She was refusing him, twisting her body to avoid him.

Li Xuandu’s palm closed around her dodging shoulder, and he gently patted it, saying quietly: “Don’t move. Let me take a look.”

Pu Zhu bit her lip, stilled herself, and let him turn her body over so she was lying face down on the pillow.

Li Xuandu gently drew her collar down from her shoulders, lowering it a few inches — and then he saw the scraping wound across her back.

The wound was at the right side of her spine, beside the shoulder blade. It was not deep, but the injured area was not small — about the size of a palm. The patch of scraped skin was ivory white and delicate, and thin threads of blood had seeped from the fine scratch marks, already congealed, leaving a stain on her clothing.

This kind of wound, compared with his own hand injury that had still not fully healed, was, to be honest, trivial. But seeing it on her body — for some reason — it looked very painful.

He frowned slightly and asked: “What exactly happened? You went to a banquet and came back in such a state — and you’ve actually gone and hurt yourself like this?”

The frustration in Pu Zhu’s heart instantly transformed into grievance.

She really was terribly unlucky!

It was rare enough that she had acted on impulse tonight and done a purely good deed, expecting nothing in return — and who could have known she would nearly lose her life over it? After barely surviving, she came home only to be berated by Li Xuandu —

Put it this way: if he were someone she could truly rely on, she would have been willing to endure it for the sake of his usefulness to her. But he was not at all ambitious and was completely unreliable.

He had been unreliable in her previous life too. When she had met her end in that life, she had counted on him to save her — and that hope had come to nothing.

In this life, through a strange twist of fate, she could no longer be the ready-made Crown Princess and had become his Princess Consort instead. To realize her wishes, she still didn’t know what difficulties lay ahead. She wasn’t afraid — she would face whatever came and do her best to deal with it. But having landed such an apparently unreliable husband, and given the conclusion she was gradually drawing from experience — that events of her previous life were not guaranteed to repeat in this one —

What if — what if in this life he remained useless to the end, and even if she pushed him he still couldn’t do it, couldn’t become emperor? Wouldn’t all her suffering have been for nothing?

The mere thought of such a possibility left Pu Zhu’s heart a cold, desolate expanse. Hearing him still pressing her with questions about the life-and-death events of her evening, she felt even more aggrieved. Her eyes suddenly reddened.

Li Xuandu asked her something, but she lay face down on the pillow and didn’t move. Li Xuandu waited a moment, then carefully turned her face out from the pillow — and only then discovered that she was actually crying, tears having already soaked a patch of the pillowcase.

He grew more anxious and asked again.

Pu Zhu still said nothing.

Not only that — she buried her face back in the pillow again and simply would not let him see it.

From the day of his birth Li Xuandu had been heaven’s favored son, and had enjoyed wealth and luxury all his life, doing exactly as he pleased. Though his fundamental nature remained pure and kind, he had also developed a proud, self-centered disposition and a quick temper — he never looked to others’ faces for cues. It was the series of tremendous upheavals in recent years that had, like a blunt blade cutting away at him inch by inch, pared back the bristles from his body in a process of raw pain, until he had gradually grown quiet and composed. Yet deep within his bones, a trace of that youthful nature still lingered, usually buried so deeply that most people would never notice.

Only at this moment, facing this little wife who had been forcibly thrust upon him by the emperor, was there no use in scolding — and coaxing didn’t work either. Looking at the back of her head turned toward him, he felt an inward surge of frustration; he could only think that women were the most tiresome things in the world. Unable to help himself, his face clouded again and he said with finality: “Fine — if you really don’t want to see me, I’ll leave!”

With that, he yanked back the bed curtain and made to get down from the bed.

Pu Zhu flipped around: “If you want me to listen to that old Nanny Huang nag me again tomorrow and say I’m useless — go right ahead! Better yet, don’t come back at all!”

Li Xuandu still sat at the edge of the bed, unmoving, only casting a sidelong glance at her: “Then tell me what happened! How did you get hurt? Tell me everything.”

Pu Zhu decided to reveal the fact that she had helped Han Rongchang — so he would stop always thinking she never did anything good.

