After Becoming the Cannon Fodder Live-in Spouse A (GL) - Chapter 23: The Twenty-Third Day

Chapter 23: The Twenty-Third Day

After Ye Fuguang satisfied her craving for talk, she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

So she didn’t know what changes happened to the aura of the person lying in the same bed, not far from her—

Even the next morning, if it weren’t for Yinping and Quhua making noises while grooming and cleaning Prince Qi, along with Yu Qing’s voice giving instructions outside, Ye Fuguang could have slept until noon.

She slowly got out of bed, pulled back the layers of curtains, and walked to the washbasin. She brushed her teeth with a willow twig dipped in Poria toothpaste, then washed her face with a soft cloth. Jixiang brought over the clothes chosen for her today.

“So pink,” Ye Fuguang remarked, turning her head to see the pink ruqun skirt with its delicate floral patterns.

Since entering Prince Qi’s mansion, Ruyi had taken charge of her wardrobe. Jixiang, thinking Ye Fuguang liked this style since she never complained, was momentarily stunned. She moved to take the clothes back and pick another set, even wanting to ask about her preferences.

But then Ye Fuguang blurted out, “The fiercer Qianyuan is, the pinker I dress.”

Jixiang choked for a moment and asked, “Does the Princess Consort like this set?”

“Hmm, hmm.”

Ye Fuguang was, after all, at an age where she liked pink. Besides, the body she now inhabited had fairer skin and softer flesh than her original one, making her feel super cute every time she saw herself in the mirror. She even wanted to secretly pinch her own cheeks, and pink suited her perfectly.

She took the clothes and went behind a screen on the other side of the room. After rustling for a while, she poked her head out. Jixiang, knowing she couldn’t remember the order of tying the skirt or which side of the collar went where, calmly stepped forward to help her dress.

Just as she finished changing, Ruyi came running back. She first bowed to Steward Yu, then hurried to Ye Fuguang’s side and whispered in her ear:

“Good news! Princess Consort, the bookstore owners love your story!”

“They all say the character you created, the one Alan deeply loves, is very original.”

After all—

In the past, people of the Great Dynasty read stories that lacked emotion, tormenting only Prince Qi’s body.

But now, a character appeared who Prince Qi deeply loved, was obsessed with, yet couldn’t have. Just imagining it made them thrilled! Great! This writer had ideas! They knew to torment not just Prince Qi’s body but also her heart!

Make her madly in love, make her unable to have what she wants!

Ruyi, unaware of these people’s wicked intentions, was only excited that Ye Fuguang’s character could spread Prince Qi’s great deeds, giving the common folk a small thrill of the war god’s glory. After quietly reporting that the bookstore owners had started printing and would sell the books in a few days, she urged:

“When will the Princess Consort start writing today?”

Ye Fuguang touched her chin, looking at the mung bean porridge and a plate of soybeans on the table, her expression odd. “Not very hungry… I mean, not very inspired.”

Ruyi followed her gaze and noticed the breakfast, which was worse than what the mansion’s maids ate.

Then she had an idea and coaxed, “If the Princess Consort can write five chapters before noon, I’ll go to Taiqing Tower on East Gate Street and buy you an Eight-Treasure Duck. How about that?”

When they had visited Xiangguo Temple, they passed through Yong’an City’s liveliest streets, and Taiqing Tower was on one of them. Ruyi had told her that this restaurant was a favorite of nobles and officials from the palace, and many noble households ordered delivery from there.

Ye Fuguang: “Three chapters.”

Ruyi muttered softly, “Crystal pork, pickled rice cakes with quail, rabbit stew, tender lamb noodles—”

“Stop.”

Ye Fuguang interrupted her expressionlessly, not expecting Ruyi to use the same trick she had used to threaten Yu Qing against her. Gritting her teeth, she whispered, “Who’s the master here?”

Ruyi looked at her cheerfully. “Of course, it’s you.”

Hmph.

Ye Fuguang, starving, drifted toward the desk by the window. “No, I’m just a slave to words.”

…

While Ye Fuguang was passionately scribbling away, Ye Rong didn’t visit the mansion that day. Fortunately, the prescription he wrote yesterday didn’t need changes. Ye Fuguang took a moment to check Prince Qi’s pulse and found it much improved after yesterday’s medicine, so she didn’t worry further.

She only hoped Ye Rong was busy working on Ye Yuge’s imprisonment.

With that thought, she stood to return to the window but suddenly felt something was off. She turned back to look at the person sleeping on the bed, then after a moment, glanced at Yinping and Quhua, beckoning Yinping over.

“Come look,” she said. “Don’t you think the scar at the corner of Prince Qi’s eye looks redder?”

Was it because she had been lying in bed too long and developed some skin condition?

Yinping observed for a moment but didn’t find it unusual. “That’s a scar from many years ago, long healed. It only changes slightly when she’s angry. Now that Prince Qi has rested for so long and regained some sensation, perhaps she’s having a dream.”

