The Prince Consort Is Also Pretending To Be Affectionate Today - Chapter 5

5: Peach Blossom Crisp

After this outing, Ji Rongjin was mostly convinced of the original host’s deep feelings for the princess. Reflecting on the morning’s events, if it weren’t for genuine love, how could someone as exalted as the princess personally adjust her clothing?

No wonder the princess’s mood soured so quickly after Ji Rongjin declined her.

Returning to the mansion in silence, Ji Rongjin carried a package of peach blossom crisps and headed straight for Shen Zhuwan’s quarters, only to be informed that the princess always stayed at the palace for lunch with His Majesty and would return only in the evening.

Ji Rongjin sighed and handed the peach blossom crisps to a maid. “These are for the princess.”

The maid took the pastries solemnly, assuring her, “I’ll make sure they reach Her Highness.”

Ji Rongjin nodded and returned to her own room. With nothing else to do, she wandered into the original host’s study.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the bookshelves. Ji Rongjin gazed at the rows of books, casually pulled one out, and walked to the desk to flip through it.

The desk was impeccably clean, clearly dusted daily.

Ji Rongjin leaned back in the chair, propping her feet on the desk. As she reached for the book, her peripheral vision caught sight of a piece of paper tucked between some books.

The books on the desk were neatly arranged, making the stray paper stand out starkly.

On a whim, Ji Rongjin pulled it out.

The high-quality cotton paper was thick and smooth. It was covered with writing, and as Ji Rongjin scanned it, her eyes landed on a familiar name at the bottom—Lin Changcun.

The name was circled, its significance unclear. Beside it was another name—Shen Zhuwan.

Unlike Lin Changcun’s circled name, Shen Zhuwan’s was crossed out with several lines.

Ji Rongjin set the paper down, a realization dawning. Wasn’t this just like scribbling the name of a crush on a piece of paper during school days? Then, upon noticing the unconscious doodle, one would shyly cover it up, only making it more obvious.

Well, well, well. Even while reading, the original host was distracted by thoughts of Shen Zhuwan. Ji Rongjin was floored by the depth of this affection.

As for Lin Changcun, he must be her rival. A lover and a love rival—both accounted for. Truly, the law of names scribbled on scrap paper held true across all eras.

Ji Rongjin spent the afternoon reading, passing most of the time until she felt tired. Stretching lazily, she stepped out of the room.

“When will the princess return?” Ji Rongjin rubbed her eyes, glancing at Dongmei, who stood by the door.

Dongmei checked the sun’s position. “Soon, I’d say.”

No sooner had she spoken than a voice rang out. “To the Consort, the princess has already dined at the palace tonight and won’t be joining you for dinner.”

Ji Rongjin jumped, startled, and looked down to see Jinxi, who had somehow appeared before her without a sound.

“Do all the people in the princess’s mansion walk so silently?” Ji Rongjin said helplessly. “Can you teach me?”

Jinxi’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Ji Rongjin didn’t press her further. She’d already figured out Jinxi was like a mimosa plant—touch her, and she’d shrink back and slip away faster than you could blink.

To keep her from escaping, Ji Rongjin called out, “Jinxi, wait. I have something to discuss with you privately.”

Jinxi’s face filled with panic, her eyes darting around until they met Dongmei’s. Dongmei gave her an encouraging look, then ushered the others away.

Left alone again, Ji Rongjin decided not to scare her with money this time. She’d try sincerity instead.

“Jinxi, here’s the thing…”

Before she could continue, Jinxi timidly interrupted, “Is the Consort asking about the princess?”

Ji Rongjin’s eyes lit up, ready to spin a tale with utmost sincerity. But then, Jinxi’s hand slowly rose, her fingers nervously rubbing together, and her expression began to crack.

Her sincerity was no match for a money pouch.

Seeing Ji Rongjin’s stunned expression, Jinxi grew flustered. The princess had instructed her to accept some benefits to avoid arousing suspicion.

It wasn’t wrong, but that gesture paired with her expression was just…

Ji Rongjin said, “Didn’t you refuse the money last time?”

Jinxi remained silent, still rubbing her fingertips.

Ji Rongjin: “…”

With a sigh, she pulled a money pouch from her sleeve and placed it in Jinxi’s trembling hand.

“Can we talk now?”

Guiltily, Jinxi tucked the pouch away and quickly recounted how “Ji Rongjin” had treated the princess in the past.

At first, Ji Rongjin listened intently, nodding along. But as the story unfolded, her expression grew blank. When Jinxi finished, Ji Rongjin felt doomed.

“You’re saying I used to meet the princess every day, and if I didn’t, I’d cry?”

Jinxi’s face reddened as she nodded.

“Every other day, I’d cook for the princess myself, and if she didn’t like it, I’d cry?”

Jinxi’s gaze wavered, but she nodded again.

“Every three days, I’d insist on spending time alone with the princess, and if she refused, I’d cry?”

Jinxi lowered her head, stubbornly nodding.

Ji Rongjin stared into the void, her eyes hollow. “Well, aren’t I the crying champion.”

