After Becoming the Cannon Fodder Live-in Spouse A (GL) - Chapter 22: The Twenty-Second Day

Chapter 22: The Twenty-Second Day

Ye Fuguang didn’t get any news from the Ye Family.

So, when she saw Ye Rong come to Prince Qi’s mansion to check on the main resident of Plum Garden the next day, she stared hard at him, hoping this old useless man would remember to do something for his younger daughter. Whether Ye Rong was too old to see or deliberately ignored her, he checked the prince’s pulse as usual and suddenly pulled a prescription from his medical case.

He told Yu Qing, “The prince’s condition has greatly improved recently, so the previous prescription can no longer be used. This is the new one I drafted, reviewed by the emperor and approved by my colleagues at the Imperial Medical Academy, recorded in the files.”

Before Yu Qing could ask how to prepare it, Ye Fuguang said, “Let me see.”

She confidently stretched out her hand.

Ye Rong immediately glared at her, blowing his beard. “What? You can barely read a few words, and you think you can understand the prince’s prescription?”

“I can’t,” Ye Fuguang answered honestly, “I just don’t trust your skills.”

“You—”

Ye Rong wanted to grab his medical box to remind this side consort of Prince Qi’s mansion about family discipline, but he paused, noticing the maids around.

Yu Qing glanced around, casually mentioning, “That pastel vase with two swallows returning to their nest by the window is light and not too expensive. If Head Ye accidentally breaks it, half a year’s salary should cover it.”

Ye Fuguang: “?”

Feeling betrayed, she widened her eyes at Yu Qing, demanding, “Why is Steward Yu siding with an outsider?”

Yu Qing seemed to think seriously, then said, “Seeing injustice on the road.”

“…”

Ye Fuguang quickly hid behind the frail figures of Jixiang and Ruyi, loudly declaring, “I’m telling the prince tonight!”

“Hmm,” Yu Qing replied expressionlessly, “Go ahead.”

Ye Rong’s face turned green, clearly seeing Ye Fuguang’s status in the mansion. Thinking how she brought shame from the Ye Family to Prince Qi’s mansion, he wanted to discipline this unfilial daughter, but that pastel vase was still a bit pricey.

There wasn’t even a sweeping broom outside.

Ye Fuguang, following his gaze, saw the swords at the waists of the Imperial Guards outside—

For a moment, she was like a startled cat, eyes wide, racking her brain on how to deal with this old turtle if he went crazy and hurt his child.

Ruyi, trembling, spoke up, gently reminding Steward Yu that the prince’s health was the priority and asking if she should buy the herbs.

Yu Qing coldly glanced at the Qianyuan hiding behind a Zhongjun, acting tough, then closed her eyes and called, “Yinping.”

…

Thus, the mansion narrowly avoided a scene of a father disciplining his daughter that morning.

The on-duty Imperial Guards regretfully tucked their melon seeds back into their waistbands.

After Ye Rong left, Ye Fuguang clapped her hands. “Oh no, I forgot to ask him about Ye Yuge. That old guy’s a big official in the palace now; he can’t even get someone out?”

Ruyi peacefully closed her eyes.

After a long pause, she said, “Princess, even though you’re the most esteemed in the mansion after the prince, Head Ye is still your father, and Steward Yu controls the household. If you keep provoking them like this, I won’t be able to protect you next time.”

Last time, she and Jixiang had stopped Steward Yu’s people, which, by mansion rules, could’ve led to a beating.

It was only because Steward Yu was happy, thinking the prince might wake, that they were spared.

But who bets their life every day?

—It’s not like she had all the gods from Xiangguo Temple backing her.

Ye Fuguang blinked, sitting properly like a schoolkid at the round table with a hundred birds facing the phoenix, even zipping her lips with her hand.

Ruyi was amused, smiling as she served her meal, then said, “If the princess has nothing else, maybe think about today’s story for the manuscript.”

