The Prince Consort's Secret (GL) - Chapter 23

I was spacing out while watching the koi glide beneath the water when someone waved a hand in front of me. “Princess, what are you thinking about?” I turned to see her smiling as she joined me in feeding the fish. It seemed our relaxed mood had affected her—she looked far less aloof than usual, more approachable and at ease.

That smile softened the gloom in my heart. Whatever lay ahead, at least these few days were peaceful. I should cherish them.

We strolled along the winding covered walkway over the water, and before I realized it, the maids had all drifted away, keeping a respectful distance. They used to believe I had no interest in marriage and hadn’t truly accepted my wedding. But ever since I summoned Mu Han to my bedchamber the other night and exposed her true gender, they’d started giving us opportunities to be alone.

I found it amusing and struck up a light conversation. “Have you made any progress in finding your parents?”

She smiled faintly. “I’ve already sent people to search. If there’s any news, they’ll report back.”

So, still nothing. Yet she didn’t seem particularly concerned. I offered a few words of encouragement—“You’ll find them eventually”—and she nodded in response.

I continued, “You were raised by your master. Why didn’t you just take his surname and become his daughter? Why call him Master instead?”

At the mention of her master, her eyes lit up with genuine warmth—not the polite smile from earlier, but something deeper. “He’s the one who insisted I call him that. I never asked why. He’s always had strange ideas, so this didn’t seem too odd to me.”

I made a thoughtful noise. “Sounds like your master is an eccentric old man. I like that. But since you’re his disciple, why are you so uptight? Hahaha…”

She laughed sheepishly. “You’re right. Hopefully the Princess will rub off on me.”

I shook my head internally. Even your master couldn’t loosen you up—how could I? Still, it was a bit sad. She was younger than me, yet I was the one bouncing off the walls like a child—no, wait. In my past life, I was twenty-three, but in this life I’m only seventeen. She’s actually three years older than me…

Hold on.

She’s twenty? Girls are considered of marriageable age at fifteen. By twenty, she’s long overdue. And yet she came to the capital to take the imperial exams? Clearly, she had no intention of getting married. And if she didn’t want to marry, then what did she want?

The answer seemed obvious.

I nearly laughed aloud at the sudden realization. To confirm it, I asked casually, “You’re twenty this year?”

She looked at me quizzically. “Yes, why?”

I stared at her intently. She shifted awkwardly under my gaze, glanced down at herself, then looked up, visibly conflicted. I couldn’t help laughing.

Still, I quickly composed myself out of consideration for her and said seriously, “Twenty is quite old for a woman. Most girls marry by fifteen. Yet here you are, not only unmarried, but sitting for the exams. Even if you become an official and go searching for your parents, how long do you plan to keep pretending to be a man?”

Then, unable to resist, I added with a teasing smile, “Or do you intend to marry a wife as Young Master Mu?”

She looked like she’d choked on something. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Her face flushed red as she stammered, “Princess, you jest… I… I’m just not in a rush to marry…”

I was inwardly howling with laughter. In a society where men ruled and husbands were the center of a woman’s life, her “not in a rush to marry” excuse lacked all conviction.

But she looked so genuinely flustered—like she was being completely misunderstood. Why be so anxious? It’s not like I’d blame you if you admitted it…

Forget it. If she doesn’t want to admit it, so be it. I’m probably just imagining things anyway.

I changed the subject, chatting with her about the layout of the residence. She gave vague responses until, thankfully for her, a maid came to announce that lunch was ready. She escaped as if granted amnesty.

We sat together at the table. I couldn’t help noticing the thick bandages on her right hand and wondered how she would eat. But then I recalled how she’d drawn her sword with her left hand when saving me—clearly, eating wouldn’t be a problem.

Sure enough, she picked up her chopsticks with her left hand, handling them with ease. So she was left-handed? But no—she usually used her right hand to teach me swordplay and to eat. She was ambidextrous.

