My Scumbag Husband, the Prince Consort - Chapter 2

I had been reborn in the body of Princess Yuan Shuang, the Eldest Imperial Princess of Great Wei. This time, I had to survive until the age of twenty-six and die at the hands of my prince consort’s sword in order to reincarnate and enjoy a destiny of lifelong wealth and nobility.

If I were to die prematurely again, I would be doomed to roam as a lonely spirit.

With great effort, I pushed myself up from the coffin. Just as I was about to call out for someone to help me, a wave of piercing screams rose from the mourning hall—each louder than the last.

The servants, clad in white mourning robes, scattered like frightened rats. Some knelt in terrified huddles, eyes tightly shut, and none dared look me in the eye.

Fine then.

Last time I returned to life, I was scared to death by them. This time, I gave them a fright in return. Consider it karmic balance.

“Shuang… Shuang’er?”

A clear, elegant female voice rang out from somewhere nearby. I turned toward the sound and saw a young woman, her hair tied in a mourner’s bun, dressed in a white gauze robe and wearing black shoes.

She staggered back a few steps when our eyes met, only stabilizing with the support of a few attendants.

“Shuang’er, you… you’re not dead?”

Though her face was bare of makeup, she wore a peony-embroidered sachet at her waist and a silver finger ring inlaid with turquoise and a tiger motif on her right hand—clearly not an ordinary person.

It was my own fault. In my haste, I had forgotten to ask the Judge of the Underworld for a background check. Aside from knowing Yuan Shuang was a princess, I knew absolutely nothing about her.

Unable to confirm who this woman was, I had no choice but to feign amnesia.

I contorted my face, clutching my head with both hands and feigning confusion. “Who are you? My head hurts… What happened to me? Why was I lying in a coffin?”

“Shuang’er, it really is you!” The woman rushed to the coffin and clutched my shoulders, sobbing. “You’re alive! Seeing you safe brings me such relief. If you’d really died, I fear I wouldn’t have lived either.”

Since ancient times, emperors had countless consorts, but only those of considerable rank could refer to themselves as “ben gong.” As the eldest princess, Yuan Shuang must have been the emperor’s biological sister. Given the woman’s older appearance and haggard face, she clearly outranked me.

“Are you… Imperial Sister-in-law?” I hazarded a guess.

“Shuang’er, what’s the matter?” The empress wept even harder upon meeting my confused gaze. She quickly wiped her tears with a silk handkerchief. “You don’t even recognize your own sister-in-law anymore?”

“My head… it really hurts,” I frowned deeply in pain. “I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to remember much at all.”

“Then don’t force yourself to,” the empress gently pulled my hand from my forehead and tidied my disheveled hair with care. “Just rest for now. If you’ve suffered injustice, leave it to ben gong to make it right.”

“Someone, quickly help the princess out of the coffin!”

A few servants, trembling, scrambled to their feet. Half pulling, half carrying, they lifted me like a roast suckling pig from the coffin. My feet hadn’t even touched the ground when I scanned the hall.

“Imperial Sister-in-law, where is the prince consort?”

“Don’t mention him!” the empress snapped. “That beast in human skin is already imprisoned. We’re only waiting for His Majesty’s decree to deal with him.”

Execute the prince consort?

That won’t do!

If he dies ahead of schedule, what’s the point of me hanging on until twenty-six?

Absolutely not. This must be stopped.

“Why execute him all of a sudden?” I blinked innocently.

“He’s the heir to the Prince of Danyang and yet he dared defy authority! On your wedding night, he pushed you into the water and then left you there, completely disregarding your safety. You nearly lost your life at the gates of hell—how could that go unpunished?”

Her words jolted my memories of that night.

But the terror had jumbled everything. All I remembered were the ghostly pale faces—nothing more.

I did vaguely recall him wearing a crimson robe with wide sleeves, which felt somewhat festive.

But who in their right mind would dress all their servants in white for a wedding? It was like a ghostly parade—utterly inauspicious.

Even so, something didn’t sit right with me.

“You mean it was he who pushed me into the water?”

“Without a doubt,” the empress pointed to a young girl kneeling below. “Shi Chun, come over and recount what you saw that night.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The girl named Shi Chun stepped forward, bowing low. “Princess, though I was standing at a distance, I saw it clearly. You and the prince consort were enjoying the moon by the pond, chatting and laughing at first.

But then, he suddenly shoved you into the water.”

Her voice trembled. I immediately recognized her—she was the one who scared me to death last time.

“I screamed and called for help. Only then did he jump in to pull you out.”

At that point, my own memories kicked in.

