The Prince Consort Is Also Pretending To Be Affectionate Today - Chapter 35
35
The lingering glow of the sunset streamed through the window into the study, casting two intertwined shadows on the floor.
Shen Zhuwan knew Ji Rongjin’s temperament well and hadn’t taken precautions, which allowed Ji Rongjin to take the lead, trapping her in a confined space.
It wasn’t something her personality would typically allow.
For a moment, Shen Zhuwan grew curious about what Ji Rongjin was trying to hide.
“Change places?” She raised her eyes leisurely, her tone suggestive. “What does the Prince Consort want to do?”
What did she want to do? Ji Rongjin, of course, wanted to get her out of the way.
But given their current position, the question “What do you want to do?” sounded particularly ambiguous.
Realizing this a bit late, Ji Rongjin hurriedly tried to let go, but halfway through, she remembered the secret hidden behind the woman and froze, her hand stuck in midair.
She didn’t answer, and the woman in front of her didn’t press further. Instead, Shen Zhuwan tilted her head slightly, glancing at the hand Ji Rongjin still hadn’t withdrawn.
One second, two seconds.
Ji Rongjin felt as if Shen Zhuwan’s gaze was burning holes into her hand.
She racked her brain for a decent excuse, but the woman before her seemed to lose interest in waiting.
Shen Zhuwan gently pressed Ji Rongjin’s arm, pushing it back.
Ji Rongjin wanted to stop her, but when she met Shen Zhuwan’s deep, enigmatic gaze, she silently closed her mouth.
The woman turned around, her fingers deftly locating two books with garish covers among the pile. Her fingertips rested lightly on their spines, about to pull them out.
Unable to hold back, Ji Rongjin stepped forward and grabbed the woman’s wrist.
“Princess,” Ji Rongjin’s face burned with embarrassment. “Don’t look.”
Stopped once again, Shen Zhuwan observed the girl’s flustered, crimson face and paused. “Is it something this Princess cannot see?” she asked.
Ji Rongjin, mortified, averted her eyes, unable to meet Shen Zhuwan’s gaze, though her grip on the woman’s hand tightened. “It’s not that. It’s just… some folk acupuncture techniques. I was just reading them for fun in my spare time.”
Shen Zhuwan was no fool.
Ji Rongjin’s unusual behavior and flushed face already told her plenty, and combined with the books’ gaudy covers, their contents were obvious.
Shen Zhuwan’s eyes flickered, and she withdrew her hand from the books.
Her gaze deepened as she stared at the girl’s half-blushing face for a long moment before saying slowly, “If that’s the case, this Princess won’t look.”
Ji Rongjin let out a sigh of relief, but then Shen Zhuwan continued, “The Prince Consort certainly has refined tastes, ignoring official documents to hide in the study and read these.”
Ji Rongjin: “…” Heaven and earth as her witness, she hadn’t read them—no, she hadn’t even had the chance to!
Thankfully, Shen Zhuwan seemed to have abandoned her interest in the books.
Relieved to have dodged a bullet, Ji Rongjin rubbed her hands awkwardly. “It was my mistake. I won’t read them again.”
Those damned illicit books—truly harmful to both herself and others. They nearly cost her face in front of Shen Zhuwan. Tomorrow, she’d toss them into a corner where no one would ever find them.
Shen Zhuwan observed Ji Rongjin’s gradually calming expression, her eyes shifting slightly. She said softly, “Since you’ve bought them, Prince Consort, study them carefully. Once you’ve mastered them, this Princess might come to you for treatment.”
Learn acupuncture from those books?
Ji Rongjin’s body trembled, her face—having just returned to normal—flushing red, then paling, then turning sallow. Finally, swallowing a surge of frustration, she agreed.
Shen Zhuwan, seeing her reaction, let a fleeting, triumphant smile cross her eyes.
But that smile didn’t last long before it abruptly faded.
As if suddenly realizing something, Shen Zhuwan’s expression showed a hint of unease. She said lightly, “This Princess has matters to attend to,” and with a sway of her skirts, she left the room.
Ji Rongjin, wholly preoccupied with how to “learn medicine” from those books, didn’t notice Shen Zhuwan’s fleeting discomfort.
Half a month later, the pilgrimage to Guoan Temple was finally scheduled.
The event was meant to appease the public and court officials, so the grander the spectacle, the more serious and solemn it appeared.
The Imperial Guards had already set up along the route the carriages would take. Clad in uniform, their sharp gazes and the gleaming swords at their waists promised that anyone with ill intentions would lose their head to those blades in an instant.
Under the protection of the Imperial Guards, two carriages moved forward slowly. They looked similar, except the second carriage had noticeably more guards surrounding it.
Ji Rongjin was seated in the second carriage.
Per Shen Zhuwan’s instructions, she wasn’t to act, so Ji Rongjin, eager to show her skills, had to abandon her plans.
Moreover, before boarding, she noticed the extra guards around her carriage and couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—Princess Shen was truly kind. Though riding in His Majesty’s carriage might carry some risk, with these guards, her safety was greatly assured.
