The Prime Minister Knows How to Handle His Wife (ABO, GL) - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

“Like a hen guarding her chicks.”

“Ning Qingge, you! I protected you with good intentions, and you laugh at me, saying I’m like an old hen!”

One anger hadn’t settled when another arose. Sheng Shiyue glared, her temper flaring instantly.

The other person laughed, her lips curving gently. She said earnestly, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

The sudden sincerity made the bristling cat pause. Sheng Shiyue showed a hint of unease and said stiffly, “What’s there to thank? You’re my… at least my wife in name. Protecting you is my duty.”

Ye Liuyun, sitting on the carriage shaft, silently pursed her lips.

“Is that so…” Ning Qingge lowered her eyes. The curve of her lips somehow seemed forced. She said softly, “Still, thank you, Your Highness. Few people… protect me like this.”

Her later words carried no sadness or grievance, only grew lighter, as if a breeze could scatter them.

The carriage’s dim interior hid her slender frame in a half-light, half-shadow atmosphere. It was the same as before, even her clothes unchanged, but earlier she was cold, and now a faint, fleeting fragility appeared.

Sheng Shiyue touched her nose, her temper easily fading.

Though she wasn’t favored by Mother Empress, she always had Mother and Little Aunt protecting her. But Ning Qingge… when the Ning family fell, who knew how much she suffered? Now, alone in court, even a fourth-rank official dared act brazenly before her.

Sheng Shiyue wasn’t used to this mood. She turned to look out the curtain and said, “If anyone troubles you again, tell me.”

Ning Qingge’s expression softened, a flash of a smile passing. She said, “This was just an accident. Usually, they respect me.”

But after what happened, Sheng Shiyue felt Ning Qingge was forcing herself to stay strong. She didn’t persuade further, quietly deciding to have Ye Liuyun and others investigate. Since this started because of her, she couldn’t let Ning Qingge bear it alone.

The carriage passed a dark alley, reaching the Western District. The bustling noise flooded in, filling the carriage.

Neither spoke. Sheng Shiyue felt uneasy, gazing out the window. The dazzling lanterns deepened her profile, making her appear more radiant. Her slightly blue eyes held a clear purity.

Ning Qingge seemed silent, but her peripheral vision stayed on Sheng Shiyue. Her ink-jade eyes were obscure, the hem of her palace dress crept with shadows.

The two—one the notorious, despised wastrel, the other the revered Prime Minister—were people who’d never have been mentioned together. Yet now they sat in a cramped carriage, their purity or tarnish unclear. The one called upright schemed step by step, while the one in the dye vat was clear as water.

The once vast distance between them could now be bridged if either reached out to touch the other’s fingertips.

“Ning Qingge,” Sheng Shiyue suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.

Ning Qingge snapped back, looking at her.

“Want to get out and walk?” Sheng Shiyue paused, adding, “There’s nothing to do back home anyway.”

“Sure.”

The carriage turned into a narrow alley. Ye Liuyun stuffed a pouch into Sheng Shiyue’s hand, crossed her arms, leaned against the carriage, and resolved not to disturb them.

Sheng Shiyue said nothing more, leading Ning Qingge out of the alley toward the main street.

The Western District’s liveliness didn’t wane. Compared to daytime, nights offered more wine, food, and games like pitching pots or guessing tiles. Colored paper lanterns hung across the streets. Adults led children, and young couples meeting up laughed as they passed.

“It’s crowded here. Be careful,” Sheng Shiyue turned back, calling loudly.

Perhaps Ning Qingge misunderstood. Her hand, casually swung back, was grasped, as if she wanted Sheng Shiyue to lead her.

Sheng Shiyue only froze briefly but didn’t pull away.

Their figures gradually aligned, blending into the bustling crowd.

“Ma—Ning…” Sheng Shiyue started to call her name but felt it improper. She shifted, asking, “Do you have a courtesy name?”

Ning Qingge glanced at her, half-smiling. “What? Your Highness finally remembers this?”

