Yao Huang still remembered the torment of being scrutinized carefully by the Prince last time, so after pushing the wheelchair to the bedside, she went to extinguish several lamps in the room.
The brightest were a pair of gilt lotus lamps. Each candle stand extended three lotus lamp holders, each burning three candles as thick as four fingers.
Some breeze could penetrate through the window cracks. The pale yellow candle flames danced gently, like her currently wildly pounding heart.
Drawing closer, Yao Huang picked up the lamp cover placed to the side. Just as she was about to align it with a candle, Prince Hui’s voice suddenly sounded from behind: “Leave them lit for now.”
Leave them for what?
Though the Prince didn’t say, Yao Huang understood clearly. Tonight the Prince hadn’t brought books over—besides looking at her, there was nothing else to see.
And that almost commanding calm tone made Yao Huang unable to generate any thought of further negotiation. During the day the Prince was easy to talk to, but at night he had always been domineering and overbearing. Even if he saw her cry pitifully and coaxed her with words, what should continue would continue. His heart was very hard.
Putting down the lamp cover, Yao Huang walked back slowly, lowering two layers of bed curtains in succession. Inside the curtains it was still quite bright.
The wheelchair was empty, but Yao Huang knew this couldn’t prove anything anymore. The Prince could remove his trousers midway—after all, her back was to him and she couldn’t see.
Climbing onto the bed with a red face, Yao Huang lay directly toward the inner side, anxiously waiting for the familiar chest to press against her.
Just thinking about the Prince, Yao Huang didn’t even notice she had naturally curved her legs forward, cooperating in advance.
Zhao Sui saw this clearly, yet he didn’t hope his Princess Consort would think he was staying over tonight purely for that.
He lay flat on his back facing the canopy top and asked, “You don’t want to see me?”
Yao Huang blinked. “Not at all.”
Zhao Sui asked, “Then why this posture?”
Yao Huang: “…”
It was clearly a misunderstanding, yet Yao Huang had no way to clarify, letting herself stew in frustration.
She turned around, looking resentfully toward the Prince opposite her. “I want to see the Prince. I wish I could keep my eyes open looking from daytime to deep night, then from deep night to dawn. Satisfied?”
Zhao Sui glanced at her, his voice bland. “Stop talking nonsense. Before, you always liked to hold me and chat idly for a while. Tonight you had that appearance—if not angry, what was it?”
Yao Huang still couldn’t refute, because refuting would only add to her own embarrassment and annoyance.
Since he wanted to hear household chat, Yao Huang nonchalantly embraced him, pressing against his shoulder. “Fine, I’ll chat with the Prince now. What does the Prince want to hear?”
Zhao Sui asked, “After Li Dashi died, what happened to Pan Xuniang?”
Yao Huang replied, “…She had no power or influence. Wanting to redress her husband’s injustice, she had no way, so she could only accept it and live her own life well.”
Zhao Sui said, “Elaborate.”
Yao Huang continued, “…To pursue the lawsuit, she sold her family’s original land and was left destitute. Fortunately, she met a kind farmer who was willing to share two mu of land for her to cultivate…”
Zhao Sui interrupted her. “Did that farmer have a wife? Otherwise, rashly helping a widowed woman—this action might provoke gossip.”
Yao Huang: “…”
Asking this and that while telling a story! If not for the fact that the storybook couldn’t be shown to others, she really wanted to throw the book to the Prince to read himself.
Yao Huang began fabricating: “There was indeed some gossip, so after Pan Xuniang planted for a year and saved up some food, she stopped renting his land. Instead, she went to town to find work. She was lucky—she saved an ironsmith’s elderly mother. The old mother, knowing her situation, took her as an adopted daughter. From then on, she did some manual labor at the ironsmith’s shop, supporting herself.”
Zhao Sui said, “Continue.”
Yao Huang replied, “…I only read up to here. I haven’t had time to read what comes after. After I finish reading, I’ll tell the Prince.”
Zhao Sui said, “Very well. I’m not sleepy now. Bring it here and I’ll read it myself.”
