After Transmigrating as the White Lotus Crown Princess - Chapter 9

Mu Jinyu sat opposite Ning Huan.

Dieqing was about to step forward to serve the dishes, but Mu Jinyu, who didn’t care much for formal etiquette himself, said: “You may leave.”

Dieqing cast a glance at Ning Huan. Ning Huan nodded: “Go on.” Only with Ning Huan’s permission did Dieqing depart.

The dishes on the table were fragrant, and their colors and presentation were exceptionally beautiful. Ning Huan thought to himself that Mu Jinyu was currently a sickly person; it wasn’t realistic to expect this ill and violent “great lord” to serve others. He used a spoon to dish out two bowls of soup and placed them before each of them.

The milky broth contained jade-white yams and golden chestnuts. Both the chestnuts and yams were sliced thinly; the chestnuts were waxy and fragrant, soaked through with the broth, while the yams were clear and sweet. It was a sight that truly whetted the appetite.

Mu Jinyu had never eaten this before and asked before tasting: “What is this?”

Ning Huan replied: “Gold and Jade Soup.”

Mu Jinyu took a sip. The broth was delicious—it was lamb broth, yet it lacked even a hint of gaminess. Instead, it was sweet, mellow, and flavorful. With the world outside frozen in ice and snow, drinking a bit of nourishing broth now made his entire body warm up.

All the tableware shared the same style—a complete set of white jade porcelain with gold sprinkles. The jade-like vessels were warm, moist, and snow-white, making the dishes placed inside look particularly stunning.

Mu Jinyu had long heard that Ning Huan was picky; seeing this now, he realized exactly how he was picky. These items were actually selected by Ning Huan from his dowry; he chose a few sets he liked for personal use, while those he disliked remained in the warehouse.

The other dishes were common fare: a plate of Hibiscus Chicken Slices, a plate of Sliced Meat Braised with Winter Bamboo Shoots, and a plate of Diced Pheasant Sautéed with Pickled Melon. The only drawback was that the portions on each plate were very small. The soup was exactly one bowl per person. All the food on these plates combined wasn’t enough for half of one of Mu Jinyu’s usual meals.

He raised an eyebrow: “It’s a struggle for the cooks in your courtyard to make exactly this small an amount of food.”

Ning Huan took a piece of bamboo shoot with his chopsticks: “This is a portion for one person. What is delivered to me is this much. If Your Highness feels it is not enough, just have them bring more, or send someone to the street to buy some.”

Mu Jinyu snorted: “Your meaning, I suspect, is that you didn’t expect I would come.” In Mu Jinyu’s eyes, Ning Huan was proving to be an extremely incompetent Princess.

Ning Huan didn’t have a large appetite; usually, even this much was more than he could finish. Dieqing soon brought up a bowl of Shredded Chicken and Bird’s Nest. This time, there was only one serving; the servants hadn’t anticipated Mu Jinyu’s arrival.

Mu Jinyu looked up at Ning Huan. Ning Huan was very thin, so his chest was flat without any curve. Even so, he was peerlessly beautiful. Right now, dressed in white and holding a white jade spoon with gold sprinkles, his hands looked exceptionally delicate due to his pampered upbringing—the tips of his fingers were tinged with a faint red, and a slender wrist emerged from his white sleeve.

Mu Jinyu was suddenly reminded of the vivid dream from the afternoon. The other person being pinned down by both wrists in the corridor, with fine snow drifting outside. Ning Huan’s face was flushed, half his body leaning out of the corridor. The fine snow had just landed on his warm skin and melted into water droplets. Other details were forgotten, but he clearly remembered those indifferent eyes looking at him with cold clarity, even though the sockets were filled with tears.

Mu Jinyu suddenly became irritable.

The dishes were removed one by one, the plates left clean. Mu Jinyu rarely saw such a scene. In the palace, meals were served according to status, always a full table. As the Crown Prince, his status was noble, and he couldn’t let his likes or dislikes be easily shown to others. Thus, he would taste a bit of everything; what was delivered whole was basically removed whole. The items from the Imperial Kitchen were just so-so—neither delicious nor unpalatable—and often served cold.

Ning Huan’s food was unexpectedly delicious. He took a sip of clear tea to rinse his mouth.

