Jing Moxuan did not answer her question but instead said, “Didn’t the Fifth Miss Jiang also live such a life in Chengxiangfu? Even when Jiang Wenxiang made you marry this cripple in place of your half-sister, you had no choice but to comply.”
Jiang Qingran blinked, a faint smile curling her lips.
“Yes, we are both the same kind of people. But fortunately, I was driven out of the house at the age of six and learned… many life-saving skills. If I didn’t want to marry, Jiang Wenxiang couldn’t force me.”
After a pause, she leaned her face closer to Jing Moxuan again. “What if I said that I married you because I sincerely like you, want to cherish you, love you, and take care of you? Would you believe me?”
Jing Moxuan merely glanced at her indifferently and raised his hand to push her face away.
“Frivolous.”
In this world, aside from his long-deceased birth mother, no one would ever cherish or love him again.
But Jiang Qingran only noticed his hand—it was so cold.
Remembering that she had brought fabric among her dowry, she rummaged through the trunks and found two bolts.
Then she took a measuring tape and measured Jing Moxuan’s body.
“Jiang Qingran, what are you doing?”
Jing Moxuan felt extremely uncomfortable all over.
“Making clothes for you.”
“I’m not cold, and I don’t need your hypocritical gestures. Get away!”
Jiang Qingran angrily threw the measuring tape aside.
“Hmph! You don’t know what’s good for you. Freeze to death, you bastard.”
Jing Moxuan sneered. “What, you can’t keep up the act for even this long? Just like everyone else, cursing me as soon as you open your mouth.”
“I…”
Jiang Qingran was momentarily speechless. “I’m different from them. They look down on you, but I curse you because, as your wife, you don’t appreciate my good intentions.”
Jing Moxuan said nothing, his heart growing three degrees colder.
A normal woman, forced to marry a cripple, would surely cry and make a scene.
But this Jiang Qingran remained calm and composed, not only speaking flirtatious words to deceive him but also acting like a young wife from an ordinary family, coquettish and willful.
Could it be that the Empress and Jiang Wenxiang had discovered something and conspired to send this discarded daughter to spy on him?
Killing the Empress’s people—was it just her way of gaining his trust more quickly?
Soon, Mei Huan brought over the food.
Glutinous rice chicken, braised fish, eight-treasure duck, steamed pork ribs, stir-fried bamboo shoots, pan-fried tofu, and white fungus and lotus seed soup.
How could Jiang Qingran really stay angry with Jing Moxuan? She now placed a pair of chopsticks in front of him.
“Your Highness, eat more.”
Then, Jiang Qingran picked up a piece of rib and put it in her mouth. It was fragrant but not greasy, very tender and delicious!
But after she ate several bites, Jing Moxuan still hadn’t touched his chopsticks.
“Why isn’t Your Highness eating? Are you afraid you don’t have the silver to afford it? Don’t worry, I have money. I’ll support you. When I came, Chancellor Jiang gave me one hundred thousand taels of sycee. Even if we do nothing, it’s enough for us to live in luxury for a lifetime.”
As she spoke, she placed a chicken leg in Jing Moxuan’s bowl.
Jing Moxuan looked up at her. One hundred thousand taels—for Chancellor Jiang to be so generous to a discarded daughter, who would believe there was no ulterior motive behind it?
But then, why was she eating the food so heartily? Could it be she didn’t know there was a slow-acting poison in it?
For over a decade, he had eaten spoiled leftovers. Every time the food improved, it contained poison.
This time was no exception.
It seemed Jiang Wenxiang’s disdain for this legitimate daughter was genuine. For the sake of his own grand scheme, he didn’t care whether she lived or died.
“Cough… cough…”
Jing Moxuan suddenly broke into a fit of violent coughing, nearly gasping for breath.
“Your Highness is unwell and has no appetite.”
“Your Highness, are you all right?”
Jiang Qingran quickly rose to pat Jing Moxuan’s back, seizing the opportunity to grasp his wrist.
Hmm?
This pulse—at first touch, it seemed critically ill, but upon deeper examination, perfectly healthy?
An illusion?
A cover-up?
Jiang Qingran suddenly seemed to understand something.
Turning to Mei Huan, she said, “Hurry and prepare medicine for Your Highness. If anything happens to him, Ben Fei will not spare any of you servants!”
“Yes, yes!”
Mei Huan hastily retreated.