Yao Huang was dumbfounded. There was absolutely no way she could fetch that book for him. Gritting her teeth, Yao Huang hugged him and shook him, burying herself in his neck hollow and saying in a thin voice, “The Prince only thinks about reading books. Are books more important or am I more important?”
After a moment of silence, Zhao Sui raised his hand to pat her shoulder, saying in a low voice, “You.”
Yao Huang breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the Prince gave her face and didn’t insist on the storybook anymore.
Without reading the storybook, certain things naturally followed. Prince Hui turned to his side, focusing on accompanying his Princess Consort.
Perhaps he was getting the hang of it—the Prince no longer turned her around. After all, these face-to-face positions didn’t hinder anything either. Yao Huang just closed her eyes and let him move about.
When both of them were about ready, Yao Huang consciously moved to turn her back.
Zhao Sui held her shoulder. “Like this.”
Yao Huang: “…”
Just thinking about it seemed difficult. Yet Prince Hui insisted on trying. He only needed to speak—the one exerting effort to cooperate was Yao Huang.
Nothing seemed to work. Yao Huang didn’t mind, but she feared the Prince couldn’t endure repeated failures.
Yao Huang didn’t even dare open her eyes to look at his expression.
Suddenly, the instant she unintentionally raised her left leg high, the Prince supported her. “Like this.”
Yao Huang: “…”
Yao Huang was almost lying back into the brocade bedding. The Prince pulled away her pillow, so when she was forced to shift upward there was no resistance whatsoever.
On previous nights, Yao Huang had been half-prone, most of her face buried in the pillow. The Prince couldn’t see her clearly, and she only looked back at him twice when begging for mercy. Now Yao Huang could clearly feel the Prince’s gaze traveling up and down over her. She saw it herself too—as if the earth moved and mountains shook. But she didn’t want to watch at all and grabbed her inner garment to cover her face.
Zhao Sui didn’t interfere. This way was more exhausting. He also didn’t want the Princess Consort to see his embarrassment or ferocity as he indulged in this matter despite his disability.
When the Prince finally released his right hand, Yao Huang’s left leg seemed disabled too.
Zhao Sui rested first. After resting enough, he turned to his side. Just as she was still against the headboard, it was convenient for him to loosen the muscles of her left leg.
He meant well, but Yao Huang kept crying out in soreness.
Zhao Sui lightened his pressure. Seeing her moist eyes brimming with tears looking over faintly, Zhao Sui asked, “Don’t you ride horses often?”
Yao Huang replied, “Where’s the ‘often’? My family only has two mules. Normally my father and brother ride them. Only when they’re resting can I indulge myself. Besides, from when the palace selection roster began until now—over half a year—I only went riding once yesterday. Suddenly doing this, who could endure it?”
Zhao Sui said, “Now you have Ni Guang. You can practice more.”
Yao Huang: “…”
Too infuriating! She pushed his shoulder with her right foot.
Zhao Sui supported his body with his right hand, grasped her ankle with his left, his gaze shifting aside.
Yao Huang quickly grabbed the quilt to cover herself, simultaneously trying to break free from his restraint. Her still-burning face flared up again.
Zhao Sui knew his own condition and didn’t force it further.
The next day he woke half an hour early to exercise his Princess Consort’s right leg, causing Yao Huang to wake even later. Too rushed to wash up, she first had Bai Ling come in to massage her.
A’Ji loved learning new skills. Chun Yan’s needlework was too intricate and complex—she had neither the patience nor the time. Qiu Chan’s arithmetic—the simple parts she knew, the difficult parts made her head hurt from pondering. So when Bai Ling attended to the Princess Consort massaging her legs, A’Ji knelt on the bed inside, watching and learning while helping massage the Princess Consort’s other leg.
Seeing a circle of palm prints at the root of the Princess Consort’s leg, she asked in alarm, “Princess Consort, what happened here?”
She had seen many more marks left by the Prince, all on the upper body. This mark on the leg—could it be the Prince had grown angry and pinched the Princess Consort?
Yao Huang glared at her. “Don’t ask what you shouldn’t ask.”
A’Ji was stunned, smiled awkwardly, guessing the Prince and Princess Consort had tried new variations again.
