The Prime Minister Knows How to Handle His Wife (ABO, GL) - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When Sheng Shiyue woke up again, it was already noon on the second day.

Sunlight fell on the vast mansion, the hurriedly hung red cloth strips had collapsed on one side, and the pasted joy characters had disappeared, either torn off by Ning Qingge’s orders or blown away by the wind.

Sheng Shiyue leaned half against the bedhead, the white cloth strip wrapped around her head hung loosely, faintly revealing a trace of bl00d inside, which made her face appear even paler, like fragile thin paper under the sunlight.

Who could have imagined that the girl, who was spirited and triumphant on the polo field a few days ago, had now become so miserable?

It was not just because of the injury on her forehead; no matter how furious Sheng Shiyue was, she had restrained some force when she crashed into the wall.

The physician who was called examined her and said that Sheng Shiyue had drunk excessively the previous day, her emotions had fluctuated greatly, and she had not eaten anything all day, which caused her to faint from the impact, but there was no need for excessive worry, as she would wake up the next day. So, the physician simply bandaged her, prescribed a few medicines, and left.

Footsteps came from outside the room. Sheng Shiyue’s expression tightened slightly, and she stared intently at the door until she saw a servant carrying a food box, only then relaxing a little.

The servant first walked to the bedside and bowed, then said, “Ninth Highness, the master instructed the kitchen to prepare some plain porridge for you to fill your stomach before taking the medicine.”

Upon hearing the word “medicine,” Sheng Shiyue visibly frowned, but having not eaten for a day and a night and feeling painfully hungry, she only waved her hand to indicate agreement.

The servant then opened the food box and took out the plain porridge inside.

Sheng Shiyue lay half-reclined, motionless, truly acting like an ancestor, until the servant brought a small spoon filled with porridge to her lips, only then did she lazily open her mouth.

During the time since she woke up, she carefully thought it over: Ning Qingge was neither persuaded by soft nor hard tactics, negotiation failed, and even seeking death did not make her compromise. She was a complete hard bone, and Sheng Shiyue had no solution for the moment. She decided to eat her fill and heal her injury first, believing that as long as the green hills remained, there would be no shortage of firewood. At worst, she would wait until her aunt returned, then beg her to speak a few words to the Emperor, and then, even if Ning Qingge did not want a divorce, she would have to agree.

She thought it through well, but when the porridge entered her mouth, her expression changed. She held it in her mouth, unable to swallow or spit it out, and only after a long while did she swallow it like swallowing a blade, immediately saying, “What is this stuff?!”

The servant was startled, speaking somewhat recklessly, hurriedly saying, “The kitchen prepared this plain porridge according to the physician’s estimated time, cooking it just as Your Highness was about to wake.”

Sheng Shiyue’s notorious reputation was well-known, and the servant had naturally heard much about it. Misinterpreting her reaction, the servant thought Sheng Shiyue was about to blame her unjustly.

Her body trembled, her voice quivered, and she forced herself to say, “The servants in the mansion are all long-time retainers, ingredients are purchased every three days, and before serving, the chef tastes the dishes to ensure the flavor is suitable.”

The implication was that it was absolutely impossible for anyone to have poisoned it.

Sheng Shiyue did not care about her misunderstanding, grabbed the nearby water cup, and poured it into her mouth, swallowing several gulps of warm water before squeezing out, “What kind of rice is this?”

The servant observed her expression and cautiously said, “It’s this year’s refined rice.”

Sheng Shiyue asked again, “How was it cooked?”

The servant looked confused but still answered honestly, “The refined rice was first placed in a bowl, soaked in clear water for half an hour, then poured into a pot with a few drops of oil, and someone stood by stirring it continuously.”

Although Ning Qingge had a reputation as an upright official, she did not deliberately skimp on herself, and her food and clothing were considered refined in the capital.

But the person before her was the capital’s number one wastrel. As a wastrel, how could she shortchange herself on the most important matter of eating?

She found ordinary refined rice too coarse, and even the rare and expensive rouge rice or pearl rice barely passed muster. Not to mention, when cooking porridge, it had to be simmered with deer broth to enhance the flavor, or else Meng Xiaosi and others would not say Sheng Shiyue was picky.

Sheng Shiyue’s brows drooped, and she flopped back onto the bed, listlessly saying, “Go ask Ning Qingge for me—did she go to all this trouble to bring me here just to torment me to death?”

She truly could not keep this green hill.

