The Prince Consort Is Also Pretending To Be Affectionate Today - Chapter 3

3: Nightly Lighting

The afternoon sunlight was just right, casting a warm golden glow over the two of them.

After Ji Rongjin finished speaking, the air fell silent. A sense of unease crept over her, and when she lowered her gaze, she saw the princess looking up at her. Those glassy eyes, framed by long, delicate eyelashes lightly dusted with gold, resembled the wings of an angel.

“And what about you, my consort?” The princess’s thick lashes fluttered, her pupils shimmering with an unreadable emotion. “Your answer is my answer,” Shen Zhuwan said.

Ji Rongjin froze. Her answer? She had only transmigrated here today—how could she possibly have an answer?

Wait a moment. Ji Rongjin’s heart tightened, and she glanced nervously at the woman before her. Could Shen Zhuwan have figured it out?

No, that was impossible. Shen Zhuwan wasn’t from the modern world, and besides, Ji Rongjin was supposedly suffering from amnesia. It was normal for her behavior to differ from before.

As Ji Rongjin’s mind churned with unease, Shen Zhuwan took a step back and turned toward the inner mansion. “Come along. It’s time for you to rest, my consort.”

Ji Rongjin let out a sigh of relief and hurriedly followed behind Shen Zhuwan. The sunlight stretched their shadows long, and faint snippets of their conversation could be heard.

“Princess, I actually feel much better already. I don’t think I need to rest for so long.”

“Then you can attend court tomorrow, my consort.”

“…Hiss, my head’s starting to hurt again. Princess, perhaps I should rest for a couple more days.”

“…”

As dusk approached and it was time for the evening meal, Ji Rongjin found herself alone at the large dining table.

“Where’s the princess?” Ji Rongjin asked.

“The princess hasn’t arrived. She might be held up by some matters, but she could come later.” Dongmei, her maid, replied.

“Oh…” Ji Rongjin drawled, but before she could start eating, a maid from the princess’s side appeared to summon her.

Ji Rongjin recognized this maid. She was the other face she had seen when she first opened her eyes in this world. From Dongmei, she learned the maid’s name was Jinxi, the princess’s trusted confidante.

Upon seeing Ji Rongjin, Jinxi performed a standard curtsy before lowering her head to report, “My consort, the princess says she is occupied and that you should dine alone tonight.”

Ji Rongjin nodded. “Understood.”

As Jinxi bowed to leave, Ji Rongjin quickly called out, “Wait a moment!”

Jinxi paused. “Does the consort have any further instructions?”

Ji Rongjin’s eyes darted around, and she waved away the other maids, even sending Dongmei outside, leaving just the two of them in the room.

Jinxi watched Ji Rongjin’s actions with a hint of confusion but maintained her respectful demeanor.

Ji Rongjin cleared her throat. “Don’t be nervous. I just have a few questions for you.”

“Please ask, my consort.” Jinxi replied.

“Well, as you know, I was injured and can’t remember anything from the past.” Ji Rongjin said, glancing at her. “Especially anything related to the princess. I can’t recall a single thing.”

She pointed at her head with a frustrated expression. “I want to learn more about the princess, but no one around me seems to know much. You, Jinxi, are the princess’s closest confidante. Only you can help me recall the little moments between me and Her Highness.”

“So, I’d like to ask—how did the princess and I usually get along?” Ji Rongjin blinked, trying her best to appear sincere.

Jinxi’s round eyes blinked back, and for a moment, she said nothing.

Understanding her hesitation, Ji Rongjin pulled a small pouch of silver from her sleeve and placed it on the table. “A small token of appreciation. You know how important the princess is to me.”

Jinxi’s eyes widened in shock, and she stepped back. “No, no, no, my consort, I can’t accept this!”

Before Ji Rongjin could respond, Jinxi bolted out of the room like a frightened rabbit, leaving Ji Rongjin standing there, utterly bewildered.

What? Do all the people in the princess’s mansion run this fast?

With no other choice, Ji Rongjin glumly sat back down to eat.

Meanwhile, when Jinxi returned, Shen Zhuwan was reading a confidential letter. She didn’t pay much attention to Jinxi’s arrival at first, but when she glanced up and noticed Jinxi’s flushed face, she folded the letter and tossed it into the brazier. “What did you discuss with the consort?” she asked as the flames consumed the paper.

Jinxi stammered, “I-I told her that Your Highness wouldn’t be dining with her tonight.”

“Is that all?” Shen Zhuwan’s voice was calm, her eyes fixed on the fire devouring the letter.

