Transmigrated as the Princess's Scummy Wife - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Drive Her Out For This Palace

The night wind rustled, brushing against a handsome face etched with anxiety.

At the moment her knuckles tapped the window lattice, the sound of the night watchman’s gong echoed in the distance.

Xuan Zhaoci wore only a suit of plain white inner garments, revealing her slender silhouette. Her face was weary with exhaustion. Dong He supported her shoulders, attending to her as she prepared to rest.

Just as her pink-toned toes touched the bedframe, the synchronized sounds of the gong and a rhythmic tapping on the window by the daybed rang out simultaneously.

Tuk, tuk, tuk.

The visitor tapped neither too fast nor too slow. Xuan Zhaoci froze.

“Dong He, go and ask the Prince Consort to return.”

Receiving the order, Dong He approached the window and lowered her voice: “Prince—”

Her sharp eyes caught the window being pushed outward just a tiny crack. Just as she was about to scold the Prince Consort for letting in the draft, a sheet of rice paper was stuffed through that minuscule gap.

Nan Qing feared opening the window too wide would cause a draft, resulting in a gap so small it was difficult to shove the paper through. She used her fingernails to slowly push it in bit by bit.

Unexpectedly, before the paper was even halfway through, a sudden force from the other side yanked the rice paper inside and slammed the window shut tight.

Nan Qing: “…”

Your Highness, I…

Only three words were written on the paper. Nan Qing’s calligraphy was just like the impression she gave: vigorous and powerful, yet elegant and refined.

The structure of the characters was excellent—an effect that could not be achieved without years of practice. The “bones” were straight and the form beautiful; the sharp edges that needed to show were fully displayed, while the parts that needed restraint were tucked away. It was perfectly controlled.

“Dong He, mount this calligraphy for this Palace.”

Dong He knelt to the side, her expression stunned, as if she couldn’t react for a moment.

Xuan Zhaoci chuckled and tapped her forehead: “Do you have any thoughts? Speak to this Palace.”

“Highness.” Dong He was full of shock. “This Prince Consort… she, she…”

She isn’t the original one!?

This handwriting was completely different from the writing on the marriage contract!

Who would dare believe such an outrageous thing?

Dong He swallowed hard. Shock, confusion, and helplessness intertwined on her face.

Xuan Zhaoci leaned sideways against the bed back, her shoulder blades as thin as that sheet of rice paper. She raised her hand, and Dong He naturally cupped it with both of hers.

“Add a garment, and grind the ink.”

“Highness, it is late.” Even in her shock, Dong He’s primary concern was her Princess’s health.

“It matters not. An occasional night or two is quite interesting.”

Dong He suddenly understood: “Does Your Highness wish to preserve more of this person’s calligraphy and paintings?”

In the Great Xuan Dynasty, one only mounted and preserved another’s calligraphy if they felt affection for them. Dong He’s implication was slightly ambiguous, causing Xuan Zhaoci’s sensitive earlobes to flush slightly.

Xuan Zhaoci chided softly: “You little girl, what nonsense are you spouting!?”

“This Palace…” She actually began to stutter. “This Palace’s action is to preserve evidence. Dong He, you should read more of the law books written by the Court of Judicial Review to standardize your terminology.”

Dong He stuck out her tongue: “Highness is picking on me again.”

“Are you accusing this Palace instead?”

Xuan Zhaoci glared back playfully. Her stunning amber eyes flowed like water, and the red mole at the corner of her eye swayed with a thousand charms as she laughed—a sight that could melt bones and make one lose themselves, willing to fall at her feet and forget life and death.

Few people ever saw Xuan Zhaoci like this; Dong He was one of those few.

In the past, she often wondered what kind of ideal spouse her master would marry. It wasn’t until the previous Prince Consort appeared that Dong He’s illusions about marriage were completely shattered.

She had almost thought the Princess would be entangled with such a despicable person for a lifetime. But who would have thought that even Heaven was on the Princess’s side, swapping out that damned former Prince Consort.

Dong He had been curious why the Prince Consort’s temperament had changed so drastically lately; it turned out she was a different person… Knowing she was a different person made her thoughts a bit more active.

The Princess was married to this person; she could neither divorce nor dismiss her, otherwise, she couldn’t account to the Emperor.

This Prince Consort has a good temper and knows how to respect the Princess. Even if the Prince Consort doesn’t have “that” feeling for her Master, Dong He would force her to have it. Her Master deserves all the best things.

And her Princess envied the way commoner couples interacted most. A new term had recently become popular among the commoners called a “Simp” (Tiao Gou). Dong He’s eyes rolled around as she plotted her “Simp Training Plan.”

“What mischief are you plotting in that head of yours?”

“This servant is not thinking of anything bad!” She stuck out her tongue.

This girl’s head was always full of strange ideas—the cart the Prince Consort lay on was one of Dong He’s whimsical creations.

Xuan Zhaoci simply stopped bickering with her.

Mischief would come out eventually; let Dong He play however she liked. Regardless, she could cover for her.

She finished writing and set down the brush. Dong He brought it to the window.

Nan Qing had thought it through very clearly before writing.

In the Great Xuan Dynasty, everyone received a basic education in literacy; it was normal for her to know how to write.

No letters between the original owner and Xuan Zhaoci had been found in the room. Given their terrible relationship, they likely didn’t correspond. Therefore, Xuan Zhaoci definitely hadn’t seen the original owner’s handwriting.

Nan Qing felt this move was very safe and stable.

She intentionally wrote only three words to leave a cliffhanger, making the Princess unable to guess what she wanted to say so that she would be restless—even if she was about to sleep, she would be thinking about the second half of the sentence.

