My Scumbag Husband, the Prince Consort - Chapter 16

I gave a helpless, bitter laugh. Could this pathetic fool be any more useless?

Who would care if Feng Zhao lived or died? I certainly didn’t. The only thing I cared about was the new sword in his hand—the one I had just commissioned.

I hadn’t even had the chance to give it to Liu Qi yet. I hadn’t seen the look on his face when he accepted it. I hadn’t asked if he liked it. I hadn’t even asked if his opinion of me had changed, just a little.

This sword was the key to improving my relationship with Liu Qi, and now it was clutched in the hands of that petty scoundrel Feng Zhao, who was threatening to kill himself with it. Worse, the sword might be stained with his filthy bl00d—a dreadful omen.

I quickly stopped in my tracks and pleaded, “Please don’t, Young Master Feng. Let’s talk this through. Taking your own life over this isn’t worth it.”

Feng Zhao mistook my anxiety for fear, his expression growing even more smug. “Then beg me again,” he sneered. “Maybe if I’m feeling generous, I’ll return the sword. Otherwise, I’ll die right here in front of you.”

I only hesitated for half a second before saying, “I’m begging you. Please, give me the sword back.”

Compared to this sword, what did dignity matter? What did pride mean? Nothing at all. I just wanted to get my sword back and deliver it to Liu Qi like a loyal little dog.

“Kneel, then,” he added with relish, “and knock your head on the ground a few times for me.”

He had me right where he wanted. And now that he knew it, he grew more gleeful, more insufferable.

I was still debating whether to teach him a lesson when Hua Ling snapped angrily, “Feng Zhao, don’t go too far. You’ve been given face—don’t throw it away.”

If only she had stayed silent. Her voice seemed to jab Feng Zhao like a cactus spine. With a wild howl, he swung the sword sideways and, eyes squeezed shut, slashed it toward his own neck with the determination of a butcher at market.

If someone died on my doorstep, that would be a minor scandal. But if my sword was stained with his bl00d—that was a major disaster.

“No!” I shouted.

In the blink of an eye, a whip cracked through the air with a loud snap and struck Feng Zhao on the arm.

He let out a shriek, collapsed to the ground, and the sword flew into the air.

My gaze followed it instantly. The gleaming silver blade twisted and turned midair, tumbling toward the earth.

Without thinking, I dashed forward, three steps collapsing into two, lunging to catch it—but the hem of my skirt was too long, the weight of my headdress too heavy. The moment I bent forward, I lost my balance and tumbled headfirst down the stairs.

The sword plunged down, tip-first, aimed directly at my face. I was so frightened I didn’t even have time to shut my eyes. One absurd thought filled my head: If the sword pierces through my face, will I look horribly disfigured in death?

At that critical moment, a whip lashed out once again. With a swift snap, it caught the descending silver streak and flipped it away, redirecting the sword’s tip midair.

It all happened too fast—I couldn’t even see clearly. All I heard was a cacophony of screams as Chun, Xia, Qiu and Dong rushed toward me in a panic.

I had rolled to the bottom of the long staircase, limbs splayed like a broken doll. My chest and back throbbed with searing pain, as though a thousand-pound hammer had smashed into me. Every breath burned like icy blades in my lungs.

Just then, a flood of palace guards streamed out from within the estate. In mere seconds, Feng Zhao and his entourage were surrounded, not even a gap left between them.

Through the sea of people, I spotted a familiar figure standing at the center of the gates.

He stood tall at the top of the steps, leading the guards. His hair was bound with a jade coronet, his bearing proud and heroic.

One hand held the very whip that had just lashed out. The other held my treasured sword—the one I’d nearly died protecting. Across the tide of heads, he was watching me.

He stepped forward, breaking through the crowd under countless eyes, and knelt beside me.

He reached out and pulled me into his arms. I caught the faint scent of magnolia on him. His bright, clear eyes held a flicker of concern.