She wiped her eyes, sat up, and told him: she had accidentally overheard Princess Ma Yena’s private words to her maid that evening; she had hurried out to have Nanny Wang go warn Han Rongchang to protect himself; and then, by chance, she had witnessed Shen Yang and his wife quarreling. After that, Shen Yang had strangled the princess’s governess who had followed Pu Zhu there, set fire to the courtyard to destroy the body and conceal the crime — and she herself had been locked inside.

As she spoke, Li Xuandu’s expression grew steadily more grave. He turned and asked: “What did Shen Yang and his attendant say at the time? Did you hear?”

Pu Zhu shook her head with deep regret: “The distance was a bit too great, and they spoke softly. I couldn’t hear.”

Seeing him deep in thought, she bit her lip: “It’s all because I was useless — if only I’d heard them at the time…”

Li Xuandu came back to himself and immediately said: “Never mind! This was none of your business to begin with! In a situation like that, to have managed to escape on your own — that’s already remarkable. And that you came out alive is a blessing!”

He glanced at her shoulder and back: “How did you get out? Is this wound from that time?”

The humiliating experience was something Pu Zhu had absolutely no desire for him to know. Hearing him press again, she said vaguely: “It was nothing much — I was careless and it happened to me… nothing serious, just a small wound…”

Li Xuandu seemed displeased. He frowned and stared at her for a moment — then suddenly turned, pulled back the curtain again, and looked about to get off the bed and leave.

Pu Zhu didn’t want him to go back to his study. If he left and didn’t come back, that old woman with the surname Huang would certainly have something to say about it tomorrow.

Flustered, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve. When he turned his head to look at her, she said haltingly: “I… I crawled out through a drainage channel in a corner of the wall. The opening was narrow, and when I was crawling through, my back got scraped…”

As she finished, even the tips of her white ears had flushed with a shameful red blush. Afraid he would laugh at her, she kept her eyes lowered and didn’t dare look at him.

He didn’t laugh at her. But after a moment he turned away again, apparently making to get off the bed.

Pu Zhu was truly alarmed, and more disappointed than she expected, and she grabbed his sleeve again and refused to let go: “Why are you leaving again? Haven’t I already told you everything?”

Watching her — who usually showed a fair bit of cleverness — behave so foolishly at this moment, always assuming he was throwing her aside and leaving, Li Xuandu felt both residual fright and an almost irresistible urge to laugh. He forced himself to keep a straight face and said: “I’m going to get medicine for you!”

Pu Zhu froze, then understood. She had misread him. Her face flushed hot; she immediately released his sleeve.

Li Xuandu stepped out of the bedchamber and returned shortly, a medicine bottle in hand, and told her to turn around.

Pu Zhu obediently turned, her back toward him.

Li Xuandu carefully applied medicine to her wound, and as he applied it, he also leaned his face a little closer and gently blew a few soft breaths near the wound, then asked softly whether it hurt.

In all the time she had known him, this seemed to be the first time he had been so gentle with her — without mockery, without scolding, filled with patience.

Pu Zhu’s heartbeat quickened for reasons she couldn’t quite name, and her face seemed to heat up as well. Fortunately her back was to him.

She didn’t say a word, only shook her head.

Li Xuandu finished applying the medicine and looked at her back again.

She sat quietly, her head bowed and neck lowered. Her garments were still slipped down to her arms, baring both fair shoulders and the entire expanse of back that was as pale and delicate as fine silken tofu — so delicate it seemed it would yield at the slightest touch, leaving one to wonder at her taste. The graceful, narrowing curve of her slender waist continued downward and down toward a place that stirred the imagination — then was buried beneath a tangle of obstructive silk fabric, hiding everything from view.

Li Xuandu closed his eyes. “Done — pull your clothes back up.”

He said this in a muffled voice, somewhat rough, low and deep.

She did as told, silently drawing her garments back up to cover the elegant waist, cover her shoulders and snowy back, and finally arranging her collar to cover herself completely before turning her face toward him, with a grateful smile: “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Did he need her thanks?

A feeling of strange disappointment washed through Li Xuandu, along with a flicker of irritation — of course he let neither show. He simply made a noncommittal sound, set the medicine bottle aside, wiped his medicine-stained fingers on a cloth, lay down casually, bent one arm to pillow behind his head, and closed his eyes.

