Accidentally Married the Princess [Time Travel] - Chapter 20

The clamor in her ears faded into silence. At first, Gong Yu couldn’t feel any pain, but as her senses slowly returned, the pain surged over her in waves.

It was as if her heart would ache with every beat, and even breathing would send sharp twinges of pain through her. Truly torturous.

Yet Gong Yu found herself unable to open her eyes. Occasionally, she could hear voices, but she couldn’t respond or even lift her eyelids.

“Tsk, is this sickly thing about to die?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down.”

“If that girl from the Dai family hears you, you might end up worse off than the last one who ran their mouth.”

The footsteps gradually faded away. Gong Yu wanted to suddenly speak up and startle them, but before she could, her consciousness slipped away again.

This cycle of intermittent unconsciousness and brief “awakenings” continued until, at last, Gong Yu saw the first rays of sunlight. The warm glow outside the window reassured her. She was still alive.

When the maid entered, Gong Yu turned her head slightly and watched, about to say something, but the maid dropped the basin with a clatter and fled before a single word could leave her lips.

Yes, Gong Yu hadn’t even managed to speak.

Soon after, the physician entered with his medicine box, accompanied by Dai Ru Yan. Gong Yu blinked but remained silent, offering only a faint smile to Dai Ru Yan.

“If she’s awake, she should be fine. She just needs proper rest and recuperation.”

After a while, the physician, maids, and servants all left, leaving only Dai Ru Yan behind in her soft yellow dress, her expression so solemn it was as if she were the one lying injured on the bed.

Gong Yu’s throat felt parched, and since the arrow had struck her back, she could only lie on her stomach.

“Ah-Yan… why aren’t you saying anything?” The moment she spoke, Gong Yu realized how hoarse her voice sounded.

Dai Ru Yan didn’t answer. Instead, she poured tea and carefully fed Gong Yu spoonful by spoonful with her right hand.

Once Gong Yu had drunk her fill, Dai Ru Yan stopped. Her slightly cool fingertips brushed Gong Yu’s cheek for a brief moment before withdrawing.

Before Gong Yu could even process the sudden intimacy, Dai Ru Yan asked softly, “Does the wound still hurt?”

“Not much anymore,” Gong Yu replied with a smile.

“Oh, right… the culprit—no, the assassin—was he caught?”

“The captured accomplices’ testimonies point to the Fourth Prince, who is currently recuperating from illness.”

“Then the previous assassination attempt on the Fourth Prince… wouldn’t happen to be blamed on the Third Prince, would it?”

Dai Ru Yan averted her gaze. “Does Little Ninth also find this suspicious?”

Gong Yu wanted to shake her head, but given her condition, she had no choice but to answer honestly. “It’s too much of a coincidence. Besides, would the Third and Fourth Princes really be that foolish?”

“Simultaneously sending assassins after each other while leaving behind evidence—His Majesty must be furious right now.”

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting patterns on the dark wooden floor. Dai Ru Yan remained silent, her dark eyes calm and unreadable.

Gong Yu paused, letting the pain from speaking subside. Dai Ru Yan reached out and gently smoothed the furrow between Gong Yu’s brows. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Then rest for a while. Speaking will strain the wound.” Dai Ru Yan adjusted the blankets, hesitating before adding, “If you’re bored, you can sleep.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Gong Yu couldn’t help but ask, her gaze lingering on Dai Ru Yan.

“Three days.”

“I thought I’d been asleep for several months.”

“Xiao Jiu,” Dai Ru Yan called softly in a lowered voice.

Gong Yu had no choice but to close her eyes and obediently reply, “Alright, I really won’t speak anymore.”

The room suddenly fell silent. The cicadas outside were loud, and Gong Yu could feel Dai Ru Yan’s gaze resting upon her.

Despite having slept for so long, she inexplicably felt drowsy again. Her consciousness gradually drifted away, and she faintly heard Dai Ru Yan murmur very softly, “If you had just behaved and not sneaked onto that ship, perhaps you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Gong Yu wanted to respond, but her head felt unbearably heavy, and she unknowingly slipped back into slumber.

The recovery process was painful, yet also joyful. For two whole months, Gong Yu didn’t have to rise early to attend political affairs. Whenever Dai Ru Yan had time, she would visit Gong Yu.

However, it was the height of summer, and the heat was often unbearable. Dai Ru Yan kept a close watch, not even allowing Gong Yu half a sip of iced water—truly torturous.

It wasn’t until Gong Yu could finally get up and move around that Dai Ru Yan relaxed her restrictions on her diet.

In the waterside pavilion, Gong Yu sat with a serious expression, flipping through a stack of banknotes. The reason for this was that she felt the amount of silver stored in the residence had grown a bit excessive. She thought about taking some out whether to recruit soldiers and buy horses or to start a business, both seemed like good plans.

After all, if she were to truly wander the world with Dai Ru Yan in the future, having no money at hand wouldn’t do.

The pavilion was shaded by lush greenery, making it the perfect spot to escape the sun. Gong Yu instructed the steward to recruit people to manage the newly opened shops.

Rice and salt were tightly controlled by the state—not something ordinary merchants could meddle with. Tea, silk, and porcelain were managed by powerful families. Gong Yu, feeling she lacked the acumen for such ventures, decided that since the current situation was relatively stable, import trade might still be feasible.

As for military matters, according to the laws of Gong Kingdom, any member of the royal family who privately amassed more than three hundred soldiers would be considered plotting rebellion.