Both of us were soaked like river rats. I slapped him, and he coldly dropped me to the ground and stormed off.

But… hadn’t the Judge of the Underworld said Yuan Shuang committed suicide?

Regardless of whether it was suicide or murder, she drowned either way. Her fate wasn’t so different from mine.

But something didn’t add up. Shouldn’t the wedding night be spent in the bridal chamber? Why were they by a pond?

Could it be… they were truly in love?

Even so, who tries to kill their spouse on their wedding night?

This prince consort must really hate Yuan Shuang.

I felt lightheaded. My legs gave way beneath me, and I would’ve collapsed had I not been leaning against the coffin.

“Quickly, Shi Chun! Help the princess back to her chambers and summon the imperial physician!” the empress cried out.

I was carried onto a palanquin. As I was leaving, I grasped the empress’s sleeve.

“Imperial Sister-in-law, once I recover, I’ll petition His Majesty myself. But please, don’t deal with the prince consort just yet.”

“Very well,” she nodded, patting my hand. “Focus on recovering. He can live a few more days.”

Back in my chambers, I slept for three whole days.

During that time, I had the same recurring dream: a man in a bamboo hat and black veil, wielding a long sword and leaping across rooftops.

He was distant, his face unclear. Rain fell from a dusky sky.

He approached step by step, his calloused hand tightening around my throat.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked coldly.

I stared into his narrow, upturned eyes—eyes that held neither scholarly calm nor courtly gentleness, but wild ambition and unrestrained desire.

“Liu Qi,” I whispered, tasting the name again and again like bitter medicine.

“Liu Qi. Liu Qi…”

“Liu Qi!”

I bolted upright from the nightmare.

White gauze curtains billowed from my huanghuali canopy bed. Incense burned in the gilded bronze censer.

I drew back the curtain—and behind the purple sandalwood screen stood a shadow.

“Who’s there?”

“Princess, you’re awake? I’ve brought your medicine.”

“Shi Chun?”

She stepped forward, twin buns still neatly tied, carrying a carved jade bowl on a wooden tray.

The moment I sniffed the concoction, I nearly fainted.

“What on earth is this stench?”

“Imperial Physician Zhang prescribed it. It’s for internal deficiency. He said Your Highness has always been frail, and after a brush with death, your energy is severely depleted. You must be carefully nourished.”

I pinched my nose, closed my eyes, and downed it in one gulp. The bitter, sour liquid choked me and brought tears to my eyes.

Shi Chun handed me a tray of preserved fruits. I stuffed my mouth full to cleanse the taste.

Bathed in candlelight, I studied her youthful face. So young and pretty—hard to believe she was the one who frightened me to the afterlife.

I sighed. “Shi Chun, why were you all dressed in white and painted white-faced that night?”

“You don’t remember?” she blinked. “In Great Wei, we revere Buddhism, which esteems white as pure. At royal weddings, everyone but the couple wears white.”

Ah, I see. A wedding that looks like a funeral—this was a first for me.

Shi Chun dabbed her eyes. “But if the princess forgets everything, what shall we do?”

I was unfazed. I didn’t care about Yuan Shuang’s past—I was Yuan Shuang now. The future was what mattered.

And before I reached twenty-six and died by the prince consort’s sword, I had one job: keep him alive.

If he died, what would become of me?

“Shi Chun, has the prince consort been released?”

She shook her head tearfully. “Not yet.”

“Still in prison? I’ve been asleep for days. Any word from His Majesty?”

She sniffled. “He hasn’t decreed anything yet.”

“No decree yet?” I muttered. “Could he be waiting for me to plead for him?”

“Princess, he hurt you so deeply—why are you still thinking about him?” Shi Chun asked angrily.

I looked up and sighed. “He’s my husband. If I don’t care for him, who will?”

“But didn’t you not want to marry him in the first place?”

“I didn’t?”

“Yes.” Shi Chun, still youthful and honest, spilled the truth. “You knelt outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony all night to protest, but His Majesty didn’t change his mind.”

Clearly, this marriage was against Yuan Shuang’s will.

Forced into a union she didn’t want, bound to a life she couldn’t escape—no wonder she tried to end it.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking she was being a bit dramatic.

She was a princess—born into luxury. Unlike me, who grew up an orphan in hardship, living on tap water and wearing sackcloth.

As long as you survive, what’s love got to do with it?

Love can’t feed you. But silken sheets and warm beds—that’s real happiness.

Casually, I asked, “Why was I forced to marry him?”

“Well… because…” she fumbled.

Before she could finish, a sharp, nasal voice pierced the doorway—

“His Majesty approaches!”