The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness - Chapter 4

Wen Ningzhou successfully got Chen Changqing drunk, using every trick in the book to coax and deceive him into sleeping in the study.

Nearly the entire jar of wine had ended up in Chen Changqing’s stomach. The stench that wafted out every time he let out an alcoholic burp was so foul it nearly sent Wen Ningzhou “out of this beautiful world.”

“Go sleep in the study,” Wen Ningzhou said, dropping the act completely. She stopped calling him “husband,” and her gentle persona vanished without a trace.

The disgust on her face was palpable. Wanting nothing more than to drive the scumbag out of the room, she grabbed one of the festive red quilts and shoved it into Chen Changqing’s arms.

This way, he wouldn’t have any free hands to grope around.

“Not… not going,” Chen Changqing muttered, a foolish grin plastered across his flushed face. “Today is my… my g-g-great day of joy.”

His tongue was heavy, and he couldn’t get a single sentence out without hiccupping three times.

“With a beautiful bride at my side…” His eyes were glazed, and his gaze slowly took on an unappetizing quality. “How… how could I possibly leave?”

With that, his lips curled into a smirk that Wen Ningzhou found eyesore-inducing, and he began to hum a jaunty, self-satisfied tune.

He was an adult man; even if he was drunk, Wen Ningzhou didn’t dare to be reckless. She was small in stature, and there was no way she could win a physical fight.

She wondered if she might be a bit more powerful in her dreams.

Unable to imagine a scenario where she actually won a brawl against Chen Changqing, she abandoned the idea and went back to persuading him with words.

“Why not seize the momentum of today to immerse yourself in the works of the Sages?” Wen Ningzhou’s tone was stiff.

“To be found studying at one’s desk even on one’s wedding night—surely such dedication would move the spirits of the Sages themselves.”

Noticing that Chen Changqing was visibly wavering, Wen Ningzhou pressed her advantage, saying words she didn’t mean: “It would surely help my husband top the imperial exams.”

Drunk as he was, Chen Changqing could still hear her. He wasn’t entirely far gone, but his consciousness was blurred, and his willpower was nowhere near its usual level.

He took in what Wen Ningzhou was saying, but every time he looked at her beauty, his greed resurfaced.

In his muddled state, Chen Changqing weighed the two options. After a moment of comparison, he suddenly burst into laughter.

It was completely without warning, and the sudden outburst startled Wen Ningzhou, making her scalp prickle with tension.

“A beauty… in my arms,” Chen Changqing slurred.

“I’m sure… I’m sure the Sages would understand.”

“My wife is so… hic… so gifted by heaven that even an immortal couldn’t… couldn’t hold back.”

Wen Ningzhou felt not a shred of joy at the compliment. Her peach-blossom face was as cold as ice. She wanted to snatch the scumbag’s head off so he would stop burping in her direction.

“Why doesn’t my husband use this alcoholic inspiration to put brush to paper?” Wen Ningzhou lied through her teeth, piling on the flattery.

“In my eyes, my husband possesses vast knowledge and extraordinary talent,” she said. “To write while inspired by wine would be truly heroic, a display of your peerless ability.”

“It would surely be a masterpiece that startles the wind and rain—a story to be told for ages, leaving your name in history forever.”

Or leave a stench for ten thousand years, she added silently to herself.

Under such a barrage of elaborate flattery, Chen Changqing forgot his own name. He was floating on cloud nine, having lost all sense of reason.

Wen Ningzhou’s act of reverence and admiration was perfectly pitched. Her words had struck exactly where Chen Changqing was most vulnerable.

When Chen Changqing finally stumbled out clutching his quilt, his steps were still unsteady. A beautiful woman’s admiration and the lure of fame were both things he craved above all else.

Wen Ningzhou had played him perfectly by targeting his two greatest desires: his career and his reputation.

In his drunken stupor, he felt as though he had already achieved success—admired by thousands, possessing world-class talent, with endless beauties in his arms.

As soon as Chen Changqing left, Wen Ningzhou jumped up and slammed the door bolt home. She gave the door a experimental tug; where the two panels met, a gap three fingers wide still appeared.

