Sweetly Pampered After Marrying the Frail Prince to Ward Off Bad Luck - Chapter 2

“Marrying me has wronged you.”

Wronged you… Wronged…

Ever since the imperial decree arrived, his uncle and aunt had mercilessly accepted the reward and sent him away. Following that came half a month of non-stop travel, braving wind and rain to rush to the capital. Along the way, the mocking sneers and ridings of onlookers and passersby followed him like a shadow. Upon arrival, there awaited a hasty wedding, a sickly husband, and a neglected self……

Meng Qing had always considered himself optimistic. Throughout these past chaotic and muddled half-month, he had never uttered a single word of complaint, always believing that no matter how difficult things were, a way out would eventually present itself. Yet at this moment, when someone said “You have been wronged” to him for the very first time, he suddenly realized that he wasn’t as strong as he thought. Deep down inside, he had always yearned to be cared for, sheltered, and cherished.

Even though the person before him was the “chief culprit” who had caused his displacement and wandering, he couldn’t help but breed a trace of faint reliance and anticipation toward him.

Meng Qing lowered his head slightly, bit his lip, took a deep breath, and desperately forced back the tears that were about to well up and spill over. He wasn’t normally a crybaby, but upon hearing such words of concern, he actually felt the impulse to find someone to confide his grievances to.

Just as he was about to shake his head and speak, he heard the maidservant outside the door say, “Young Master, His Highness’s medicine has already been brewed.”

“Ah, please come in,” Meng Qing replied. As he stood up and reached out to take the medicine bowl, he suddenly realized that his hand had been held by the Prince all along, and at some point, it had turned into a posture where Ji Yanche was clasping his wrist. Meng Qing gave a light cough and smoothly withdrew his wrist from the other’s grasp.

“Your Highness, you’re awake!” The maidservant exclaimed with an agitated expression. “Cuiyun, quickly go and invite Imperial Physician Zhou!” The maid outside hurriedly acknowledged the order and turned to run off at top speed.

“Then Your Highness, please drink your medicine first. I’ll help you up.”

Meng Qing very consciously stepped forward, reaching out to support Ji Yanche’s back, only for his fingertips to brush against… a patch of rock-hard muscle. Meng Qing blinked, completely bewildered: Eh? Wasn’t he lying long-term in bed? How come he feels sturdier than me? QAQ.

He stood up once again to take the medicine bowl, only to be blocked once more by Ji Yanche’s arm. And the owner of the arm, due to moving too abruptly, suddenly broke into a violent fit of coughing.

“Your Highness, please be careful,” the maid said anxiously.

Ji Yanche coughed so severely that it sounded as if he were trying to cough out all his internal organs; just hearing it made Meng Qing’s heart skip a beat.

Remembering how his aunt used to gently pat his cousin’s back whenever the boy fell ill and coughed, Meng Qing sat down on the edge of the bed and gently patted Ji Yanche’s back to help him smooth his breathing. Perhaps it genuinely worked, or perhaps Meng Qing truly carried a “ward-off-bad-luck buff,” but Ji Yanche quickly calmed down. He took the handkerchief handed over by the maid and wiped the corners of his lips. This bout of violent coughing had brought a slight flush to Ji Yanche’s complexion, making him no longer look as deathly pale as before.

“It’s nothing,” Ji Yanche lightly patted Meng Qing’s hand, as if offering comfort out of fear that he had just startled him. He then softly asked, “Has the Consort eaten his evening meal yet?”

Before Meng Qing could answer, the maid beside them dropped to her knees with a loud thud. “It was this servant’s oversight. This servant will go prepare it right away. Please punish me, Your Highness.”

“Hmph, since you know, go take your punishment downstairs,” Ji Yanche glanced at her sideways, his voice flat and completely devoid of the gentleness he had just shown.

Meanwhile, Meng Qing stood by with a blank expression, completely fogged up and bewildered… Ah? Wait, what kind of operation is this? Why didn’t I understand?

Why did she suddenly kneel? Why is she suddenly going to take a punishment? Weren’t we supposed to reach the part about drinking medicine? How did it suddenly loop back to me eating dinner?

