The Prime Minister Knows How to Handle His Wife (ABO, GL) - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After a while, rain suddenly fell in Bianjing. Rainwater flowed from the tiles, forming a transparent curtain of rain, pattering loudly into the lake in the middle.

Meng Xiaosi and Xiao Jing sat across from each other, their expressions equally complicated.

Perhaps the silence lasted too long. Xiao Jing’s lips moved, and she said, “Sheng Jiu used to love leaning on the railing here, watching the rain.”

Meng Xiaosi furrowed her brows, her tone complex, “She probably has no time to watch the rain now.”

Both turned their heads, looking toward the locked third floor. The lights still glowed, faintly visible through the rain curtain.

They sighed in confusion, not because they hadn’t thought to stop her. When they stood up, Ning Qingge glanced over, her deep eyes carrying a warning. They froze in place, only able to watch Sheng Shiyue drag Ning Qingge away step by step.

The surroundings grew quiet. Some people left early, hurriedly urging their coachmen to spread the news quickly. A few stayed in the tower, wanting to know what would happen next. No one had the mood to enjoy the songs, dances, or beauties anymore, leaving only the water-soaked platform.

Sheng Shiyue still lay on the bed, her drunken, flushed brows and eyes tinged with a hint of allure. Her usual mischievous defiance turned into lazy exhaustion.

The creaking of the wooden bed paused for a moment, then water flowed down from her wrist, from warm to icy cold.

Sheng Shiyue turned her head, curled her lips, and teased wickedly, “Is it raining on you too, Sister?”

She wasn’t fully sober yet. The heavy toll of mixing various wines left her dazed, unsure who was flirting with whom, relying entirely on the other’s initiative.

Hearing this, the person kneeling at her waist lost strength suddenly, collapsing onto her, pressing her shoulder and panting softly.

The red candle beside them had burned halfway, wax pooling grotesquely at the base. The wine jar on the table was empty—Sheng Shiyue, fearing she wasn’t drunk enough, had someone prepare it in the room. When she entered and saw it, she insisted Ning Qingge drink with her. Now, with what little strength she had left, Sheng Shiyue could only lie there, tended to by a Kunze…

“What a big rain,” the drunkard babbled again, her smiling eyes looking at the person atop her, saying, “It’s soaked me through.”

The other finally lost patience, raised a hand to cover her mouth, and scolded softly, “Stop talking.”

Who knew where this person learned such nonsense? She clearly knew nothing, yet her mouth never stopped, truly a frivolous regular of brothels and pleasure houses.

Sheng Shiyue laughed, her hot breath wrapping around the other’s fingertips, startlingly warm.

She raised her hand, brushed aside the hair sticking to Ning Qingge’s ear, tucked it gently behind, and said hoarsely, “I told you earlier, Sister, your hair is messy.”

She paused again, her eyes fixed on the other, then said after a moment, “I really feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.”

The hand covering her lips loosened, unable to stop the words spilling out.

Ning Qingge froze, surprised that Sheng Shiyue remembered their earlier conversation. She thought the girl was too drunk to recall anything.

On a whim, she suddenly asked, “Do you know who I am?”

A spark popped from the candle, making a sharp sound.

Before Sheng Shiyue could answer, Ning Qingge gave up, saying, “Never mind,” ending the topic.

But the other grew anxious, shouting, “I haven’t answered yet…”

Drunkards always fixated on one thing, and Sheng Shiyue was no different.

But Ning Qingge wasn’t a helpless fool. The hand on her lips moved up, covering Sheng Shiyue’s eyes, and she struggled to prop herself up.

Sheng Shiyue’s vision went dark, hearing only the rustle of fabric, then the coolness as the other slightly moved away, and the itch of hair unintentionally brushing her as it was swept aside.

Before she could react, the other leaned close again, soft skin brushing her lips, the scent of perfume lingering at her teeth.

Ning Qingge spoke softly, “Will you bite me?”

The unanswerable question was forgotten. The drunkard obediently tilted her chin, biting down hard.

“Hiss…” Someone gasped in pain, then pleaded softly, “Harder, bite again.”

“Good girl, one more bite.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

The voice scattered in the wind, vanishing instantly. When she woke again, it was midnight. The red candle was down to a stub, burning faintly. The room outside grew quieter; those outside had either left or found other places to sleep.

Ning Qingge turned her head, glancing at the person beside her, whose breathing was steady, already deep in sleep.

