My Scumbag Husband, the Prince Consort - Chapter 20

By the third round of drinks, Liu Qi was still perfectly sober, but I was already thoroughly drunk.

Head spinning, I slumped over the table and muttered, “It’s your birthday today. Have you thought about what gift you want?”

Liu Qi smiled and refilled my cup. “Your Highness has already made me very happy. I want nothing more.”

“Are you sure?” I hiccupped. “You only get this chance once a year, you know.”

He picked up a piece of candied fruit and brought it to my lips, teasing, “Didn’t Your Highness already gift me the Xing Yun Sword? I won’t be greedy.”

I opened my mouth, took the sweet, chewed exaggeratedly, and sighed dramatically, “Ah, what a pity. Seems I’ll have to toss the other gift I prepared.”

At that, Liu Qi froze mid-toast, eyes wide with surprise.

“Your Highness prepared another gift?”

I giggled, patted his shoulder, then wobbled to my feet and circled him with my wine cup in hand.

“Of course. A gift no man would refuse.”

I clinked my cup against his with a crisp ding, then threw my head back and drained it in one gulp—as if bracing myself.

Clap clap—

I set down my cup and clapped twice.

The doors opened.

In stepped a line of elegant women, one after another.

Each wore a distinct hairstyle and a different colored gown. They walked with graceful poise, smiling sweetly but without pretense. Every one of them was breathtaking, refined—not gaudy, not false. Living portraits, each and every one.

In a panic, Liu Qi knocked over his wine cup. The celadon-glazed porcelain rolled twice on the floor before coming to a stop against the base of the wall.

“Your Highness,” he asked coldly, “what is the meaning of this?”

I laughed. “These eight young women were personally selected by me. We combed through all of Luojing to find such rare beauties. Each one a proper young lady, untouched. Take your pick. Do any catch your eye?”

His brow furrowed, jaw tight. He didn’t even glance at the wine soaking his sleeve. “What are you trying to do?”

I raised a handkerchief to my lips, still smiling. “Don’t be shy. These women were handpicked for you. If you like one, take her. Have her stay tonight.”

Despite being surrounded by beauty, Liu Qi didn’t so much as glance at a single one of them.

His eyes stayed fixed on me—almost as if trying to read some truth in my expression.

Under his gaze, my confidence faltered. I couldn’t read the darkness behind his eyes, only that the light they once held had vanished.

“What are you thinking, Your Highness?” he asked.

“What?”

“You dote on your favorites. I amuse myself with mine. Is that it? We each do as we please?”

He looked dazed, as though trying to peer through me.

“Is that really what Your Highness believes?”

Flustered, I waved it off. “Think what you want. I’ve brought the women. If you don’t like them, I’ll send for another batch tomorrow.”

His left hand clenched, twisting the fabric of his robe into a knot in his palm.

After a long silence, he spoke, voice bitter:

“No. If it’s Your Highness’s gift, how could I refuse?”

“Such rare beauty, fair skin, and delicate features… as if they stepped out of a painting. How could I possibly not like them?”

By the end, his voice was tight with restraint.

“I like them… very much.”

“Good,” I said, nodding, relieved. “Then let them all stay.”

Liu Qi suddenly stood.

Not even bothering to toss his sleeve, he shot me a fierce look and turned to leave.

At the threshold, he paused. Without looking back, he said flatly,

“All eight of you—come to my chambers tonight. And wash thoroughly. I don’t like dirty things.”

Nan Shui silently picked up the Xing Yun Sword and followed.

The eight women all bowed their heads, blushing. “Yes, Your Highness,” they murmured obediently and followed Nan Shui in a line, graceful as ever.

I rushed to the doorway and watched them go—toward Liu Qi’s Bamboo Dwelling.

Suddenly, it was as if my soul had been yanked from my body. I collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

I reached for the wooden railing to stand, but instead, a wave of dry heaves overtook me.

Never before had I felt such pain—so sharp, so deep, so… all-consuming.

Like claws tearing at my heart, scraping away layer after layer.

I clung to the railing, vomiting everything I had drunk that night.

A late-night breeze finally brought some clarity.

And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t cry. Not one tear.

Only this hollow ache in my chest, like someone had gouged a hole through it.

Frantically, I searched for something to fill that emptiness—but I had nothing. Nothing at all.

Buddha, please…

All I, Jiang Yu, ever wanted in this life was peace.

I’ve had enough of loneliness. Enough of the hungry, hopeless days in my past life.

If I’ve already died once, then why can’t I be allowed a second chance?

I want to live. I want to live in comfort, in abundance, generation after generation. Is that… so wrong?

Why must I be punished like this?

That night, I didn’t sleep at all. I lay on my side, dazed and delirious, my mind filled with nonsense.

Which of those eight would he favor the most?

The tallest one? The fairest?

He said he liked them all—does that mean he’ll favor all of them?

And while he’s enjoying their company, will he think of poor, pitiful Shu Wan?

Or… even just for a moment, might he think of me?

Scum. Liu Qi is truly the worst kind of man.

I sat up on the bed like a statue, watching the magnolia tree outside the window until dawn.

At the hour of Chen, Zhi Xia entered with a basin of water for my morning wash.

Seeing me sitting there cross-legged like a hollowed-out Buddha statue, with dark circles practically hanging down to my waist, she gasped and dropped the basin with a crash.

“Your Highness! What happened to you?”

I lifted my heavy eyelids, trying to speak—but no sound came out.