She scanned the room and decided on the two wooden chairs.

The square table was too large for her to move easily, so she wedged the two chairs behind the door, using the backrests to brace it shut.

Only after confirming the door couldn’t be easily opened from the outside did she wet a cloth with water from the basin. she wiped away her elegant “distant mountain” brows and the vibrant rouge from her lips.

She rinsed the cloth twice in the clear water. Throughout the process, she suppressed her curiosity, keeping her head down and refusing to look in the mirror as she scrubbed the powder from her face.

Once finished, she climbed back into bed and tucked the quilts tightly around her head.

Everything will be fine once I wake up, she thought, pushing down her unease.

Closing her eyes, she felt her body was exhausted, pulling her quickly into sleep. Just before drifting off, she thought: Dreaming while sleeping, then sleeping within a dream.

It was actually quite funny.

She promised herself she would never get so emotionally invested in a novel again; this “immersive experience” was simply too much.

The following morning, Wen Ningzhou woke up feeling refreshed after a full night’s sleep. She opened her eyes with a sense of satisfaction.

Outside, the sun hadn’t quite risen, and the room was somewhat dim. Having just woken up, she was still a bit dazed, but she remembered her plan: get up and go have some tea tree mushroom and pork rib soup.

Food was her primary motivation for getting out of bed. Wen Ningzhou tossed back the quilt and sat up.

Then, she froze. She sat bolt upright, staring at her surroundings in disbelief. She rubbed her eyes vigorously with both hands.

I must have woken up the wrong way.

Why was she still here? Did dreams come in serialized episodes now?

The anomalies she had deliberately ignored since yesterday began to flood her mind. Everything was far too real: the flickering candle, the bright red “Double Happiness” characters, the grain of the wooden bedframe.

The wind leaking through the broken window paper, the texture of the dried peanuts, and of course—Chen Changqing.

A man she had never seen before shouldn’t have appeared so suddenly in her dream, let alone with such vividness. His expressions and movements were specific and lifelike.

Even his aura and voice felt entirely real.

Like a… living, breathing human being.

The last of Wen Ningzhou’s sleepiness vanished, chased away by this terrifying thought. She didn’t dare think too deeply, but the unease in her heart grew sharper as the answer became unavoidable.

How could this be? Why?

What was she supposed to do now?

A flood of questions overwhelmed her logic; her eighteen-year-old worldview collapsed in an instant.

Her mind was a chaotic mess. Lost in thought as she climbed out of bed, she didn’t notice her foot landing on the very edge of the wooden footstool. She slipped and fell hard.

The impact was solid. Wen Ningzhou hissed as she clutched her shin, nearly crying from the shock.

It hurt too much. With tears pricking her eyes, she carefully rolled up her trouser leg to rub the sore spot.

This was the moment that truly woke her up.

In a dream, you can’t feel pain.

Forgetting everything else, Wen Ningzhou dusted off her clothes and stood up, limping toward the bronze mirror.

She had to see what the body she had transmigrated into looked like.

If the plot of the novel held true, she was now the Prime Minister’s daughter. She wanted to see exactly what kind of person could be foolish enough to reach this level of stupidity.

In the mirror, the figure had brows like autumn waters and skin like fine jade. Wen Ningzhou blinked; the girl in the mirror blinked back with equal charm.

Eyes like bright stars, a beauty that would make peaches and apricots feel ashamed.

This “brainless” person was, quite clearly, her own face.

She had actually transmigrated with her own appearance; she looked exactly like the “Muggle” from the book.

The clarity of the bronze mirror was nothing compared to modern standards, offering a hazy, classical reflection. In the dark yellow surface, a girl who looked like she’d stepped out of a painting stared back—skin like congealed lard, as beautiful as a crown of jade.

Wen Ningzhou stared blankly at the mirror. She felt like choosing death.

What was going on! Did her face just scream “fool” to the universe? Why did she have to end up in the body of a dunderhead who looked exactly like her?