Ning Huan was wondering when Mu Jinyu would leave. This sudden visit had made him wonder if the man had been replaced by someone else. In the original plot, Mu Jinyu loathed the original owner. It was the original owner who, after marrying in and finding she lacked favor, began using tricks to seduce Mu Jinyu to secure her position with an heir, while turning the estate upside down and suppressing any favored concubines.

Mu Jinyu put down his teacup. He noticed a soft couch by the window with a low table holding a chess set. He glanced at Ning Huan: “You know how to play chess?”

Ning Huan nodded: “Only a little.”

Mu Jinyu sat down: “Accompany me for a game.”

It wasn’t rare for a noble lady to understand the four arts (zither, chess, calligraphy, painting), but it was rare for Ning Huan to understand them. In Mu Jinyu’s eyes, Ning Huan likely only spent his energy on hooking men—learning how to put on a pitiable act to make men like him was probably his primary study.

Ning Huan walked over slowly: “The short sword Your Highness wears at your waist is very beautiful. If I win, give me that sword.”

The short sword at Mu Jinyu’s waist was a new acquisition—entirely black, glinting with cold light. He had been wearing it often lately. In this dynasty, noble men—whether civil or military officials—had the habit of wearing swords.

“Your eye for things is not bad,” Mu Jinyu said. “But though it looks light, it is actually very heavy. Can you even lift it?”

Ning Huan replied: “If I can’t lift it, it’s still good as a decoration.” His dowry was large but contained no weapons. Ning Huan felt he needed something for self-defense to feel at peace.

Mu Jinyu’s deep eyes looked at him: “And if you lose?”

Ning Huan let out a light laugh, intentionally teasing him: “How about I offer myself to your bed?”

Mu Jinyu snorted: “I will absolutely never touch you.”

From the first moment he saw Ning Huan and had a conflict with her, Mu Jinyu knew he would never take a liking to this woman. Back then his eyes were dull and didn’t notice Ning Huan’s beauty, but even now that he had, Mu Jinyu was certain he wasn’t a man who would bow for a pretty face.

Ning Huan sat down, picking up a black jade chess piece. Mu Jinyu took the first move. While playing, Mu Jinyu wasn’t fully focused; he was thinking of other things, his mind drifting slightly. When he married Ning Huan, Prince Yue was out of the capital on business and hadn’t returned. A flash of coldness appeared in Mu Jinyu’s eyes—he wondered if that brother would even make it back alive…

“Your Highness,” Ning Huan’s voice carried a hint of a smile. “You’ve lost.”

Mu Jinyu suddenly came back to his senses. In just a short quarter-hour, Ning Huan had actually gained the upper hand. Although Mu Jinyu’s mind wasn’t on the board, he hadn’t forgotten what he was doing; he couldn’t believe he had lost so quickly.

Ning Huan reached out a hand, his fingers curling slightly, eyes full of smiles: “Give it to me.”

Mu Jinyu’s face instantly darkened, and he handed the short sword he was wearing to Ning Huan. Ning Huan lifted his middle finger and lightly tapped the blade; the clanging metallic sound reached his ears. He smiled: “Not bad.”

Mu Jinyu said: “Another round.”

Ning Huan had the item he wanted, so he wasn’t as focused afterward. The sky grew dark, and he felt a bit sleepy. He knew Mu Jinyu’s character was one that sought revenge for even a slight; if he didn’t let him win back, the man wouldn’t let it go. Just now Mu Jinyu had been distracted, which counted as giving him a win; now Ning Huan intentionally let the other win a few times.

Mu Jinyu saw that Ning Huan’s chess skills were high—much better than he had imagined. He also saw that Ning Huan was letting him win. This round, Mu Jinyu won easily.

Ning Huan took a sip of tea to refresh himself, about to see his guest off.

Mu Jinyu spoke: “Let’s go to bed.”

Ning Huan thought his ears were playing tricks on him, but Mu Jinyu had already walked toward the inner chamber. At night, Ning Huan didn’t require Dieqing or the others to keep watch; he wasn’t particularly familiar with them, and he was naturally a wary person who didn’t trust others easily.

Thus, the room held only him and Mu Jinyu. He slept on the inside as usual, separated by the distance of nearly a whole person.

