outside:
“Stop the carriage and throw him out.”
Chenbi moved with swift efficiency; before Liu Wenyuan could even struggle, he was deposited neatly by the roadside. The carriage sped past him, its wheels kicking up accumulated rainwater that splashed across a large portion of his clothes. Gazing at the receding carriage, Liu Wenyuan lamented with a heart full of anguish:
“Such a ruthless Prince.”