After Transmigrating into a Book, I Was Entangled by the Paranoid Eldest Princess - Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Who would spend their time thinking about someone they don’t like?

Unwilling to deal with a mindless, overbearing lunatic, Wen Chenqing pretended she hadn’t been shaken awake. She pulled her quilt upward, attempting to bury her entire self under the covers to escape the harassment.

But the insufferable woman instead reached out and whipped the quilt away.

“You are not allowed to sleep. When bengong is not by your side, why is it that you sleep so soundly?”

In the darkness, Wen Chenqing rolled her eyes.

It was precisely because Si Jinghua wasn’t by her side that she could sleep soundly.

Realizing she could no longer fake it, she sat halfway up, allowing the damp, alcohol-scented drunk to lean against her. She lit the lamp and glimpsed the flickering shadows of figures outside the door.

“Fuqu, Her Highness is drunk. Quickly, take Her Highness back to rest.”

“I’m not leaving!” Si Jinghua’s slender arms looped around Wen Chenqing’s neck. She pressed her face against her cheek in an intimate rub, her breath—laden with the scent of wine—hot and impossible to ignore. “I am resting here tonight. No one is permitted to disturb me!”

Fuqu’s troubled voice came from outside: “Second Miss Wen, as you can see, Her Highness refuses to leave, and it has started raining again. I must trouble you to take good care of Her Highness tonight.”

Wen Chenqing said calmly, “I do not know how to wait on people.”

Much less an annoying drunk.

Fuqu replied, “Just do as you usually do, Second Miss Wen.”

With those words, Wen Chenqing heard the sound of the door being pulled shut.

“…”

Wen Chenqing lowered her eyes. Beside her, the woman’s phoenix eyes—moist with wine, stared at her with intense focus.

The drunken Si Jinghua possessed a hint of A-Jin’s temperament; she was less wanton and reckless, and more soft and alluring.

Wen Chenqing asked steadily, “Is Your Highness truly drunk?”

Si Jinghua clung to her, whispering in her ear: “Why won’t A-Qing look at me? These past few days I have been buried in important affairs; does A-Qing truly not miss me in the slightest?”

Wen Chenqing pulled the arms away from her neck: “It seems Your Highness is indeed drunk. You should rest early then.”

“Is A-Qing still resentful over the matter of the concealment? Was the peace and submissiveness of the past few days merely a lie to deceive me?”

The burning-hot woman mumbled to herself, looking every bit the part of someone whose senses were blurred by wine.

Wen Chenqing silently helped her remove her outer robe, pulling her off her body to settle her onto the bed. Her own sleeping robe’s collar was rudely pushed aside by Si Jinghua, revealing a patch of fair skin.

Si Jinghua’s fingertips lightly traced the distinct line of her collarbone.

“You’ve grown thin.” Her slightly inebriated gaze lingered on the bone. “Is A-Qing also missing me? To the point of not eating properly?”

Heh. Sometimes one really had to admire the sheer confidence of this shameless person.

Wen Chenqing brushed her hand away, tidied her collar, and said flatly, “Rest, Your Highness.”

She pulled the quilt over her and reached for her own outer robe to put on, intending to get out of bed.

In the next second, the drunkard on the bed frowned with dissatisfaction and entangled her again. Her arms tightly encircled Wen Chenqing’s waist, her burning cheek pressed into the crook of her neck, her breath scorching: “Where is A-Qing going?”

Wen Chenqing looked down at the hands locked around her waist.

“I cannot sleep. I’m going to read for a while.”

As she spoke, a sudden crack of thunder exploded in the dark night sky. The massive boom made the window frames tremble.

Almost at the exact moment the thunder roared, Si Jinghua burrowed into her arms like a frightened young animal seeking shelter, her voice trembling: “A-Qing, I’m afraid.”

In an instant, it felt just like yesterday.

The same rainy night, yet a completely different state of mind.

The candlelight wasn’t particularly bright, but it was the first time Wen Chenqing realized how clumsy the alarm on Si Jinghua’s face actually was.

A surge of belated anger, mixed with the feeling of being played for a fool, churned violently in her chest. She looked at the person in her arms, who was so skillfully playing the role of the “frightened girl,” and found it utterly farcical.

Wen Chenqing swallowed the cold laugh that rose to her lips. She didn’t acknowledge the person in her arms but instead turned to look for something.

Waiting, but receiving none of the expected comfort, Si Jinghua—eyes closed in Wen Chenqing’s embrace, nearly lost control of her expression.

In the next moment, the hair at her temples was brushed aside, and something was stuffed into both her ears.

Meeting Si Jinghua’s startled and angry eyes, Wen Chenqing’s lips curved into a slight, cool smile. Her voice was thin and chilled: “Your Highness, if you block your ears, you won’t hear the thunder that scares you so much.”

Si Jinghua sat up, looking at her with a heavy gaze. She plucked the objects from her ears and threw them far across the floor.

Wen Chenqing looked into those clear phoenix eyes: “It seems Your Highness’s drunkenness has been startled away by the thunder. How wonderful.”

“You did it on purpose.” Si Jinghua stared into her eyes. “Your peacefulness these past few days was a lie to deceive me. In your heart, you still hate me.”

The word “hate,” once spoken, pricked her heart until she felt stifled.

Exposed, Wen Chenqing felt none of the panic of a failed plan.

