The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness - Chapter 3

Wen Ningzhou felt that something was horribly wrong. She surged to her feet and, in one swift motion, tore away the fabric draped over her head.

Sure enough, it was a red bridal veil embroidered with the character for “Double Happiness.”

She found herself standing in a remarkably spartan room. While not quite “four bare walls,” the small space contained only a square high table and two unpainted wooden chairs.

Behind her was a crudely made wooden bed that showed obvious signs of hand-tooling. It was strewn with peanuts and red dates, and the coarse fabric of the bedsheets was covered by two quilts with bright red covers, embroidered with mandarin ducks playing in water.

In this rustic room, the only light came from a single red candle. Everywhere she looked, the sight was pulled by high-saturation reds.

It was clear that these few pieces of furniture had been forced together to mimic the festive atmosphere of a bridal chamber.

However, it only served to make the scene appear more desolate. There were no pipes or drums, no clamour of guests; the bride had been left entirely alone in the chamber.

There was simply no joyous wedding atmosphere to be found, no matter how much they tried to piece it together.

The candlelight flickered.

Wen Ningzhou froze in place, feeling a sudden chill. The cold seemed to crawl up her spine; the situation was far too eerie.

It must be because I read that ancient novel before bed, she thought. She must have been so infuriated that she was dreaming of these ancient scenes.

Everything before her looked exactly like the descriptions in the book: the wedding night of the Prime Minister’s daughter and the destitute scholar.

The window paper had torn somewhere, allowing the biting wind to gust inside. Wen Ningzhou shivered again. The candle flame trembled, looking so weak it seemed it might go out at any second.

Since it was a dream, Wen Ningzhou didn’t panic. She sat back down on the bed, but finding her feet cold, she kicked off the embroidered shoes and tucked herself into the quilts.

The bedding was ice-cold. The embroidered shoes had been thin, and wearing only a pair of silk socks, Wen Ningzhou’s toes ached from the cold—especially her little toe, which throbbed with a dull pain.

Exhaling a breath of warm air, she rubbed her hands together and pressed them against her feet. The quilts felt as though they would never warm up. Wen Ningzhou leaned against the headboard, curled into a small ball.

When she had been reading the novel, the descriptions hadn’t made much of an impact. But now, experiencing it firsthand and seeing the reality of it, she realized that calling this an “unfavourable marriage” was an understatement.

This noble lady hadn’t just married beneath her; she had gouged out her own eyes, broken her own legs, cut off every path of retreat, and jumped blindly into a fire pit.

She really was a total Muggle.

Wen Ningzhou felt a wave of intense hunger. Both cold and starving, she hopped off the bed to find some hot water to warm herself, only to discover that the kettle on the table was bone-dry.

This wedding night was truly, excessively miserable.

Unable to find water, Wen Ningzhou sat by the edge of the bed and began cracking peanuts to eat. She took another look around the small living space.

Behind the door stood a wooden washstand with a blurry bronze mirror resting on top.

The thought of looking in the mirror to see her current appearance surfaced for a moment, but she immediately suppressed it. Better not. This dream was bizarre enough; if she looked in the mirror and saw something terrifying, it wouldn’t be worth it.

The vast stretches of red were an eyesore, and the surroundings were unnervingly quiet. She was afraid that if she looked in the mirror, the tone of the dream would shift into a full-blown horror nightmare.

In her mind, she was imagining herself as a world-shattering warrior; if she were truly the noble lady, she would have a blade in hand to slay the scumbag dog. But in reality, she was timid with a soft personality—someone who didn’t like to fight, let alone kill.

The dream showed no signs of ending. Bored, Wen Ningzhou thought that, according to the plot, the scumbag should be pushing the door open soon to drink the nuptial wine and spend the night with her.

In the book, these details had been glossed over. Only by being here did Wen Ningzhou realize that behind those few lines of text lay a living, breathing world.

Sure enough, as if her subconscious were directing the dream, the moment she thought of the scumbag, she heard the ear-grating creak of the old wooden door.

A man dressed in a groom’s robe pushed the door open. For some reason, Wen Ningzhou didn’t want to see his face.

She picked up the veil and draped it back over her head.

Not looking, not looking—keep the bastard guessing.

To Chen Changqing, this sight looked like a young bride being shy. Her movements appeared dainty as she replaced the red silk, waiting for him to lift it personally.

Chen Changqing smirked, a predatory light gleaming in his eyes. This was the Prime Minister’s legitimate daughter. Even if she was a bit of a fool, her beauty was top-tier; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she was a goddess who had stumbled into the mortal realm.

A fool was even better she would do whatever she was told. Now that she was in his hands, she was his to do with as he pleased.

Chen Changqing had a refined face and a tall, straight posture. He walked slowly toward the bride.

His features were handsome enough, possessing that clear, bright aura unique to scholars.

Going by appearances alone, he truly embodied the image of a “gentleman beyond compare.”

Unfortunately, no matter how good he looked, he was garbage.

Wen Ningzhou felt inexplicably nervous. When the man entered, she had caught a fleeting glimpse of a strange face; she was dreaming of someone she didn’t know.

Being in a room alone with a strange man, even in a dream, made her feel uneasy.

She began to doubt if this really was the scene from the book she had read.

Was I that lonely? How did I end up getting married to someone in a dream?

Her hands instinctively gripped her sleeves. She could feel the man drawing closer, step by step.

Why haven’t I woken up yet?

From beneath the edge of the veil, she saw a pair of black cloth boots with white soles appear. He was standing right in front of her.

The man leaned down and lifted the veil, momentarily stunned by the beauty before him.

The flickering candlelight reflected off her ethereal face, making it look even more enchanting. Looking at a beauty by lamplight, he felt her eyes were alluring and her features full of hidden affection.

