The Prince Consort Is Also Pretending To Be Affectionate Today - Chapter 41

41

At such close proximity, with such suggestive words, the atmosphere should have been tender and intimate, yet it was completely shattered by the girl’s slightly mocking smile.

She stood up slightly, reaching out to rest her hand on the woman’s wrist, gently removing the hand that was placed under her chin. With a soft sigh, she said, “So, Your Highness already knew.”

Shen Zhuwan lowered her gaze slowly, looking at the hand that had grabbed her.

In the next moment, the girl released her hand without any lingering attachment and took out a piece of paper from her sleeve, chuckling lightly. “But this letter, which records my actions, hasn’t yet reached Your Highness’s hands. How did you find out? Oh—”

“Your Highness came to find me, didn’t you? And you saw something, didn’t you?” The girl placed the letter in her hand and continued, “Because you saw it, you got angry and returned to the residence, didn’t you?”

“Your Highness, please rest assured,” the girl’s voice grew softer, “I didn’t kiss Miss Ye, nor do I have feelings for her. So you don’t need to worry that I’ll break our agreement. At least until the contract expires, I will only be your consort.”

Ji Rongjin’s words fell one by one, and as she raised her eyes, her lips curved into a calm smile as she met Shen Zhuwan’s gaze.

Half an hour earlier, she had encountered Shadow Two in the backyard. Upon seeing her, Shadow Two simply handed her a piece of paper and left.

The letter detailed Lian Xia’s actions for the day. Ji Rongjin hadn’t intended to open it, but the moment she held it, she inexplicably unfolded it.

Under the moonlight, she read it word by word, her heart gradually growing cold.

The letter didn’t record Lian Xia’s actions—it recorded hers.

How could this letter be about her? Did Shadow Two deliver the wrong one? Then who was this letter meant for?

Who else could it be for?

The answer was obvious—Princess Shen Zhuwan.

When the veneer of peace was torn apart, the bloody truth lay bare before her. For a fleeting moment, she was dazed.

After that daze, she had no choice but to admit that Princess Shen Zhuwan had been having her watched all along.

The smile on her lips finally faltered. Ji Rongjin took a deep breath. “It’s late, Your Highness. You should rest. I’ll take my leave.”

The girl’s almost frantic figure gradually blended into the darkness. Shen Zhuwan didn’t stop her, only watching her retreating silhouette as the letter in her hand slowly crumpled.

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

Shadow Two was gazing at the night sky, lost in thought, when a figure suddenly appeared beside her. Her eyes sharpened, and she struck out with a claw-like hand toward the intruder’s neck.

The newcomer was clearly familiar with her moves, effortlessly deflecting her force and seizing her wrist in one smooth motion.

Their eyes met, and Shadow Two’s expression froze for a moment before she broke free and said coldly, “What are you doing here?”

Shadow One silently withdrew her hand. “The princess summons you.”

“Understood.” Shadow Two turned, her expression icy.

Shadow One’s stoic face twitched slightly. “You gave the letter recording the consort’s actions to the wrong person.”

The woman’s figure paused but didn’t stop for even a moment at her words.

Shadow One seemed to recall something and said softly, “A’Di, it’s not that I don’t respond to you. It’s just that we, as shadow guards, cannot have emotions.”

At those words, Shadow Two finally halted, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. So from today onward, don’t call me that.”

Without another pause, she turned and walked away.

Shadow One’s eyes flickered, but in the end, she didn’t follow.

In the study.

Shadow Two, knowing she had erred, lowered her head in acknowledgment of her mistake the moment she entered.

The woman seated above regarded her impassively. “You’ve been making too many mistakes lately, Shadow Two. I didn’t train you to cause trouble for me.”

Shadow Two kept her head bowed, her lashes trembling slightly. “It was my failure. I will accept my punishment.”

“What good would punishing you do?” Shen Zhuwan glanced at her coldly. “This is your last chance.”

The last chance meant that the next mistake would result in her removal from the shadow guards—and for a dismissed shadow guard, there was no release, only death.

Shadow Two’s breathing hitched for a long moment before she slowly replied, “Understood.”

Shen Zhuwan raised a hand, signaling she could leave.

Shadow Two hesitated for a moment before asking softly, “Should I explain things to the consort?”

“Explain what?” Shen Zhuwan’s eyes lifted slightly, her voice cold. “When have I ever needed to explain myself to others?”

Falling out with a friend wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Ji Rongjin. She had experienced situations where she treated someone as a friend, only for them to treat her like a fool.

It happened in middle school, when she had just transferred to a new school. Unfamiliar with the place, the only people she knew were her uncle and aunt’s children, who were two years younger.

Children’s malice is often pure. They spread rumors throughout the grade that Ji Rongjin was a freeloader living off their family, eating their food, and relying on them to pay for her education, yet showing no gratitude.

They painted her as an ungrateful wretch, causing no one to want to play with her. Only one girl, who got along with everyone, was willing to befriend her.

At the time, Ji Rongjin thought she had finally found a true friend and poured her heart into the friendship.

Then, one day, she overheard a conversation in the bathroom.

“What? Be kind to her? Don’t make me laugh. I just pity her.”

“When no one else is kind to her, and I’m the only one who is, she’s desperate to give me everything. But I didn’t expect her birthday gift to be some cheap crystal ball.”

“I thought her cousins weren’t poor, but who knew she’d be this broke?”

“The crystal ball? I threw it in the trash ages ago.”

The soft voice hit Ji Rongjin like a thunderclap, leaving her mind blank.

She hid in the bathroom, not daring to make a sound, until the bell for class rang. Only then did she let herself cry quietly.

That crystal ball had taken her months of saved pocket money to buy, yet her best friend had discarded it like trash.

For a long time afterward, she avoided that girl but never confronted her.

Eventually, the girl stopped hanging out with her too.

As she grew older, Ji Rongjin realized that someone who approached her with ulterior motives would never truly care for her.

And now, though she thought she’d developed immunity after experiencing this once, the pain hit harder than before.

Ji Rongjin thought to herself that the older she got, the less she could handle such blows. A small matter was enough to keep her awake all night, her heart aching.

What pained her even more was that after thinking it over for half the night, she concluded that Shen Zhuwan’s actions weren’t entirely her fault.

After all, Ji Rongjin had misunderstood the relationship between the original host and the princess from the start and had been overly enthusiastic toward her.

If she were in Shen Zhuwan’s shoes, she’d have been suspicious too.

Ji Rongjin was skilled at self-reflection, so when she reached this conclusion, she knew she couldn’t keep dwelling on it. If she did, she might end up absolving Shen Zhuwan entirely in her heart.

In the end, she grudgingly clung to the fact that Shen Zhuwan had broken her promise and left her waiting alone in the cold on the bridge until midnight, convincing herself that Shen Zhuwan shouldn’t be easily forgiven.

The next day, Ji Rongjin went out with dark circles under her eyes.

Carrying a heart full of thoughts, she stood in the Golden Throne Hall.

As usual, the court officials reported events from across the country, picking one or two matters to discuss and awaiting Shen Zhuwan’s judgment.

As Ji Rongjin listened, she heard someone mention the upcoming Autumn Hunt.

Then, she heard Shen Zhuwan’s clear, cool voice: “This year’s Autumn Hunt will proceed as in previous years. Family members and heirs may attend, regardless of gender…”

The Daqian dynasty had held the Autumn Hunt annually for seven days to train the royal heirs. Though the royal family now had few descendants, the tradition persisted.

Since the previous emperor’s time, it had been open to both men and women.

No matter what, Ji Rongjin would definitely have to participate, representing the royal family’s honor.

However, while she was decent at riding, she had never practiced archery on horseback.

After some thought, Ji Rongjin decided to invite Jiang Nanyu to practice at the riding grounds.

When the eunuch’s shrill voice echoed through the Golden Throne Hall, signaling the end of the session, the Shen siblings left, and Ji Rongjin, as if propelled by a motor, dashed out.

Elsewhere.

The young emperor walked beside Shen Zhuwan, excitedly talking about the Autumn Hunt. Suddenly, Shen Zhuwan paused and looked down at Shen Chi.

Shen Chi stopped too, puzzled. “What’s wrong, Sister?”

“Nothing.” Shen Zhuwan glanced at him and said softly, “You’ve been working hard lately, Chi’er. I’ll give you a day off today to play on the swing.”

Shen Chi’s eyes lit up. At first, he’d thought of doing something else with his day off, but her mention of the swing made it sound appealing.

He cheerfully asked, “Will you play with me, Sister?”

“I have other matters to attend to. Let Yunniang accompany you.”

Shen Chi deflated instantly. “I’ve told you, playing with Yunniang isn’t fun. She’s always worried I’ll fall.”

Then his eyes brightened again. “Sister, can I play with my Brother-in-law today?”

Shen Zhuwan lowered her eyes, hiding a flicker of emotion, and said softly, “As you wish.”