Pu Zhu lay down as well, her arms crossed under her cheek, lying face down on the pillow with her face turned toward him.

Li Xuandu lay still for a moment, then said: “Something like that happened tonight — why didn’t you say anything from the start?”

Pu Zhu had gradually stopped being afraid of him and pushed back: “I hadn’t said anything yet and you were already scolding me!”

Li Xuandu made a dismissive sound: “That was scolding?”

Pu Zhu thought of him telling Luo Bao to throw away his coat that she had only been wrapped in for a short while and gave a short laugh.

“And you had Luo Bao throw away the coat? How could it possibly have smelled that bad?”

Li Xuandu didn’t open his eyes to look at her, but he could perfectly picture her expression right now — annoyed, put out.

“Fine! I’ll have him retrieve it tomorrow. Satisfied?”

“Your Highness — on the surface you seem so even-tempered, but privately your temper is terrible! Or is it that you simply dislike me, and you’re only this awful to me?”

“I already treat you very well.” He corrected her.

Truly treating me well would mean giving me a child, then going off to rebel so I can be empress…

The words nearly tumbled out — but at the last moment she held them back.

Now was not the time to bring all that up again. Pu Zhu knew it clearly.

Still, tonight, as catastrophically unlucky as it had been — she had very nearly died — there had also been an unexpected gain.

Though Li Xuandu’s attitude toward her still left something to be desired, she felt that compared to before, the distance between them had somehow narrowed a little.

As long as their relationship kept drawing closer, the business of producing children, becoming empress, and urging him to rebel would naturally grow easier as well.

She decided to quit while she was ahead and not bring any of that up now, for fear of making him look down on her again.

“Your Highness, tonight I truly want to thank you again.”

Pu Zhu lay on the pillow, her eyes fixed on him, and said softly.

Li Xuandu languidly opened his eyes, glanced at her.

“Thank me for what?”

“Your Highness already knew at the garden that I could walk — and yet you still carried me. Your Highness is really wonderful.”

Li Xuandu couldn’t quite understand, himself, how he had gone along with her wishes then and indulged what seemed like her vain desire for a small bit of vanity.

The petty vanity of a pitiful and ridiculous woman…

Pu Zhu, the granddaughter of Pu Youzhi — truly too shallow. From the very first day he had known her, she had not possessed a single feminine virtue or ounce of restraint.

He truly couldn’t help but look down on her.

And yet, hearing her express her thanks to him in that soft voice, looking so happy about it, Li Xuandu suddenly found that it didn’t seem like such a bad thing after all.

Living in this world was suffering far greater than joy, pain far greater than happiness.

Yet she could obtain happiness and satisfaction so easily — even if that happiness and satisfaction were so shallow. Li Xuandu found himself thinking that was not so bad.

He even felt a little envious of her.

He smiled, closed his eyes, and murmured: “Sleep.”

It was already past the middle of the night. The candles in the candelabra were collapsing inch by inch, going out one by one, and the light in the bedchamber slowly dimmed.

In the last bit of candlelight, Pu Zhu quietly opened her eyes and looked at Li Xuandu, who had fallen asleep beside her.

He truly was a handsome man — looking so fine, no wonder that Xiao Shi still harbored feelings for him even now.

Urging him to rebel so she could be empress — that could wait. But the plan to have his child ought to be put on the schedule and tried sooner.

She had checked the little calendar book again. Once her monthly cycle ended in a few days, around the time of the autumn hunt next month, it would be another opportune moment.

She had to get him to take her along.

Of course, her purpose in going wasn’t only that — it was also for Huaiwei.

She remembered that in her previous life, around this time, Huaiwei had met with some kind of accident. In this life, things had been peaceful so far. But at an event like the autumn hunt, Han Chijiao would certainly be there to hover around — and as long as that person could get close to Huaiwei, Pu Zhu couldn’t feel at ease.

After the autumn hunt, she’d see if she could find a way to have Huaiwei return to Yinyue City, or get Han Chijiao sent out of the capital. Keep these two people far apart — only that would put her mind at rest.

Her mind made up, Pu Zhu closed her eyes and fell asleep.

—