The Prime Minister Knows How to Handle Her Wife (ABO, GL) - Chapter 33

Chapter 33

What do you want to do…

Hearing this question, Sheng Shiyue buried her head in the other’s shoulder and neck. Warm breath fell one after another, blowing up the other’s loose hair.

The damp rain mixed with a hint of lychee sweetness. It quietly filled the entire room, softly wrapping around the slender ankle peeking out from the bedding. Along with the night, it enveloped everything.

“I…”

Sheng Shiyue opened her mouth, paused for a moment, then spoke: “I don’t want this place to keep existing.”

“Hmm,” Ning Qingge responded softly. Her cool hand still patted the other’s back lightly, soothing the thin sweat brought by the summer night’s stuffiness.

“I want to save these children,” Sheng Shiyue continued. Her tone was somewhat stiff and slow.

The scene from before flashed in her mind again: a frail child skillfully opened their clothes to her, with numb and hopeless eyes, and a small clay figurine placed in the corner.

“Ning Qingge, do you think this world really has gods?” she murmured.

Maybe it was really her Sister who brought them before her?

Sheng Shiyue never believed in gods or ghosts in the past. If there were truly gods, how could they let her Sister fall to such a fate? But now, she hoped there were gods, so she could pray devoutly, offer countless incenses, and spare her Sister from the mud’s erosion and the underworld’s trials.

“Ning Qingge, I’m a coward.”

In the hazy rain and mist, Sheng Shiyue said this. She curled up in the other’s arms, using the sound of rain to mask her words, carefully speaking the thoughts hidden deep in her heart.

“I’ve always been a coward.”

She always hid behind her Sister, Mother, and Little Aunt, cloaked in the shell of a spoiled dandy. But her Sister was gone, her Mother left, and a single accident with her Little Aunt brought the Emperor’s punishing rod. The peaceful world she thought she had showed her a dark corner.

She could pretend she didn’t know. At most, she could show a bit of kindness, send someone to take the children from that small courtyard back home, and then act like nothing happened.

But she saw that clay figurine, sitting in the dark, dusty hut for who knows how long, covered in dust and cracks. The Fuguang Crown Princess, once praised and hailed as the dawn of the Liang Kingdom, now could only hide in such a web-filled, filthy hut.

She didn’t understand and had always been puzzled by it. The light could be dragged into the mud, while the wicked sat in high places. She hadn’t done anything, yet she was criticized and judged. But those heartless people might still be praised, called good officials for the people and the country. How could such absurd and laughable things exist in this world?

“Your Highness,” Ning Qingge finally spoke.

She gently tugged at the other’s hair, saying softly: “Your Highness has always been a very brave person.”

Her voice was gentle but firm, not like comfort, but like stating a long-established fact.

Sheng Shiyue scoffed: “Brave at being a hated dandy?”

Ning Qingge tilted her head slightly, brushing her cheek against the other’s head, and said softly: “In my heart, Your Highness has always been a pure and flawless moon.”

“My moon.”

These sudden words made Sheng Shiyue freeze. She temporarily forgot the heaviness, pulled into another unbelievable topic. Ning Qingge was always good at leading her astray. Just earlier, it was clearly Ning Qingge’s fault, but after a roundabout, it turned into educating Sheng Shiyue.

It was the same now. She easily made Sheng Shiyue fall into the web she wove.

Sheng Shiyue, both embarrassed and at a loss, stammered: “Ning Qingge, what are you saying…”

How could she be the moon? Clearly, the other was the cold and pure moon.

She sighed softly, somewhat resentfully: “I’ve always wondered why Your Highness never asked me why I like Your Highness.”

“That way, I could tell Your Highness that no one could resist being drawn to the moon.”

“Why would I ask you that?” Sheng Shiyue was a bit flustered, wanting to escape but caught, trapped in the other’s arms.

She grasped at excuses in a panic: “You want me to ask you, but you never directly told me you like me!”

She only hinted and teased indirectly, making her think Ning Qingge enjoyed this unspoken vibe. She secretly grumbled that this person was a scheming,闷木头 (闷木头:闷 translates to “stuffy” or “dull”; 木头 translates to “wood” or “blockhead.” Together, 闷木头 conveys someone emotionally reserved, like a “dull block of wood.”).

