Sweetly Pampered After Marrying the Frail Prince to Ward Off Bad Luck - Chapter 5

“Mhm, it’s so stuffy…”

Meng Qing furrowed his delicate brows, subconsciously wanting to break free from the restraint. But suddenly, as if realizing something, his movements froze instantly.

Slowly opening his eyes, sure enough, he found himself tightly held in Ji Yanche’s embrace. Watching the man sleeping soundly, Meng Qing felt his heart soften; not wanting to wake him, he obediently tucked himself into the man’s arms and remained completely still.

After goodness knows how long, Meng Qing faintly heard Deshun’s voice coming from outside: “The Consort is awake? It is time for His Highness to take his medicine.”

Meng Qing gave a soft acknowledgment, signaling Deshun to enter. Then, he cast a quiet glance back at Ji Yanche, silently apologizing in his heart: I really don’t want to wake you up either, but how can this illness get better if you don’t take your medicine?

“Your Highness, wake up. Your Highness…” Meng Qing softened his voice, calling out gently. Seeing no reaction at all, he reached out and gave the man a light pat.

Ji Yanche slowly opened his eyes to find the person in his arms looking at him with a nervous expression.

“Y-Your Highness, it’s… it’s time to take your medicine,” Meng Qing stammered, his voice light and weak.

Oh no, oh no. Does the Prince have a morning temper? Is he furious that I woke him up like this? Will he drag me out and give me twenty heavy board strokes to vent his anger…?

Ji Yanche did not have a morning temper; on the contrary, his mood right now was exceptionally blissful. Opening his eyes to find his obedient and soft newlywed spouse staring at him with tear-bright, glistening eyes how could anyone be unhappy? In fact, he felt as though his body didn’t hurt at all anymore.

“Thank you for calling me, my Consort.” Ji Yanche leisurely withdrew the arm he had wrapped around Meng Qing’s waist.

At that exact moment, as Ji Yanche’s hand pulled away, it brushed against Meng Qing’s waist with an ambiguous, lingering touch. A tingling sensation of numbness instantly rippled through his entire body.

He looked doubtfully at the Prince, only to see the man maintaining an utterly composed, straight-faced expression, while instead responding to Meng Qing’s gaze with a question: “Is something wrong, my Consort?”

Meng Qing shook his head to indicate everything was fine.

It must have just been my imagination.

“Your Highness, His Fifth Highness came by this morning,” Meng Qing said as he watched Ji Yanche drink the dark, bitter herbal decoction. “He came to check on Your Highness’s health.”

Inwardly, however, he couldn’t help marveling at how the Prince could drink such bitter medicine completely without changing his expression. Meng Qing himself rarely took medicine; he had always been robust and rarely fell ill. Even if he accidentally caught a cold, he would still remain full of energy and bounce right back within three days. Another reason was that his family wasn’t well-off; when he fell ill, there was no money to buy medicine, so he simply had to grit his teeth and drag himself through it until he recovered on his own.

“My fifth brother is still young and a bit unrestrained in nature. Did he cause you any offense?” Ji Yanche asked gently.

Meng Qing paused slightly, clearly not expecting the man to ask such a question, then shook his head softly and replied, “No, His Fifth Highness is straightforward, lively, and very enthusiastic. He even invited me to go out of the mansion to play together.”

This actually surprised Ji Yanche a little. Ji Yanche and Ji Lingfeng were both born of the Empress, yet their personalities were starkly opposite. The Third Prince, Ji Yanche, was gentle, courteous, poised, and never overstepped his bounds; whereas the Fifth Prince, Ji Lingfeng, was passionate in disposition, often acted on impulse, and possessed exceptionally high and fastidious standards in friendship, drawing wildly polarized evaluations from the world. The wealthy young scions who got along well with him praised him as dashing, unrestrained, genuine, and generous, while those on bad terms with him dismissed him as arrogant and lacking in manners.

Yet Meng Qing had only met him once, and already the fellow was inviting him out to play, suggesting he had practically accepted Meng Qing as a friend.

Well, of course. Qingqing was so cute, who wouldn’t want to be with him?

Ji Yanche hooked the corners of his lips. “Lingfeng seems to like you a lot.”

“Really?!” Meng Qing’s eyes lit up instantly, filled with surprise as the tail-end of his voice naturally lifted upward, overflowing with unconcealed joy. “This is my very first friend since coming to the capital! I like His Fifth Highness a lot too!”

Oh, is that so.

Ji Yanche’s expression reverted to blank indifference, bordering on cold.

“Deshun, is the medicated bath prepared? I wish to bathe.”

“It is already prepared. Please move to the side chamber, Your Highness.”

Hearing Meng Qing’s words, Deshun felt the world go dark before his eyes, and a cold sweat broke out in bucket-loads. My little ancestor, how could you be so utterly direct and declare that you like someone else right in front of the Prince?!

Watching the Prince’s retreating back, Meng Qing belatedly felt a wave of awkward regret.

“Eunuch Deshun, did I say something wrong?”

