The Prince Consort Is Also Pretending To Be Affectionate Today - Chapter 28

28

After the painting was completed, Shen Zhuwan had initially considered discarding it, but for some reason, she ultimately kept it. With her busy daily schedule, it had remained on the desk, untouched and unstored.

Facing the probing gaze of the young girl, Shen Zhuwan remained composed. “It was interrupted while I was painting, so it was abandoned,” she said calmly.

Ji Rongjin glanced at Shen Zhuwan before carefully examining the painting again. The apricot tree branches stretched outward, with clusters of blossoms just beginning to bloom. The brushwork was meticulous, the coloring subtle and elegant—a truly refined piece.

However, the branch extending over the wall didn’t connect smoothly with the rest, as if the painter had been interrupted, causing the branch to appear as though it had climbed over the wall.

A red apricot leaning over the wall.

This was not a good omen.

Could it be that the princess had discovered her true identity? But when had she ever “leaned over the wall”?

Ji Rongjin couldn’t make sense of it. Turning her head, she saw Shen Zhuwan’s expression remained unchanged, as if the painting in her hand was nothing more than an ordinary landscape.

Perhaps she was overthinking it. Ji Rongjin rolled up the painting and set it aside. “I see,” she said.

She quickly tidied the desk and was about to take her leave when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a vivid red mark on Shen Zhuwan’s neck.

Embarrassing memories flooded back. Ji Rongjin wished she could disappear on the spot, but her mind kept replaying that night’s events.

Shen Zhuwan hadn’t mentioned it, but Ji Rongjin couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened—after all, that red mark was undeniably her doing.

Hesitating over how to bring it up, Shen Zhuwan noticed she hadn’t left and asked, “What is the Consort looking at?”

Snapping back to reality, Ji Rongjin’s eyes darted away. “Does the wound on Your Highness’s neck still hurt? I have some ointment here.”

She knew the princess likely had better medicine, but she felt compelled to show concern and perhaps offer an apology.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Shen Zhuwan replied, her gaze returning to the memorials on her desk. “This Princess has been quite busy lately.”

The implication was clear: the wound hadn’t been treated.

“I see.” Ji Rongjin said softly.

The young girl fell silent, and Shen Zhuwan didn’t press her, patiently waiting for her to resolve her internal struggle.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Ji Rongjin spoke again. “I happen to have some ointment with me. If it’s alright, may I apply some for Your Highness?”

As if to justify herself, she added, “After all, with the sacrificial ceremony tomorrow, it might not look good if Your Highness bears this mark.”

Shen Zhuwan’s lips curved slightly as she raised her eyes leisurely. “Very well.”

Ji Rongjin indeed produced a small jar of ointment. She opened it, scooped some onto her fingers, and said softly, “This is the same ointment Your Highness gave me last time. I’ve kept it with me.”

With that, she gently lifted Shen Zhuwan’s long hair and carefully applied the ointment with her fingertips.

Shen Zhuwan said nothing. The unfamiliar sensation of fingertips brushing against her skin made her slightly uncomfortable. Ever since she had taken full control of power, no one had come this close to her—Ji Rongjin was the first.

Neither spoke.

In the silence, an inexplicable atmosphere began to spread.

Ji Rongjin, staring at the stark red mark on the snow-white neck, felt her ears burning fiercely.

Just as she was nearly finished, she accidentally grazed the wound with her nail.

Shen Zhuwan let out a faint, involuntary hum from her throat.

Ji Rongjin quickly withdrew her hand, flustered. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I—I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine.” Shen Zhuwan said without looking up. “The Consort may leave now.”

Ji Rongjin fled as if escaping. After she left, a flicker of unreadable emotion passed through Shen Zhuwan’s eyes before they returned to their usual calm.

Outside, Shadow Two had been waiting for a long time. When Ji Rongjin finally emerged from the study, she barely had time to bow before the Consort rushed out, still managing a kind smile in her direction.

Shadow Two was bewildered by this “kind” smile, but it wasn’t long before she understood why.

Expressionless, Shadow Two asked, “Your Highness, shall I continue watching Lian Xia? And what about the Consort?”

“Let Shadow One handle the Consort.” Shen Zhuwan replied lightly. “As for Lian Xia, report her situation to her.”

“Yes.”

Shadow Two accepted the order and promptly set off to monitor Lian Xia. Hiding behind a cluster of greenery, she observed quietly. Before long, a commotion erupted ahead.

In an instant, Shadow Two leaped onto a tree, narrowing her eyes to peer toward the bushes.

There, a figure was stealthily hiding, seemingly also watching Lian Xia.

The figure looked oddly familiar.

Shadow Two’s eyes flickered. She silently descended from the tree, crept up behind the figure, and said loudly, “This subordinate greets the Consort.”

Ji Rongjin nearly jumped out of her skin. Emerging from the bushes and seeing Shadow Two standing ramrod straight, she snapped, “What are you doing here?”

