My Scumbag Husband, the Prince Consort - Chapter 15

Ever since I delivered those two crates of gifts, the bed-ridden Prince Consort finally managed to get out of bed and walk again. Truly, it was something to celebrate.

So, while the iron was still hot, I ordered an exquisite longsword to be forged at great expense, intending it as a gift for Liu Qi.

The Southern Dynasty was different from the North. Northern people, having long lived on the steppes, relied heavily on cavalry in battle; fine horses mattered more than weapons when it came to determining victory. But the South—dense with forests, hills, and waterways—favored infantry, and swords were the infantry’s primary arms.

Perhaps for this reason, the custom of wearing swords flourished in the South. Whether skilled in martial arts or not, any self-respecting gentleman would wear a sword at his waist as a symbol of decorum and refinement. Over time, this evolved into a distinctly masculine ornament.

Liu Qi, being a Southerner raised in Jiankang, surely had a special fondness for swords. When he came to Great Wei and adapted to local customs, he reluctantly removed his scabbard.

He once told me he didn’t care for vulgar trinkets. So now, instead of gaudy gifts, I was giving him a proper sword—something that might suit his taste.

Not long after, the artisan presented a sword etched with water-cloud patterns. The blade gleamed with a cold brilliance, its edge razor-sharp. The scabbard was made of lacquered ebony, and the hilt inlaid with a lustrous green glass gem.

I clicked my tongue in admiration. Who would have thought that, thousands of years ago, sword smithing could already be so refined? The craftsmanship was astounding.

This sword had been forged by the best blacksmith in Great Wei. I could only hope Liu Qi would understand the sentiment behind it.

I had high-proof liquor brought to clean the blade, then polished it myself with cotton cloth until it shone mirror-bright. I carefully slid it into its scabbard, then wrapped it meticulously in fine brocade.

From start to finish, I didn’t let a single hand meddle in the process. Shi Chun and the others could only watch me from the sidelines, wide-eyed and useless.

Beaming with pride, I hugged the sword and headed straight for Liu Qi’s Bamboo Dwelling.

As I walked, my heart pounded uncontrollably, as if something was about to burst out from my chest. The closer I got to his courtyard, the faster it beat—expectation quickening my steps.

I imagined the look on his face when he saw the sword.

Would he smile and say he liked it? Praise the gift as perfectly suited to his tastes?

That thought made me nearly break into a run. Shi Chun, Xia, Qiu, and Dong were panting hard to keep up behind me.

Just as I stepped through the courtyard gate, I heard someone shouting behind me.

“Bad news, Your Highness! There’s a commotion outside the palace gates!”

I turned around to see a small servant boy stumbling toward me, legs wobbling before he dropped to his knees.

Before I could respond, Mu Qiu barked, “Who’s so bold as to cause trouble outside the Princess’s residence?!”

“It’s… it’s the Prince Consort of Princess Hualing—Feng Zhao!”

The boy gasped for breath, unable to meet my eyes. He pointed shakily toward the main gate. “Young Master Feng has brought a group of men. He’s shouting for Your Highness to hand someone over—or else he’ll make sure everyone in Luojing hears about it!”

“Hand someone over? Who?”

“Princess Hualing,” the boy stammered. “He says Your Highness is hiding her away, refusing to let her return home. He’s here to take her back.”

I cursed, “That damned fool! He drove his wife to run away from home, and now he has the nerve to stir up trouble?”

“Shi Chun, go find a few strong men. Keep him out. If he keeps up the racket, tie him up and throw him out.”

Feng Zhao? People call him ‘Young Master Feng’ only because of his father, the Grand Preceptor Feng Si. That doesn’t mean squat in my house.

He may be the Grand Preceptor’s son—but I’m the Emperor’s sister.

Just as Shi Chun turned to leave, another servant ran up, drenched in sweat. “Your Highness! Trouble—real trouble! Princess Hualing—she… she…”

“What happened? Catch your breath and speak.”

“She went to the front gate to meet Feng Zhao! We tried to stop her but couldn’t!”

“Useless! Can’t even stop one delicate woman! What did I tell you before? Don’t let Feng Zhao lay eyes on her!”

I had no idea what Hualing was thinking. Feng Zhao came here making a scene—clearly for her—and instead of hiding, she walks right into the mess. Is she trying to cause a spectacle?

I looked down at the sword in my arms, then at the “Bamboo Dwelling” plaque above the eaves. My heart twisted with unease. After hesitating for a moment, I gritted my teeth and turned toward the main gate.

“Mu Qiu, find two people with some real martial skill. Bring weapons—clubs, spears, whatever we have. I’m done with this bastard. Today I’m teaching him a lesson.”

I rolled up my sleeves and stormed to the gate. A crowd had already gathered outside.