The servant listened and finally understood a bit. Unsure of how extravagant this ancestor usually was, she could only give a wry smile and go call Ning Qingge.

The midday sunlight was intense, pouring through the carved wooden window, beams of light falling on the floor like intricate, chaotic patterns.

Sheng Shiyue squinted in that direction, unsure if her eyes were dazzled, but in just two short days, she had lost weight, and even the white inner robe she wore hung loosely, revealing a stretch of flat collarbone.

Ning Qingge, stepping over the threshold, looked up and saw this scene.

She walked while asking, “What’s wrong?”

Hearing her voice, the person on the bed regained a trace of spirit, her eyes stung, and a faint red appeared at the corners.

Sheng Shiyue was genuinely aggrieved. Though an unfavored imperial daughter, she had been indulged by the Imperial Consort before and pampered by her aunt later, practically raised as a spoiled little ancestor. She had rarely suffered grievances in her life, but now, not only had she endured a heap of silent losses, she also had to go hungry.

Ning Qingge originally thought she was throwing another tantrum and had prepared to deal with it, but then saw this scene.

Her expression softened, and she sat on the chair by the bed, unconsciously lowering her voice, asking, “Is the mansion’s food not to your taste?”

The person on the bed nodded, bluntly replying without giving any face, “It’s bad.”

Ning Qingge’s expression stiffened slightly, somewhat helpless, and she could only say, “What do you want to eat then? Shall I have someone fetch a chef from Fan Tower?”

The capital had many restaurants, but the most luxurious was Fan Tower. When nobles and officials hosted banquets, if they were not held at Fan Tower, they were inevitably mocked and looked down upon. Sheng Shiyue, with her picky palate, often frequented there.

Sheng Shiyue glanced at her and added, “The bed isn’t good to sleep on either.”

Ning Qingge was momentarily stunned, her gaze shifting to the bedding, asking, “How is it not good to sleep on?”

Could it be that the servants had been lazy and had not changed the bedding these past few days?

Sheng Shiyue answered, “It’s heavy and stuffy. In summer, I only use thin blankets made of fragrant cloud gauze.”

Ning Qingge was somewhat speechless. This person sure knew how to enjoy herself. Even as the current Prime Minister, she only received a few bolts of fragrant cloud gauze a year, barely enough for a few close-fitting dresses.

Sheng Shiyue continued, “It’s also hard.”

Ning Qingge did not want to count how many soft cushions she had layered.

The more Sheng Shiyue spoke, the more aggrieved she felt, tears nearly hanging at the corners of her eyes, and she added, “And there’s no scented ball hanging in the canopy. Prime Minister, how do you manage to sleep like this?”

The Prime Minister had no words to say and could only look down at her.

Sheng Shiyue’s appearance was too striking, exquisitely vibrant, her slightly blue-tinted eyes shimmering like gems under a layer of moisture, so even her reckless behavior made it hard for anyone to feel angry.

It was like when Ning Qingge, as a child, saw the lion cat raised by a palace concubine—noble and beautiful, its naughty temperament forgiven, even if it stretched out its claws and tore its master’s dress into strips, it would only be playfully scolded.

So, Ning Qingge sighed and said, “What do you want then?”

Sheng Shiyue paused, then tentatively said, “I want to go back…”

“Alright,” unexpectedly, Ning Qingge agreed quickly.

Sheng Shiyue was slow to react for a moment, not yet having time to feel joy, when she heard Ning Qingge’s next words.

“I’ll go pack my luggage.”

The corners of her mouth, which had just lifted, froze instantly. Sheng Shiyue said in disbelief, “You’re coming back with me?”

Ning Qingge acted very naturally, glancing at her with surprise and saying, “Since the founding of the Liang Kingdom, there has never been a case of a newlywed couple living apart.”

Nor had there been such a rushed and inexplicable wedding.

Sheng Shiyue swallowed those words, afraid Ning Qingge might suddenly change her mind, and dared not protest further, only retreating a step to say, “Then can I have my mansion’s carriage come to pick us up…?”

She feared Ning’s carriage would be as hard as this bed.

Seeing the unconscious disdain on her face, Ning Qingge, unusually, fell silent, then nodded.

Perhaps they had been waiting all along, as shortly after Ning’s servant left, Sheng Shiyue’s carriage arrived at the gate. Soon, the carriage set off again, hurrying back.

The capital was especially lively during the day, particularly in the unavoidable Western District, where crowds gathered in the afternoon, clogging the roads and making passage difficult. The carriage moved through it, inevitably bumping into pedestrians.

