Sweetly Pampered After Marrying the Frail Prince to Ward Off Bad Luck - Chapter 3

The fifth watch drum had just sounded, frost crept up the windows, and a gentle breeze blew the leaves in the courtyard down, scattering them onto the blue stone bricks and bathing the yard in a layer of autumn hues.

Meng Qing rubbed his sleepy eyes slowly, gazing up at the unfamiliar ceiling while his mind remained somewhat hazy. Ah… that’s right, this is the Prince of Ning’s mansion.

Then the Prince… Meng Qing snapped awake instantly, realizing he was hugging one of Ji Yanche’s arms with his cheek nestled intimately against his shoulder. Meanwhile, Ji Yanche was lying upright, completely motionless, maintaining a remarkably standard sleeping posture.

Overwhelmed by sudden embarrassment, Meng Qing covered his face with his hands, thinking to himself: Did I really sleep the whole night in this position?

He got up carefully and cautiously, terrified of disturbing his sickly yet handsome newlywed husband. Meng Qing looked closely at Ji Yanche, noticing that his complexion appeared much better than yesterday, carrying a healthy flush and more vitality and naturally, looking even more breathtakingly handsome.

He couldn’t help but sigh with emotion: Goddess Nüwa is truly unfair; this is simply a masterpiece meant for showing off.

Meng Qing silently admired him for a moment before finally moving.

By now, a set of clean clothes had been neatly prepared on the table. Deshun, the chief eunuch, hurried forward to help Meng Qing change into them.

The dressing process for these garments was exceptionally tedious: cyan soft-gauze narrow-sleeved inner robes, the collar embroidered with a few lifelike bamboo leaves, the hem layered in cascading tiers pressed with three graduating shades of emerald green, topped by an outermost layer of pale cyan. The waist sash fit his slender, perfectly graspable waist with absolute precision, making him look like a truly graceful and charming figure from afar.

Deshun’s eyes were filled with parental affection. “The Consort is truly blessed with a wonderful appearance.”

Feeling somewhat shy, Meng Qing gently pressed down the corners of his lips that kept curling upward on their own, trying to make his voice sound steadier. “Ahem, Eunuch, please don’t tease me.”

Breakfast was exceptionally lavish: white fungus and snow pear soup, eight-treasure mushroom soup, bird’s nest stewed in milk, osmanthus sugar lotus root, jujube paste yam cake, almond tofu, glutinous rice chicken, fried spring rolls, braised duck tongues… Following the specifications for an imperial consort, over twenty dishes were served.

Oh wow, what kind of miserable life was I living before? Is this the extravagant life of a royal consort? Where is the grievance not wronged at all, I simply want to stay in the Prince’s mansion for the rest of my life!

Yet, thinking about it, the Prince of Ning was humble, kind, deeply beloved by the common people, harmonious with his imperial brothers, and the son in whom Emperor Zhaoming placed the highest hopes, possessing formidable martial arts skills to boot. How on earth did he end up in his current gravely ill state?

Pondering this, Meng Qing couldn’t help asking Deshun, who stood beside him, “Eunuch, the Prince’s illness…”

At the mere mention of the Prince’s illness, Deshun’s face filled with profound heartache, his eye rims turning slightly red as if he were about to burst into tears on the spot:

“If Your Grace wishes to know, well, there’s nothing that cannot be spoken of. In January of this year, a rebellion broke out in Liaodong, and the Prince of Ning volunteered to lead the suppression. His Highness is both brave and strategic, successfully quelling the rebellion in less than two years. But when His Highness returned in triumphant victory, he suddenly collapsed from his horse. It was only later discovered that those Northern Barbarians had smeared lethal poison on their weapons. That poison was secretly concocted by Northern Barbarian sorcerers, possessing terrifying potency that remains incurable to this day. When the poison flares up, the victim falls into a coma while their consciousness remains entirely clear, allowing them to vividly feel as though millions of ants are gnawing at their flesh until they are tormented to death. Our Prince has suffered far too much…”

Deshun wiped a few tears from the corners of his eyes and continued, “Originally there was no saving him, but fortunately the state preceptor was here, allowing His Highness to…”

Hearing this made Meng Qing’s hair stand on end, making it even harder to imagine the immense agony Ji Yanche had endured from the poison. No wonder Ji Yanche always furrowed his brows even in his sleep—it turned out he was constantly enduring agonizing physical pain.

“Does a divine figure like the state preceptor not have an antidote?” Meng Qing asked with some confusion. Since the state preceptor could find someone whose birth characters matched the Prince’s merely through divination, why couldn’t he cure this poison?