When the rice paper came through the gap, she almost wanted to praise herself for being a genius!

The ink emitted a faint, cold fragrance, very similar to a scent on Xuan Zhaoci’s body. Likely because she wrote often, her body was permeated with this cold scent.

It smelled good and was as cold as that face.

She unfolded the reply. The handwriting was elegant but steady; the other party had likely hidden their writing habits deliberately. She couldn’t see much else.

Prince Consort, this Palace.

Four words. That was it. It formed a perfect structural match with “Your Highness, I.”

Nan Qing: “…”

Now it was her turn to be restless.

Nan Qing: Highness, I am hungry.

Xuan Zhaoci: Prince Consort, this Palace has prepared late-night snacks for you.

Thank you, Highness. I have set up a small table by your window and am waiting for the maid to deliver the food. I have one more thing I wish to discuss with Your Highness.

Prince Consort, there is no need for such formality. You and I are wife and consort; if there is something, you may speak directly.

**[Yes. I am Your Highness’s consort-official and should not hide anything. I have failed Your Highness. I should have committed suicide to atone for my sins, however, I feel that vanishing like that would only leave a mess and Your Highness’s broken heart.

I am willing to make amends through service. From now on, I will respect and protect Your Highness, taking Your Highness as my guide in all things. If Your Highness tells me to go north, I will never run south.

Is Your Highness willing to give me a chance?

“The Prince Consort still thinks Your Highness doesn’t know about her and the Second Princess,” Dong He said, finding it funny. “Your Highness’s perfect heart won’t be hurt by that Prince Consort.”

“You, you… such a sharp tongue. How about you write the letters for this Palace instead?”

“I won’t! This servant dislikes writing. If I can say it, I’ll never write it.”

Xuan Zhaoci smiled.

If it were any other maidservant, they might have replied, “This servant lacks Your Highness’s talent and is unfit for the task,” putting themselves in a very low position. She disliked that.

Dong He was different; she acted according to her own likes. She lived very “humanly,” which Xuan Zhaoci liked. This was also why she only had this one personal maidservant by her side.

“Highness, do you feel any physical discomfort?”

Dong He knew the reason for Xuan Zhaoci’s nausea. Xuan Zhaoci focused on her body and shook her head: “None.”

Passing letters with the Prince Consort was fine, though she still couldn’t see the person or hear her voice. It was truly miraculous.

While she was musing, footsteps sounded outside, followed by the crisp sound of bowls and chopsticks being placed on the table.

In what way has the Prince Consort failed this Palace?

Knowing there were snacks, Nan Qing had specifically set up another heavy wooden table nearby the light one for eating, the heavy one for writing.

She slurped her noodles while thinking about how to answer.

Please burn this paper after reading, Highness. I beg for forgiveness. I should not have been greedy for beauty and accepted the three women sent by the Prince of Yan. I swear, nothing happened between me and them. My body, my heart, and my stance belong forever and only to Your Highness.

Three women? Why is there one more than a few days ago?

Xuan Zhaoci held the brush, pondering for a long while.

Does the Prince Consort think those three are beautiful?

A death-trap question.

They are not even one-billionth as beautiful as Your Highness. Your Highness is of noble blood; how can those people be compared to you? Your Highness is not only beautiful but also kind and broad-minded. Take this snack for example:

The chicken soup prepared by the kitchen is white and delicious. The coconut milk fragrance of the Five-Finger Peach is so refreshing that even one breath is heart-warming. After drinking it, there is no greasy feeling at all; the crisp sweetness of the peach has an endless aftertaste.

I drank a whole large bowl the bowl was bigger than my face! I have truly never had such delicious and hearty chicken soup!

And the vermicelli simmered in the soup has soaked up the freshness of the broth. The handmade vermicelli is refreshing and chewy; I can slurp down half a bowl in one bite.

The green vegetables absorbed the chicken juice, remaining crisp and tender amidst the sweetness. It feels as fresh as if it were just picked from the field. I never imagined the vegetables I grew could be this delicious! I swear I will garden well in the future to ensure Your Highness can eat fresh and tender vegetables every day!

This chicken meat is even better; the texture is firm and not loose. The perfect white meat simply whets the appetite. It was even handled by the kitchen into bite-sized pieces. Just one bite leaves me lingering, wanting to eat it tomorrow, the day after, next year, and the year after!

To prepare such a lavish snack for me, Your Highness must have spent a lot of breath and made preparations long ago.

Your Highness is such a beautiful person inside and out, radiating the brilliance of beauty. For me to dare meet a mistress is simply unpardonable!

With a wife like this, what more could a consort ask for! From now on, I will turn over a new leaf and be wholeheartedly devoted only to Your Highness!

Respectfully submitted by your consort, Nan Qing.

Nan Qing had eaten so well that she scribbled this long essay: “A Research Report on the Relationship Between the Freshness of Chicken Soup and the Absolute Loyalty of the Fifth Prince Consort to Princess Qinghe.”

She had cleared three large bowls. Resting her chin on her hand, she blinked toward the blurred interior through the gauze window.

The fresh aroma of the chicken soup had eventually drifted inside through the repeated opening and closing of the window, slowly swirling around the table.

Suddenly, two abrupt, very soft stomach growls broke the silence in the room.

Master and servant looked at each other.

Xuan Zhaoci bit her lower lip, feeling both hungry, annoyed, and amused: “Drive that Prince Consort with a stomach full of bad water out for this Palace!”

Dong He echoed through gritted teeth: “Yes!”

The Wingman has arrived.

Nan Qing: Huh? How could I possibly be a Simp? (Question mark)

Xuan Zhaoci: Then can you be one? (Pouts)

Nan Qing: (Clown emoji) I can.

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