My Scumbag Husband, the Prince Consort - Chapter 7

“The female steward of the wine cellar holds a Fifth-Rank official position, earning two hundred bolts of silk and six hundred bushels of grain a year. Yet you scoff at it and insist on remaining by the prince consort’s side as a mere handmaid—what exactly is your motive?”

At that, I slapped the table hard. The jade tea set rattled across the dark wood table like a game of dice. I clenched my aching palm behind my back and secretly kneaded it until the pain eased enough for me to continue.

With my outburst, the four maids— Shi Chun, Zhi Xia, Mu Qiu, and Lian Dong —immediately dropped to their knees like startled moles, crying in unison, “Your Highness, please calm your anger!”

Shi Chun said, “Your Highness is not yet fully recovered. Do not let a mere servant upset you.”

Zhi Xia added fuel to the fire. “Anyone who dares offend Her Highness should be dragged out to the courtyard for a beating. I’ll personally supervise.”

Shu Wan, terrified, cowered on the floor, trembling like a leaf. The jade hairpin on her head caught my eye—quivering ever so slightly with her movements, like a silver needle jabbing directly into my vision.

Liu Qi, too, now seemed to realize the underlying message in my words. But as my prince consort, his every action should be measured. He merely clasped his hands and said respectfully, “Your Highness, please don’t be angry. This is Shu Wan’s fault for not understanding the rules or Your Highness’s good intentions. I offer my apology on her behalf.”

He, Liu Qi—esteemed Prince Consort of Great Wei—was apologizing to me over a servant girl? Telling me not to be angry? That alone showed just how much this Shu Wan mattered to him. The more I thought about it, the more infuriated I became.

“What are you implying, my lord?” I asked as I slowly sat down, not even sparing him a glance. “Are you accusing me of tearing lovers apart? Or making a mountain out of a molehill?”

“We northern women understand: one pot, one lid. One husband, one wife. I, too, cannot abide a grain of sand in my eye. If you plead on her behalf again, don’t blame me for showing no mercy.”

“My imperial brother recently mentioned that Prince Danyang ought to teach you well. Now here you are, putting me in a difficult position over a handmaid. Perhaps it’s best we summon the emperor to weigh in.”

Though softly spoken, my words landed like heavy stones. At the mention of the emperor, Shu Wan immediately prostrated herself, begging pitifully.

“Your Highness, please have mercy! It’s all this lowly servant’s fault. I was blind and foolish to offend Your Highness. Please punish me alone, and spare the prince consort!”

As she begged, she slapped her own face with impressive force. Within moments, her cheeks turned from soft pink to swollen red.

I sighed deeply in my heart. If only you’d known this sooner—why go so far?

Some people always think themselves the cleverest, treating others like fools. It’s only when they’re pushed to the edge that they finally recognize your limits.

I glanced at Liu Qi. His brows were knit tightly, as if deep mountain valleys had etched themselves across his face. His lowered gaze hid his pupils, masking whatever storm brewed behind them, though the slight lift of his outer brow gave him away.

Perfect, I thought. He’s irritated.

I hadn’t meant to drive Shu Wan away; I only wanted Liu Qi to loathe me. Now that I’d achieved that, I had no more reason to entertain this farce.

I lifted my chin and gave a dismissive wave. “Enough. That’s quite the self-punishment—Prince Consort must be heartbroken.”

“Your Highness, I am willing to accept punishment,” Shu Wan whispered, still avoiding my eyes. Her face, now a deep red, made even me wince. She was young, but ruthless toward herself.

She might amount to something one day.

I said, “You’ve been scolded and slapped. If I press further, it’ll make me look petty.”

“Out of consideration for your loyalty to your master, I’ll let it go this time. But if you dare appear before me again, I’ll break your legs.”

I delivered those harsh words deliberately—for Liu Qi’s ears. Let him see me as petty and unreasonable. Let him think me a petty tyrant. I didn’t need him admiring me. All I needed was distance.

“Understood, Your Highness.”

Shu Wan kowtowed several more times before limping away as if I’d truly crippled her.

I brushed the dust off my robe and asked casually, “You left the residence early this morning—where did you go?”

Liu Qi, still staring at Shu Wan’s departing figure, paused before replying, “The racecourse.”

“The racecourse?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’re no martial artist. What business have you there?”

“I may lack skill with weapons,” he replied calmly, “but I can ride.”

“His Majesty recently received a tribute of fine warhorses from the Rouran Khan. Nearly a hundred head. He invited me to the racecourse to view them.”

The emperor invited him personally? Honestly, my imperial brother is so biased. Someone might think Liu Qi was his sibling.

“And what did you gain from the trip?” I asked.

“I was gifted a crimson steed—an Akhal-Teke. Strong, swift, able to run a thousand li in a day.”

An Akhal-Teke? A horse fit for kings. Legendary, rare—one in a hundred. My brother really was generous.

Though I knew little about horses, I knew enough to realize this was worth seeing.

I stood and called, “Shi Chun, fetch my saddle.”

Liu Qi looked stunned. “Your Highness, please reconsider. Riding is dangerous.”

“Oh?” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you think I’m incapable?”

“We women of Wei were born on the steppe. We grew up on horseback, our bl00d runs with the wind. Riding is as natural as breathing.”

Shi Chun said nothing and turned to fetch my tack. Mu Qiu muttered, “Your Highness, it’s been generations since women rode. Times have changed.”

Zhi Xia added, “Your Highness has rarely left the palace gates, and now you want to ride? What if something happens…”

I waved them off. “The emperor ordered me to recuperate after that fall in the river. I’ve been cooped up for half a month—I’m growing mold.”

I stretched. “Spring is here—flowers bloom, birds sing. I’ll accompany my prince consort to the racecourse. Let’s not waste this perfect day.”

I watched Liu Qi as I spoke. Sure enough, his expression darkened when I said “accompany.”

I grinned at him, raised my voice, and called cheerfully, “Prince Consort, lead the way.”

________________________________________

The racecourse stretched wide beneath a canopy of elms. The breeze rustled budding leaves—soft green shadows danced across the grass.

Liu Qi approached, leading the famed red steed. He had changed into riding gear: a pale robe with dark embroidered trousers. His long hair was bound high with a silken headscarf. Dashing and elegant, with a quiet nobility.

The Akhal-Teke snorted behind him, tall and sleek with a glossy chestnut coat.

To the ancients, a handsome man with a fine horse was a match made in heaven. To a modern girl like me? Like seeing a man with a luxury sports car.

I circled the horse, petting its sleek mane. “My imperial brother is generous. This one’s a real beauty.”

“It’s spirited,” Liu Qi said, “not easily broken. It’ll take time.”

“Does it have a name?”

“Not yet.” He stroked its face. “If Your Highness likes it, perhaps you could name it.”

“I might,” I smiled. “But only if I ride it first.”

“You know how to ride?”

“How hard can it be?” I said smugly. “Just hop on and pull the reins.”

I might’ve watched too many costume dramas—riding always looked so easy. As long as I didn’t gallop, just a slow trot led by Liu Qi would be fine.

He believed me. I looked confident enough.

He helped me mount, and I barely caught my breath before the horse shrieked, then bolted.

The sudden jolt shook me to my core. I clung to the reins for dear life, chest pressed to its back.

“Aaaah!”

The horse tore across the field, wild and relentless. Each time we neared a fence, it would halt with a violent lurch, then charge the other way.

It had the time of its life. I was nauseous, dizzy, half-dead.

“Liu Qi! Liu Qi—help me!”

My screams echoed across the field. Etiquette be damned.

“Liu Qi—save me!”

But no one came.

Great. Just great. I was about to die again—and this time, I wouldn’t even get a shrine. Maybe hell had a frequent flyer program?

If only I hadn’t dismissed the four maids. At least they would’ve fetched help. Liu Qi? He’d probably love to see me break my neck.

My eyes welled with despair.

But then—like a flash of lightning—a shadow soared past.

I looked.

Liu Qi’s robes billowed as he leapt from horse to horse, swift as wind, light as a bird.

His footwork was flawless. Before I could blink, he’d landed on the saddle behind me. One arm circled my waist; the other gripped the reins.

“Your Highness—relax your legs. Don’t squeeze the horse’s belly.”

His voice was calm, carried by the wind, but strangely reassuring.

I had always been alone. But in that moment, I felt… safe.

As long as he was here, I didn’t need to be afraid.

“Whoa—”

Liu Qi pulled back on the reins. The stallion slowed, then settled into a gentle walk.

He dismounted, then helped me down. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I collapsed into his arms, pale and trembling.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he murmured, steadying me. “I failed to protect you.”

His hand rested gently on my back—neither too low nor too high.

I looked up, eyes glistening.

“Prince Consort, you lied to me,” I whispered. “You said you couldn’t fight.”