Not only that, inside the carriage, besides herself, was Shadow One, who had been waiting there.
He was the princess’s guarantee of her safety.
The carriage rumbled forward. The morning sunlight was gentle, filtering through the curtains and illuminating Ji Rongjin’s face.
She squinted, propping her chin with one hand as she listened to the discussions of the onlookers outside.
Most of it was mundane—speculation about their identities and pleas for the pilgrimage to earn heaven’s forgiveness.
Ji Rongjin didn’t listen for long before her gaze fell on the young man sitting across from her.
The Shadow Guards were ranked by strength, and Shadow One was the most formidable among them. She tried to strike up a conversation, hoping to learn more about him.
Unfortunately, while Shadow Two was taciturn, Shadow One was even more so.
After a while, Ji Rongjin lost interest, crossed her arms, leaned back in the carriage, and closed her eyes.
The sunlight was perfect—not too hot, just warm enough to make her feel cozy. The carriage’s gentle swaying was like a cradle, lulling her into drowsiness.
The carriage gradually entered a dense forest, beyond which lay Guoan Temple.
“Ambush! Protect the carriages!”
As expected, trouble arose. Ji Rongjin was sleeping soundly when the carriage jolted to a stop, nearly throwing her off. She woke to the guards’ shouts and the clanging of weapons.
Her expression shifted, and she reached to lift the curtain to assess the situation, but Shadow One stopped her in time.
“Prince Consort,” Shadow One said, “Leave it to them.”
Ji Rongjin hesitated, ultimately not lifting the curtain, but the continuous screams outside made her frown slightly.
In such an ambush, casualties were inevitable.
Ji Rongjin knew this, but when bl00d splattered onto the carriage curtain, she looked at Shadow One and said, “Go help them. I’ll be fine alone.”
Shadow One didn’t move. “The Princess ordered me to protect you.”
Another splash of vivid red hit the curtain, and through the small distance, Ji Rongjin faintly smelled the unsettling scent of bl00d.
She took a deep breath, stood abruptly, and, under Shadow One’s calm gaze, threw open the curtain and stepped out.
Shadow One quickly followed, guarding her closely.
Most of the black-clad attackers were gathered around Ji Rongjin’s carriage. As Shen Zhuwan had predicted, their main target was Shen Chi.
With their intervention, the tide of battle quickly turned.
Ji Rongjin’s current skills allowed her to hold her own against one or two attackers without retreating. Though she couldn’t match Shadow Two’s effortless slaughter, she had made significant progress.
The black-clad men were clearly outmatched, yet none retreated—they were all deathsworn.
As the last one fell under Shadow One’s blade, a sharp whistle pierced the air.
Simultaneously, countless arrows gleaming with cold light rained down.
Amid the shower of arrows, Shadow One’s sharp gaze locked onto the direction of the whistle.
Deep in the forest, a woman in dark robes stood on a branch, blending with the trees, her face hidden behind an iron mask.
At that moment, she watched Ji Rongjin amidst the arrows, her lips slightly pursed, her toes lightly pressing against the branch as if preparing to move.
Beside her stood a young girl, her expression desolate, her gaze toward Ji Rongjin filled with jealous hatred. She desperately hoped the arrows would pierce the “youth,” but clearly, they failed.
The deadly arrows, still some distance from the carriages, seemed to lose their force, as if doused with a paralyzing drug. Their killing intent vanished, and they fell harmlessly to the ground one by one.
Not a sound was made.
The masked woman seemed to exhale softly in that moment, then turned to the girl and said, “Let’s go.”
Song Nan, unwilling to accept this, pressed, “Sister, didn’t they tell us to help kill the person in the carriage?”
The woman behind the mask glanced at her faintly, as if she couldn’t be bothered to explain, and turned to leave.
Left behind, the girl clenched her teeth. Hearing the sound of approaching pursuers, she quickly followed the masked woman, leaving the scene.
“Sister… Sister…” Song Nan called out breathlessly, struggling to keep up.
As she reached to grab the woman’s sleeve, the woman suddenly stopped and turned, deftly avoiding her hand. “You go back first. I’m going to Guoan Temple.”
With that, she walked past Song Nan.
Song Nan’s hand froze in midair, then slowly dropped, clenching into a fist, her eyes burning with anger.
Turning to watch the woman’s retreating figure, she shouted, “Sister, she’s already married! She’s the Princess’s consort!”
The resentment in Song Nan’s heart matched the volume of her voice.
But the woman’s steps didn’t falter.
Tears welled in Song Nan’s eyes as she gritted her teeth. “Sister, she doesn’t even remember you. Why…?”
“Song Nan,” the woman’s light voice floated back. “No matter who I like, it will never be you. You and Song Pan’an were both raised by me. You call me ‘sister,’ and I’m like a mother to you—we can never be. Besides, we’re both women. Your feelings only disgust me.”
This was the calmest tone Song Nan had heard from the woman since confessing her feelings. In the past, the woman would get angry, but now, she spoke words that cut deepest with a calm voice.