I struggled for quite a while, letting out only garbled noises, which startled Zhi Xia so badly she nearly fainted on the spot.

“Your Highness, what’s wrong? Why can’t you speak all of a sudden?”

I shook my head and pointed at my throat, gesturing for her to summon the imperial physician.

It took her a moment to understand, then she turned and dashed out in a panic, nearly slipping on her way.

I let out a quiet sigh and lowered my head. Most likely, I’d drunk too much last night and vomited too violently—probably caused acid reflux that burned my throat. I braced myself for a slow recovery.

Then I thought of that figure leaving the room last night, and realized: nothing could possibly feel worse than that moment. In contrast, losing my voice seemed almost trivial.

Imperial Physician Zhang advised I get more fresh air. He said that during springtime, it was best not to stay cooped up indoors—stale air was no help to healing a damaged throat.

So, after five days of lying low, I finally decided to step out into the back garden.

The small pavilion there had always been my favorite. From the bench beneath it, I could see the lotus pond, and I recalled the first time I opened my eyes after being pulled from the water—he was the first person I saw.

Shi Chun asked behind me if I wanted anything to eat.

I shook my head, gazing off in the direction of the Bamboo Dwelling.

She added that Nan Shui had come by with a message: the Prince Consort had heard I wasn’t well and wanted to visit. Did I wish to see him?

I shook my head again.

Then I dipped my brush in ink and scrawled a few large characters across the sheet before me:

“Prince Consort. Scumbag. Not seeing him.”

Shi Chun sighed softly but said nothing, and turned to deliver my reply to Nan Shui.

Just then, a gust of wind picked up, lifting the sheet from the table and carrying it away like a drifting leaf. It landed on a path nearby, among the blooming flowers.

A pair of silver-threaded square-toed shoes appeared beside it. The wearer stooped to retrieve the paper and unrolled it between his hands.

He wore a muted gray-green robe—blending so naturally into the courtyard’s foliage that one might miss him at first glance.

Step by step, Liu Qi approached. Once at the stone table, he carefully smoothed the paper back down. Then he turned his long, narrow eyes toward me.

“Your Highness,” he asked with false innocence, “what does ‘scumbag’ mean?”

I turned my head away, refusing to acknowledge him.

He persisted. “I truly don’t understand the meaning of ‘scum.’ Might Your Highness enlighten me?”

Chun, Xia, Qiu, Dong, and even Nan Shui were all present. I had wanted to spare him some dignity, but he clearly didn’t want it.

Face taut, I picked up my brush and wrote on a new sheet:

“A man who welcomes all comers is a scumbag.”

Liu Qi chuckled. “Welcomes all comers? Are you referring to me, Your Highness?”

I crumpled the paper and threw it at his chest.

Unbothered, he kept his smile and pressed on. “Then I’m afraid Your Highness has misunderstood me.”

“I turned down Shu Wan, and that displeased you. So, you sent eight women to me. I appreciated your thoughtfulness and accepted them, but now that displeases you. What exactly do you expect me to do?”

He had the nerve to say all this while looking me dead in the eye with those long, upturned lashes, wearing the most punchable expression imaginable.

If I could speak, I’d have given him a good scolding right then and there.

Instead, I wrote again:

“Liu Qi is no different from Feng Zhao—birds of a feather, shameless and vile.”

Still unsatisfied, I grabbed another sheet and added:

“Hypocrite. Lust-driven maniac. Top-tier scumbag!!!”

Once I finished, I crumpled each page into tight balls and launched them at Liu Qi like missiles.

The four maids had never seen me this furious—mute, fuming, throwing ink-soaked paper. They clutched their mouths to stifle their laughter, faces red from the effort.

I had utterly lost face. I wanted to kick him just to vent, but thinking it over… maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.

He had gone along with everything I did, yet I still wasn’t happy. Perhaps… the problem was with me.

I watched his expression shift—like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. He glanced at me, then at the maids behind me, and in the end, held his tongue.

I turned to leave—only to hear Nan Shui wail behind me.

“Your Highness! Why must you be so heartless?!”

I frowned, confused. What nonsense was he on about now?

Before I could motion anything, Nan Shui launched into his tirade as if someone had flipped a switch.

“When the Prince Consort fell ill, Your Highness only visited him once! But these past days, while you were bedridden, the Consort stayed at your bedside day and night—never left your side, never even changed his robes. He’s practically wasted away from exhaustion!”

His words pulled me back to that day—the moment I opened my eyes and saw Liu Qi sitting by the bed with a bowl of medicine. Now that I think of it, his face had looked unusually haggard.

But I had been so caught up in searching for my sword that I hadn’t even noticed his fatigue.

Nan Shui kept going, wailing louder. “And those eight women? The Consort didn’t touch a single one! He sat opposite them the whole night, never closed his eyes, just to keep Your Highness from being upset! Yet you’re still holding a grudge—what more do you want from him?!”

“Your Highness, why can’t you see how much he cares for you?!”

Nan Shui’s cries were full of despair, like someone mourning lost parents.

Thank the heavens it was only the maids nearby. If anyone else had heard, they’d surely have scolded me too.

I never realized I’d gone this far—become the villain everyone loathes.

A rat crossing the street, as they say. Beaten by all.

When I didn’t respond, still too stunned, Nan Shui opened his mouth to continue.

But Liu Qi suddenly barked, “Nan Shui! That’s enough!”

“How dare you spout such nonsense before Her Highness? Slap your own mouth—now!”