Shadow Two pointedly glanced toward Lian Xia.

Ji Rongjin sized her up. “…You’re this blatant about spying?”

Shadow Two nodded, unabashed. “I never sneak around. I’m always open and upright.”

Ji Rongjin gave her a thumbs-up, about to say something, when Shadow Two suddenly pulled her down to crouch.

Hiding in the bushes, Ji Rongjin spotted Lian Xia’s figure. While keeping an eye on her, she asked, “If you’re this unprofessional, how does the princess dare use you to spy on others?”

Shadow Two: “…”

Ji Rongjin glanced at her. “You really do whatever the princess tells you.”

Shadow Two didn’t deny it. “Following Her Highness’s orders is our duty.”

“Even if she told you to die one day?”

“Yes.”

Ji Rongjin: “…How much do you get paid each month?”

Shadow Two didn’t understand the sudden shift in topic but answered honestly, “Five taels.”

Five taels.

Working by the princess’s side, occasional rewards might easily exceed five taels.

For such life-and-death work, only five taels a month?

Ji Rongjin’s expression turned peculiar, reminded of her past life—enduring immense hardship for a meager salary of a few thousand. She hadn’t expected to meet someone even worse off. Shaking her head, she looked at Shadow Two with pity. “Truly a case of immense hardship for a pittance.”

Shadow Two: “?”

At night, the vast princess’s mansion fell into tranquility. Moonlight quietly bathed the rooftops as a figure gracefully slipped out of the residence.

The Chancellor’s Mansion.

He Li sat in his chair, eyes closed. “Is everything arranged?”

The subordinate below, full of flattery, replied, “My lord, everything is set. After tomorrow’s sacrificial ceremony, I’ll arrange for the matter to spread.”

“Good.” He Li opened his beady eyes, sneering coldly. “Let’s see whether the people will heed her decrees or the will of the heavens.”

The next day, before dawn, Ji Rongjin heard a slight clamor in the princess’s mansion.

It wasn’t just the mansion—the entire Daqian was bustling in celebration of the young emperor’s birthday.

This day was not only his birthday but also the annual occasion for Daqian to pray to the heavens for favorable weather in the coming year. The palace would prepare sacrificial offerings in advance, and at noon, the ceremony would take place at the central altar in the imperial city.

The common people would join in from their homes.

If the ceremony proceeded smoothly, it signified a prosperous year ahead. If something went wrong, it would cause widespread panic.

Thus, the sacrificial ceremony was always treated with utmost care.

The Ministry of Rites was frantically busy during this time, terrified of any mistakes.

Though the ceremony was still hours away, the ministers, dressed in their formal robes, stood solemnly before the altar, awaiting the arrival of the emperor and the princess.

The so-called altar was a massive platform, not directly on the ground but elevated several meters, accessible by a staircase.

A long red carpet stretched from the staircase to Ji Rongjin’s feet, dividing the gathered ministers into two sides.

The “incense” in the altar wasn’t actual incense but several pillars cast from refined iron, inserted into the altar, towering over ten meters high, their tops barely visible, imposing and majestic.

Ji Rongjin stood in place, surveying the scene. Her peripheral vision caught sight of Chang Qingshan, looking utterly exhausted. She paused and said, “Lord Chang, you’ve worked hard.”

Chang Qingshan, sporting dark circles under his eyes, replied weakly, “It’s my duty.”

After all, the Ministry of Rites only had a few major tasks each year; they couldn’t take salaries without working.

“Lord Chang.” Ji Rongjin said, eyeing the pillars for a while before leaning in to whisper, “Do you think there’s any chance the pillars might fall during the ceremony…”

She trailed off as Chang Qingshan’s face grew increasingly pale.

His lips trembled as he whispered, “Lord Ji, you can’t say such things.”

If something went wrong, losing his position would be the least of his worries—his life might be at stake.

“Lord Ji.” Chang Qingshan turned to her, tears in his eyes, “You wouldn’t want the Ministry of the Court of Judicial Review’s budget to be tight in the second half of the year, would you?”

Ji Rongjin’s expression turned grave. “Today’s ceremony will surely go smoothly, and the coming year will bring peace and prosperity.”

Chang Qingshan’s face regained some color, though he still anxiously inspected every detail.

Ji Rongjin’s gaze, however, wandered and landed on a figure.

The person wore a black-and-gold official robe, starkly different from the sea of red, purple, and blue robes around them. Most notably, their face was covered by a mask.

Ji Rongjin nudged Chang Qingshan. “Who’s that?”

Chang Qingshan followed her gaze, paused, and whispered, “That’s Prince Ning.”

Ji Rongjin let out an “Oh.” Though she had been tasked with overseeing Prince Ning, she had never seen him in person, only knowing he stayed confined in an inn, never venturing out.

Seeing Prince Ning now, she studied him closely.

Of average height and slightly lean, he stood among the crowd, yet no one spoke to him, in stark contrast to He Li, who was surrounded by a noisy throng.