While I was pondering this, she glanced at me, clearly displeased. I blinked and quickly turned back to my food. Looking at you won’t cost you a limb—what’s with that attitude…

After lunch, we walked off the meal and then went for a nap. When I woke, I learned from a maid about the latest developments in the city.

That morning, the Imperial Guards had raided an inn under the guidance of the Khitan man, only to find it already empty. Du Ruo and the Khitan spy were both thrown into the Ministry of Justice. The case was handed over to Vice Minister Li Shaoqing, who was given ten days to solve it.

Never before in this dynasty had there been a case this grave—a general’s betrayal, a foreign spy infiltrating the capital. The people of Bianjing were surely on edge, eagerly awaiting justice.

But as for me—I had my own task to handle.

For the first time, I realized I wasn’t sure if those closest to me were truly loyal. It was only then that I thought of Zhang Momo, my old nursemaid and now the steward of the Princess’s manor. Since I arrived in this world, I’d often run into her, but I always avoided her like I did Nanny Lin—both were too naggy.

Still, she was diligent and capable, running the estate with military precision. Though she often scolded me out of disappointment, there was also genuine maternal affection. Among all the people in the manor, she was probably the most trustworthy.

While walking through the residence again, I stopped by to visit Zhang Momo and quietly asked her to assign a few reliable guards to watch Li Shaoqing, Qin Huaiyu, and Mu Han when she left the manor. I wanted to know if they ever met or exchanged information, and if so, what was said.

Zhang Momo was surprised but nodded.

Outside, I looked up at the blue sky and took a deep breath.

The first person I had to scheme against… was the one I loved.

I only hoped I was overthinking things. If her identity wasn’t a threat and she had no ulterior motives at court, then we could live peacefully together. Even if she never loved me, just having her by my side would be enough.

I was lucky. She was my husband, and I was the princess. If she could keep her secret well, we could spend our whole lives bound together.

But just a few days ago, she’d told me she planned to accept an assignment outside the capital, fake her death, and disappear. If the issue of her identity was settled, then my next priority would be stopping her from going through with that plan—or at least delaying her as long as possible.

After that, I’d have to test how she felt about love between women. If she could accept it, things would be easier. But I couldn’t just confess outright. Maybe… if I treated her better than anyone else ever had, she’d gradually be moved?

I wasn’t sure. Best not to dwell on it for now. I’d think about it when the time came.

The next few days were peaceful.

She often remarked how, after so many years of waking at dawn, she could finally sleep in like ordinary people for a few days.

She didn’t like staying cooped up either. She loved wandering around and left the estate almost daily. I used to think she was above such things—after all, she scolded me for going to brothels—but turns out she was just like me…

The quiet days passed. On the seventh day, an imperial edict was issued:

Du Ruo was found guilty of conspiring with the Khitan to rebel. He had led troops into the inner palace intending to assassinate the emperor. For such a heinous crime, his entire clan was executed. The rest—minor accomplices—had their property confiscated. Males over sixteen were exiled to Lingnan; girls over fourteen were conscripted as government courtesans.

Liu Yifei, honored for protecting the emperor, was appointed as Commissioner of Hedong Circuit, taking command of Du Ruo’s fifty-thousand troops. He was to depart for Hejian soon.

Ning Guangshi was reinstated as Commander of the Capital’s Cavalry Guards, continuing his duty to defend Bianjing.

Mu Han’s promotion to Assistant Minister of Personnel had already been decreed, and now she was further commended. Others who had contributed were awarded ranks and titles of varying degrees.

I was practicing calligraphy when I heard the news. The brush slipped with my laughter—how amusing that Ning Guangshi’s new position sounded more like punishment than reward.

Mu Han shook her finger at me, looking scornful. I simply smiled and drew an X over the characters she’d just written. She stared at me, dumbfounded. Nanny Lin came over to scold me for being improper, and I sighed. She started it—how come I’m the only one getting told off?

I wondered how much longer this playful peace would last. The case was over, but what about the guards I’d sent out to investigate? Had they found anything yet?