She glanced up at him, looking shy and timid, her eyes like shimmering autumn waters.

In an instant, Chen Changqing’s neck turned bright red. He didn’t even dare to look Wen Ningzhou in the eye, feeling a fire burning in his chest.

This beauty was finally his.

Chen Changqing knew she was pretty, but he hadn’t realized that after putting on a wedding dress and applying rouge, she would be so breathtakingly beautiful.

Eyes like autumn pools, brows like distant mountains.

Chen Changqing called out dotingly, “Wife.”

He seemed somewhat impatient as he urged, “Wife, the hour is late. Let us drink the nuptial wine and retire for the night.”

That’s him, alright—the exact same lines.

Wen Ningzhou quietly scooted back, avoiding the hand Chen Changqing was reaching out toward her.

She looked back at him expressionless, her eyes cold. This was the world-class scumbag who was ruining her sleep.

In her mind, Wen Ningzhou shouted: Bring me my blade!

My eighty-metre-long broadsword, come to me!

It’s time to carry out justice for the Heavens and beat this dog to death!

Your father [me] is going to strike you down!

Chen Changqing seemed used to the bride’s dull and cold demeanour, so he didn’t find her indifference strange. He went about pouring the wine himself.

From the moment he entered until now, he hadn’t asked a single question about whether his bride was hungry after waiting so long, or if she was thirsty after the tedious wedding rituals.

He was only in a hurry to share the cup and enter the bridal bed.

Wen Ningzhou was already showing great restraint by not bashing his head in; there was no way she was sharing a bed with him.

Not even in a dream—she wouldn’t allow it! This scene was forbidden from happening anywhere.

“Husband,” Wen Ningzhou called out in a fragile, shy voice.

Those two short words seemed to carry a thousand twists and turns of affection, as soft as water.

To Chen Changqing’s ears, the sound felt like a thousand tiny hooks, making half of his body go numb. Dazzled by her exquisite beauty, his hands began to wander. “Wife…”

He lacked even a shred of scholarly dignity, looking more like a greasy little hoodlum.

Wen Ningzhou felt like she was going to be sick. She hadn’t expected that pinching her throat to speak would result in such a cloying, sugary voice.

She found it nauseating, but someone else clearly didn’t. Chen Changqing watched her with greedy obsession. That one shy glance had practically snatched away his very soul.

Captivated by her beauty in this moment, Chen Changqing wanted nothing more than to drown in this “gentle village” of romance.

Seeing his frantic eagerness, Wen Ningzhou dodged his wandering hands. Suppressing the bile rising in her stomach, she coaxed him with a sweet voice.

“Husband, would you drink for me?” Wen Ningzhou tried her best to imagine how the ancients spoke, putting on an exaggerated tone.

She didn’t know what dynasty this was or how couples addressed each other, so she just made it up as she went. Logic shouldn’t exist in a dream, anyway.

Wen Ningzhou said with feigned difficulty, “I cannot handle wine. I beg my husband to drink on my behalf; I only hope you do not find me useless.”

While her words were as sweet as honey, she was mentally retching.

Chen Changqing’s reason briefly returned as he looked at Wen Ningzhou in shock. There was disbelief in his eyes, as if he were meeting her for the first time.

She can actually speak such a long sentence?

She was completely different from her previous dull and catatonic self. Could it be that getting married to him had cured her foolishness?

Chen Changqing didn’t have enough brainpower left to think further; his entire attention was captured by Wen Ningzhou.

Wen Ningzhou planned to get the scumbag drunk bit by bit and then make him sleep in the study. She didn’t know when this dream would end, but she absolutely refused to sleep in the same room as him.

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes shimmering with an involuntary look of expectation. Wen Ningzhou had no idea how soul-stirring she looked in that moment.

No man could withstand it.

Chen Changqing was mesmerized. The newlywed bride was in the prime of her youth, with red lips and white teeth, like a clear lotus rising from the water. Her heavy makeup was striking, yet she still possessed an aura that made one want to protect her.

Shy and silent, with brows like spring hills.

“I’ll drink, I’ll drink,” Chen Changqing said, his eyes never leaving her for a second, putting on an act of deep affection. “I shall drink for my wife.”

Chen Changqing downed two cups. Before he could even set his cup down, Wen Ningzhou was at his side, refilling it.

“Allow me to pour more for my husband.” Wen Ningzhou filled it to the brim, showing no concern for the supply.

“My husband’s heroic posture while drinking is truly dashing,” Wen Ningzhou said, feigning the shyness of a young girl. “I wish to see more.”

The alcohol hit Chen Changqing’s head. He downed the entire cup in one go.

Wen Ningzhou was beautiful without realizing it. Simply by urging him to drink, no one could refuse a cup offered by such a celestial being especially when she coaxed him with such gentle words.

After one cup, she poured another. With her slender fingers, she personally delivered the porcelain cup to Chen Changqing. Her skin was so fair and translucent that her fingertips seemed even whiter than the white porcelain.

Chen Changqing lost track of time and space. Dazed and confused, he poured cup after cup into his stomach, finding the wine as sweet as nectar.

“Would my husband care for another?”

“Good… very good, excellent.”

“My wife is truly beautiful… even the fairies in heaven could not compare to a fraction of her.”

Chen Changqing was quite drunk now. His speech was slurred, and he had dropped his facade. He stared lecherously at Wen Ningzhou, his face flushed red as he let out a foul-smelling alcoholic burp.

Wen Ningzhou watched the future Prince Consort make a complete fool of himself with cold indifference.

She couldn’t fathom how that “blind princess” could ever fall for such a pathetic man—one she felt she could knock out with a single punch.

This dream was exhausting. Wen Ningzhou thought to herself that once she woke up, she would need a long time to recover and a bowl of nourishing soup from the canteen.

Support The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness