The Prince Consort's Secret (GL) - Chapter 11

Early the next morning, I tidied my clothes and stepped into the outer room. I found the prince consort sleeping on the table, still dressed, his head propped on his hand. He looked pitifully tired, which amused me a little, and I couldn’t help but wake him with a gentle push. The dazed, misty look in his eyes as he opened them made me pause—he looked oddly familiar.

A roommate in my past life had also been just a centimeter taller than me, but even that small difference made me feel like I was always looking up… It was a bit frustrating and made me suspicious. Still, though this man was likely around 1.7 meters tall, he gave off a sense of presence that was hard to ignore.

I summoned him into the inner room, had him remove his outer robe, and once he was seated, I was about to call for Yinger. But something felt off. I stood, took a fruit knife, walked over to the bed, and was just about to cut my hand when the prince consort said, “Better let me do that.”

He was right—such things should be done by men. I handed him the knife, watching as he calmly sliced a shallow cut across his palm. Bl00d seeped out, and he squeezed the wound to let more flow. As expected of someone trained in martial arts—just as ruthless as a physician like me.

He didn’t even flinch. His hands were longer and more delicate than mine, almost unnaturally elegant. I couldn’t help sighing—some men are so refined they leave no room for women to shine. No wonder so many emperors in history kept male concubines…

After applying the bl00d, he stood up, a faint blush on his face. I couldn’t help but find it funny. Just as I was about to fetch some medicine, I saw him pull out a healing balm from the inside pocket of his inner garment and begin applying it expertly. I was quite surprised—carrying wound ointment like that must mean life outside the palace was dangerous indeed.

I took the medicine and sniffed it. Aside from the familiar ingredients like borneol and frankincense, I caught traces of herbs I didn’t recognize. Was my medical knowledge truly lacking? But no—perhaps it was just a matter of time period. After all, why should the formulas be the same?

I handed the balm back to him. He smiled and asked, “Did Your Highness discover anything?”

I shook my head, thinking, Why should I tell you I’m trained in medicine? You probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. Looking down at his palm, I saw no trace of injury. The medicine really was effective.

I called for Yinger, and the four maids walked in, each smiling with barely concealed amusement. Yinger’s act was quite convincing. I let Yinger and Yun Yan help me dress, while the prince consort declined and said he’d dress himself. Ha, he’s worse than I am. I’ve already gotten used to letting them dress me after bathing.

After freshening up and eating a quick breakfast, I watched him change into a bright crimson court robe and don a dignified jinxian crown. He bid farewell with a bow before leaving for court. Personally, I still thought the right-angled futou hat looked better. I told him to come back after court and his official duties to teach me martial arts, then sent him on his way.

The sky outside was still pale with early light. In my past life, I would’ve still been fast asleep even if I had class. But in this ancient world where people slept right after dinner, waking up early was no big deal.

After sending him off, I played the zither for a while, read a little, then wandered around the princess’s estate aimlessly. But something felt odd today. The guards were polite, but there was something overly staged about their behavior.

Rounding a corner gate, I saw several guards huddled together chatting. I frowned. When I first arrived, even the guards at the main gate were sloppy—sitting, squatting, lounging around. It took fifty lashes each to straighten them out. Now they were slacking off again? How infuriating.

I walked up to them, and finally one guard noticed me and frantically elbowed the others. They all scattered back to their posts. Great. Caught a group of idiots who either forgot to assign a lookout or got too caught up chatting to hear anything.

I smiled. “What were you chatting about that made you all so happy? Tell me so I can enjoy it too.”

The four guards exchanged guilty looks. One of them said stiffly, “Nothing of importance, Your Highness…”

Still smiling, I said, “Yinger, the four of you each take one guard and question them separately. If any of them give inconsistent answers, they’ll forfeit a month’s pay.”

The four maids nodded and left with the guards, each man looking more miserable than the last. Passing servants all looked smugly entertained as they walked by.

A couple of days ago, we heard that the Khitan were once again taking advantage of the crisp autumn weather to raid the southern borders. When I first saw the guards looking preoccupied, I thought maybe they were worried about the war. That would’ve been understandable. But seeing these four so cheerfully gossiping, I knew it must be about something good—something that had them unusually excited.

Soon, the four maids returned from their interrogations, each with a different expression—some amused, some flustered, some indifferent.

I looked at them curiously. Qiu Wen, grinning with barely contained excitement, said, “Your Highness, Zhen’an Brothel—the most famous entertainment house in Bianjing—just announced that in three days, the virgin courtesan Han Wu’er will perform on stage for the first time, and afterward, will begin receiving patrons.”

So that’s what stirred them all up… Thinking back to the gossip I’d heard this month, Han Wu’er was a new courtesan in Zhen’an Brothel who’d already made waves among the upper class and literary circles without ever revealing her face. Now that her debut was announced, even the palace guards were ecstatic—who knows what the reaction was like outside?