Feng Zhao stood before a dozen burly men, brandishing a whip and shouting smugly, “Sister Yuling, forgive my intrusion. I’ve come to ask: where is my wife, Princess Hualing? Have you hidden her here?”

Seeing him itching for a fight, I planted myself on the steps and barked, hands on hips, “Feng Zhao, you’ve got a death wish? Trespassing at a royal residence is a capital offense!”

“Sister Yuling, surely you jest. I’ve yet to take a single step inside. How is that trespassing? And don’t forget—my father is the Grand Preceptor. It won’t be so easy to take my life.”

Shameless. The more he spoke, the more smug he became. I wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off his face.

But I clenched my fists and told myself to stay calm. I’m the Imperial Princess of Great Wei. I couldn’t risk our imperial dignity by throwing the first punch.

“Shut your mouth! Who are you calling ‘sister’? Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You think I’m Hualing—someone you can bully?”

I snarled, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll crawl back to where you came from. Don’t wait for me to act—or you won’t know what hit you.”

Feng Zhao sneered, cracking his whip with loud snaps. “I’m not afraid of that sword you’re holding. Calling you ‘sister’ was me showing face—for Hualing’s sake. Don’t push your luck.”

Before today, I never thought someone could be this shameless. Truly, the shameless are invincible.

Rage clouded my head. I nearly unsheathed my sword and ran him through. Just then, Hualing rushed out from behind the gate and grabbed my arm.

“Don’t fall for it! He’s trying to provoke you. If you strike first, he’ll use it as justification to retaliate!”

“Where did you come from?”

Her hair was disheveled, jeweled hairpins askew—clearly fresh from a shouting match with Feng Zhao. I pulled her behind me. “Sister, step back. Don’t let this beast touch you again.”

Seeing me still calm, Feng Zhao flew into a rage. “Hualing has always been arrogant, nose in the air, never looked at anyone properly. And her sister’s no better—rude, brash, a domineering shrew!”

“All of Luojing knows poor Prince Danyang is doomed—married to a witch like Yuling. She keeps a harem of boy toys, flaunts her wealth, flouts all propriety. Disgraceful!”

The onlookers, oblivious to the truth, murmured and gossiped.

Right in front of my estate, no less. After the whole “Handsome Men Recruitment Drive” incident, my reputation in Luojing was already in tatters. Now it was worse.

But I didn’t care what they said. I only cared about teaching Feng Zhao a painful lesson.

I shouted, “You bastard! What the hell do you want?”

Feng Zhao, clearly not understanding the insult, just said, “I’m not unreasonable. I’m only here to retrieve my wife.”

“If Hualing apologizes and promises never to run off again, she can come home with me.”

I shoved Hualing aside and stormed up to him, smashing the sword scabbard over his head again and again.

As I struck, I cursed, “Even if I get locked up for this, it’s worth it! You scum-sucking lowlife! I’m going to break every bone in your body!”

Hualing clung to my waist, sobbing, “Yuling, stop! If you hit a Prince Consort, you’ll be punished!”

I didn’t expect her to have such strength. I couldn’t shake her off no matter how I tried.

I yelled, “It’s because you’ve always been too soft and considerate that he thinks he can trample you! If I don’t beat him within an inch of his life today, I’ll change my name!”

I raised the scabbard again, but faster than lightning, Feng Zhao drew the sword from its sheath.

Shing! A sharp gleam cut through the air.

He tossed the whip aside, gripped the sword with both hands, and pointed it at me.

“No one’s ever dared strike me! Not even my own father!”

His hands trembled, though his face tried to stay defiant. He glared at me. “Who do you think you are?!”

He didn’t cry, but his pale face and shaking voice betrayed the fear.

So he had some backbone after all.

I stepped forward, pressing my chest to the sword tip.

I’ve died twice already—what’s there to be afraid of now?

I stared him down, voice cold as ice: “If you’ve got the guts, stab me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you—attempting to kill a royal princess is a capital crime.”

“You’ll lose your life at best. At worst, your whole family will be wiped out.”

Feng Zhao stumbled, nearly dropping the sword. He steadied himself quickly, but his hands were still shaking like leaves.

No one’s truly unafraid of death. Not even the Grand Preceptor’s son. Killing a princess? Even his powerful father couldn’t save him.

The barefoot fear nothing—but the shod fear everything. I’d learned this much: the only way to crush a bully is to be even more terrifying than they are.

I advanced with every step. He retreated in turn, backing away, but still gripped the sword tight.

That’s when I realized—Feng Zhao was all bark and no bite.

Panicked, he finally snapped and turned the blade on himself, pressing it to his neck.

“Don’t come any closer—or I’ll die right here!”