The morning passed like this. After the meal, Yao Huang summoned Gao Niangzi and had her prepare tomorrow’s lunch banquet well. “They’re all my natal family. No need to make overly complicated dishes. Five meat, three vegetable, one soup will do. Make double portions. When a plate empties, serve more of that dish.”
Gao Niangzi smiled. “Princess Consort, rest assured. Tomorrow just wait and see.”
What kind of banquet would double portions make? She would lead the kitchen to prepare sixteen non-repeating dishes for the Princess Consort’s relatives, including the three fish the Princess Consort prepared—they must be made three different ways!
In the afternoon, Yao Huang took a long nap. When she woke, both legs had finally recovered seventy to eighty percent. Thinking her body had indeed become more delicate than half a year ago, Yao Huang had A’Ji fetch a long rope. She had Bai Ling and Chun Yan, who couldn’t jump, each stand at one end swinging the rope, while she led A’Ji and Qiu Chan—sometimes taking turns jumping, sometimes two people jumping, sometimes three people jumping.
Jumping a while, resting a while—after an hour, all three mistress and servants had flushed faces with sweat-dampened stray hair.
Yao Huang persisted the longest of the three. Even A’Ji couldn’t match her.
Bai Ling said admiringly, “The Princess Consort is truly amazing!”
When first meeting the Princess Consort, she had thought the Princess Consort was so plump and lustrous because she didn’t like moving. Who knew when jumping she would be light as a swallow!
A’Ji said with shared honor, “This is nothing. The Princess Consort can even wield a spear—moving like a dragon and phoenix. She performs even better than my young master.”
Chun Yan immediately flattered, “Could the Princess Consort open our eyes?”
Yao Huang took a damp cloth to wipe her sweat, glanced at the western sun, and smiled. “It’s still early. Then I’ll show you a skill.”
She pointed to a junior maid and had her ask Guo Shu to borrow a spear. Prince Hui was famous for military achievements—the residence definitely didn’t lack weapons.
Guo Shu came personally, bringing two spears. One had a wooden spear head—what the residence guards used for normal sparring. The other was a cattail wood long spear lacquered black with hints of red, with a sharp spear head—an old spear Prince Hui had used when practicing martial arts in his youth.
Guo Shu’s voice carried a trace of pleading. “If the Princess Consort is just practicing, please use the wooden spear. If you injure yourself, the Prince will worry.”
Yao Huang smiled, grabbed Prince Hui’s old spear, and had everyone retreat to the corridor. As if no one else existed, she practiced a round of spearmanship she had learned from her brother.
Ordinary soldiers in military camps, including her centurion father, learned the simplest enemy-confronting spearmanship. Her brother had also followed their father learning this set as a child. Later when her brother tested into the military academy, court-appointed master teachers separately taught them boxing, spearmanship, blade techniques, swordsmanship, and so on. Her brother, afraid of biting off more than he could chew, chose spearmanship and blade techniques to practice diligently. Yao Huang not only learned these two from her brother but also had Li Tingwang teach her swordsmanship.
If not for the benefits she could get from Li Tingwang, just based on his foul mouth, Yao Huang would have long since ignored him.
Finishing a set of spear techniques, when withdrawing the spear, Yao Huang thrust the spear tip downward forcefully. An obvious small pit was actually pierced into the stone brick beneath her feet.
She smiled toward Guo Shu.
Guo Shu was first shocked, then clapped in praise. “Princess Consort, excellent spearmanship! This humble one previously underestimated you. Please forgive me, Princess Consort.”
Yao Huang was magnanimous. Weighing the spear in her hand, she asked, “Can you get me one exactly like this?”
The two spears her father and brother had saved money to forge were both too heavy for her. This one was just right to use.
Guo Shu replied, “The Prince’s spears are all custom-made by the court armory workshop. I’ll request instructions from the Prince. As long as I have the Prince’s token, I can order one from the armory workshop.”
Yao Huang said, “That troublesome? Then forget it. Normally I don’t need it anyway. When my hands itch, I’ll just use the Prince’s old one.”
At night she attended to him so diligently—presumably Prince Hui wasn’t that petty.