“Uh, every profession has its specialty. Healing and detoxifying are tasks for physicians; the state preceptor probably isn’t skilled in that,” Deshun replied sheepishly, before dropping his voice to a mysterious whisper. “However, this servant has heard that the state preceptor possesses celestial magic capable of bringing the dead back to life…”

“Oh, then…” Just as Meng Qing was about to press further, he heard a weak yet gentle voice ring out.

“So my Consort is this interested in such eccentric arts and strange techniques?” Ji Yanche lifted the bed curtains and walked over slowly.

Ah? Consort…

Meng Qing’s face instantly turned bright red, and somehow he suddenly recalled Ji Yanche’s words from last night: He is my spouse, and the Consort of the Prince of Ning’s mansion.

Goodness, how can anyone adapt to the role of a husband so quickly?

“Your Highness, you’re awake!” Deshun exclaimed in surprise, quickly hurrying forward to support him.

In truth, it was no wonder Deshun was so astonished. Before Meng Qing married into the mansion, the Prince’s condition had worsened day by day, with his periods of consciousness growing shorter and shorter until he fell into a complete coma. Yet ever since Meng Qing arrived, the Prince had woken up twice in just two days, his spirits and complexion had visibly improved by leaps and bounds, and now he could even walk out of bed. The state preceptor’s divination was spot-on; Meng Qing was truly a precious treasure and the lucky star of the Prince of Ning’s mansion!

“Your Highness, how are you feeling? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” Meng Qing hurriedly stood up to lend a hand, asking with genuine concern.

“I’m much better, the Consort needn’t worry.” Taking advantage of the moment, Ji Yanche gently took hold of Meng Qing’s hand, his thumb lightly stroking the back of Meng Qing’s hand before sitting down beside him.

“Since His Highness’s condition has taken a turn for the better, this good news must be reported to His Majesty at once.” Walking out the door with a light and nimble step, Deshun called out loudly, “Huayi, hurry up and brew the Prince’s medicine to bring it over! And you, Cuiyun, come serve His Highness and the Consort their meal.”

Watching Deshun’s brisk departure, Meng Qing thought that seeing Ji Yanche wake up had practically made Deshun look ten years younger, radiating youthful vigor.

What a truly loyal servant!

“Are you getting used to living here?” Ji Yanche gently patted the back of Meng Qing’s hand, gesturing for him to look at him.

Turning his head, Meng Qing crashed straight into those gentle eyes where care and affection were unmistakable, entirely devoid of pretense. His heart began to race wildly, and he could even clearly feel his cheeks rapidly heating up. Panic surged within him: What do I do, what do I do? Is my face very red? Is my expression too stiff? Will I look hideous…?

Blinking his apricot-shaped eyes while gazing at Ji Yanche, Meng Qing swallowed nervously, then quickly averted his gaze, not daring to meet his eyes anymore. He forced himself to look composed and dignified as he nodded slightly: “I’m used to it.”

Yet the soft, trembling tail-end of his voice betrayed him completely.

Watching the youth before him putting on a brave face, Ji Yanche couldn’t help chuckling softly. He raised a hand to gently brush Meng Qing’s burning cheek.

The texture was delightful just as soft as he had imagined.

So goofy, so innocent, so cute.

Having amused himself to his heart’s content, Ji Yanche finally showed mercy, relaxing his grip and letting go of the thoroughly “ripened” person before him.

“Let’s eat.”

After all, Ji Yanche was still recovering from his illness, and his energy and physical strength remained limited. After staying awake for a couple of hours in the morning, he returned to bed to rest. He repeatedly instructed the maidservants, pages, and stewards to wait upon Meng Qing with utmost care before finally closing his eyes in peace.

Watching the man who was still battling illness yet managed to arrange everything for his sake, Meng Qing felt a sweet, tingling ache in his heart.

Does the Prince treat everyone this kindly…?

Meng Qing had always believed that things would eventually get better, that life had something to look forward to, and that one should adapt to whatever circumstances came their way. He didn’t harbor extravagant hopes for supreme wealth and glory or mutual romantic devotion with the Prince; his only thought was to take good care of the Prince, hoping the Prince would recover soon so that the Emperor might spare his life and let him leave the mansion, allowing him to find someone else to partner up with, build a cozy little family, and live out the rest of his days in peace and simplicity.

Yet, having been in the Prince’s mansion for less than a day, he had already been captivated by the Prince.

Now, he even found himself starting to crave that tiny trace of gentleness from the Prince…