After saying this, thinking it was good news that Prince Qi was closer to waking, Yinping quickly excused herself to inform Steward Yu.

Ye Fuguang touched her nose, didn’t dwell on it, and returned to the window to keep writing for the sake of a decent meal.

Who could understand? She, a side consort of a Great Dynasty prince with a million-yuan annual salary, still had to work for food. This job was too hard.

From noon to sunset, Ye Fuguang wrote until her back ached, her head spun, and her eyes blurred. Jixiang had to help her stand steady, as her fingers were trembling. Ruyi felt a pang of guilt, thinking, “I’m awful for treating the Princess Consort like this.”

Luckily, the Imperial Guards outside only checked the fixed list of people entering and leaving, inspecting their items. As long as nothing threatened Prince Qi, they didn’t care. So Ruyi could indeed bring delicacies from Taiqing Tower, storing them in the maids’ quarters first before bringing them to her.

The Eight-Treasure Duck, its glossy dark skin sliced open, revealed neatly packed, savory rice inside. The aroma of meat mixed with dried mushrooms and scallops wafted out, paired with a few wontons decorating the plate. Ye Fuguang exclaimed:

“This is real food!”

Red meat jelly, pink fresh meat cut into square strips, tender white rabbit stew covered with fresh and dried peppercorns, and peach-like pink desserts called Peach Charm, along with digestive cloud-patterned mung bean cakes…

Ye Fuguang’s soul felt redeemed.

She ate until her belly was round, sipped several bowls of Longjing tea like chewing on peonies, and squinted like a satisfied little fox, resting her head on the dining table in a daze.

Ruyi secretly smiled, cleared the table, and hid the evidence of sneaking food. As she left, she whispered to Jixiang, “The Princess Consort is so cute.”

Jixiang glanced at her faintly. “Remember your place.”

Ruyi shrank back. Still a young girl, only a few years past her coming-of-age ceremony and younger than Jixiang, she quieted down for a moment before saying, “I don’t mean to overstep. I just think the Princess Consort doesn’t seem as cruel as her reputation suggests, does she?”

Just like the rumors about Prince Qi among the common folk.

They seemed to have forgotten who saved them from the chaos of war.

But Ruyi didn’t dare say the rest—it was truly taboo.

Jixiang didn’t respond, only glanced toward the main courtyard. After a long pause, she withdrew her gaze with a complex expression.

—

Ye Fuguang spent the next few days secluded, writing.

During this time, Ye Rong didn’t disappear again, but each time he appeared, he looked more exhausted. Though his face screamed “disobedient child, don’t come asking for a beating” toward Ye Fuguang, she couldn’t hold back and asked:

“What about Ye Yuge? How is she?”

At that moment, Ye Rong had just finished recording a medical case. His rough, veined hand firmly set down the brush before he looked at her, expressionless, and said:

“Now that you’re in Prince Qi’s mansion, even if you wish her ill, what Jiang Yu left behind belongs to the Ye family, not to an outsider like you, married to Qianyuan.”

Ye Fuguang: “?”

She gripped the table, wanting to tell him not to invite a scolding, but then she suddenly understood why Yu Qing was often reluctant to deal with her—it was like talking to a duck.

After a moment, she let go, lowered her head to review the outline of her story, and said without blinking, “If you can’t save Ye Yuge, I won’t let you off.”

Ye Rong’s expression flickered, as if surprised by how close she had become to her little sister. But after a brief change, he only said:

“If you truly care, when Prince Qi wakes, ask her to help your little sister.”

Though Prince Qi’s defeat had crushed her reputation from the court to the martial world, a dragon stranded on the shore was still beyond their comparison, given the Shen royal clan’s status.

“That depends on when you can make Prince Qi wake up,” Ye Fuguang said. “I hope your medical skills aren’t as mediocre as your character.”

Ye Rong’s retort stuck in his throat, choked by her words.

But he glanced toward the inner chamber, ultimately stayed silent, and left heavily with his medicine box.

…

Ruyi passed him, bowing her head in greeting, but the hot-tempered Doctor Ye was already gone in a flash.

The little maid hurried to look inside the hall, relieved to see her Princess Consort unharmed. She quickly stepped to Ye Fuguang’s side, her tone helpless. “The Princess Consort clashed with Doctor Ye again.”

But as a servant, she couldn’t say more. Seeing Ye Fuguang’s righteous demeanor, Ruyi smiled and advised that if she couldn’t hold back next time, she should do it in a place like Plum Garden, or else if Doctor Ye found a vine or willow branch, the Princess Consort might suffer.

“Got it,” Ye Fuguang pouted. “I’m super good at reading the room.”

So she was only acting so boldly because of Prince Qi’s authority?

Ruyi laughed again, then remembered, noticing only Yinping and Quhua in the room. She said, “The Princess Consort’s story sold out at several bookstores today, and some readers wrote urging letters. I brought them back for you. Want to see them now?”