Ning Qingge nodded and said: “That’s indeed my mistake.”

This time, she admitted fault quickly.

Sheng Shiyue didn’t know what to say, managing only: “So when did you start liking me? Back in the Yeting?”

She had been troubled by this for a long time. Apart from occasional scoldings, she couldn’t recall any other interactions, let alone pinpoint when Ning Qingge started liking her.

She thought and thought, finally recalling the palace. Back then, Ning Qingge was demoted to the Yeting, while she was still in the palace. Could it be that she unintentionally saved Ning Qingge?

Drawing from those messy storybooks, Sheng Shiyue made up a tale of an arrogant dandy seeing a bullied palace maid and suddenly stepping in to save her. She secretly marveled at her own kindness, forgetting such a big deed right after, truly a good person who did good without seeking reward. Ning Qingge must have fallen deeply for her because of this.

But Ning Qingge seemed to see through her thoughts and said flatly: “No.”

The answer she pondered so long was denied just like that. Sheng Shiyue’s breath caught in her throat, nearly choking her.

The other added fuel to the fire, continuing: “I knew Your Highness earlier than Your Highness thinks.”

Earlier?

Before Ning Qingge entered the palace?

When she was five or six, or three or four?

Not when she was babbling and couldn’t even walk, right?

Sheng Shiyue gasped, dodging to the side, leaning against the wall, her voice trembling: “I knew you were a coal-eating old turtle, with such a fetish. I was so young, and you dared, you dared…”

She couldn’t be blamed for thinking that way. After what she went through that day, her view of Ning Qingge was off.

“You, you, you, pervert!” Sheng Shiyue’s face turned red with anger.

But Ning Qingge couldn’t help laughing, shaking the bed: “Xiao Jiu, how are you so cute…”

Sheng Shiyue blinked several times, belatedly realizing she asked when Ning Qingge liked her, but Ning Qingge answered when she knew her.

This person did it on purpose!

Sheng Shiyue was so angry she lifted her foot to kick her but was caught by the ankle.

“Let go!”

Today, she would kick Ning Qingge off the bed to sleep on the floor!

Her ankle struggled in the other’s grip. Ning Qingge tried to hold back her laugh, but it slipped through her lips. So the other got angrier, shouting: “Ning Qingge, let me go!”

If she didn’t soothe her, this cat would really explode.

Ning Qingge pulled hard, tugging the other’s ankle, pulling her into her arms.

Sheng Shiyue naturally resisted, raising her hand to push her shoulder, but Ning Qingge was prepared, grabbing her wrist.

“Ning…”

Before she could finish, her words were blocked. Soft lips intercepted her scolding, turning it into the sweetness of lychee.

Sheng Shiyue refused to forgive so easily, deliberately biting the other, nipping the thin lips, leaving angry teeth marks.

Ning Qingge responded with gentle envelopment, never resisting, occasionally hissing lightly to show she was enduring the pain.

Always soft-hearted and never learning, this person fell into such traps countless times. Fierce biting turned to licking. Even though it was meant to comfort, she had to bite harder to show she wasn’t so easily soothed.

Her hand broke free from the restraint, her palm resting on the other’s cheek, then忍不住 (忍不住: unable to hold back) moving up, wanting to pinch Ning Qingge’s earlobe, but was scalded by an unexpected heat.

Was Ning Qingge just shy?

Sheng Shiyue realized belatedly.

In the pitch-black darkness, expressions were blurred, words deliberately masked. So she didn’t know what kind of shyness Ning Qingge was holding back, suppressing the tremble in her voice, carefully placing her long-hidden feelings before Sheng Shiyue.

She was like someone standing by a lake, long gazing at the moon’s reflection in the center, yet not daring to reach out to scoop it, afraid the moon would shatter in her palm. But when the moon was hidden by thick clouds, leaving only darkness on the lake, she leaned down, cupped a handful of water, and kissed it gently, reverently, as if handling fragile glass.

Lips and teeth met, tongues touched and entwined, breaths merged, the mouth filled with sweet lychee juice.

Sheng Shiyue’s breathing grew erratic, the burning earlobe rubbed by her fingertips.

The late wind grew fierce, rustling the leaves, scattering petals on the ground. The fine rain grew heavier, slanting onto tiles, windows, and bricks, covering them with a silvery sheen.