In a time of peace and prosperity, people had the luxury to indulge in such scandalous affairs. The Khitan may still make occasional incursions during autumn and winter, but everyone had grown used to their seasonal raids. I asked the maids whether the guards’ stories were consistent. They confirmed they were.

I turned back to the guards, who now stood stiffly with their eyes cast downward, expressions unreadable. I smiled. “At least you were honest. I’ll spare your wages this time. But you left your posts during duty hours—that’s still punishable. Each of you will receive thirty strokes.”
I resumed my walk. After the beating, they’d probably behave for a while. But honestly… I kind of wanted to go too. A brothel in ancient times—I had to see it for myself. I’d been stuck in this princess’s residence ever since arriving, without even stepping outside. If I had to live my entire life within this royal triangle of the princess’s manor, the palace, and the crown prince’s estate, what kind of life would that be?

I made up my mind: three days from now, I was going out. I’d dress as a man and bring several guards for protection. For even more safety, I decided to bring my dear Crown Prince brother along. He was used to going out in disguise and would no doubt attend the performance at Zhen’an Brothel himself.

With my plan in place, I passed the time until the prince consort returned to teach me martial arts. It was unfortunate he wasn’t actually a woman—what a twist that would’ve been. Still, learning martial arts from him was fine. He seemed proper and well-behaved, so I didn’t mind making a friend.

A few days before our wedding, he’d been promoted from an Attendant Gentleman to Assistant Minister of Personnel. Though both were sixth-rank positions, the former was largely ceremonial, while the latter was a real administrative role—a definite step up, and much busier too.

Now that it was autumn, the afternoon shift ended around 3 p.m., meaning he’d return around 4. That left about two hours a day to train, with time afterward for me to practice on my own—not bad at all.

I took up a sword and drew it with a sharp swish. My arm strength and physique weren’t bad. I just lacked technique and inner power. I struck a dramatic pose, pointing the sword toward the doorway—only to see Yinger walk in with a tray of pears, looking utterly bewildered. I burst out laughing.

But karma never fails. Under the soft golden afternoon light, I swung the sword wildly. My arm went numb, and after dropping the sword for the umpteenth time, I heard the prince consort laugh heartily from across the room.

I picked it up, fuming. Before I could try again, he said with a smile, “That’s enough. I now understand what pace I need to use to teach Your Highness.”

Rolling my eyes, I thought, If you knew I was a beginner, why insist on testing me like this? Just to embarrass me? Now that he’d confirmed I knew absolutely nothing, what would he teach me? I’d heard that the simplest sword form in our dynasty was the Taizu Sword Style—created by the founding emperor, my great-grandfather.

It wasn’t very lethal, but it was good for building strength and was practically a basic exercise everyone knew. He’d probably start with that?

Sure enough, the prince consort picked up his sword by flicking it into his hand with his foot, then stepped forward with a smile. “Your Highness, basic sword techniques include thrusting, chopping, tapping, flicking, lifting, slashing, and slicing… Please watch carefully.”

Well then, I thought. Time to practice the basics. If I want to learn martial arts, I’ll endure it!

I thought it would be easy—but even a simple thrust turned out to be difficult. If my shoulder wasn’t relaxed or level, if my arm muscles moved wrong, or if my thoughts strayed for even a second, the thrust would miss its mark. After much effort, I finally managed to do it right, resting my sword vertically and catching my breath.

The prince consort offered a handkerchief. I wiped my face and handed it back. Then he said gently, “Your Highness looks like someone who’s trained before. Why is…”

I gave a wry smile. “You’re wondering why I’m so clueless? It’s because I lost my memory.”

He froze for a second, a flash of pity crossing his face. Then, almost reflexively, he reached out toward my hand. I took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

He looked momentarily embarrassed and said, “I know some medicine. I was going to check your pulse.”

So he knows medicine too? Fascinating. But I know it as well—and besides, amnesia is rarely curable. I smiled and said, “No need. If it could be cured, it would’ve been already. Also, don’t tell anyone.”

He opened his mouth, but I quickly changed the subject. “By the way, how do you know medicine?”

He replied calmly, “My parents died when I was young. My master raised me and taught me both medicine and martial arts.”

Poor child. Though his expression was neutral, I could tell I’d touched a nerve. Smiling, I said, “You don’t have to keep calling yourself ‘your servant.’ Even my maids aren’t that formal.”

“Yes, your servant—ah, I mean… understood.” Ah, that’s better—wait, no, not quite. Oh well. We’ll get there eventually.

I asked about his master. His name was Qin Shi, a descendant of a military family who also had a passion for medicine. The name ‘Qin’ and his interest in medicine made me think of the author of a medical text I saw recently—Qin Huaiyu. So I asked, “The famous physician Qin Huaiyu—any relation to your master?”

He looked surprised, then said, “Your Highness, Qin Huaiyu now serves in the palace as an imperial physician. You’ve likely met and even know him.”