Thus, none of the princes dared to hoard troops openly. However, recruiting talented individuals was perfectly acceptable—everyone did it openly anyway.

After agonizing over the details for most of the day, Gong Yu laid out her requirements for recruitment and left the steward to handle the arrangements.

“Your Highness has truly grown,” the old steward remarked with a gratified expression.

Gong Yu replied somewhat guiltily, “These are just ideas. The rest will rely heavily on your efforts, Steward.”

The old steward smiled warmly and said, “The Dai family has been in trade for generations. I’ve heard that Miss Dai herself manages quite a few of the family’s businesses. Perhaps Your Highness could seek her advice?”

“It’s better not to let her know about this. I’ve already troubled her enough these past few months. Since I’m free now, I’ll treat this as a learning experience.” Gong Yu held a brush in her hand, pondered for a moment, then added, “As for recruiting talents, it’s best not to make it too public.”

“Understood.”

Sitting alone in the pavilion, Gong Yu idly practiced calligraphy, copying down poems.

Back in the day, Gong Yu had been a freshman majoring in Chinese language and literature. But before she could even finish her first year, she ended up in this place.

Most of the ancient poems and phrases she had memorized were long forgotten. She whiled away the time by herself.

The sound of flowing water echoed in the pavilion. Gong Yu had been bedridden for nearly three months, and the wounds on her back had long since scabbed over. Her mind wandered aimlessly until it drifted to Dai Ru Yan.

Gazing at the deaf-mute maid waiting nearby, Gong Yu had once been curious about how Dai Ru Yan could so effortlessly monitor every corner of the residence.

She had even speculated that there might be Dai family connections within the mansion. But how had the original owner, Gong Yu, managed to deceive everyone in the household?

Moreover, how could Gong Yu’s mother, a powerless consort, have successfully disguised a princess as a prince without any assistance?

It was a pity Gong Yu’s mother had passed away years ago—otherwise, Gong Yu wouldn’t have had to start from scratch alone.

Lost in thought, Gong Yu let out an involuntary sigh. Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps startled her. Turning her head, she nearly jumped in fright.

There stood Qingyun, her eyes red and brimming with tears, staring fixedly in her direction, motionless.

“Qingyun?” Gong Yu rubbed her temples in exasperation. “Why are you here again?”

“Big brother… are you abandoning me?”

“N-no, of course not,” Gong Yu replied guiltily.

At her words, Qingyun’s furrowed brow relaxed, and a bright smile spread across her face.

Gong Yu sighed helplessly, watching the maids rushing over from behind. Qingyun’s stamina was truly extraordinary for a young girl. Once she started running through the vast estate, no one could catch up.

After Qingyun had eaten her fill of pastries, she curled up beside the low couch and drifted off to sleep. Gong Yu draped a thin blanket over her before stepping out of the waterside pavilion alone.

The cicadas of midsummer seemed to lurk in every corner of the estate, their incessant chirping impossible to escape.

As she walked along the pebbled path barefoot, the sun gradually dimmed. Though the stones were painful underfoot, the physician had claimed it was good for her health, so Gong Yu endured it.

The crimson sunset bathed every corner of the estate in golden light. Lying on the pebbles, Gong Yu could faintly feel the sweat trickling down her cheeks.

It was as if only now did she truly feel alive in this unfamiliar world. A world where survival demanded ruthless struggle and bloodshed, not the complex and bizarre dream she had once imagined it to be.

She had always reminded herself of this, living temporarily in the role of Gong Yu, believing that one day she might wake up.

So, Gong Yu was in no hurry. She even optimistically accepted everything this world threw at her including the poison-tasting incident.

In fact, there had been a fleeting moment when she thought that if she really died from the poison, perhaps she could leave this illusory world and return to the real one.

But then Dai Ru Yan’s words would suddenly echo in her ears: If you leave the capital, I won’t be able to protect you.

Those words seemed seared into Gong Yu’s heart, an indelible mark no matter how she struggled.

Raising an arm to shield her eyes from the glaring light, Gong Yu couldn’t tell whether the thoughts swirling in her head were a farewell to the twenty-one years of her past life or an acceptance of this world’s harsh reality.

The pebbles, scorched by the sun, burned through her thin robes, making her feel like she was being roasted alive.

Abruptly, hurried footsteps approached. Turning her head, Gong Yu saw Dai Ru Yan staring at her with deep concern.

Dai Ru Yan lifted her skirts slightly, breathing unevenly as she drew closer. Her gaze never left Gong Yu, scrutinizing her with worry before hesitantly bending down to ask, “Xiao Jiu, are you feeling unwell?”

Blinking, Gong Yu propped herself up and replied, “I’m fine. I just wanted to lie down for a while.”

Probably because she had rushed over in such a hurry, Dai Ru Yan’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and even the hair by her ears was a bit disheveled.

Dai Ru Yan looked at Gong Yu uncertainly, as if trying to steady her breath before speaking, “You…”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Gong Yu reassured her, leaning closer.

“You suddenly collapsed in this deserted place, it’s really…” Dai Ru Yan pressed her lips together and didn’t finish her sentence.

Perhaps even the most dazzling sunset couldn’t compare to the delicate, pouting expression on Dai Ru Yan’s face. For the first time in her life, Gong Yu wondered if she might actually like girls.

Because right now, Gong Yu felt her heart beating far too fast as if it were melting in the fading light of dusk.