In the middle of the night, Mu Jinyu was coughing again; Ning Huan suspected he might cough his heart out. The coughing was loud, and with Ning Huan’s shallow sleep, he naturally couldn’t stay asleep. But he was too exhausted; he estimated it was the Hour of the Ox (1 AM – 3 AM), the time when most sleep sweetest. Mu Jinyu hadn’t woken up either, coughing unconsciously in his sleep.

When the other began a heart-wrenching coughing fit again, Ning Huan truly couldn’t bear it. He reached out and covered Mu Jinyu’s lips: “Don’t cough.”

Mu Jinyu froze and instantly woke up. Ning Huan had crossed the distance and was leaning against him. The clear scent of sandalwood mixed with white lotus was particularly prominent. His voice carried heavy drowsiness: “Your Highness, I still need to sleep.”

He was truly exhausted. Ning Huan’s body wasn’t like that of a common woman—soft enough to melt at a touch. His fingers were long and slender, with a noticeable skeletal feel, and they were slightly cold.

Then, a bit of stickiness seeped through. Because Mu Jinyu couldn’t help but spit out some blood.

Ning Huan woke up with a start. He hurriedly released Mu Jinyu, looking at the blood on his palm and fingers. His skin was originally white—a colorless white like frost or snow—and the dark blood flowed down his fingers, reaching his plain white inner robes. The fabric was instantly soaked with a large patch of red.

Mu Jinyu’s eyes were heavy, a bit of blood still at the corner of his mouth: “My apologies for getting you dirty.”

His collar was slightly open, revealing a hideous scar on his chest. Mu Jinyu himself was peerlessly handsome—so handsome he carried a hint of eldritch aura. His frame was tall and thin, his chest and abdominal muscles well-defined, with the scar running across them. It was a sight that would startle anyone at first glance.

Mu Jinyu noticed Ning Huan’s gaze and said mockingly: “Is it disgusting?”

Ning Huan’s eyes were flat: “I’ll have someone call the imperial physician—” As he spoke, he was about to get off the bed.

Mu Jinyu gripped his shoulder: “No need.”

He gave Ning Huan a handkerchief. Ning Huan wiped the blood from his hand, finger by finger, until the stain vanished and the snow-white color returned. From Mu Jinyu’s angle, he could see Ning Huan was exceptionally thin—his chest truly had no outline at all.

Ning Huan said: “Tomorrow I’ll flip through some medical texts and find a prescription for you.”

Mu Jinyu snorted: “The physicians in the Imperial Academy have no solution, yet you do?”

Ning Huan cast a sidelong glance at him. The physicians had no solution because Mu Jinyu refused to see them and loved self-torment; if he didn’t let people see him and just endured it himself, how could he get better? If he truly allowed all the physicians to examine him, find the cause, and take medicine for about half a year, he would have stopped coughing long ago.

At this moment, Ning Huan wasn’t familiar with Mu Jinyu; his concern for the man’s health was likely just for the sake of his own sleep. Who knew if a “mad” Mu Jinyu would show up again another day and sleep in the same bed with him?

Ning Huan didn’t want to state the reason, saying only: “Maybe there’s a way. Do you want tea? I’ll pour you a cup.”

He took the kettle from the stove and poured a cup of clear tea. The white steam from the hot tea rose up. Ning Huan hadn’t slept enough and felt waves of weakness in his body. He didn’t have to worry about Mu Jinyu suddenly becoming lustful—not only did Mu Jinyu not like men, but in this “coughing-to-death” state, he likely lacked the strength to do anything even if he wanted to.

He felt the tea had cooled a bit, so he tasted it to see if it was still hot. Then, realizing he was so dazed he used his own mouth to test the temperature, yet being too lazy to pour another cup and wait for it to cool, he handed it to Mu Jinyu.

Mu Jinyu had just seen Ning Huan lower his head to drink from this cup. Usually, he was extremely fastidious, but right now he didn’t care; he took it and rinsed his mouth.

The smell of blood faded significantly. The dim yellow lamp was still lit, its flame flickering. In the shadows, Ning Huan’s bamboo-like figure possessed a unique beauty. He was like a painting, or like the crescent moon in the sky.

Then, another handful of calming incense was placed in the burner. Ning Huan returned from the outer room and lay back beside Mu Jinyu: “Go to sleep.”

Mu Jinyu knew Ning Huan was exhausted. For the rest of the night, he didn’t fall asleep again, but naturally, he didn’t cough anymore either.