He didn’t seem ambitious—more like someone isolated by the other ministers.

Ji Rongjin looked away after a brief glance.

Time ticked by, and as the red sun hung high in the sky, its scorching rays bathed everyone below.

With three resounding drumbeats, solemn ceremonial music filled the air, and a eunuch’s shrill voice cut through: “His Majesty arrives—Her Highness arrives—”

The ministers knelt in unison, and Ji Rongjin followed, pressing her forehead to her arm, touching the ground.

Kneeling near the red carpet, Ji Rongjin listened to the music, her thoughts drifting to Shen Zhuwan. She hadn’t seen her since morning.

Shen Zhuwan usually dressed simply yet elegantly, but for an occasion like this, she would likely wear something more formal.

Lost in thought, a flash of vibrant red suddenly caught her eye.

Slow, graceful steps. A flowing skirt.

Kneeling beside her, Ji Rongjin watched the red skirt drift past out of the corner of her eye.

So, she’s wearing red today.

After what felt like an eternity, Shen Zhuwan must have reached the altar, as the eunuch’s voice rang out again: “His Majesty and Her Highness will now offer incense and pray.”

Ji Rongjin remained kneeling and would likely stay that way.

Throughout the ceremony, the ministers’ only role was to recite a few prayers with the monarch at the end; otherwise, they simply knelt to make up the numbers.

Bored, Ji Rongjin counted silently in her head. When she reached twenty, chaos erupted.

Boom!

A deafening crash exploded in her ears, followed by panicked shouts from the ministers ahead: “Someone’s dead… crushed to death…”

Murmurs of shock rose from all directions as many secretly lifted their heads to see what had happened.

Ji Rongjin stole a glance as well. A massive iron “incense” pillar, two meters in diameter, lay across the red carpet, bl00d pooling around it, organs scattered across the ground.

Her face paled. She looked toward Shen Zhuwan on the altar.

Too far to see clearly, she could only make out Shen Zhuwan facing the crowd, her red robes radiant like spring blossoms, her jeweled hairpins glinting in the light. Despite the catastrophe, she remained poised and composed, her red lips moving slightly as she spoke to a eunuch.

Soon after, the eunuch’s voice rang out again: “Take the injured to the Imperial Hospital. The ceremony will continue.”

The shrill command echoed across the altar, and Ji Rongjin lowered her head again. Whispers continued around her but soon died down.

The ceremony pressed on. He Li, in the front row, trembled, breathing heavily.

Why did it fall toward him?

The ceremony concluded two hours later. Ji Rongjin’s legs were numb from kneeling. She recited the final prayers with the others and staggered to her feet.

In another two hours, the emperor’s birthday banquet would begin, and invited ministers would change into new robes to attend.

Ji Rongjin trailed behind, listening to the others discuss the incident.

Some said a bloodbath on the day of the sacrifice was a sign of divine wrath.

Others suggested the “incense” pillar had simply deteriorated over time.

But most leaned toward the first theory.

Divine displeasure.

Displeasure with what?

Displeasure with a woman wielding power, thus sending punishment.

Chang Qingshan’s face was ashen. Such an incident would hit the Ministry of Rites hardest, and as its head, he would bear the brunt of the blame.

Ji Rongjin offered a few words of comfort, but her steps quickened toward Shen Zhuwan.

By tomorrow, news of this would spread through the capital. With malicious intent, it could implicate Shen Zhuwan.

Hurrying to the Hall of Mental Cultivation, she found Shen Zhuwan alone, standing with her back to Ji Rongjin, gazing upward at something.

Ji Rongjin rushed forward, but her words of comfort faltered upon seeing Shen Zhuwan’s calm expression. “P-Princess, are you alright?”

Seeing the worry and unease on the young girl’s face, Shen Zhuwan understood her purpose.

She shook her head lightly. “I’m fine.”

Ji Rongjin was at a loss for words. Looking at Shen Zhuwan’s profile, she hesitated. “Princess, I overheard them saying the gods are displeased, sending punishment today. You…”

She wanted to say, Don’t take it to heart; the punishment isn’t aimed at you.

But as Shen Zhuwan turned, her words faded.

The woman’s narrow eyes were half-shadowed in the dim light, her deep gaze unfathomable, hiding a trace of well-concealed disdain.

“This Princess does not believe in gods or Buddhas,” she said, her red lips parting slightly, her words shocking enough to stun the people of Daqian. “This Princess believes only in human effort.”

It was the first time Ji Rongjin had seen Shen Zhuwan with such an expression. The vibrant red dress didn’t diminish her aloof aura; instead, it added an air of mystery, making Ji Rongjin feel as if she were meeting her for the first time.

But that unfamiliar demeanor quickly vanished.

Shen Zhuwan’s long lashes lifted slightly, her lips curving as she looked at her. “So, is the Consort worried about This Princess?”

Little Ji: My wife suddenly seems so scary, wuwu.