Seeing Meng Qing’s bewildered and aggrieved little face, Deshun hadn’t the heart to utter any harsh words, so he offered a tactful hint:

“His Highness is unwell, and bathing alone might be somewhat inconvenient. Furthermore, His Highness dislikes having others wait upon him intimately. Would the Consort care to go see if there’s any way he can be of assistance?”

Upon hearing this, Meng Qing nodded repeatedly, thinking it made complete sense. Going to make amends now shouldn’t be too late. “Thank you for the guidance, Eunuch!”

“Knock, knock, knock”

Ji Yanche closed his eyes. The lingering pain in his body already made him somewhat irritable, and his voice now carried unmistakable displeasure:

“Speak.”

Meng Qing, standing outside the door, gave a small start, thinking: He really is angry after all, QAQ. But since advancing or retreating were both dead ends right now, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and reply:

“Is Your Highness managing all right by yourself? Do you need me to wait on you inside?” He was so nervous that he was unconsciously picking at his fingertips.

“If you don’t need me, then I’ll just”

“Come in.”

Just as Meng Qing was about to turn on his heel and flee, he heard Ji Yanche’s voice. Well then, guess I’m going in, oh.

绕过屏风, Meng Qing felt his breath catch in his throat as he rounded the folding screen.

Mist swirled through the air, and through the hazy vapor, Ji Yanche’s undulating muscle contours loomed partially visible, exuding a powerful sense of strength. The knuckles accustomed to gripping horse reins for years now carried sparkling water droplets that trickled slowly down the corded tendons of his forearm, tracing arcs like threads of fine gold under the candlelight. This physique, tempered by the wind and sand of the Northern Frontier, radiated a unique, captivating sensuality amidst the billowing steam.

“Didn’t you say you came to wait upon me? Why are you just standing there?”

Ji Yanche’s voice drifted over. Although it remained cool, Meng Qing inexplicably caught a hint of enticement woven through it.

Straightening his spine, Meng Qing walked straight ahead, keeping his eyes fixed rigidly on a single spot and not daring to let them wander anywhere else, terrified of seeing things he shouldn’t.

“Let me help Your Highness massage your shoulders,” Meng Qing asked with a blushing face.

Once permission was granted, Meng Qing’s slightly trembling fingertips brushed lightly against the man’s shoulders. In truth, Meng Qing didn’t know the first thing about massage; doing this was merely his way of trying to coax Ji Yanche into a better mood and stop him from staying angry.

Meng Qing’s unmethodical kneading felt more like a subtle, teasing provocation against Ji Yanche’s skin. That soft, feeble touch resembled playful flirting between lovers, compounded by the gentle brush of warm breath across his shoulder, the lingering, elusive fragrance of jasmine drifting at the tip of his nose, and those focused, unvarnished eyes of his…

Enough.

If this kept up, Ji Yanche couldn’t guarantee he would retain enough self-restraint to keep from acting upon Meng Qing.

Reaching out, Ji Yanche gently removed Meng Qing’s wrists, his throat feeling slightly dry as he spoke: “That’s enough, you’ve worked hard, my Consort.”

“Is that all?” Meng Qing’s face was full of astonishment. It’s ending this fast? Could my technique be that terrible, making the Prince uncomfortable?

“Or is the Consort still unsatisfied? If you wish to continue, your husband would be more than happy to oblige.” Ji Yanche’s lips curved upward into a half-smile as he looked at him.

“Never mind, never mind! Then Your Highness, wash slowly; I’ll wait for you in the outer hall.” Stammering out his words in a fluster, Meng Qing turned on his heel and fled in a somewhat disheveled retreat.

The temperature in the outer hall was significantly cooler, allowing Meng Qing’s restless heart to gradually calm down. He raised a hand to rub his burning cheeks.

Why is the Prince so ridiculously good at flirting……

Calm down, calm down.

“What is my Consort thinking about?”

The moment Ji Yanche stepped out of the inner chamber, he caught Meng Qing foolishly rubbing away at his own cheeks. With a slight frown, he walked over, gently cupped Meng Qing’s chin with one hand while tenderly stroking his face with the other, and murmured, “My Consort is really heavy-handed with himself; look, you’ve rubbed it all red.”

Meng Qing parted his lips, wanting to explain that it hadn’t turned red from rubbing…

“Mhm, Your Highness… are you still angry?”

Ji Yanche raised an eyebrow. No wonder he was trying so hard to curry favor—he actually thought I was mad. He chuckled softly, turning the question back on him instead of answering directly:

“What does my Consort think?”

Judging by this reaction, he must be fine now… Meng Qing gently cupped Ji Yanche’s hand with both of his palms, pressing the man’s palm tightly against his own cheek, and tilted his head to rub against it coaxingly:

“You’re not angry anymore, okay?”

Ji Yanche took a deep breath, chanting inwardly: It’s not time yet, it’s not time yet…

After a long moment, he heard his own slightly hoarse voice reply:

“Okay.”