I forced a smile through the pain, tried to speak—but as soon as I opened my mouth, a bitter rush of bl00d surged up from my throat. It took its time, thick and warm, and not a single word came out.

Liu Qi’s eyes widened in fury. His brows furrowed into a deadly knot. In a stern voice, he commanded, “Seize Feng Zhao. Tie him up.”

I had never seen him like this before. In front of me, he always played the weakling—meek and mild, pretending to be frail and untrained in combat.

All this time, he’d been pretending to be a sheep while hiding tiger’s fangs. And I—fool that I was—had danced to his tune, only to still end up worrying about him.

Hua Ling’s sobs grew louder. Chun, Xia, Qiu and Dong were all weeping uncontrollably.

But none of it reached me. All I could see was the sorrowful, hollow look in Liu Qi’s eyes.

It felt like I had fallen into a long, long dream.

In the dream, Liu Qi wore a wide-brimmed hat and a black cloth over his face. He walked toward me slowly through a mist of gray rain.

I vaguely remembered dreaming of this scene once before, though I still didn’t know what it meant.

Later, I heard a voice—a familiar voice, deep and gentle, like a murmur beside my ear.

But I knew… he never spoke to me that way.

He said, “Why are you so foolish? For a sword? Was it really worth it?”

In the dream, I answered, “Of course it was. How could it not be?”

“Because Liu Qi, the imperial consort, loves swords more than anything.”

Just as I spoke, the misty image before me flickered—and I saw Liu Qi standing beneath the magnolia tree in my courtyard, holding the sword. His back was to me. He neither looked back nor spoke.

But that’s how he should be—imposing, composed, the very image of a young general in his prime.

I wanted to step closer, to see his face—only to be jolted awake by the pungent stench of medicine.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Liu Qi sitting by my bed, holding a bowl of medicine in his hands, looking utterly lost.

“You’re awake?” he said gently, placing a hand on my forehead. “You’ve had a high fever for days. Are you feeling better?”

No wonder my head felt woozy and muddled—like I was drunk. Turns out I’d been burning up with fever.

I blinked a few times until my vision cleared. As soon as my mind returned to me, I bolted upright in bed and looked frantically around.

“What are you looking for, Your Highness?”

“My sword—where is it?”

Liu Qi set down the bowl, stood, and retrieved the sword from behind the screen. He placed it before me. “Is this what you were looking for?”

I hurriedly took the sword and drew it from its scabbard. The delicate swirling water-cloud patterns on the blade still shimmered faintly. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Good, good. No scratch on it.”

Liu Qi looked at me, puzzled.

“Your Highness doesn’t practice martial arts. Why place such importance on a sword?”

I grinned.

“True, I’m no swordswoman—but someone else is.”

I raised the blade in front of Liu Qi and asked,

“What do you think? Isn’t it a fine weapon?”

Instinctively, Liu Qi drew his head back a little, then fixed his eyes on the blade for a moment.

“It’s a rare piece—razor-sharp, quiet as it cuts through iron. A truly exceptional sword.”

I began to say, “If I were to give it to—”

But before I could finish, Liu Qi interrupted coldly,

“If it’s for Brother Mo Zhu, I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed.”

Wait a minute. What does this has to do with Mo Zhu?

I frowned.

“Why are you bringing up Mo Zhu? Don’t you like the sword?”

Liu Qi turned his face away awkwardly, not meeting my gaze. His voice was flat and dry.

“Even if I do like it, what does it matter? It’s not mine. I’ve never coveted anything that belonged to someone else.”

“I…”

I rubbed my forehead, exasperated.

“Who said anything about giving it to Mo Zhu? I had this sword custom-made by the finest swordsmith in all of Great Wei. It’s for you.”

Liu Qi’s head snapped toward me. He stared in disbelief, a glimmer of light flashing in his eyes.

“Your Highness… you mean this sword is a reward for me?”

“It’s a gift, not a reward,” I corrected pointedly.