She had truly overestimated herself. She thought that no matter what punch-worthy words Si Jinghua said, she could endure it and keep acting—acting until this shameless person finally found her boring and let her leave.

In a feudal era, imperial power was supreme. Otherwise, what other choice did she have? She could only act while never giving up on her studies.

But tonight, the scene had repeated itself. The thundering rainy night reminded her of the lovable A-Jin in her memory.

Wen Chenqing realized she could no longer play the role of the submissive with a heart like still water. Especially when Si Jinghua used that face, wore plain clothes, and used that exact same dependent, panicked tone to say she was “afraid.”

Hatred was at work in her heart.

But her most desired state was to be indifferent even when facing an irredeemable piece of trash. The word “hate” represented emotions that were too deep.

Wen Chenqing smiled and admitted frankly, “Yes, I do hate you.”

To admit hate was to admit that traces of love still remained. “I hate you” could also be interpreted as “I still like you.”

Wen Chenqing touched her own neck, indifferent to how Si Jinghua’s face paled upon hearing her admission. She continued to herself, “Your Highness, on that first rainy night when we first shared a bed, you wanted to strangle me, didn’t you?”

At those words, all color drained from Si Jinghua’s lips. A flicker of panic at being found out flashed through her eyes.

Wen Chenqing laughed. “It seems Your Highness’s evaluation wasn’t entirely wrong; I am indeed a fool. I almost got strangled to death in my sleep and thought it was a dream. I woke up with red marks on my neck and thought I had pinched myself.”

“I… A-Qing, listen to me…”

Wen Chenqing made a silencing gesture.

“Your Highness need not say anything. I am not trying to accuse you again,” she said. “I am saying this, confirming the facts, simply to wake myself up.”

A person shouldn’t—or at the very least, cannot—continue to like someone who nearly killed them.

Si Jinghua had a premonition that she was about to lose something completely. Her heart was uneasy, and in her desperate speech, she forgot the things she usually avoided: “Keeping a demonic thing by my side—is it a crime for bengong to be on guard?!”

“A demonic thing?” Wen Chenqing was slightly surprised. “Are you talking about me?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a flash of regret crossed Si Jinghua’s eyes. She looked at Wen Chenqing nervously, her hands gripping her arms tightly as if she feared the person before her would vanish if she blinked.

Being pinched until it hurt, Wen Chenqing didn’t understand what kind of nerve she was hitting. Unable to break free, she simply thought about what Si Jinghua meant.

Demonic… Why was her tone so certain?

Her eyes widened slightly as she thought of something. For once, she felt a rare flicker of tension in her heart.

She found out. Si Jinghua had discovered that she was different from the original owner of this body.

Her gaze happened to meet Si Jinghua’s phoenix eyes. The two stared at each other for several seconds; neither spoke, and then both looked away.

The grip of Si Jinghua’s hands loosened slightly.

Wen Chenqing keenly noticed a trace of imperceptible relief on the other woman’s face. Connecting this to the sudden tension after she mentioned a “demonic thing,” a guess flashed through Wen Chenqing’s mind.

In some ghost stories, there are demons that use disguises to bewitch people. Once their true form or origin is called out, they lose their anchor and retreat or fade away.

The reason Si Jinghua felt nervous after saying those words—could it be that she believed Wen Chenqing was a demon, and feared she might disappear if the truth were pointed out?

For a moment, Wen Chenqing’s thoughts were complex.

Seeing that she understood, Si Jinghua spoke somewhat awkwardly: “Bengong does care for you.”

The words were like a pebble dropped into a deep pool; they caused only a shallow ripple that quickly dissipated.

Wen Chenqing believed those words were sincere. Or rather, on that afternoon when she returned early and the conflict erupted after she had slapped her, she had understood. The Eldest Princess, who called her a “plaything,” did care for her somewhat.

In the original novel, there was a plot point: after it was decided the Princess would be sent away for a political marriage, everyone thought her power was gone. Someone who had always disliked her tried to kick her while she was down. But after merely mocking her with a few words, the Princess broke their hand and nearly snapped their neck.

“An eye for an eye” was one of her defining labels.

If a single insult nearly invited death, how much more so that solid slap she had delivered? Yet, she was merely locked up. It wasn’t to say that being locked up was “right,” but the act of confinement was clearly not triggered by that slap. In other words, she slapped her, and it didn’t result in the retaliation or torture that “it” should have brought.

Seeing her silent, Si Jinghua asked, “Do you not believe me? I—”

Wen Chenqing interrupted her: “No, I believe you. It is just that, Your Highness, perhaps you do not know what you want, but I know exactly what I want.”

So what if Si Jinghua cared for her a little? This relationship, which began with deception, was fundamentally warped. Moreover, things between them were now so unseemly.

She would treat it as a brief romance where the breakup during the honeymoon phase was simply a bit long and painful.

It was unwise to argue right and wrong with a ruler. Wen Chenqing spoke with genuine calmness: “Your Highness, I was not lying. The true you is a type I would absolutely never like.”

“Your Highness, if you insist on imprisoning me, I am powerless to resist. In order to live without so much pain, my actions might not be as intense anymore. But the best-case scenario is merely indifference toward you.”

“Toward you, at this moment, I have no more affection, and no more resentment.”

“Everything I have said comes from the bottom of my heart.”