Water droplets fell with a drip-drip, striking fallen leaves. The summer heat carried the scent of earth, slipping through window cracks.

Sheng Shiyue grabbed the other’s earlobe, saying something in a low voice. Her muffled, hoarse voice was unclear, only the rising and falling tone audible.

But Ning Qingge paused, then responded with an even more fervent kiss.

“May I be like a star and you the moon, shining brightly together every night.”

She responded to Ning Qingge, weaving her reply into kiss after kiss when the other tried to hide or tease, earnestly giving her answer.

“Xiao Jiu,” someone murmured, consciousness already hazy, saying to herself: “You are the moon.”

“The moon…”

“Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu.”

“Your Highness.”

She was like someone soaked in a wine vat, her mind eroded by alcohol, left only with a name etched in her bones, repeated over and over.

Sheng Shiyue tilted her head back, lips with traces of moisture touching the forehead, falling on trembling eyelids, nose, cheeks, slowly leaving her mark.

Her toes rested on the other’s cool instep, the thin bones slightly uncomfortable. Her knees touched lightly, bending slightly, then carefully pressed between the other’s legs.

The rustling sound of fabric rubbing rose. The bedding had slid to the bed’s edge, only half a corner left, barely covering the two.

Sheng Shiyue shrank into her arms, saying softly: “Ning Qingge, the moon has fallen into your arms.”

Water pooled in the small courtyard, gathering into streams that washed leaves into piles, forming small hills. Birds under the leaves groomed their feathers.

Slanting rain gradually seeped through window cracks, wetting the floor. The lychee scent in the room grew stronger, initially mixed with the rain’s mist, then driving out all else, fiercely filling the entire room, allowing no other scent to intrude.

Even the incomplete Qianyuan caught a whiff of sweetness: “Ning Qingge, your scent…”

She realized belatedly that this fragrance had already surrounded her, from her tongue to her neck, even lower, everywhere.

This cunning person had long marked her ownership this way, taking advantage of the other’s ignorance, boldly leaving her scent.

Too much.

Not only did Ning Qingge show no guilt for being caught, she pulled the other closer, her cheek rubbing against the other’s head, whispering softly: “Your Highness, bear with it a bit more? I can’t hold back.”

Perhaps practice makes perfect; she spoke smoothly, not stuttering like last time. Sheng Shiyue even sensed a hint of boldness.

Sheng Shiyue didn’t know what to say, her lips opening and closing for a while, only managing: “Ning Qingge, you’re shameless.”

The other laughed, her rising tone carrying lingering gentleness, coaxing: “Then will Your Highness help me?”

Help?

How to help?

Sheng Shiyue froze for a moment, her face flushing red, stammering in panic: “I-I don’t know how.”

The scene from that night flashed before her eyes, that person pressing over her…

“Still don’t know?” Ning Qingge’s voice was teasing, deliberately drawing out her tone, as if thinking.

Just as the little Qianyuan thought she was let off and sighed in relief, wanting to move away and create distance, her hand was grabbed.

She said: “Then shall I teach Your Highness?”

Teach?

How to teach?

Sheng Shiyue’s mind went blank, the sudden shock too much, leaving her inexperienced and at a loss.

But the other continued, pulling her hand to rest on her body.

In the indistinguishable darkness, breathing grew erratic. Fingertips slid from the neck, the palm seeming to grasp a soft curve.

Sheng Shiyue’s throat tightened, feeling this rainy night was unbearably stifling.

The heat under her hand grew higher, as if seeping through her fingerprints, ironing into every inch of bone, branding into flesh.

The tight, soft waist twisted under her palm.

Sheng Shiyue wanted to escape but was tightly held, the fine rain weaving an airtight net, trapping her in the hunter’s snare.

Fingertips dragged downward, touching hard bone, then sliding further.

Breathing grew faint, the soft sound of water rose, the lychee scent growing thicker.

Soft, delicate skin soaked her palm like warm water.

The copper bell at the eaves rang, jingling.

Did the moon emerge from the dark clouds?

In her daze, Sheng Shiyue had this sudden question, unanswered. She couldn’t open the window and lean out to look now, could she?

Even if she wanted to, the other wouldn’t agree.

So the question was suppressed, her head covered and pressed into the other’s arms.