She stared for a while, then forced herself to get up after a moment.

Her waist-length dark hair fell loosely, hiding scattered marks and the inked words at her waist. She grabbed a wide robe, tied on the belt Sheng Shiyue had struggled with for ages, and walked awkwardly toward the door.

The other didn’t notice, exhausted from drinking and exertion. Even a gong by her ear wouldn’t wake her now. She turned over, sleeping more soundly.

The door opened, and Ning Qingge went to the next room, where someone was already waiting. Seeing her, they stood quickly from the chair, not daring to look at her, head lowered, saying, “Master.”

Ning Qingge nodded. The scent of alcohol lingered on her, but the coldness in her eyes quietly returned.

Without her asking, the person spoke, “The matter has spread. Earlier, someone reported it to His Majesty. He seemed furious and smashed a cup on the spot.”

The servant seemed to shudder, their tone fearful, adding, “I’m afraid by tomorrow morning…”

Ning Qingge merely waved her hand, as if unaware of the gravity, saying, “Add more fuel to the fire. Let all of Bianjing know about this.”

Her voice was noticeably hoarse, barely maintaining its usual clarity despite her efforts.

The person nodded in agreement, then said, “Meng Xiaosi and Xiao Jing are staying here tonight. Huanyan put something in their tea to make them sleep until noon tomorrow, so they won’t interfere.”

Huanyan was the flower maiden of Yicui Tower.

Ning Qingge nodded slightly.

The other hesitated, then gritted their teeth and said, “Master, Huanyan wants to know when she can…”

Before they finished, Ning Qingge raised a hand to stop them, saying, “I’ll find her in a few days.”

The person relaxed completely, about to take their leave, but saw Ning Qingge’s face darken, as if she had something important to say. They stayed, not daring to speak.

Ning Qingge fell silent. The back of her neck, recently ravaged, throbbed with pain. If her hair were lifted, chaotic bite marks would be visible on the gland, coaxed by Ning Qingge but bitten messily by the drunkard, yet leaving no permanent mark despite so many bites…

Her hand on the armrest tightened, knuckles whitening slightly.

“Investigate what happened during Sheng Shiyue’s differentiation and whether her mansion ever purchased any drugs,” she finally said, her cold face half-lit, half-shadowed, carrying an eerie gloom.

The servant was stunned. A royal heir’s differentiation, tied to the throne’s succession, was treated with utmost seriousness. Hundreds oversaw the process, every detail recorded and signed by physicians. Concealing or falsifying it was a crime punishable by the execution of nine generations.

Moreover, Sheng Shiyue was the daughter of the late Imperial Consort. The Empress died in the second year of His Majesty’s reign, and though the Imperial Consort was never crowned Empress, she managed the harem for over a decade, her status and power equal to an empress, not to mention her aunt, the unparalleled Lord of Wuan.

Among the surviving royal heirs, Sheng Shiyue was the most noble. Her differentiation was monitored more closely than others, with even His Majesty personally inquiring once.

Thus, Sheng Shiyue’s differentiation couldn’t possibly be falsified.

Besides, there was no need to fake it. Though she was a low-grade failure, she was still a Qianyuan eligible for a princely title, spared the burden of high expectations, perfectly suiting Sheng Shiyue’s desire for a carefree life of indulgence.

For days after her differentiation, her mansion set off fireworks to celebrate, spreading the “good news” across Liang Kingdom, making His Majesty increasingly disdain his useless daughter, focusing instead on his other two daughters.

But since her master said so, there must be a reason. The servant agreed solemnly.

They spoke a bit longer, then the servant vanished from Yicui Tower. Ning Qingge returned to the next room, undressed, and lay down.

Soon, the rooster crowed, and a faint light appeared on the horizon. The red sun struggled free, dispelling the dark night. The vast city began to wake, with sounds of voices, barking dogs, and washing rising.

The sleeping person frowned, disturbed, letting out a vague grunt of displeasure. She reached instinctively, trying to pull the blanket over herself, but despite tugging, it didn’t move.

It was as if someone else was holding it down…

Sheng Shiyue jolted, half-sobered from yesterday’s wine. She snapped her eyes open, looking beside her.

It was the very Prime Minister she avoided like a plague—Ning Qingge.

Last night’s events flooded her mind. Sheng Shiyue’s vision darkened, still drunk and exhausted. Shocked, she fainted on the spot.