Urged to update, Ye Fuguang stared at the donkey rolls, mung bean cakes, and golden crisps on the table, covering her ears in a “I’m not listening, Ruyi’s chanting” refusal pose.

–

Before becoming a celebrated storyteller in the streets, Pearl Ye had already caught the procrastinator’s disease. After breakfast, she began studying every lamp and lantern in Plum Garden’s hall.

She even asked Ruyi, “By the way, don’t you think the smell in this room has faded?”

Ruyi looked at her curiously. “Didn’t the princess dislike incense?”

She remembered when they moved from the prince’s main hall, Ye Fuguang specifically asked not to light incense, saying the room was too warm from the floor heating and the scents made her dizzy, so the incense burner stayed unlit.

Ye Fuguang waved her hand. “Not incense, it’s that…”

Her slightly round nose followed the direction of the usual fragrance, glancing through the sheer curtains at the graceful figure with closed eyes. She whispered to Ruyi, “The camellia scent, you know?”

Ruyi: ?

She glanced over quietly, then whispered back, “Princess, you forgot I’m a Zhongjun. I can’t smell the signal fragrance.”

“Oh.”

Ye Fuguang gave her a look, then beckoned Quhua over.

After bowing, Quhua studied her oddly for a while before saying, “Princess Ye, the prince’s signal fragrance is always in this room. Can’t you smell it?”

Huh?

Ye Fuguang twitched her nose, taking a few steps toward the bed.

Then a few more.

Finally, in the maids’ subtle “don’t look at what’s improper” expressions, she stopped short of pressing against Shen Jinglan, spun around, and said, “Nothing.”

Not a trace!

Quhua seemed to see the budding branches and flowers avoiding Ye Fuguang. Her expression froze, then she pointed out, “Princess Ye, I’m afraid you’ve fallen out of favor.”

Ye Fuguang: “?!”

I don’t believe it!

You’re just talking nonsense!

…

College student Ye didn’t believe she was suddenly no longer Prince Qi’s darling, but Steward Yu fully believed Quhua’s conclusion, evident when her ten lavish dishes that evening were reduced to steamed buns and pickles.

She didn’t even get to eat at the prince’s level.

Grumpily nibbling her bun while facing Shen Jinglan’s sleeping face, she couldn’t figure out how things got to this point. Was this the legendary “thunder and dew are both imperial grace”?

In a fit of anger, college student Ye picked up her brush again. Without Ruyi’s help transcribing, she gave Alan in ‘Nine Rebirths: The Fallen War God After the Kingdom’s Fall’ a white moonlight she could never have, named Ye Fuguang.

This person helped the war god immensely in her first life. After rebirth, she searched for her multiple times but found no trace.

The out-of-favor Princess Ye secretly slipped in her self-insert, handed the manuscript to Ruyi, and, under Ruyi’s suspicious gaze, cleared her throat, casually saying, “See, this adds the romance they want, but Ye Fuguang won’t appear, preventing the development you don’t want. Isn’t it perfect?”

Ruyi looked at her with an “I suspect you’re boosting yourself, and I have proof” expression.

Ye Fuguang raised her hand to block her sharp gaze.

She argued, “That’s how white moonlight stories work. Usually, the white moonlight dies early or has a tragic fate. Don’t worry.”

“…” Ruyi’s expression showed some pity. “The princess doesn’t need to curse herself like that.”

“Pfft, pfft, pfft, kids’ words don’t count. I meant typical white moonlights, not myself—”

She almost lunged to cover Ruyi’s mouth, fearing her words would doom her to repeat her cannon fodder fate.

Ruyi stuck out her tongue, patted her lips, bowed, and asked not to be blamed, then ran off with the manuscript, promising to submit it to every bookstore in Yong’an City when they opened tomorrow.

Ye Fuguang didn’t believe her promises. “Hmph, you better.”

–

When the candlelight flickered in the room and the lamp flowers crackled.