In Liang Kingdom, after coming-of-age ceremonies, children took courtesy names. Elders and peers used these names, or surnames with titles or family ranks. Calling someone by their full name carried a hint of insult or scolding.

But Sheng Shiyue, previously disliking Ning Qingge, called her Prime Minister sarcastically, or Madam Ning, or Ning Qingge. She’d grown used to it and hadn’t thought to change until now.

Sheng Shiyue knew she was at fault. Her gaze wavered, and she said, “The market’s chaotic, with shady types around. Don’t call me Your Highness. Call me Sheng Jiu.”

At twenty, Sheng Shiyue should’ve taken a courtesy name, but she delayed, waiting for Little Aunt’s return.

Ning Qingge didn’t press, smiling. “Wangshu.”

“Hmm?”

The noise around drowned her out. Sheng Shiyue leaned closer, bending down, saying, “Say it again.”

The distance closed suddenly. Ning Qingge didn’t retreat. Instead, she slid her hand from Sheng Shiyue’s wrist downward. Her cool fingertips brushed her palm, easily threading through her fingers, interlocking tightly.

Ning Qingge explained softly, “Too many people.”

Indeed, there were many. Their arms pressed together, bodies close. Sheng Shiyue’s loose hair swayed, brushing Ning Qingge’s nose. Her ear, deliberately near, seemed to feel Ning Qingge’s warm breath.

Dangerous.

Sheng Shiyue shivered inexplicably.

But the other seemed unaware, repeating, “Your Highness, my name is Qingge, my courtesy name Wangshu.”

A tingling itch spread from her earlobe, making her heart clench, then race wildly.

Laughably, Sheng Shiyue still heard distant vendors’ calls—ten wen for a wooden hairpin, one wen per pot pitch. A child whined, begging parents for a sugar figure. To the right, lovers whispered overly intimate words. Then Ning Qingge’s voice drifted from afar, each word landing.

“Wangshu…” The word squeezed through her teeth, its drawn-out tone trembling, quickly hidden.

Sheng Shiyue tried to pull back, but the crowd pushed her closer.

She could only muddle through, finding a topic to prove her calm, unshaken by Ning Qingge. She asked, “Why?”

“Why Wangshu?”

In Liang, courtesy names often echoed the given name’s meaning or expressed aspirations or preferences. Wangshu seemed unrelated to Qingge, lacking special meaning, making it odd.

They kept walking. To onlookers, they were a perfectly matched pair.

The taller one, slightly youthful, wore scarlet, her beauty unhidden. A golden qilin necklace and gold bells at her hair’s end adorned her. Her proud eyes held a boyish charm, her earlobes red as bl00d, yet she forced composure, unaware her steps were out of sync.

The older one, refined and elegant, her gentle eyes held warmth. She wanted to tease further but feared going too far, so she smiled at Sheng Shiyue. Amid the bustle, her ink-jade eyes reflected only Sheng Shiyue.

Their fingers interlocked, shoulders touching, as intimate as countless lovers in the Western District.

Ning Qingge said, “My name comes from Master Wanling’s poem.”

“Riding the moon, coming and going, clear songs inspire awe. Has Sheng Jiu heard it?”

She used the new name, growing closer.

“When choosing my courtesy name, I thought of ‘riding the moon.’ Wangshu, they say, is the moon’s chariot driver.”

Sheng Shiyue nodded slowly, unsure if Ning Qingge’s words were true or too coincidental to believe. She mumbled, “My name comes from that poem too.”

“Oh?” Ning Qingge looked at her.

“Shiyue, time and moon.”

Ahead, a crowd gathered, likely foreigners performing new tricks, cheers rising one after another.

Sheng Shiyue led Ning Qingge around, finding a less crowded path. Their tightly pressed bodies finally parted slightly.

She sighed in relief, explaining, “Mother wanted to name me Shiyue, but Little Aunt said a fleeting moon was too short. Better to pick up a full moon, Sheng Shiyue.”