“Huayi, you are also a veteran servant in this mansion,” Ji Yanche continued. “What you ought to do—even if I don’t say much, you should understand. Since Meng Qing has married into this family, he is my spouse and the Consort of the Prince of Ning’s mansion. If such a thing happens again, you needn’t stay in the Prince’s mansion any longer.”

“Yes, this servant understands,” Huayi broke out in a cold sweat. Originally, she had assumed the Prince would dislike this youth brought by the Emperor to ward off bad luck, or even despise this arranged marriage. Now it appeared quite the opposite.

The Prince seemed to care deeply about this new Consort……

“Uhm, should we drink the medicine first? It looks like it’s getting cold…” Meng Qing felt bitter inside, truly unable to bear this oppressive and stifling atmosphere.

Geez, the hierarchy among city people is seriously no joke!

For the third time, Meng Qing finally got hold of the medicine bowl, but then ran into another dilemma: Should I feed it to him? But he’s already awake, huh. Drinking it himself should be fine, I suppose. As he sat hesitating like this, he paid no attention to the amused, half-smiling expression on Ji Yanche beside him.

Watching Meng Qing hold the bowl, hovering indecisively and writing every single emotion clearly across his face, Ji Yanche found it immensely amusing.

This new bride of mine doesn’t look particularly bright.

“I’ll take it.” Ji Yanche admired the sight for a moment before taking the medicine bowl from Meng Qing’s hands and sipping it leisurely.

The scene before his eyes was truly pleasing to the eye; perhaps immortals in heaven looked precisely like this.

“Your Highness, Your Consort, Imperial Physician Zhou has arrived.” The maid outside reported the message.

Ji Yanche put down the medicine bowl and said to Meng Qing, “The Consort must be tired from the day’s events; go bathe and change clothes, your meals will be delivered shortly.” Then, turning his instructions toward the door, he added, “Deshun, take the Consort to change.”

No matter how slow-witted Meng Qing was, he understood that the upcoming conversation was not suitable for him to overhear, so he nodded. Just as he was about to step out the door, he remembered he had forgotten something, stepped back inside to offer a bow, and ended up hearing his newlywed husband let out a soft chuckle, causing him to instantly blush and hurry away in a rush.

Tsk, it really seems he’s not very bright.

When Meng Qing returned to the room once again, Ji Yanche was reclining sideways on the couch, his moon-white inner garments soaked through with cold sweat while he held a book scroll. Hearing the sound, he didn’t raise his head, merely uttering a flat “You’re back.”

Meng Qing gave an acknowledgment, though his heart felt inexplicably bashful. They had only married today, yet this feeling somehow resembled an old, married couple.

Before he had time to dwell on it, Meng Qing’s attention was quickly captured by the dishes laid out on the table.

So fragrant, so fragrant, so fragrant.

Even though he was extremely hungry, Meng Qing still put on a show of restraint and asked, “Is Your Highness having dinner?”

“I just took my medicine, the physician said I still can’t eat yet, the Consort may help himself,” Ji Yanche replied.

With that green light given, Meng Qing dug in without any further polite reservations. Although he was ravenous, he didn’t overeat; after drinking half a bowl of lotus seed and lily soup and eating a single rose pastry, he instructed the maids to clear away the remaining food.

“The Consort should rest now that he has eaten.”

Meng Qing watched as Ji Yanche put down the book in his hand and lay down. He looked utterly weak and exhausted—could it be that he stayed up this late just to wait for him…?

Lying in bed, Meng Qing found himself pressed very close to Ji Yanche. Feeling the other’s abnormally chilly body temperature, he paused for a moment, then silently inched a bit closer. He remembered the doctor saying his own pulse was as vigorous as an ox’s, full of vital energy and blood, and he hoped his body warmth could comfort his fragile, exquisitely handsome husband.

In the darkness, Ji Yanche was slightly startled. Actually, he didn’t like anyone getting this close to him, yet after a brief thought, he didn’t push him away.

I suppose I’ll have to get used to it eventually.