Song Nan’s face drained of color. She watched the woman’s unhesitating steps, gave a bitter laugh, and turned away as tears fell.
After walking for an unknown time, Ye Lu finally stopped. She took two deep breaths, suppressing her surging emotions. Her mind flashed with the news she’d just received, and she slowly headed toward Guoan Temple.
When Ji Rongjin and Shen Zhuwan arrived at Guoan Temple, it was still early. The three bathed and rested before beginning the first prayer session of the day.
The prayer ritual lasted five days.
Each day required bathing, burning incense, copying scriptures by hand, and eating only vegetarian food. Most crucially, it demanded sincerity.
Ji Rongjin looked at the requirements and felt she could manage the first three.
But she and Shen Zhuwan—one who believed only in science, the other who didn’t believe in gods or Buddhas—likely had little sincerity to offer.
Ji Rongjin grumbled inwardly, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shen Zhuwan bowing solemnly before the grand, majestic Buddha statue, her profile serious and even devout.
The young emperor beside her followed suit, looking like a devout believer.
Only Ji Rongjin knelt with a head full of doubts.
After the bowing, they washed their hands again, received the scriptures to copy from the temple’s abbot, and proceeded to the most tedious part: copying in their rooms.
They had a vegetarian meal for lunch, then resumed copying in the afternoon.
Copying, copying, copying—she’d written less in her previous life’s punishments combined than she did this afternoon.
Finally, after dinner, they were spared more copying. Instead, they joined the monks in reading scriptures, seeking to grasp the true meaning of Buddhism.
The true meaning? Every word made sense alone, but together, it was gibberish.
Ji Rongjin complained silently but read aloud with feigned enthusiasm.
After enduring the day, she barely had time to rejoice before realizing four more days of this awaited. She felt life wasn’t worth living.
Rolling on the temple’s hard bed, far less comfortable than the one at the Princess’s mansion, Ji Rongjin punched and kicked it in frustration. Just as she was about to drift off with strong dissatisfaction, a deafening thunderclap shook the air.
The pitch-black room had no light, and outside, it seemed to rain heavily. Frequent thunder added an eerie atmosphere.
Sweat beaded on Shen Zhuwan’s forehead. After a moment, she opened her eyes, staring into the darkness, and let out a soft sigh.
Knock, knock, knock.
Amid the thunder, a sudden knock on the door rang out.
Shen Zhuwan’s eyes narrowed as she looked toward the door.
Another thunderclap illuminated the night, revealing a figure outside.
Shen Zhuwan opened the door, and a figure slipped in through the gap, shivering and wrapped in a blanket.
“P-Princess,” the girl stammered, scurrying to Shen Zhuwan’s bed. “I can’t sleep alone. I came to sleep with you.”
Shen Zhuwan looked at the girl, who’d gone from the door to her bed in seconds, and said softly, “No sharing beds during the prayer period. Go back.”
The girl, wrapped like a cocoon, peeked out with a grin. “Since when did the Princess believe in Buddhism?”
Shen Zhuwan’s expression remained unchanged, the door still open.
Ji Rongjin didn’t leave, her eyes brimming with pitiful tears as she looked at the woman.
Another rumble of thunder sounded, and Shen Zhuwan finally closed the door. She returned to the bedside, looking down at the girl. “What are you doing here?”
Ji Rongjin peeked out. “The thunder’s so loud. I’m a bit scared.”
She tightened her blanket, as if afraid Shen Zhuwan would kick her out.
Shen Zhuwan rubbed her temple, saying nothing, and lay back down. “Get up early and go back tomorrow.”
“Okay!” Ji Rongjin’s eyes lit up as she promised, “I’ll make sure no one notices tomorrow.”
“Mm.” Shen Zhuwan turned away. “Sleep.”
The girl behind her fell silent. Shen Zhuwan found it odd that she hadn’t said “goodnight” when the girl spoke pitifully, “Princess, I’m still scared. Can we share a blanket?”
Shen Zhuwan was about to refuse, but three consecutive thunderclaps made her brows furrow slightly. Silently, she pushed part of her blanket toward the girl.
Ji Rongjin’s eyes crinkled with a smile. She slipped into Shen Zhuwan’s blanket, adding her own on top.
“Goodnight, Your Highness.”
“Mm.”
The thunder rumbled on, and the rain pounded like drums on the ground.
The girl behind her stayed at a not-too-close, not-too-far distance. The clean, pleasant scent of citrus from her slowly enveloped Shen Zhuwan, inexplicably bringing a sense of calm.
She closed her eyes, and soon, drowsiness overtook her.
Just then, another thunderclap roared. Shen Zhuwan trembled slightly, her consciousness not fully awake, when a warm body pressed against her back.
The girl’s arms wrapped around her waist, their bodies close, and in a sleepy murmur, she said, “Don’t be afraid, Princess. I’m here.”
Question: Who is the one afraid?
A: Little Lord Ji
B: Her Highness the Princess