“Quite a coincidence,” Ning Qingge said, nothing more.

Sheng Shiyue noticed no oddity.

Perhaps it was a coincidence?

The poem wasn’t obscure. Maybe the Ning family and Mother thought alike. Besides, the deposed Crown Princess was close to the Ning family and raised Mother, so some overlap was normal.

Sheng Shiyue’s eyelids lowered. Perhaps thinking of that person, her racing heart calmed. Wanting to change topics, she scanned around before saying, “See anything interesting?”

Without waiting for Ning Qingge’s reply, she continued, “Do you like sweets? There’s a place nearby with good dragon’s beard candy. The rouge shop beside it’s popular with Kunze. Oh, and the wontons there are decent. Meng Xiaosi and the others love eating wontons after a stroll.”

She spoke quickly, perhaps to hide earlier fluster or suppress later gloom.

Ning Qingge noticed her unease, let go of her hand, and looked at a stall, saying gently, “That hairpin looks nice.”

The released hand met the breeze, its heat fading, leaving a chill.

Sheng Shiyue rubbed her hand on her clothes before following Ning Qingge’s gaze.

It was a common market stall, with various items on the table. Interested buyers paid coins and bet against the vendor with dice. Winners took their coins and chosen item; losers left the coins.

The hairpin Ning Qingge eyed was one of the vendor’s items.

“Let’s check it out,” Sheng Shiyue said, walking to the table.

As she stood, the vendor rose cheerfully, his eyes scanning her, then Ning Qingge. He grinned, “What caught the lady’s eye?”

Sheng Shiyue was used to such looks, knowing he saw her as an easy mark. She didn’t care, pointing. “How much for that hairpin?”

Prices varied by item. Most vendors charged half the item’s value to lure bets.

The vendor named a price, “One tael of silver.”

Sheng Shiyue raised a brow, glancing at the wooden hairpin.

Though finely carved, it was cheap peach wood, nowhere near a tael’s worth.

The vendor knew it was absurd, scratching his head. Looking at Ning Qingge, he boasted, “The lady has good taste. This came from Jiangnan. Several others wanted it but lost. Wonder if this lady can win it for you.”

He was clever, roping in Ning Qingge when Sheng Shiyue paused, trying to spark her competitive streak, knowing Qianyuan loved showing off for their Kunze.

What kind of person was Ning Qingge? She saw through the vendor’s ploy but didn’t stop it, looking at Sheng Shiyue.

“Let’s play a round,” Sheng Shiyue said, pulling a tael from Ye Liuyun’s pouch and placing it on the table.

The vendor beamed, grabbing the dice cup as if fearing she’d back out, shaking it vigorously.

—Snap!

A sharp sound rang as the cup hit the table. The vendor released it, shouting, “Big or small, place your bets!”

Moving the silver to the table’s marked “big” or “small” sealed the wager.

Sheng Shiyue glanced at Ning Qingge, saying, “Since you like it, you choose.”

She couldn’t bring someone out and just wander without playing, right? Ning Qingge should try a game or two.

Ning Qingge didn’t refuse, pointing to “big.” The silver moved left.

Sheng Shiyue raised a brow, surprised at Ning Qingge’s luck, then her ear twitched. She looked at the vendor with an intrigued expression.

“Three, two, four! Small!” The vendor lifted the cover, shouting.

Before they reacted, he grabbed the silver, and it vanished.

He looked regretful, sighing, “The lady’s luck isn’t great today. Why not try, miss?”

“Let’s try again,” Sheng Shiyue said with a smile, pulling another tael.

The vendor’s joy grew, saying, “I wish the miss good fortune and success.”

He’d made a fortune, even spouting blessings.

The cup shook again, landing on the table.

Sheng Shiyue looked at Ning Qingge, saying, “Go on.”

She let Ning Qingge choose again.

Ning Qingge moved the silver toward “big.” At the same time, the vendor’s hand on the cup twitched.