“There’s more… The consort asked me…” Jinxi gritted her teeth and continued, “She asked how you and she usually get along and said she wanted to know about all the little moments between you two.”

Jinxi’s face grew redder as she spoke. How could she possibly know the intimate details of the princess and her consort’s relationship? More importantly, was that something she should know?

Shen Zhuwan’s expression remained unchanged. “And what did you tell her?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Jinxi hurriedly explained. “The consort took out a pouch of silver, and I… I got scared and ran.”

Shen Zhuwan: “…”

“If she asks you this again in the future,” Shen Zhuwan said, looking at the flushed maid with an impassive expression, “tell her that she and I get along very well.”

Jinxi froze for a moment before nodding hesitantly. “Yes, Your Highness.”

But in her mind, she recalled how little the princess and consort had interacted in the past. They rarely spoke, even during the occasional meals they shared. Once, she had even caught the consort looking at the princess with clear disdain.

But if the princess said they got along well, then it must be true. Perhaps Jinxi had misjudged.

After all, in the princess’s mansion, the lamps were lit every night.

At that thought, Jinxi’s face flushed again.

Indeed, the rumors outside that the princess and her consort were a harmonious couple weren’t baseless. Unlike past generations where princesses and their consorts lived in separate residences, Shen Zhuwan and Ji Rongjin resided together in the princess’s mansion. Not only that, but the princess’s chambers were lit every night.

Lighting the lamps signified a summons for intimacy, and nightly lighting carried an undeniable air of tender ambiguity.

Naturally, Ji Rongjin knew what “lighting the lamps” meant. So when Dongmei informed her that the princess’s residence had its lamps lit, Ji Rongjin was filled with dread.

“Dongmei,” Ji Rongjin said, clutching her head, “my head hurts so much. I don’t think I can bathe tonight, but not bathing might offend the princess. Oh, what should I do?”

“Why can’t you bathe? Just avoid washing your hair tonight.”

Ji Rongjin paused, suddenly remembering she was in ancient times, where there were no showers.

At that moment, Dongmei had already fetched a set of clean clothes and urged, “Hurry, my consort. The bath is in the room ahead.”

Ji Rongjin: “…”

Pushed along like a duck to water, Ji Rongjin entered the bath. The steamy mist rose around her, clouding her vision. After soaking for a while, she began to relax. After all, she and the princess were married—avoiding sharing a room forever was impossible. Besides, with her head injury, the princess surely wouldn’t expect anything from her.

And if, worst-case scenario, the princess did want something, Ji Rongjin could just claim that Lin Changcun’s beating had left her incapacitated.

The more she thought about it, the cleverer she felt. After finishing her bath, she dressed neatly and followed Dongmei to the princess’s chambers.

When they arrived, Jinxi was among the attendants at the door. She seemed surprised to see them but grew inexplicably guilty when her eyes landed on Ji Rongjin.

That guilt vanished when she noticed the quilt in Ji Rongjin’s hands. “My consort, what’s this?” Jinxi asked.

Ji Rongjin waved the quilt with a laugh. “Haha, I was worried it might get cold at night, so I brought an extra blanket.”

Jinxi: “…”

Ji Rongjin, secretly nervous, didn’t care what Jinxi thought. Though the door was only a few steps away, she couldn’t bring herself to move forward. Finally, Dongmei, growing sleepy, said tactfully, “My consort, the princess is about to retire for the night.”

Steeling herself, Ji Rongjin pushed open the door with trembling hands.

A cascade of flickering light greeted her. Behind the screen, a figure paused briefly before Shen Zhuwan’s voice called out, “My consort?”

The air carried the same cool fragrance Ji Rongjin had noticed during the day. Swallowing hard, she closed the door and answered, “Uh, yes, it’s me, Princess.”

“My consort,” came Shen Zhuwan’s voice as the silhouette behind the screen seemed to remove a garment. “Come here for a moment.”

Ji Rongjin took a deep breath. “Is that… appropriate, Princess? My head injury hasn’t healed, and I…”

As Ji Rongjin rambled, the figure behind the screen seemed to realize something. Shen Zhuwan’s voice grew colder, cutting her off. “What is the consort talking about?”

Ji Rongjin: “…Nothing. I’m coming.”

Setting down her quilt, Ji Rongjin reluctantly shuffled toward the screen, her heart pounding with unease.

Behind the screen, Shen Zhuwan sat before a mirror, dressed in a simple white undergarment. Her dark hair cascaded over her left shoulder, revealing the pale curve of her neck. She glanced at Ji Rongjin with a calm expression. “You’ve finally made it over, my consort.”

