After Becoming the Cannon Fodder Live-in Spouse A (GL) - Chapter 25: The Twenty-Fifth Day

Chapter 25: The Twenty-Fifth Day

Time didn’t let Ye Fuguang wallow in embarrassment for long. The flush under her collar faded as the tense atmosphere from Jixiang and Ruyi being taken away settled—

She blinked nervously, reminding Shen Jinglan of a young deer she saw when hunting with the Late Emperor. Its round, wet black eyes reflected her image, its slender legs trembling and kneeling in fear, motionless, awaiting its fate.

Such a cute little deer, bold enough to hop around Prince Qi’s mansion while she was unconscious, now let her knead it. Even when Shen Jinglan left marks on her delicate wrist, it didn’t make a sound.

Shen Jinglan’s thoughts wandered. Were there ever Qianyuan as soft and delicate as this in the past?

Or had she been in the military too long, asleep for so many days, unaware of Yong’an City’s current trends?

She loosened her grip, even gently rubbing the marks she’d left on the little side consort’s wrist, until Yu Qing personally brought a salve for external injuries from the mansion’s stores.

A wooden tray carved with pine and crane patterns held several jade bottles, their quality clearly expensive.

Shen Jinglan casually picked the priciest salve for wounds.

As Yu Qing handed the tray to a servant behind her, intending to withdraw silently, she noticed the crimson sleeve holding a jade-green bottle lift slightly toward her.

Yu Qing froze for a moment, then knelt by the bed without hesitation, extending both hands to take the salve bottle Shen Jinglan had uncapped and casually handed over, bowing her head obediently without a word.

Ye Fuguang, standing close by the bed, felt as if Yu Qing’s kneel included her, making her uneasy and wanting to move. But Shen Jinglan gripped her hand again.

As a jade spoon applied the strong-smelling herbal salve to her wound, Shen Jinglan spoke again, her tone still casual:

“There’s no rule where a master steps aside for a servant. That’s Yinping and Quhua overstepping. As for Ruyi, she acted above her station, and Jixiang failed to advise properly—”

She seemed to explain to Ye Fuguang why they were punished, but her tone shifted, her eyes glancing with a half-smile at the kneeling figure by the bed.

“Yu Qing, is it your failure to discipline them, causing this farce, or…?”

Her unfinished words implied an even heavier charge.

Sweat beaded on Yu Qing’s forehead. From the moment Shen Jinglan had her, the grand steward of the mansion, personally serve, she sensed blame. Now, she dared not accept accusations like disloyalty to the Princess Consort or Prince. She bowed lower, her voice trembling slightly:

“It’s my failure to discipline. Please punish me, Prince.”

…

Shen Jinglan hadn’t spoken yet.

But she heard a sound first.

Drip, drip.

Two teardrops fell onto the soft silk cushion below.

Her expression paused, looking at the little deer whose hand she held. In just a few breaths, her little Princess Consort had gone from embarrassed to pale with fear.

Fine tear tracks ran down her face, like pearls on soft clam flesh, tempting one to poke and check its softness—

Would doing so scare her to hiccups?

Shen Jinglan wondered, feeling a bit helpless. She’d seen countless Qianyuan and Zhongjun, and many delicate noble daughters hidden in Yong’an’s elite families, but none as timid as hers.

Perhaps she pondered too long, as the crying Princess Consort bit her lip, her voice nasal. “It’s my fault…”

She shouldn’t have acted so boldly while Prince Qi was unconscious, even using Shen Jinglan as a practice partner for arguments one night, and just now, writing her street-stall story in her presence.

Would she be the next one dragged away?

Ye Fuguang, never beaten before or after crossing over, felt near collapse just thinking about it. She suddenly understood Yu Qing’s earlier hinted glance and corrected herself, “It’s this concubine’s fault…”

If Shen Jinglan’s grip wasn’t firm, Ye Fuguang would have slid to her knees.

Prince Qi, just awake and already enforcing mansion rules in front of everyone, had an unreadable expression, as if wanting to laugh but holding back, settling into faint helplessness.

She set down the jade spoon after applying the salve, pressing her temple.

“This Prince won’t punish you,” she said. “Stop crying.”

Ye Fuguang quickly sniffled, her voice sticky from the nasal tone, stammering softly, “They… they didn’t mean it.”

Shen Jinglan remained unmoved. After a moment, she said, “Jixiang and Ruyi are your people. This Prince will teach them once. No matter what, they mustn’t climb over you in the future—” She meant Ruyi tempting Ye Fuguang to write stories with outside food.

“They can escape heavy punishment this time, but rules must be followed.”

“As for Yu Qing, her salary is docked for half a year as a warning.”

As her final words landed, Yu Qing, kneeling nearby, let out a soft sigh of relief.

