My Scumbag Husband, the Prince Consort - Chapter 18

As expected, no official ever turns down a thoughtful gift.

Ever since Liu Qi accepted that sword, his attitude toward me had noticeably softened. At the very least, he no longer wore a constant scowl, and on rare occasions, he would even bestow a smile—an act of supreme generosity on his part.

Last time, he shamelessly slid up beside me, stroking the sword as he said,

“I’ve given this sword a name. Would Your Highness like to hear it?”

“Oh?” I was curious. “Go on, let me hear it.”

“The blade is etched with cloud patterns, and the glass inlaid in the hilt gleams like the stars. I think Xing Yun—Star cloud—is a fitting name. What do you think, Your Highness?”

Since the gift was already given, it was now his. He could call it whatever he wanted. So I nodded.

“Very good. Quite fitting, indeed.”

Liu Qi ran his fingers lovingly over the blade, reluctant to let it go. And when he looked up at me, there was a faint mist in his eyes.

I cleared my throat and stood up to push open the window, calling out into the courtyard,

“Shi Chun, let’s go.”

Shi Chun trotted inside. “Your Highness, you’re leaving already?”

I nodded. “The Prince Consort is still in delicate health. Let him rest.”

Liu Qi stood up, as if wanting to say something, but after a pause, he only managed,

“Your Highness won’t be staying for dinner?”

I glanced at the disheveled bamboo outside the window, feeling vaguely uneasy.

“Not today. I’ll visit you another time.”

Leaving the bamboo dwelling, I followed a path southward. Not far ahead, I passed a small, single-room house with a courtyard, only one wall away from Liu Qi’s quarters.

“What is this place?” I asked Shi Chun. “I don’t remember seeing it before.”

Shi Chun replied, “It used to be a storage room. Your Highness rarely comes to this part of the residence.”

I looked toward the doorway and saw a figure standing outside. Slender and graceful, with a pretty, delicate face—like a flower on the verge of blooming in early spring.

“That girl—is that Shu Wan?”

Shichun peeked over and nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. That’s Shuwan.”

“She lives next door to Liu Qi?”

“She’s his personal maid. It’s probably just for convenience.”

I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. Personal attendants often stayed nearby—it was normal. At least she wasn’t sharing his bedchamber. That, I could accept.

And yet, I couldn’t quite suppress the strange discomfort creeping up inside me.

I turned and walked toward Shu Wan. She was watering the periwinkles by the door. When she saw me, she panicked and dropped the watering can, her face going pale.

“Shu Wan greets Your Highness.”

“Shu Wan,” I asked bluntly, “have you entered the Prince Consort’s room during the night lately to tend to him?”

She clearly hadn’t expected such a direct question and assumed I was here to settle scores. She dropped to her knees with a thud and stammered,

“N-no. Not at all. Ever since Your Highness summoned me that time, His Grace has not called for me again.”

That explained it. No wonder Liu Qi had been acting so strangely earlier—gazing at me with that vaguely smoldering, ambiguous look. He hadn’t had a woman in a while. Even I was starting to look good to him.

No, I couldn’t blame him. It was my fault for being such a neglectful wife.

I suddenly remembered the contemptuous look he gave me after I took Shuwan away. My jealousy had provoked his disdain.

But men… men never change. Money, power, and women—that’s all it ever comes down to.

Since money hadn’t impressed him, I would take the high road. Be the magnanimous wife. Give him what he truly desired.

After all, even heroes fall to beauty.

I reached up and pulled a gold hairpin from my bun, sliding it into Shu Wan’s twin-ring coiffure. Then I eyed her plain maid’s uniform and said,

“This fabric is too coarse for someone like you. Later, I’ll have some proper dresses sent over. Choose the ones you like and do what you want with the rest.”

Shu Wan looked up, stunned. “Y-Your Highness… what does this mean?”

“It means you’ve served the Prince Consort faithfully for many years. It’s only right that you be rewarded.”

I stooped and helped her up from the ground, giving her hand a gentle pat.

“Tonight, after dusk, make sure you’re bathed and ready. Go wait in His Grace’s room. Whether or not he calls for you, you go.”

After I said that, a strange sourness welled up in my chest. I couldn’t quite explain it.

Still, what needed to be done had to be done. And what needed saying had to be said.

“If you run into any difficulty,” I added, “don’t hide it. Come straight to me. I’ll help however I can.”

Shu Wan was completely bewildered by my whiplash of generosity. She stayed kneeling, crying, and refused to get up.

“Your Highness… I don’t want to die… please don’t let me die…”

“What are you talking about?” I frowned. “I’m not sending you to your death—I’m asking you to take good care of the Prince Consort. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

She sobbed, “Isn’t this Your Highness’s way of granting me a final night before sentencing me?”

I sighed. “Where do you get these ideas? Am I that kind of person?”

“I just see that your heart for His Grace is sincere and true, and his feelings for you run deep as well. It’s only right I help fulfill that bond.”

“Are you… are you being serious?” Shu Wan asked through tears.

“Of course. Do as I say tonight. If anything happens, report to me tomorrow.”

As I walked away from Shu Wan’s little house, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest. And yet, something was lodged in my throat—something heavy I couldn’t swallow down or spit out. It left me breathless.

I looked up at the sky, at the thin clouds trailing past, and listened to the wind rustling through the bamboo in Liu Qi’s courtyard. I recalled the vow I once made before the Buddha, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Shi Chun…”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I don’t know why, but… I feel absolutely terrible.”