Ji Rongjin gave an awkward laugh and cleared her throat. “What does the princess need?”

“Come here,” Shen Zhuwan said, turning her head slightly. “My hair seems to be caught in my clothing. Would the consort mind helping me untangle it?”

Ji Rongjin let out a relieved breath. She had been startled by the princess’s earlier movements, thinking something else was about to happen. “No problem!” she chirped, stepping behind Shen Zhuwan to inspect the tangled hair.

“So this is what’s caught.” Ji Rongjin muttered to herself, leaning down to carefully work on the knot.

As she focused, Shen Zhuwan lifted her gaze, studying the reflection of the woman behind her in the mirror.

Dressed in a teal robe, Ji Rongjin’s features were striking. Unlike before, when her brows were always clouded with melancholy, she now seemed far more vibrant. At this moment, she was focused on untangling the hair that Shen Zhuwan had deliberately knotted.

Was her amnesia genuine, or was there another motive?

Shen Zhuwan’s gaze softened, but just then, a warm sensation brushed against her neck, like ripples spreading across a thawing lake. Her neck prickled with goosebumps.

Frowning slightly, Shen Zhuwan suppressed the urge to swat the woman away and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sensation. But the more she tried, the more pronounced the intermittent touches became. Warm fingertips, carrying the woman’s body heat, seemed to deliberately graze her neck with increasing frequency.

Shen Zhuwan’s eyes snapped open, a hint of frost in her gaze as she prepared to reprimand her. But before she could speak, Ji Rongjin smoothed her hair and beamed, her eyes sparkling with pride. “Done! It’s untangled!”

Shen Zhuwan had only knotted the hair loosely as a test, but she hadn’t expected someone to be so clumsy as to make it seem intentional. Yet, seeing Ji Rongjin’s triumphant “aren’t I amazing” expression, the chill in Shen Zhuwan’s eyes softened. She stood, gave Ji Rongjin a brief glance, and moved to sit by the bed.

Ji Rongjin: “?”

Confused by the princess’s seemingly irritated demeanor, Ji Rongjin wondered why she wasn’t thanked—or at least acknowledged—instead of being met with a cold stare. Unbeknownst to her, Shen Zhuwan had already labeled her as hopelessly clumsy.

Looking at the aloof woman by the bed, Ji Rongjin took a step back. “Princess, my head’s hurting again. I tend to toss and turn when I sleep, and my sleeping habits aren’t great, so tonight…”

She hurried to the other side of the screen, grabbed her quilt, and continued, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

Afraid Shen Zhuwan might object, she quickly laid out her bedding and settled onto it. “Your Highness is delicate and noble. I’d hate to disturb you with my poor sleeping habits.”

Shen Zhuwan lowered her gaze. “As you wish.”

Ji Rongjin hadn’t expected to get away with it so easily. Beaming, she said, “Goodnight, then, Your Highness?”

“Mhm.”

The candlelight flickered, then went out as someone blew it out, plunging the room into quiet darkness. Perhaps due to exhaustion, Ji Rongjin, despite sleeping on the floor, quickly fell asleep.

On the bed, Shen Zhuwan listened as Ji Rongjin’s breathing steadied. Turning to face her, a thoughtful glint passed through her eyes.

The next morning, Ji Rongjin was awakened by sunlight. Squinting, she noticed her hand was touching the bed frame. Groggily, she sat up and glanced at the bed, which was, as expected, empty.

Relieved, she was about to lie back down when a calm voice spoke. “Awake, my consort?”

Startled, Ji Rongjin bolted upright and saw Shen Zhuwan, dressed in a palace gown as if preparing to leave.

“Good morning, Princess.” Ji Rongjin said.

Shen Zhuwan didn’t respond, only gazing at her with a deep, unreadable expression. “You weren’t wrong, my consort.”

Ji Rongjin blinked, then realized Shen Zhuwan was referring to her sleeping habits. Blushing, she stood and glanced at the bed, intending to defend herself, but something seemed off.

She stared at the noticeably smaller bed, scratching her head in confusion. “Does this bed… shrink after a night’s sleep?”

Shen Zhuwan: “That was a soft couch prepared for you yesterday.”

Ji Rongjin: “…Then where did you sleep?”

Her silent accusation was clear: Why didn’t you tell me there was a bed for me?

Shen Zhuwan glanced at her, then turned away. “I assumed you preferred sleeping on the floor.”

Ji Rongjin: “…”