Sweetly Pampered After Marrying the Frail Prince to Ward Off Bad Luck - Chapter 1

On an autumn morning, the royal procession was grand and majestic, with festive music echoing through the streets.

“Is this the Prince of Ning’s wedding procession? Why is it so crude? It doesn’t look like royal pomp and circumstance at all!” By the roadside, several commoners whispered among themselves.

“Shh, keep your voice down! The Prince of Ning has been poisoned with a deadly affliction and is at death’s door. Look, they’re finding someone whose birth characters match to ward off bad luck through a marriage ceremony. Time is tight; managing to pull this off already counts as not bad.” One person hurriedly reminded them.

“Have you heard? Our Prince of Ning’s consort is actually a man! And a bumpkin from Jiangnan at that. Who knows if he understands the rules of our capital…”

“Sigh, the Prince of Ning is gentle as jade, a blessing to the common people, a veteran of battlefields, and peerless in grace truly a magnificent man. How could he be taken advantage of by this southern barbarian?”

Sitting inside the bridal sedan chair, Meng Qing idly picked at his fingers. He had already heard these idle gossips far too many times along the way, feeling somewhat depressed deep down inside. He couldn’t help muttering softly to himself: “Right, right, right, exactly, exactly—the Prince of Ning may be wonderful, but I don’t want to marry him.” Muttering thus under his breath, his thoughts gradually drifted away.

Emperor Zhaoming’s imperial decree had arrived half a month ago. At that time, Meng Qing was sitting barefoot in a boat, stealthily picking and eating lotus seeds from Old Uncle’s garden. From afar, he saw his small courtyard surrounded tightly by a group of people wearing official attire. Startled and thinking something terrible had happened at home, he didn’t even bother putting on his shoes and hurried back in a rush.

He saw that the leader was a eunuch holding a scroll of bright yellow silk in his arms. Without needing to guess, he knew it was an imperial decree. The eunuch asked in a shrill voice, “Are you Meng Qing?”

For a moment, Meng Qing didn’t know how to reply. Feeling extremely nervous and afraid of saying the wrong thing, he could only silently nod.

“Pretty dainty-looking, aren’t you?” The eunuch muttered under his breath, though Meng Qing didn’t quite catch it.

“Kneel and receive the decree.”

“The Prince of Ning’s mansion has arrived”

Following a loud shout, the sedan chair came to a steady halt. The curtain was gently lifted, and a maidservant extended her arm, saying softly, “Young Master, please dismount from the sedan.”

Meng Qing took a deep breath, nervously adjusted his red bridal veil, and slowly stepped out of the sedan chair.

This wedding, though called a joyous occasion, carried a sense of desolation. Everyone knew full well that this was merely a token marriage to ward off bad luck. The guests attending the wedding were few and far between; most officials merely sent servants to deliver congratulatory gifts while failing to appear in person. The other princes didn’t even bother offering words of congratulation, clearly showing extreme dissatisfaction with this imperial consort.

Meng Qing didn’t mind these things either. In his view, the imperial family had always lacked a bit of human warmth since ancient times. Right now, he only hoped to rush through the procedures, enter the bridal chamber, and get a good rest.

Next came a series of tedious wedding rituals: worshipping heaven and earth, worshipping parents, and bowing to each other as husband and husband… But Meng Qing’s parents had passed away long ago, and his newlywed husband was currently bedridden. Meng Qing could only bow repeatedly to empty air, putting on a show. After barely managing to endure until the ceremony concluded, he was supported by maidservants into the bridal chamber.

While the front courtyard still echoed with gongs, drums, and a lively, festive atmosphere, the back courtyard where the bridal chamber was located appeared exceptionally desolate. Perhaps out of fear of disturbing the ailing Prince of Ning, it was abnormally quiet here. Aside from two strings of red lanterns hanging along the corridor outside the door, there were almost no wedding decorations. Looking through his red veil, Meng Qing could only see those two dim glows of red light, inexplicably feeling a chill and shivering involuntarily.

“Young Master, we’ve arrived.” The maidservant helped Meng Qing to the doorway. “Please take good care of His Highness, and the medicine prescribed for His Highness will be delivered shortly.” With that, she hurried away, leaving Meng Qing shivering alone at the door.

Meng Qing steadied his mind and reached out to push open the bedroom door. A rich, heavy aroma of medicine rushed toward him. Frowning, he thought to himself: It seems the Prince’s condition is indeed severe.

Entering the room, Meng Qing lifted a corner of his red veil slightly to cautiously inspect the interior. However, the moment his gaze brushed across the table, it was captured by the pastries placed upon it, causing his stomach to rumble hungrily.

This really wasn’t Meng Qing’s fault; he had been pulled up before dawn to comb his hair and dress up, and hadn’t had a single drop of water since then he was truly starving.

As the bride, eating just one piece should be fine, right?

Thus, Meng Qing took small steps toward the table. Looking at the exquisitely arranged pastries, he picked one from the very edge so that even if a piece was missing, it wouldn’t affect the overall aesthetic of the plate.