The candle from the night before had burnt itself out. In the grey light of dawn, the room was gloomy.

But that didn’t stop Wen Ningzhou from confirming that the girl in the mirror looked slightly younger than her current self clearly, it was her from two years ago.

The year the Prime Minister’s daughter married the scumbag, she was sixteen—the “Green Jade” age of a young bride.

Wen Ningzhou sat back on the bed. Since she was already here, no matter how much she resisted, she couldn’t change the facts.

She had read countless novels, only to finally crash and burn by getting stuck in one herself.

She might as well calm down, try to accept reality, and live a safe, smooth life.

Her ability to adapt had always been strong; she was good at talking herself into things. Pointless anxiety would only cause more trouble, and since her stomach was still growling, she didn’t want to waste energy.

Wen Ningzhou muttered under her breath, “Let a function of three variables have first-order continuous partial derivatives on the region Omega…”

She forced herself to stay calm, sorting through the plot development and characters of the book.

She hadn’t finished the novel, but she had read more than half of it—right up until the Prime Minister’s daughter died. There hadn’t been any hint of a plot twist.

This was her meager “Golden Finger”: she knew the future trajectory of events. This country was protected by a profound National Preceptor and ruled by a wise, battle-hardened Emperor; there shouldn’t be any major wars.

As long as she stayed far away from the whirlpool of the scumbag and the Princess, she could live a stable life here.

Going over the plot in her head, she became even more convinced: Stay away from the scumbag to stay safe.

Next, she sorted through the key characters: the Prince Consort Chen Changqing, the blind Eldest Princess, and herself.

After a moment of thought, Wen Ningzhou realized that the character she had transmigrated into was always referred to as “the Prime Minister’s daughter”—she didn’t even have a specific name.

Even the minor maidservants in the book had names.

It was a story about three people, yet she wasn’t allowed to have a name of her own.

Her biggest regret now was calling Chen Changqing “husband” in that soft voice the night before while urging him to drink.

She truly, deeply regretted it.

Wen Ningzhou let out a long sigh. She would likely have to keep acting today. She had to trick him into going to the capital to study immediately.

In the book, Chen Changqing left for the capital half a month after the wedding; that was when he first encountered the Eldest Princess outside the palace.

Half a month was too long; Wen Ningzhou couldn’t wait. She currently had no money and knew nothing about this world, so she didn’t dare leave just yet. But staying under the same roof as that scumbag for two weeks was far too dangerous.

Now that she knew none of this was a dream, she couldn’t bring herself to say “husband” again.

She would have to find another angle to convince Chen Changqing to set off today.

The original daughter might not have seen through him, but Wen Ningzhou saw him clearly: the man was a social climber to his core.

He had married the Prime Minister’s daughter for her status. Wen Ningzhou decided to use the Prime Minister’s house as bait.

By the time the first rays of sunlight broke through, Wen Ningzhou had organized her thoughts. Transmigrating into a book was still surreal when she stopped to think about it.

She moved the chairs and opened the door. If she wanted to trick the scumbag into leaving early, she had to earn his trust first.

Wen Ningzhou never imagined she would see the day where her survival depended on her acting skills.

She would try her best to blend in, praying that she wouldn’t mess up and be burned as a demon.

Just try to survive.

Wen Ningzhou’s standards were very low. It wasn’t that she lacked ambition; it was more that she didn’t truly view this as the real world.

Even if she was physically living here now, she felt she would never belong.

It felt more like playing a full-immersion VR game. Everyone, including the Prince Consort and the Eldest Princess, were just slightly more lifelike NPCs to her.

Just as people don’t get emotionally attached to a game dungeon, Wen Ningzhou remained clear-headed. She wouldn’t develop feelings for a place she didn’t belong or for the “game characters” here.

She was just a salted fish trying to survive without catching any feelings.

Wen Ningzhou lifted her plain skirt and stepped over the threshold, heading to the study to find Chen Changqing.

From the moment she chose not to follow the plot and consummate the marriage, the butterfly had quietly flapped its wings.

Support The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness