My Scumbag Husband, the Prince Consort - Chapter 9

I instinctively took a step back. I didn’t know why—I just suddenly felt guilty for no reason.

“Of course the Prince Consort’s swordsmanship is excellent. Our Great Wei was founded on martial strength—empire won on horseback and blades. Though there are countless generals at court, I doubt many can match the Prince Consort’s skill.”

“Oh?” Liu Qi’s tone stretched languidly. “Does Your Highness truly think so?”

“How could I not?” I patted my chest, trying to calm my pounding heart. “I believe in Buddha. One of the precepts is to speak no lies.”

Earlier that day, I’d seen Mo Zhu’s graceful sword dance—refined and composed—and I’d thought him a rare treasure. But watching Liu Qi now, I finally understood what true power and presence looked like.

Even at his best, Mo Zhu was not one-tenth of Liu Qi.

Liu Qi sheathed his sword and gracefully sat on a stone bench across from me, turning slightly so that his profile faced me.

A beam of moonlight fell across his brow, casting a shimmering glow that made his robes seem more intricate, his features almost unearthly.

I cautiously probed, “Why does Prince Consort ask this?”

“Today, I heard that Your Highness posted a public notice summoning all the handsome men in the land. I also heard that among them was one especially skilled in sword dance. I was curious—between him and me, who is better?”

I’m not a fool. Before doing this, I’d already imagined every possible reaction—mockery, scandal, censure. I was prepared. A person only lives once—how could one care only about reputation?

But I never expected Liu Qi to come ask me in person.

My teeth chattered faintly, palms damp with sweat.

“Prince Consort must be jesting. Mo Zhu merely knows a few basic moves—he’s hardly worth mentioning. How could he be compared to you?”

“Mo Zhu?” Liu Qi’s brows furrowed.

“Yes.” I nodded stiffly. “He seemed refined and elegant, and I thought the name suited him well. So I bestowed it upon him.”

Liu Qi suddenly stood. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared me down. “So, Your Highness thinks I am coarse and lacking refinement?”

“I… That’s not what I meant…”

Great. Where could I even begin explaining? I really didn’t mean anything by it—can’t I praise someone else just once without it turning into this?

What’s with Liu Qi today? Why does every word I say seem to offend him?

“When I asked Your Highness to name Chi Ju, you refused. Yet now, you give a name to a stranger—what are you really thinking?”

He disappeared from the residence for three to five days without a word, and I didn’t even question where he was or what he was doing. Yet he dares to interrogate me?

Maybe in the past, I would’ve backed down. But now? I’m the Eldest Imperial Princess of Wei. If he questions me, it’s as good as questioning the empire itself.

I won’t mind losing face—but the empire must not.

“How can a horse be compared to a man?” I shot back. “I admired Mo Zhu, so I named him. What’s wrong with that?”

“Chi Ju is my horse, a gift from His Majesty himself. And yet, it’s not worthy of a name from Your Highness?”

I’m naturally impatient, and his relentless questioning had long worn out my tolerance. I no longer cared to explain—I might as well throw all decorum aside.

“Chi Ju almost threw me off. It’s unruly and wild, just like its master—brash and arrogant. How could I possibly want to name such a beast?”

Liu Qi went silent. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, eyes growing colder and darker.

“Does Your Highness truly mean that?”

“Not a word of it is false.”

Liu Qi glared at me with seething fury. His hand, hidden in his sleeve, clenched tightly before he suddenly swept his robes and turned away.

I watched his back disappear into the moonlit path strewn with fallen blossoms. At last, I exhaled, collapsing back onto the stone bench like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

I consoled myself: at least the situation hadn’t spiraled completely out of control. If nothing else, I’d succeeded in raising the Prince Consort’s hatred level by one.

As expected, within three days, word of my “Handsome Men Recruitment Drive” had spread throughout all of Luojing.

I’ve never cared much for saving face, and I certainly wasn’t going to now. Let people gossip all they want.

But I imagined Liu Qi’s life must be less than peaceful. Raised as a noble heir, used to deference and awe—when had he ever suffered this kind of public humiliation? He must despise me to the bone by now.

One morning, I received a summons from the palace.

My imperial brother wished to see me, citing that he missed me dearly.

Since coming to this world, I’d stayed secluded in the Princess Manor, claiming to be in recovery. The truth? I was terrified of blowing my cover.

But now that I’d mostly recovered, and with a royal edict in hand, I had no choice. I let Chun, Xia, Qiu, and Dong help me dress.

I selected a dark crimson robe with layered skirts, overlaid with an embroidered black outer coat. A slim sash floated at my waist, my hair styled in a resplendent bun adorned with fine gold pins. I looked dignified, with just a hint of charm.

Our ceremonial carriage clattered slowly through the palace roads. Peeking through the curtain, I saw the grand halls rising like mountains, their golden roofs gleaming in the morning sun.

Before long, the carriage halted before a palace marked with the plaque “Shi Qian Hall.”

Chun, Xia, Qiu, and Dong waited outside as a eunuch led me in. The hall was quiet save for the faint crackle of incense burning in a golden censer, its blue flames casting flickering shadows.

My elder brother, the emperor, sat behind a long carved desk. His youthful face was handsome and solemn, framed by a towering screen embroidered with nine dragons chasing a pearl.

He was annotating memorials when I entered. At the sight of me, he set down his red brush.

“I heard you’re feeling better,” he said gently. “I had meant to visit your manor, but state affairs have kept me too busy. So I had no choice but to summon you.”

I knelt and offered formal greetings. “If Your Majesty wishes to see me, a word is all it takes. I would have come immediately.”

He gestured. “Be seated.”

A eunuch brought over a redwood chair. Just as I sat, another offered tea.

Sipping from the porcelain cup, I saw the emperor frowning, lost in thought.

“Why does Your Majesty seem troubled?” I asked.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, pressing his fingers to his brow. “Merely the usual state matters.”

“Then entrust them to your ministers. You have three dukes, three ministers, and three departments—must the emperor shoulder everything alone?”

“You’re a woman,” he said softly. “You don’t understand court affairs. This realm belongs to Wei—it belongs to the people. As their sovereign, how can I seek leisure while they bear the burden?”

Though I didn’t dare shake my head outright, I couldn’t agree with that sentiment.

Maybe it’s because I’d died once, but I see the world more clearly now.

According to the record on the Book of Fate, I have nine years left to live. Only nine. If I can’t change fate or reshape the world, then I’ll live each day for myself, seeking only peace and freedom.

“I’m not as noble as Your Majesty,” I said. “All I want is to live quietly in my manor.”

He sighed. “Yuling, I don’t blame you. What you’ve done is not entirely your fault.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“We both lost our mother young and were raised by separate nurses. But had I not been made Crown Prince so early, you wouldn’t have lost her so soon—left so alone.”

His face twisted in pain, lost in memory.

In school, I’d learned about certain dynasties where the heir’s birth marked his mother’s death—kill the mother to preserve the throne.

To prevent the empress’s clan from usurping power, they’d strip her away while the heir was still a child—brutal but calculated.

“You never experienced a mother’s love,” he said, “and your marriage to Liu Qi wasn’t your choice. Your bitterness is understandable. But even if I forgive you—the world won’t.”

He pulled out a stack of memorials, flipping through with ink-stained fingers.

“This business with the male concubines—deeply inappropriate.”

“During the chaos of the previous dynasty, royal women indulged in male lovers, and power fell to eunuchs. The realm fractured, war broke out, and the people suffered.”

His voice hardened, fingers tightening around his brush.

“Since our dynasty’s founding, we’ve upheld strict order. Never has a princess dared take male consorts.”

“It is natural for a man to take multiple wives. But for a woman to keep multiple husbands? That defies all moral order.”

He hurled the memorials to the floor at my feet.

“These are impeachment reports against you. The ministers say all manner of things. If I hadn’t fought to protect you, your manor would’ve been seized already.”

My hands trembled. The jade teacup in my fingers slipped, shattering on the floor.

Scalding tea soaked the hem of my crimson skirt, blurring the embroidered birds.

Throughout history, when an empire rose, credit went to great rulers. When it fell, blame went to women.

Daji ruined a dynasty. Baosi brought down a king. As if every calamity had a woman at its root.

I could never accept that logic.

I rose and gave a half-bow. “May I ask a question?”

“Speak.”

“Women are told to obey their father, then husband, then son. Even marriage isn’t theirs to choose. I ask—when can a woman live for herself?”

“A woman’s duty is to manage the household and raise children. Why must she make her own decisions?”

I laughed coldly. “You, my brother, hold the empire in your hands. I, your sister—Eldest Imperial Princess of Wei—am no different from any caged woman. Isn’t that a joke?”

He stepped down from his dais. His robe jingled with ornaments, his shoes echoed on the jade floor.

“Liu Qi is merely a noble heir, a defector from Southern Song. I know you look down on him and wish to step on his pride.”

“But the realm needs him. We need war heroes like Prince Danyang to expand our borders.”

“A married couple is one body. You share honor and shame. As his wife, you should protect his reputation.”

“Yuling, is this your idea of independence? Keeping male lovers to humiliate your husband?”

Why could a defector from the South marry a golden princess? Because his father brought elite troops with him.

The young emperor before me was still growing into his power. He needed Liu Lu’s support.

Liu Qi once pushed me into a lake and got only a few days in jail. He was soon released—and even rewarded with a prized horse. That’s how much he mattered to the emperor. More than I ever did.

Shi Chun once told me the late emperor had called our union a heaven-made match.

What a cruel joke.

A heaven-made match? I was nothing but a pawn—used to win over the court.