Just as he swallowed it, he choked badly and quickly poured himself a cup of tea to wash it down. After filling his stomach, he remembered his primary task his newlywed, sickly husband.

According to what the eunuch said the state preceptor instructed, he had to eat and live together with the Prince, acting as inseparable companions, for the warding-off ritual to succeed. Plainly put, it meant getting close to the Prince hugging, cuddling, kissing, and touching so that the Prince’s illness could heal faster.

By now, all the commoners of the Ji Dynasty knew that the mighty and prestigious Prince of Ning had married a country bumpkin. If word got out, the royal family’s face would be completely lost. If the Prince’s condition failed to improve, Emperor Zhaoming might truly lose his temper and demand his head.

He suddenly felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck: TvT.

Is this ward-off ritual really useful? Can the Prince actually wake up?

Filled with apprehension, Meng Qing walked cautiously toward the bed and gently pulled back the bed curtains.

Catching sight of the man’s face, Meng Qing widened his eyes, his heart pounding fiercely.

He saw the Prince of Ning, Ji Yanche, lying inside the brocade canopy. His complexion was as pale as paper, which only served to make his brows and eyes appear picturesque. He truly lived up to the capital citizens’ descriptions, possessing a striking physical appearance. At this moment, emaciated by illness, he carried an added touch of delicate handsomeness. His raven-feather-like long eyelashes cast shadows beneath his eyes, his nose was high and straight like a mountain ridge, and his lips were pale, giving him a somewhat cold and aloof aura.

His newlywed husband is actually this handsome……

Though he had seen many outstanding young talents in Jiangnan, Meng Qing had never laid eyes on anyone so refined. It was as if he were an immortal sovereign who had stepped down from the heavens, making it impossible for anyone to forget him at a glance. It wasn’t until the person on the bed furrowed his brows slightly, as if enduring some pain, that Meng Qing abruptly snapped back to reality.

“Ah right, listening to the state preceptor, I need to touch and cuddle.” Meng Qing sat down by the bedside, gently resting both hands on Ji Yanche’s wrist while muttering, “Your Highness the Prince of Ning, you must get better soon and make sure nothing happens to you, otherwise my little life…”

Meng Qing held on for quite a while, but the Prince simply lay there quietly without the slightest reaction. Meng Qing mentally wailed: I knew this ward-off ritual was unreliable! Why isn’t there any effect at all? If you want to kill me, just say so outright…

With a small frown and a depressed expression, Meng Qing suddenly had a flash of inspiration. “Wait, could it be the method is wrong? Just holding hands isn’t enough, right?” The more he thought about it, the more logical it sounded. “It must be like this! Not only holding hands, but also hugging.”

Acting on the thought, Meng Qing looked at the man’s handsome face, his heartbeat quickening. He chanted inwardly: Your Highness the Prince of Ning, no offense intended, I had no choice and was driven to this desperate measure.

Following that, he leaned forward slightly and cautiously hugged Ji Yanche. Meng Qing didn’t dare use too much force, fearing he might press down on the other man and worsen his condition. He could only rest his head lightly against the Prince’s chest, propping himself up with one hand against the bed while pressed against Ji Yanche’s arm, and using his other hand to tightly grasp the Prince’s hand even though the man’s hand was a size larger than his, making it somewhat awkward to hold.

…… So stuffy.

When Ji Yanche woke up, he felt a stuffy weight on his chest, as if some soft creature was pressing against him……

Whose head is this? Is he trying to crush me to death?

Ji Yanche subconsciously parted his lips, struggling to squeeze out a sound:

“You…”

The moment he spoke, he felt the body of the person slumped over him stiffen significantly. Seeming somewhat embarrassed yet flustered, the person awkwardly straightened up.

The accessories adorning the wedding robes chimed and jingled, sounding like a startled fawn stirring up a pool of spring water. Ji Yanche saw the flustered youth raise his head; those apricot-shaped eyes still retained the moisture and luster of a startled fawn, and his moistened, pale-pink lips parted slightly, looking somewhat cute and foolish: “Ah, you’re awake…” His trailing tone still carried a trace of lingering shock.

Ji Yanche inexplicably felt his throat itch and parched with thirst, likely from not drinking water for too long.

Looking at the wedding robes worn by the youth, he raised his eyebrows slightly, grasping about seven or eight parts of the situation. This youth, looking like a deer, should be the person his imperial father found to perform the ward-off ritual for him.

As a firm non-believer in ghosts and gods, Ji Yanche utterly dismissed the notion that a wedding ritual could cure his illness. It was simply that his condition had deteriorated day by day while the imperial court could not function without him, causing Emperor Zhaoming to panic and turn to any doctor he could find, listening to that half-baked state preceptor and coming up with such an absurd method. It was truly pitiful for this youth to have become a casualty of this political marriage.

Ji Yanche only felt a headache coming on. Looking at the flustered youth before him, he let out a soft sigh and said slowly:

“Meng Qing.”

“Hmm?”

Meng Qing heard him say.

“Marrying me has wronged you.”