Sheng Shiyue raised a brow, grabbed Ning Qingge’s hand, and shifted it to “small.”

The vendor’s fingers moved again, the dice’s rattle drowned in the crowd’s noise, unnoticed.

But Sheng Shiyue guided Ning Qingge back to “big.”

The vendor blinked, a hint of caution appearing. He moved his hand again.

Their clasped hands shifted to “small.”

The vendor, now realizing his mistake, gave a wry smile, bowing. “I failed to recognize greatness.”

Sheng Shiyue smiled faintly, saying, “Business shouldn’t be too greedy.”

Their back-and-forth puzzled onlookers, like a riddle.

But Ning Qingge didn’t ask, her gaze lingering on their joined hands before moving away.

The vendor hurriedly agreed, “Yes, yes, the miss is right. I got greedy.”

Sheng Shiyue wouldn’t press too hard. She pressed Ning Qingge’s hand down, placing the silver. The vendor opened the cup.

One, two, four—small, indeed.

Sheng Shiyue took back the silver, casually hooking the hairpin with her other hand, then turned to leave.

The vendor didn’t stop her, showing relief, marveling at Sheng Shiyue’s leniency. By rights, he should’ve returned the earlier tael or even taken a beating, but she let him off.

He started to thank her, but the striking pair had vanished into the crowd. Bright lanterns and bustle remained, leaving a surreal feeling.

The vendor mumbled, “Did I meet immortals?”

Sheng Shiyue didn’t hear, or she’d have teased him, dragging Ning Qingge to joke that no one called her immortal when alone. Now, leading Ning Qingge to the quieter riverside, she sighed in relief.

She loved crowds but couldn’t stay long, finding them draining.

Ning Qingge followed, as if accompanying Sheng Shiyue to play, offering no complaints.

“Here, your hairpin,” Sheng Shiyue said, handing over the tightly gripped wooden hairpin, laughing. “Ning Qingge, why don’t you ask anything? Aren’t you curious?”

If it were Meng Xiaosi, she’d have pestered for explanations.

“Can Your Highness hear dice?” Ning Qingge tilted her head, having noticed something.

“You knew?” Sheng Shiyue was surprised, explaining softly, “Did you know I lost a lot at a gambling den when I was sixteen?”

That incident caused a stir back then. How could Ning Qingge not know? She nodded.

Sheng Shiyue didn’t wait, laughing. “Little Aunt returned then, furious. She dragged me from the den, made me wear plain clothes, and took me to various gambling houses.”

This, Ning Qingge didn’t know.

“Lord Wu’an gambles?”

“She doesn’t. She made me lose from street to alley, then hired a few swindlers, locked me in a room, and ordered I couldn’t leave until I learned to hear dice.”

Sheng Shiyue scratched her head, recalling the misery, saying helplessly, “You don’t know how harsh she was. Those men trained in scams from childhood, mastering it in their twenties. But she forced me to learn in a month and win back all I lost, or I’d failed and had to start over.”

“Is that why Your Highness avoids gambling now?”

They walked and talked, their reflections on the calm river merging.

“Knowing the tricks makes it boring. It’s all deception,” Sheng Shiyue said, glancing at her. “You knew this and still sent me there?”

The other showed no guilt, saying, “I just thought the hairpin looked nice.”

“If it’s nice, why not take it?” Sheng Shiyue stopped, suddenly inserting the unsent hairpin into Ning Qingge’s coiled hair.

She laughed abruptly, her eyes mischievous, asking, “Ning Qingge, you didn’t do this on purpose, did you?”

Unclear if she meant earlier or the hairpin.

“What does Your Highness think?” Ning Qingge lifted her gaze, meeting hers, smiling. “What does Your Highness believe it is?”

A breeze blew, riverside willows swayed, the moon’s reflection rippling like silver fish.

Sheng Shiyue stood frozen, only looking away after a while, saying, “Time to go back.”

“Sure.”

Their words drifted with the wind, leaving only swaying willows. The deep night consumed all.