“As you wish” meant yes, and Shen Chi, ever quick to seize an opportunity, immediately ordered a palace servant to fetch his “Brother-in-law.”

The little eunuch ran until his legs nearly gave out but couldn’t catch up with Ji Rongjin. In the end, he returned to the palace regretfully and reported, “The consort has already left.”

“So fast?” Shen Chi said, puzzled. “Brother-in-law never left this quickly before.”

Shen Zhuwan lowered her eyes, concealing her thoughts, and said nothing.

For several days, Ji Rongjin dodged and hid, avoiding Shen Zhuwan at every turn, living like a mouse evading a cat.

She avoided Shen Zhuwan, and Shen Zhuwan didn’t seek her out either.

So, later on, Ji Rongjin reflected and realized that her attempts to justify Shen Zhuwan’s actions that night were likely her own wishful thinking. Perhaps Shen Zhuwan, as she had initially thought, didn’t trust her and had never truly cared for her.

On a day off, with the Autumn Hunt approaching, Ji Rongjin finally remembered it and, after some thought, wrote a short letter inviting Jiang Nanyu to the riding grounds.

Jiang Nanyu quickly replied, agreeing to meet at the grounds.

Half an hour later, they met successfully at the riding grounds.

Jiang Nanyu, dressed in a red riding outfit, held a curved bow, her face radiant like jade. She sat astride her horse, calling out boldly to Ji Rongjin, “Come on, let’s have a match!”

Ji Rongjin, also on horseback, looked up at the azure sky, where milky clouds gathered like an unfolding oil painting, lifting her spirits.

She nudged her horse forward, raising her bow. “Bring it on!”

Half an hour later, the two sat on the grass, staring silently at the chaotic arrows scattered across the target.

Jiang Nanyu gave her a deep look. “Maybe you should just fake an illness that day.”

Ji Rongjin: “…Good idea.”

Jiang Nanyu was about to lie back when she saw Ji Rongjin suddenly stand up with her bow. “I’m going to practice more.”

Jiang Nanyu grabbed a blade of grass, stuck it in her mouth, and closed her eyes, pretending not to hear. “…Go ahead.”

After a long while, with no response, Jiang Nanyu peeked through a slit in her eyes and saw Ji Rongjin back on her horse, practicing again. Spitting out the grass, she squinted at the blue-clad figure and muttered to herself, “Something’s off…”

Another half hour passed, and Ji Rongjin’s accuracy gradually improved.

Jiang Nanyu watched as the “youth” on horseback focused intently, her movements crisp and precise as she drew the bow. Sweat beaded on her forehead from relentless practice, but she paid it no mind, her bright, black eyes fixed on the target, her hands never pausing.

Her final arrow shot out, its sharp tip glinting coldly as it carved a fierce arc through the air, landing solidly in the red bullseye. The arrow’s tail quivered, as if cheering.

The youth’s serious expression finally broke into a smile, like a withered tree blooming in spring, uplifting those around her.

There weren’t many people practicing archery, both men and women, most around their age.

Jiang Nanyu glanced around casually and noticed a few girls stealing glances at Ji Rongjin.

She clicked her tongue and approached Ji Rongjin as she dismounted, nudging her with an elbow. “Look, some people are sneaking peeks at you.”

Ji Rongjin, still elated from her progress, followed Jiang Nanyu’s words and glanced back. Sure enough, a few people looked her way, shyly averting their eyes when she met their gazes.

Ji Rongjin looked away, lowering her voice. “Don’t cause trouble. If the princess finds out…”

She faltered, her expression shifting as she pressed her lips together, falling silent.

Jiang Nanyu keenly sensed the change in her mood, her eyes lighting up. “What’s wrong? Did you have a fight with the princess?”

“No.”

“Then what would happen if the princess found out?”

When Ji Rongjin didn’t answer, Jiang Nanyu rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, let’s not talk about it. Come on, let’s go eat.”

It was evening, indeed time for dinner.

The two went to Chunwang Tavern, where Jiang Nanyu generously offered to pay. As Ji Rongjin marveled at her unusual generosity, she didn’t notice that, under Jiang Nanyu’s subtle encouragement, she drank until her cheeks flushed and her vision blurred.

Jiang Nanyu, smiling slyly, asked, “So, what’s going on with you and the princess?”

At that moment, Ji Rongjin’s mind was foggy. Staring blankly at Jiang Nanyu, her eyes dimmed. “The princess broke her promise and lied to me…”

With careful prodding, Jiang Nanyu soon got the full story from her.