Quhua set up a small cot outside the inner chamber, nominally because Steward Yu feared the prince might wake at night with no one to attend, but actually to prevent Ye Fuguang from causing a mess like the bloodstains on the bed before.

After Ye Fuguang got into bed, through the layered curtains, she could vaguely see Quhua turning over. Once Ye Fuguang lay down, Quhua got up and quietly put out the candles one by one.

Only a sliver of silver moonlight slipped through the window.

Along with it came the blooming plum fragrance of early spring outside.

With the gentle spring breeze, it was perfect for sleep.

But Ye Fuguang couldn’t sleep.

Under the blanket, she usually didn’t dare get close to Shen Jinglan before bed, afraid her bad sleeping habits might crush her hands or feet. But today, unusually, she inched closer, her cheek brushing against Shen Jinglan’s silky, slightly cool black hair.

College student Ye quietly turned over, like a little creep, sniffing the prince’s hair, finally catching a faint, barely noticeable camellia scent—

She propped her head lightly, looking in the dark at this noble prince who, despite lying there for so long, still conveyed different messages to the mansion’s people with every move.

A moment later, she pouted, grabbing at the air as if she could bring back the flower scent that used to chase and linger around her.

But it was futile.

After spending so much time together, though they never spoke, Ye Fuguang felt one-sided familiarity with Shen Jinglan, this luxurious weapon. Noticing her signal fragrance no longer surrounded her as before, she let out a petulant “hmph.”

Ye Fuguang felt betrayed, like when her elementary school friend who held hands with her on the school bus every day suddenly ditched her.

But she was a college student now. How could she childishly confront someone for not playing with her?

So, with great pride, she propped one hand by Shen Jinglan’s face, whispering fiercely in the night:

“Fine, Prince.”

“From now on, I’m the woman you can’t have.”

With that, Ye Fuguang let go, curled into the soft, warm blanket, and even slept on the far side of the bed, as if to put a thousand miles between her and Shen Jinglan, showing she was cold-warring a vegetative person.

…

The endless hell Shen Jinglan was in had slowly melted in the snowy freeze of recent days.

She no longer saw soldiers bathed in war flames, begging her to take them home amidst the smoke.

The dazzling snow swept away the endless nightmares. As streams flowed over her boots, soaking her ankles and knees, her trapped soul seemed to return bit by bit to her body.

Soft silk blankets, faint plum blossom scent from the window.

She vaguely regained sensation but couldn’t yet tear open the sky above to see the real world.

Just then, she felt that soft, ticklish snowflake-like presence draw near again. Remembering the little girl’s complaint about a ghost in the room, a seductive one that drained energy, Shen Jinglan felt a bit expectant, curious what shocking words the kid would say next.

But she heard her let out a sulky “hmph.”

Then proudly declare—

“From now on, I’m the woman you can’t have.”

Shen Jinglan: “…”

The amusement in her eyes froze.

She thought, what does that mean?

Her little side consort, married to her, was now someone she could never have?

When her senses were muddled and she couldn’t wake, this kid still teased her and relied on her authority. Now that she was about to wake, was she planning to run?

▼

She couldn’t be trying to escape the sacred marriage, could she?

She lowered her eyes, looking at the snow water reaching her waist, seeing her lips curve into a cold smile and a trace of menace in her eyes.

Vaguely, she saw red light crack through the soil underwater, eager to latch onto her through the water. Shen Jinglan remained unmoved, instead sinking deeper, letting the cold submerge her neck, lips, cheeks…

Red, ominous threads like tiny snakes swam toward her, merging into her forehead, causing burning pain in her mind.

But Shen Jinglan never opened her eyes to look at the underwater scene again.

At the same time.

On the bed in Plum Garden’s main hall, the long-sleeping person’s thin eyelids twitched, her lashes quivered. In the dark night, like a butterfly asleep for ages, she finally fluttered her wings.

Once, twice, three times.

The faint pink scar by her left eye gradually reddened with emotion.

Like the red plum buds about to bloom outside.