She bowed gratefully, “Thank you, Prince, for your mercy.”

—

Ye Fuguang stood dazed.

Only now did she realize how lucky she was when she first arrived. Back then, Shen Jinglan was unconscious, like a frail, pitiable patient. Out of conscience, Ye Fuguang chose to save her.

That fluttering banner became her lifeline. Eating and sleeping with her daily, even confined by Yu Qing, she didn’t feel like she was in another world, just staying in a beautiful garden—

When the fierce weapon she admired, unilaterally loved, and adorned with a friendly halo awoke, Ye Fuguang finally realized she was a small cannon fodder in this world, easily crushed by royal will.

Shen Jingming, Su Wanqiu, Shen Jinglan…

These characters she could freely critique in a story, pitying them arrogantly while they slept, left no special space for a transmigrator in their world.

Ye Fuguang lost her leisurely mood for reviewing knowledge and validating her experiences. Her mind raced, burning out, thinking how to save her life, hoping to return to the safer, more familiar world.

“What is the Princess Consort thinking?”

Before her.

Shen Jinglan not only applied soothing salve to her wound but also patiently and skillfully bandaged it, her serious manner making Ye Fuguang feel specially treated.

Compared to the scars she glimpsed on Shen Jinglan, her tiny prick would probably heal slowly if left alone, right?

But her unease didn’t lift. The tension, stretched too long, snapped when addressed, buzzing her mind. She blurted out reflexively:

“Thinking… how to please the Prince.”

Shen Jinglan had never heard such blunt words.

Her sharp, distant brows raised, and she smiled with interest, “Oh? Figured it out?”

When she smiled, Ye Fuguang felt like all the plum blossoms outside bloomed. ◆

Oh no.

She thought.

Stay calm, this isn’t her adoptive mother!

…

Ye Fuguang, the side consort, shook her head honestly.

She gave a reason, “This concubine… doesn’t know what the Prince likes.”

While asleep, Shen Jinglan found this girl amusing. Seeing her in person after waking was even more interesting. Since going to Yaoguang Pavilion wasn’t convenient now, she decided to spend time with the little side consort assigned by her royal brother.

So she rubbed the edge of the clean bandage on her wrist, smiling, “Why please this Prince?”

Did the little side consort want something unattainable while she was asleep?

Shen Jinglan vaguely recalled the doctor’s conversation with Ye Fuguang, mentioning someone in her family in prison. Was Ye Fuguang seeking her help for this?

Prince Qi even recalled the officials in Chenji Hall six months ago—posts like the Minister of Justice and Minister of Punishment, held by prominent families. Even if Shen Jingming wanted to replace them, their influence wouldn’t change much in half a year.

But Ye Fuguang’s next words stopped her thoughts.

“Because… because I want the Prince to like this concubine?”

That way, she wouldn’t be dragged away like Jixiang and Ruyi for mistakes, and maybe she could hold out for six months to boldly claim a hundred thousand monthly salary!

Shen Jinglan’s hand on her wrist paused.

She looked up, her sharp gaze unmasked, like a blade grazing Ye Fuguang’s soft cheek, inching over her skin, as if assessing where to cut, which bone to crack, to extract her unhideable soul for inspection.

She always looked at people this way. Since her youth, following Prince Jing to raise the flag, she had to discern in the army who could be trusted with her back, who would flee and drag others down. Later, as a general and Prince Qi, she moved from war-torn battlefields to Chenji Hall under the dragon throne.

Enemies, friends, subordinates…

Betrayal, trust, loyalty…

Those who dealt with Shen Jinglan were clever, remembering exchanges of interest, calculating gains and losses clearly in their mental sand tables.

She was used to weighing what she could or couldn’t give to those who sought from her.

—Except Ye Fuguang.

Always astonishing, charging like a pawn to the chessboard’s center, shouting “checkmate” without regard for rules.

Shen Jinglan initially wanted to laugh and say her ambitions were bold, aiming for her heart, as if wanting all her power and influence.

But the words stopped, recalling how her little Princess Consort cried when she punished her servants. Saying this might scare the deer back into the deep woods, not foolishly running to her again.

So she changed her words, “How should I like you?”

She dropped her self-reference.

It felt like coaxing the deer into her trap.

Ye Fuguang’s heart pounded under her gaze and tone. It wasn’t the earlier embarrassment or a blushing confession scene, but an inexplicable nervousness she attributed to Shen Jinglan’s overwhelming presence.

She shook her head clumsily, unable to answer.

After all, not much time had passed since Shen Jinglan awoke, and her impression of the Prince had shifted several times. The urge to please came from survival instincts, so how could she quickly rally her scattered forces and negotiate across the Chu River and Han Border with Prince Qi?

Ye Fuguang brooded for a long moment, then she finally said, “When the Prince likes me, I’ll know.”