Looking at Ji Rongjin’s misty eyes with exasperation, she said, “Unbelievable. The princess left you alone out there, and all you took from it is that she’s afraid you’ll break the agreement?”

“Yeah.” Ji Rongjin said, her cheeks flushed, her words slurring slightly. “Why else would she have me watched?”

Jiang Nanyu sighed dramatically. “Ji-bro, Ji-sis, Little Ji, Old Ji… you actually think she’s just worried about you breaking the agreement?”

Shaking her head, she continued, “Besides that, have you considered there might be other reasons she left you there?”

Ji Rongjin, slumped over the table, muttered to herself, “Because she doesn’t trust me, thinks I’ll break the agreement, so she had me watched.”

Jiang Nanyu: “…” Perfectly logical loop.

Before she could respond, Ji Rongjin suddenly sat up, fuming. “I bought her so many fun trinkets, and not only did she not show up, but after seeing me, she left me there alone. I nearly froze to death… She’s too much!”

Alright, no denying the princess messed up there.

“Could there be another possibility?” Jiang Nanyu frowned, serious. “Maybe she saw you didn’t push Miss Ye away?”

“I did push her away!” Ji Rongjin said excitedly, standing unsteadily and gesturing. “She was here, I was here, she hugged me out of nowhere, I was stunned for a few seconds, about to push her away, but she let go first.”

Jiang Nanyu, worried she’d fall, steadied her. “Alright, why are you explaining to me? Go explain to the princess.”

“I already did!” Ji Rongjin plopped back down, slumping on the table, aggrieved. “I told her we didn’t kiss. We haven’t even seen each other in so long.”

Her voice broke as she choked out, “She just doesn’t trust me, thinks I’ll break the agreement, so she had me watched.”

Back to that logic again.

Jiang Nanyu, propping her chin, sighed. “That’s your explanation? You told her the outcome, but what about your thought process? Why don’t you confront her and get clarity?”

Ji Rongjin’s long lashes fluttered, and she said glumly, “You don’t understand. I’m afraid of getting an answer I don’t want. It’s better this way…”

Just like with that girl back then, she hadn’t sought answers because she feared the truth. She simply distanced herself quietly. Time would reveal Shen Zhuwan’s true attitude toward her.

“So you’re just going to wait for the princess to make the first move?” Jiang Nanyu rolled her eyes. “Keep waiting, and her kids will be running around before you get anywhere. Long-term pain is worse than short-term pain. What’s there to agonize over?”

Jiang Nanyu wanted to scold her more, but seeing Ji Rongjin’s misty eyes on the verge of tears, she stopped, rubbing her temples. “Fine, I’ll have to step in.”

“Forget it,” Jiang Nanyu said. “I’m taking you somewhere great. Once you’re there, all your worries will disappear.”

Ji Rongjin looked up, confused. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Jiang Nanyu said with a sincere smile.

Moments later, at Flower Filled Pavillion’s top-tier Room 1, Jiang Nanyu reluctantly handed a few silver notes to the madam. “Find two girls to keep an eye on her. They don’t need to do anything, just make sure she doesn’t wander off.”

The madam, beaming as she took the notes, said, “Right away, sir…”

Her gaze shifted to Ji Rongjin, and her expression changed faster than flipping a page. “…If it’s the consort, it’ll cost extra.”

Jiang Nanyu: “?”

The madam sighed, her expression complex. “Never mind, just go. I’ll have someone watch her.”

Admittedly, Little Ji had foresight. By not burning bridges earlier, she was reaping the benefits now.

Jiang Nanyu looked at the two girls entering the room with a doting expression, gave them a few more instructions not to let Ji Rongjin wander, and then left for home, relieved.

At the Princess’s Residence.

Shen Zhuwan, looking at the fully darkened sky outside, exhaled lightly and set down her brush.

“Jinxi,” she said, glancing at the person entering. “Has she returned?”

Jinxi shook her head. “The consort hasn’t returned.”

“Understood.”

These past few days, the girl had been avoiding her completely.

Though they didn’t meet often normally, her complete absence left Shen Zhuwan’s heart entangled, as if an invisible thread kept pulling her thoughts toward the girl.

Sighing inwardly, Shen Zhuwan was about to resume writing when Shadow One appeared, holding a letter. “Princess, someone asked me to give this to you.”

Shen Zhuwan’s gaze shifted, and she opened the letter. It read:

Flower Filled Pavillion, Room 1. The prince consort is having fun with two women. Hurry to catch them in the act.

Jiang Nanyu: At your second wedding, I’m sitting at the head table.