The last bit of oxygen was squeezed out.

“Mm, Ning…” Sheng Shiyue tried to speak but could only manage broken syllables.

Her fingertips touched something sticky and wet, her gripped wrist marked with red circles.

Sheng Shiyue sank into softness, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

The vast Bianjing fell silent, distant mountains out of sight. The guarding soldiers stomped their feet, water mist dripping from their armor.

The watchman struck the bamboo clapper, shouting the time with a hoarse voice. Those who couldn’t sleep tossed and turned, angrily burying themselves in pillows.

The kitchen lit up, followed by the bang-bang of chopping. Crisp cucumber strips fell off the cutting board.

The window was blown shut, the last gap disappearing.

The room sank into complete darkness, where fingers couldn’t be seen.

Sheng Shiyue tilted her head slightly, gasping for hard-won air, but was drawn to another sound the next second.

That sound was short, forbidden, trying to be suppressed but leaking bit by bit from lips, the originally clear voice turning seductive and hoarse.

An indescribable tingling ran to her tailbone.

Sheng Shiyue curled her toes, leaving small crescent marks on the other’s fair instep.

Guided, her wrist pulled, she touched and pressed again and again, wrapped in scalding heat around her knuckles.

The sound of rain and water mixed, rhythmic pattering.

She tried to see, as if catching the other’s dazed eyes, like a shimmering lake, misty and watery.

Sheng Shiyue’s knuckles curled from the heat, making the other suddenly freeze, forgetting to move.

So sweet.

Even if Sheng Shiyue wouldn’t admit it aloud, she couldn’t deny the deliciousness of summer lychees.

The slightly rough peel was easily stripped, revealing glossy white flesh, no bitter skin she hated, only sweet juice bursting with a light squeeze, sweeter than honey, making her squint and sigh.

The leftover pit wasn’t discarded lightly; she had to toy with it, savoring the lingering taste.

“Ning Qingge…” someone spoke softly, but there was no expected response.

She suddenly wanted to light a candle. Maybe she should have asked Ning Qingge to leave one lit from the start, so there’d be no small regrets. But it was this way that allowed more imagination, imprinting unseen scenes in her mind.

The bedding fell to the floor, the bed curtain dropping too.

The night rain finally lessened, sounding like it might stop, gradually weakening, overtaken by the sound of water from the eaves.

A faint white appeared on the horizon, the heavy clouds finally parting.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, perhaps a servant from some courtyard passing by, their steps hurried, a lantern’s soft white light flashing past the door.

With this light, Sheng Shiyue could finally see a faint outline.

The moon, tinged with desire, was indulging in her palm.

Ning Qingge’s breath hitched, her body tensing, water flowing through fingers, staining the fabric dark.

Her scent didn’t relent, growing richer, binding the two together.

Her wrist was released, but Sheng Shiyue didn’t pull back, staying in the sticky, warm dampness, unwilling to leave.

After who knows how long, the rain outside stopped completely, rooster crows and dog barks rising.

The two held each other, one unsure what to say, the other lazily unwilling to speak, so neither said anything, letting silence spread.

Could she see the moon now?

Sheng Shiyue had the same question again, turning to the window, but the paper-covered panes showed only vague shadows.

“What are you looking at?” Ning Qingge’s voice was hoarse, no longer cold, but lazy with desire.

Sheng Shiyue hesitated, then said: “I’m looking if it’s dawn yet.”

“Still early,” Ning Qingge replied, covering the other’s eyes, coaxing softly: “You can sleep more.”

Sheng Shiyue said “Hmm,” obediently closing her eyes.

But the other didn’t stop there, suddenly saying: “Your Highness, do what you want, don’t have so many worries.”

“I—” she paused, then continued: “And Lord Wu’an will protect Your Highness.”

Was she talking about the earlier topic? Telling her not to be afraid, to act boldly?

Yes, what was she afraid of?

Her Little Aunt was Lord Wu’an, holding military power. Her wife was the Prime Minister. Even if she turned the world upside down, someone would shield her.

Sheng Shiyue’s eyelids grew heavy, belated drowsiness overwhelming her, struggling to stay awake but unable to resist.

“Sleep, Your Highness.”

As the words fell, Sheng Shiyue, as if given permission, lost consciousness the next second.