Some with fiery tempers turned to curse loudly, but upon seeing the full moon emblem on the carriage, they instantly quieted, shrinking back to look at the woman sitting at the driver’s seat.

She was in her forties, not only unattractive but rather terrifying, with deep and shallow knife scars from her face to her neck, the unscarred parts corroded by chemicals, leaving only a pair of extremely sharp eyes that faintly revealed her past vigor.

Everyone in the capital knew this woman was once one of Lord Wu’an’s capable subordinates, named Qu Li. After being injured in a battle, Lord Wu’an assigned her to Sheng Shiyue’s side, where she had been for several years. Though master and servant, they were more like family without bl00d ties.

Earlier, when she hurriedly drove the carriage over, she saw Sheng Shiyue’s miserable state and nearly acted recklessly, but Sheng Shiyue stopped her in time, avoiding a scene. Still, her expression remained grim, occasionally casting cold glances toward Ning Qingge’s position inside.

Ning Qingge pretended not to notice, turning her head to look inside the carriage.

As expected, it was much more refined than her own. The carriage’s interior was wrapped in soft cloth and cotton, with a designated corner for a cooling basin in summer or a charcoal heater in winter. The inner warm couch was covered with silk brocade worth a fortune per foot. Sheng Shiyue, having barely eaten half a bowl of green rice porridge, rested in the soft bedding, her half-closed eyes nearly shutting, her whole body drowsy.

Ning Qingge’s expression was unclear, half her body hidden in the shadows, and she remained silent for a long time.

Among the three, only Sheng Shiyue was the most comfortable. Perhaps because she had suffered too many grievances earlier, now, not only was she back in her comfortable carriage with a full stomach, but she was also about to return to her own mansion. Things she once found ordinary now felt inexplicably satisfying, and she unconsciously nuzzled the soft pillow in her arms.

Qu Li noticed this and felt even more heartbroken, saying comfortingly, “We’re almost at Lord Xu’s mansion, Your Highness. Hold on a bit longer, and you can rest properly once we’re back.”

As soon as she spoke, Sheng Shiyue’s eyes snapped open, as if remembering something, and she hurriedly asked, “Aunt Qu, has anyone sent anything over these past two days?”

Qu Li was puzzled but thought carefully before saying, “No.”

“What?!” Sheng Shiyue sat up abruptly, moving so fast she tugged at her forehead wound. The fierce demeanor she had a second ago turned into a yelp of pain the next.

Qu Li, both angry and distressed, said, “What are you doing? Can’t you speak calmly about whatever it is?”

“I’m just upset…” Sheng Shiyue’s tone was weak. She feared no one, not even the Empress, but she was afraid of this Aunt Qu.

“Upset about what?”

Sheng Shiyue’s tone was resentful, “That guy Xu Zhengming still owes me a pair of crickets and a rosewood pipa.”

“I thought it was something rare,” Qu Li said mercilessly.

Sheng Shiyue pouted, about to say something, when the person beside her suddenly spoke, “Lie back down.”

Sheng Shiyue looked over in surprise. Since getting into the carriage, Ning Qingge had not spoken, so why was she suddenly talking now?

Ning Qingge’s expression was calm, her eyes like a summer lake, silent and cool, saying only, “It’s bleeding again.”

Sheng Shiyue instinctively raised her hand to touch it but was stopped when Ning Qingge grabbed her wrist, scolding softly, “Don’t touch it.”

“It hurts,” Sheng Shiyue naturally refused to listen.

Ning Qingge, helpless, said, “Lie down, I’ll rub it for you.”

This ancestor, used to being pampered, did not notice anything amiss even though it was Ning Qingge speaking. Or perhaps, having already done the most intimate things and now being so-called wives, avoiding it was pointless, so she might as well let go.

The only obstacle was that Sheng Shiyue was still thinking about her debt. Glancing outside, she muttered, “I still want to stop by Lord Xu’s mansion.”

As the capital’s little wastrel, no one had ever dared to owe her anything.

Ning Qingge said, “I’ll go.”

“Hmm?” Sheng Shiyue raised an eyebrow.

The Prime Minister explained gently, “I’ll go get it for you later.”

Finally satisfied, Sheng Shiyue lay down, not forgetting to remind, “Gently, it really hurts.”

Ning Qingge hummed in acknowledgment, not arguing.

But Qu Li, sitting up front, gave Ning Qingge an unreadable look and said no more.