Under Jinxi’s guilty gaze, Ji Rongjin suddenly swung her fists at the air, startling Jinxi, who paled and stepped back.

“Don’t be scared,” Ji Rongjin said. “I’m just fighting the heavens.”

A question mark seemed to hover over Jinxi’s head as she continued to watch her timidly.

Ji Rongjin sighed, resigned. “I understand.”

Jinxi tilted her head. “Don’t you doubt whether I’m telling the truth?”

Ji Rongjin slumped onto the steps. “No… wait, are you saying it’s all—”

“It’s all true.” Jinxi quickly covered.

Ji54 Rongjin: “…”

“Fine,” Ji Rongjin said. “Go back and apologize to the princess for me.”

She sighed, about to ask what the princess liked to eat, but when she looked up, Jinxi was gone.

Ji Rongjin: “…”

From behind, Dongmei’s voice drifted eerily. “What does the Consort keep discussing with Jinxi in private that even I can’t hear?”

Ji Rongjin: “…”

Terrifying. Not a single person in this princess’s mansion walks with sound!

Meanwhile, Jinxi, feeling guilty, hurried back to Shen Zhuwan’s quarters.

She bowed to the woman at the desk. “Your Highness, I’ve spoken with the Consort.”

Shen Zhuwan was writing, her fair hand guiding the brush across the paper with fluid grace, her cloud-patterned sleeves swaying gently.

Incense curled from the desk. Shen Zhuwan glanced up briefly before returning to her writing, her cool expression half-hidden in the haze. “Mm.”

Her brush never paused, except for a brief moment when Jinxi entered.

“There’s more,” Jinxi said softly. “The Consort was asking about you again today.”

“Mm,” Shen Zhuwan replied without looking up. “If there’s nothing else, you may leave.”

“Yes.” Jinxi answered, then hesitated. “The Consort gave me a pouch of money…”

“Keep it.” Shen Zhuwan said.

With that, she fell silent, and Jinxi, reassured, tiptoed out.

The room grew still. At some point, Shen Zhuwan’s brush paused. She lifted her gaze to the package of peach blossom crisps, which had sat ignored on her desk for hours. She hadn’t spared it a glance since it arrived, but now, alone, it drew her attention.

The light brown package was adorned with pink peach blossom petals, like a shower of blossoms carried by the wind—vivid and captivating. Shen Zhuwan set her brush down and reached for the package.

The delicate, petal-shaped pastries were adorned with a touch of pink, intricately crafted despite their small size. Shen Zhuwan took a small bite. Instantly, all other senses faded, leaving only an overwhelming sweetness.

She frowned, swallowed the bite, and set the remaining half aside, unwilling to eat more.

That night, no lamps were lit in the princess’s quarters. Ji Rongjin slept alone in her large bed, dreamless.

The next morning, Ji Rongjin woke and wrestled with her robes again. After a moment, she gave up and called, “Dongmei.”

Shen Zhuwan had to attend court, but Ji Rongjin, after some thought, decided to visit the original host’s family. Since the original host’s head injury, she hadn’t returned home. The news must have reached her parents, who were likely worried sick.

Since Ji Rongjin had transmigrated, it meant the original host was truly dead. Whether Lin Changcun’s actions were intentional or accidental, he was undeniably involved. Ji Rongjin wouldn’t forgive him on the original host’s behalf, nor would she condemn him without knowing the full truth.

After sending a visiting card to the Grand Tutor’s mansion, Ji Rongjin soon set off in a carriage, swaying toward her destination.

At this hour, her father was likely at the palace, lecturing the current emperor, Shen Chi, Shen Zhuwan’s five-year-old brother.

It was said that the late emperor and empress were deeply in love, devoted solely to each other. They governed the Daqian Dynasty with order and harmony, and after their marriage, they had a daughter, exceptionally intelligent from a young age.

But fate was cruel. When the empress was pregnant with their second child, the emperor fell gravely ill. He passed away shortly after the empress gave birth, and, overwhelmed by grief, she followed him a few months later.

Before fifteen, Shen Zhuwan lived a charmed life—noble status, a loving family, the epitome of happiness. But at fifteen, when most girls would be dreaming of love and marriage, her world shattered. Her idyllic life turned precarious, filled with undercurrents of danger.

Ji Rongjin lifted the carriage curtain, gazing at the peaceful, bustling streets. Her respect for Shen Zhuwan grew, along with a newfound wariness.

After the late emperor’s death, some court officials took advantage of Shen Zhuwan’s youth and inexperience, engaging in corruption and forming factions. Some even colluded with neighboring states. The court was a treacherous place, where a single misstep could mean ruin.

Yet Shen Zhuwan not only held her ground but quietly replaced many disloyal officials. The remaining threats were the powerful Duke Ning and the Right Chancellor, He Li.

Duke Ning, a trusted minister under the late emperor, revealed his ambitions after the emperor’s death. The Right Chancellor formed factions for personal gain. Both were restrained only by Shen Zhuwan’s uncle, the current Grand General, but beneath the surface, schemes abounded.

Ji Rongjin pondered this in the carriage until it slowed to a stop, pulling her thoughts back. The original host’s parents would know her well, so she’d need to tread carefully to avoid suspicion.

Dongmei lifted the curtain, and Ji Rongjin stepped out, facing a simple yet imposing brown gate. A plaque above read “Ji Mansion” in bold, golden characters that gleamed in the light.

It looked like any ordinary household.

As the gate slowly opened, Ji Rongjin’s heart raced. Through the gap, she saw a striking, elegant woman gazing at her with intense emotion.

This must be the original host’s mother.

Ji Rongjin stepped forward, but before she could move, the woman swept toward her, her skirts swaying, and grasped her hand. “Jin’er, you’ve finally come back to see Mother.”

The sunlight was blinding, and the golden hairpin swaying with the woman’s steps dazzled Ji Rongjin’s eyes.

Feeling awkward, Ji Rongjin forced a smile and said, “Mother.”

The woman’s eyes reddened instantly. “Jin’er, you… you don’t blame Mother anymore?”

Ji Rongjin blinked, clearly confused.

The woman realized her mistake, her expression dimming. She remembered her daughter had lost her memories due to the head injury.

Quickly composing herself, she pulled Ji Rongjin inside. “You’ve come at the perfect time. Nanyu is here too. She’s been so worried since she heard about your injury. You two played together as children; you should be familiar.”

Ji Rongjin was led into the hall, her mind reeling at the mention of a childhood friend, Jiang Nanyu. Who was this now?

The courtyard was lush with bamboo, and after passing a stone path, the expansive Grand Tutor’s mansion opened before her—complete with pavilions, rock gardens, and elegant structures. It wasn’t as grand as the princess’s mansion, but it was impressive.

Ji Rongjin had no time to admire the scenery. Stepping into the hall, she smiled at a young woman in a lotus-colored dress seated on a chair.

The girl’s eyes brightened upon seeing her, though she gave a gentle smile when she noticed Ji Rongjin’s mother. “A’Jin, you’re back?”

Ji Rongjin looked at the refined, graceful woman. “Nanyu?”

“That’s me.” Jiang Nanyu’s cheeks dimpled as she smiled. “I can’t believe you forgot everyone else but remember me.”

Ji Rongjin touched her head and laughed, not daring to speak.

She didn’t actually remember—her mother had filled her in on the way, including that Jiang Nanyu’s father, Doctor Jiang, had treated her injury.

Jiang Nanyu seemed thoughtful. “Father said that talking about old times might jog your memory. It could help you recover.”

Ji Rongjin nodded. “Doctor Jiang did mention that.”

Ji Rongjin’s mother, who had been silent, finally spoke. “Jin’er, you and Nanyu spent a lot of time together as children. Why don’t you two chat? It might spark some memories, and it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other.”

Ji Rongjin smiled and agreed. “Alright.”

As soon as her mother left, Jiang Nanyu dropped her ladylike facade. She slumped in the chair, rubbing her shoulders and muttering about the etiquette her father forced her to learn. Then she grumbled, “A’Jin, you might’ve been in the wrong, but Lin Changcun went too far. Look at that bandage on your head!”

Ji Rongjin: “…”

Stunned by the girl’s drastic change, Ji Rongjin said after a pause, “It was my fault.”

“Your fault? Nonsense.” Jiang Nanyu rolled her eyes, devoid of any ladylike grace. “You just fell for someone and wanted to prove you were worthy. Even so, he didn’t have to hit you so hard.”

Ji Rongjin realized from Jiang Nanyu’s words that their relationship must be close. Jiang Nanyu even knew the original host had fought Lin Changcun to prove herself worthy of the princess—a sign of their deep bond.

“Forget that jerk.” Jiang Nanyu said, stretching her shoulders and sauntering over with a grin. “A’Jin, you really don’t remember anything?”

Ji Rongjin blinked and shook her head honestly.

Jiang Nanyu dramatically clutched her lip, eyes tearing up. “In the end, I was mistaken. That year, under the apricot blossoms and gentle rain, you called me the Xia Yuhe of Daming Lake…”

Ji Rongjin: “…” What was that?

Snapping out of it, her eyes widened. “Where did you learn those lines?”

Jiang Nanyu, still theatrical, said, “My lord, your words are so heartless.”

Ji Rongjin: “Be normal. You’re scaring me.”

Jiang Nanyu glared, then plopped down beside her, huffing. “You’re just like before—never playing along.”

Desperate to know the source of those lines, Ji Rongjin pressed, “Where did you get those words?”

“From a storybook,” Jiang Nanyu said, exasperated. “I told you before, my favorite books right now are My Child Isn’t Mine, It’s My Brother’s and My Father Isn’t My Father, He’s My Best Friend’s Father. You don’t care about me at all—oh, right, you lost your memory.”

Ji Rongjin: “…”

The titles sounded bizarre at first, but upon reflection, they felt oddly fitting.