Shu Wan had waited all night on the veranda outside Liu Qi’s quarters and caught a chill. By the next morning, she’d fallen gravely ill.

By the time news reached me, Liu Qi had already left the residence. I didn’t even touch my breakfast. With Chun, Xia, Qiu and Dong in tow, I rushed straight to her little house.

Shu Wan was coughing so hard she could barely breathe. Her cheeks were sunken, her complexion ashen. A pang of guilt struck my heart.

“What happened? It’s only been one day—how did she fall so ill, so fast?”

“Your Highness…” Shu Wan struggled to sit up. “This servant pays her respects.”

“Oh, just lie back and rest. What are you doing bowing?” I quickly asked, “What happened?”

Two clear tears slipped from the corners of her eyes—truly a pitiful sight.

“Yesterday, as Your Highness instructed, I went to wait in the Prince Consort’s chambers early. Around the hour of the boar, after finishing his sword practice, the Prince Consort returned to his room to bathe and change. That’s when he saw my shoes by the couch.”

“And then?” I prompted.

“Then… then…”

But Shu Wan couldn’t bring herself to say. She just kept crying, tears falling endlessly down her pale cheeks—she looked like a tragic heroine straight out of a novel.

I was sweating with anxiety. “Oh, come on! Just say it!”

She burst into tears. “The Prince Consort threw me out of the room and wouldn’t even let me return to my quarters. He made me stand outside under the eaves the entire night as punishment!”

“What?” I gasped, brows furrowed.

“What kind of madness is this from Liu Qi? Has he lost his mind? Doesn’t he know how to cherish a delicate beauty?”

He really left someone standing out in the cold all night? Even the healthiest person would fall ill like that.

Looking at Shu Wan’s frail state, I felt a pang of guilt. How could Liu Qi be so heartless?

I steadied her shoulders and gently eased her back into bed.

“Just rest now. I’ll summon the imperial physician to treat you. You’ll get only the best medicine. I won’t let you suffer lasting harm.”

“As for Liu Qi, I’ll handle him. You’ve served him for years—what right does he have to treat you like this?”

Shu Wan sniffled and nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness… This servant has nothing with which to repay your grace.”

“Focus on getting better. I’ll come visit again in a few days.”

Once I had Shu Wan settled, I immediately sent people out to search for Liu Qi. But it was as if he’d vanished—fled the scene out of guilt. He’d left the residence before dawn, and not even a shadow of him could be found.

Someone reported back that they’d even gone to the Prince of Danyang’s estate, waited for ages at the gate, but still didn’t see him. They returned empty-handed.

By the end of the day, I’d practically turned Luoyang upside down trying to find him. It wasn’t until just past midnight that Shi Chun knocked on my door.

“Your Highness, the Prince Consort has returned.”

Grumbling under my breath, I flung on my outer robe and got out of bed.

“So he remembers how to come home. Why didn’t he just drop dead out there?”

Starting tomorrow, I was going to impose a curfew. No one comes in after the hour of the dog—not even a celestial immortal. If he dared show up late again, he could sleep outside on the front steps for all I care.

I had just taken two steps toward the door when I heard it creak open. A figure darted in, and before I could react, the thick stench of wine overwhelmed my senses.

I was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace—rigid and unyielding, like iron walls. No matter how I struggled, it was useless.

The sharp scent of alcohol was laced with a faint trace of magnolia. The two mingled into a chaotic mess that rushed straight into my lungs.

I tilted my head, about to scold him, but before I could speak, his lips crashed down on mine.

They were hot and aggressive, grinding against mine with feverish force. His breath scorched my cheeks, leaving me dazed and breathless.

His hands cradled my head, forcing me to accept the kiss. I had nowhere to run, could barely breathe, trapped in his overwhelming hold.

Only after what felt like forever—after the last of my breath had been stolen—did he finally release me. I gasped for air, unable to speak.

“Why…” he said hoarsely, his forehead pressed to mine, his eyes clouded with drunken haze.

“Why was it Shu Wan who came to my room last night?”

“Why wasn’t it you?”

His face was flushed a deep red, his mind clearly fogged with alcohol. I scowled and snapped, “Where the hell have you been all day? Drunk off your ass and still have the nerve to come home?”

His arms only tightened around me, as though he wanted to fuse me into his bones.

“Answer me. Why wasn’t it you?”

I tossed my head, annoyed. He was clearly out of his mind, asking nonsense like this.

“Does it even matter where I go or what I do?” he murmured, almost to himself.

The flame of the candle inside had burned low. A draft blew through the room, and the light flickered a few times before dying completely.

Darkness swallowed everything.

In the silence, I could hear his breathing grow heavier—more labored, more unsteady.

“Does it not matter who comes to my room… as long as it’s not you?”

“Was it… Shuang’er?”

By the end, his voice was trembling—pleading, even.

But I still didn’t answer.

It was the first time he’d called me Shuang’er—not “Your Highness.”

“Shuang’er, answer me…”

But those two words—Shuang’er—landed like a spark on dry straw, igniting every nerve in my body. I exploded with fury.

Grabbing the front of his robe, I yanked him close, my hands trembling with rage. I wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face.

“Take a good look,” I shouted.

“Look clearly at who is standing in front of you right now!”

“I! Am not Yuan Shuang!”