“I prepared this personally for you. It’s not some imperial favor—it’s a present.”

Liu Qi glanced at the green glazed gem inlaid on the hilt. His expression dimmed slightly.

“Please don’t tease me, Your Highness. Everyone knows that on the day Mo Zhu entered the palace, he wore a green robe. And this sword is inlaid with green glazed stone—if it’s not for him, then who else could it be for?”

I rolled my eyes and shoved the sword into his arms.

“Draw the blade and look again.”

Liu Qi gave a muffled grunt and pulled the sword from its sheath.

I tugged up his robe sleeve, lifting the outer gauze layer to reveal the embroidered rolling-cloud pattern on the cuff of his inner garment. I held the sword up next to it.

“Look closely—the water-cloud motif on this blade was carved to match the design on your sleeve. See? They’re exactly the same.”

Liu Qi said nothing, his gaze locked onto the sword. His slender fingers gently brushed over the engraved clouds, trembling slightly.

His voice quivered, barely above a whisper.

“Your Highness… why would you give this to me?”

I replied,

“You’re skilled in martial arts. Naturally, you should have a weapon worthy of your ability. It was thoughtless of me to send you gold and jewels before—it’s no wonder you found them unappealing. So, do you like this better?”

Liu Qi lowered his gaze and nodded firmly. A soft smile tugged at his lips.

“I do. I like it very much.”

I let out a long sigh. Men. So easy to please.

Then I asked,

“Do you know why I had cloud patterns carved onto it?”

Liu Qi shook his head.

“I do not.”

I smirked, quite proud of the line I had spent three whole days and nights crafting in advance.

“When the path ends at the water’s edge, sit and watch the clouds rise.”

When one reaches the end of the road, with nowhere left to go, why not pause and admire the scenery?

Wasn’t meeting Liu Qi at my lowest point just like that—reaching the end of the road?

And now, when I look at him, he’s become the most breathtaking cloudscape in this world.

“Does ‘cloud rising’ refer to me?” he asked.

I looked at him without blinking and gave a firm nod.

Liu Qi touched the back of his neck, bashful.

“I’ve never heard that verse before. Which great poet wrote it?”

I slapped my forehead. Damn—it completely slipped my mind that Wang Wei hasn’t even been born yet.

I forced a laugh.

“No famous poet. I was just rambling off the top of my head.”

Liu Qi broke into a smile and gently took my hand.

“Your Highness has such poetic grace. I am truly in awe.”

I stuck out my tongue sheepishly, silently bowing in apology. Master Wang Wei, forgive me—I didn’t mean to steal your thunder.

Not long after I had just recovered from my illness, they brought Feng Zhao in to face me.

He was still a prince consort, after all. Even kneeling in my hall to be interrogated, he still had a bit of attitude to maintain.

After that fiasco he caused at my residence, word had already reached the Taiji Hall by midday. My imperial brother gave a swift verdict: Prince Consort Feng Zhao was vicious, arrogant, and reckless. He had caused me serious injury and illness—and thus, he left his punishment entirely in my hands.

Honestly, I’d expected my brother to shield him—just like he once protected Liu Qi.

But it turned out Feng Zhao, the Grand Preceptor’s son, was an utter disgrace. He must’ve made enemies all over the court. The moment he was thrown into prison, impeachment memorials came flooding into the

Shi Qian Hall like a tide. One by one, the ministers all jumped on the opportunity, eager to take him down and settle old scores.

Still, Feng Zhao’s father was Grand Preceptor Feng Si. Punishing him wouldn’t be so simple.

So, the emperor, ever the clever one, washed his hands of the matter by tossing Feng Zhao to me. It made him look generous while keeping his own hands clean.

I took a leisurely sip of tea and stared down at Feng Zhao, who was kneeling but still holding his head higher than the sky. A cold smile crept onto my lips.

“Feng Zhao, oh Feng Zhao… Did you ever imagine you’d end up in my hands?”