Like magic, she pulled a stack of letters from her clothes.

Ye Fuguang’s eyes lit up.

She eagerly took them, carefully opening and spreading them on the table. Ignoring the messy handwriting, lack of punctuation, and vertical text that wasn’t reader-friendly, she managed to read the first one.

Oh, it said her plot was decent and asked when Ye Fuguang would appear.

“They don’t even know how to praise properly. Next.”

Disappointed that her hoped-for flattery fell flat, she refused to believe no one appreciated her masterpiece. She opened the rest of the “reader letters,” finding a few interesting acrostic and doggerel poems praising her creativity. But without exception, they all urged for more romance.

Their words implied, “We all know what you’re trying to write. Skip the unnecessary buildup and serve the main course we’re waiting for.”

Ye Fuguang: “…Tch.”

Though her story was a lighthearted rebirth tale, the thrill wasn’t about ‘that’ kind of action! ^_^This^_^work^_^is^_^by^_^

As expected, she couldn’t have high hopes for readers in a world of explicit stories. They were like her thesis advisor, blind to the poignancy of her writing, like day not understanding night’s darkness.

She slumped on the table, dejected. “I’m done. Not serving them anymore.”

Ruyi: “?”

Thinking that Prince Qi’s military achievements were only at the third battle, she quickly coaxed, “They don’t get it, but I do, Princess Consort. Your talent is astounding, your writing divine—”

Ye Fuguang glanced at her, making a gesture. “Stop.”

Ruyi immediately shut her mouth.

Ye Fuguang sighed, sat up, and said, “You overdid it.”

She laughed, and Yinping and Quhua nearby laughed too, as if they’d just watched a comedy skit between the two.

—

Ye Fuguang sat by the window, lost in thought.

After much mental struggle, she recalled that she had already spent half a year’s salary in advance. To keep eating well daily, she couldn’t rely on skimming Ruyi’s wages—she needed her manuscript fees. Sighing, she grudgingly started thinking about romance plots, inwardly cursing the Great Dynasty’s readers:

Do you know who you’re urging?

The side consort of Prince Qi! Prince Qi’s heart’s treasure! Her darling!

As the saying goes, tell a lie a thousand times, and you believe it yourself. Ye Fuguang was in that self-inflated state. With this mindset, she pondered for a while and boldly added more to her character’s story—

She decided that after Alan’s third rebirth, she would find her white moonlight.

After writing some setup, she called without looking up, “Ruyi, come give me your thoughts.”

“Hmm?”

A soft, even slightly hoarse voice came.

Ye Fuguang, immersed in her plot, said, “Love flows from Alan’s eyes… She knows in this life, she’s set on Ye Fuguang, loyal until death… Hiss, is that too much? Can you accept it?”

“Too much?” the voice from beside her asked.

Busy dipping her brush, worried about ruining another sheet with too much ink, Ye Fuguang shook her head. “The love between Qianyuan and Dikun doesn’t follow reason—”

Ruyi, you get it.

But before she finished, the little girl clutching her wide sleeves felt something was off. Was Ruyi sick? Why was her voice so hoarse?

Suddenly, she turned her head and saw, through the bed curtains, Prince Qi, who was supposed to be in a coma forever, staring at her quietly.

Through the hazy gauze, Ye Fuguang could clearly see the emotions in those eyes.

What kind of eyes were they?

If the sleeping Shen Jinglan was like a museum sword buried in sand for a thousand years, now it was as if the blade had just been sharpened, its edge unstoppable, as if the killing intent in her bl00d surged through her bones.

And Shen Jinglan, hearing the story where she was the other protagonist, slowly recited the words:

“Love flows?”

“Loyal until death?”

“Doesn’t follow reason?”

Her hoarse voice, fresh from a long sleep, struck like metal on stone, vibrating against the listener’s eardrums.

“…!”

Ye Fuguang’s eyes widened, still locked with hers. Her peripheral vision caught Yinping, Quhua, and Ruyi kneeling by the screen at the inner chamber’s entrance, silent. Yinping was outside, ordering someone to inform Steward Yu that Prince Qi was awake. Servants rushed, and Imperial Guards returned to the palace, creating a noisy bustle.

The plum blossom scent that once lingered by the window and on her desk was now overtaken by a sudden camellia fragrance. Though they were far apart, Ye Fuguang felt as if she were pulled before Shen Jinglan, under her gaze and scrutiny.

Her throat moved, and her brush clattered onto the table, splashing ink across the paper.

After a long pause.

Having brazenly written a story about royalty in their presence, Ye Fuguang slowly, slowly slid off the couch by the desk, softly collapsing onto the floor. Like a rabbit caught with nowhere to run, her pale pink lips quivered for a long time before she stammered with a sob:

“…D-Do I h-have to k-kneel too?”