The Prince Consort's Secret (GL) - Chapter 4

I told them, “Take me to the study. I plan to read through the night with the fragrance of red sleeves beside me.”

And so, the entourage sprang into action—some carrying lanterns, others bringing charcoal braziers—and off we went in a grand procession. We followed the covered corridor to the study. I went straight to the section with historical texts and began browsing. The vertical layout and right-to-left orientation were difficult to read—something I’d have to get used to.

After skimming for a while, I realized the history I had studied in my previous life was practically useless here. In this world, history diverged from the Warring States period—Qin never unified China. Instead,

Zhao seized control. The rest of the timeline was an unrecognizable mess, which left me extremely frustrated.

I looked around for books that combined records of the current Qi dynasty and the previous one but found none. It seemed this dynasty had not yet compiled the history of its predecessor. I picked out one book specifically about the state history of Qi and another that covered everything from the Yellow Emperor to the Liang dynasty, then took them to a desk and began reading.

I started with the Qi dynasty’s history. Judging by the context, this dynasty resembled the Northern Song period in my previous life, yet this world lacked familiar regimes like the Khitan and Western Xia. The founding emperor of Great Qi ended the chaos of the Seven States and unified the realm. Then came Emperor Ren of Qi… and then, nothing.

Only two reigns had passed. So was the current emperor this Emperor Ren? It didn’t seem so—Emperor Ren had only two sons and no daughters. So why wasn’t the current dynasty’s history included in the book?

Then it hit me: in this world, emperors are forbidden from reading the history of their own reigns. Even the emperor can’t read it—let alone me. It must all be locked away in the historians’ archives.

I sighed in dismay. After going through all that trouble, I still had to ask the maids. I should have just asked from the start!

Empty-handed, I walked back from the shelves and said to the maids, “Since waking up from illness, I seem to have forgotten a lot of things…”

The four of them all jumped in shock, expressions filled with panic as they crowded around me, talking over one another in concern.

I said softly, “It’s just that some things are a little fuzzy. Don’t tell Father. Otherwise, he’ll make a big fuss again. And if any of you let this slip… there’s no need for you to serve me anymore.”

They immediately fell silent. Then, as if jolted by my words, they all dropped to their knees and agreed in unison. I had them rise. They looked a bit aggrieved—had they never been scolded by the princess before? I felt a pang of guilt, but I had no other choice.

“What dynasty is this, and what year?” I asked.

The four paused, apparently shocked that my memory loss was so severe. Then Yinger replied, “This is the Great Qi dynasty, currently the third reign. This year is the fifteenth of Emperor Wen’s reign, era name Jianyuan.”

I nodded. “What is Father’s full name?”

As expected, they flinched again. I smiled. “It’s just the five of us here. There’s no harm in saying.”

Watching their expressions morph from shock to dismay was quite entertaining. After a moment, Yinger curtsied and asked to stand guard outside before slipping away. I couldn’t help but laugh—did she know I was about to ask some scandalous questions?

Still, a deep sadness stirred inside me. Why did not knowing their names make me feel this way? I wasn’t even the real princess. I shouldn’t know these things…

From the maids, I learned that the Emperor’s name was Lin Zhen, and the Crown Prince—my brother—was Lin Huan. My title was Princess Changning, and both the Crown Prince and I were born of the Empress.

I was seventeen this year, and the Crown Prince was three years older. There was one more prince, Lin Xu, son of Consort Yuan, who was only seven. Just two princes—the succession shouldn’t be too complicated.

Having clarified the basics, I called out, smiling, “Yinger, come back in—don’t catch a cold.” Then I picked up the hefty chronicle of past dynasties and began reading.

I skimmed through, memorizing the sequence of dynasties and famous rulers. After closing the book, I chewed the grape that had just been popped into my mouth and thought—it was time to find a book on etiquette and study the proper conduct for this era.

I chose one and started with the regulations concerning the living arrangements of princesses and their consorts. It turned out they did live separately, which filled me with joy. If summoned by the princess, the consort was said to “serve in bed”—a phrase that made me chuckle when applied to a man.

Then I read about royal weddings. Once a consort was chosen, he would be rewarded with a jade belt, boots, a tablet of rank, a saddle, 100 bolts of red silk, 100 pairs of silverware, 100 sets of fine garments, and a bride price of 10,000 taels of silver. I couldn’t help exclaiming internally—His Majesty, no, Father, was very generous. Marrying a princess really was the best route to prosperity!

Once the groom was chosen, the wedding date would be set. A month before the wedding, the Grand Chancellor would enter the palace to inventory the dowry, which would then be sent to the princess’s residence, with the wedding date formally announced.

On the wedding day, the consort would wear court dress to greet the emperor, then change into ceremonial robes and present his gifts—geese, silks, and the like—before heading to the princess’s residence with much fanfare to perform the ceremony. After that, there would be a banquet, the wedding rites, and finally… the wedding chamber.

None of that really concerned me. My job was to wear makeup, sit under a red veil, and intimidate the consort into not getting into bed.

After finishing the marriage customs, I moved on to general court etiquette and asked the four maids to teach me. Since I’d already asked about the emperor’s taboo name, they were more composed now and calmly demonstrated how to perform a proper courtly curtsy.

When I had more or less mastered the basics and saw the maids beginning to yawn, I said, “That’s enough. Time for bed.”

Outside, the night was slightly chilly. Moonlight poured like silver across the courtyard. Red palace lanterns hung everywhere, casting a warm glow. It was probably around 8 p.m. I used to go to bed at eleven in my past life—how could I sleep this early? Still, there was nothing to do. I might as well go to bed.

Back in the outer room of my bedroom, I caught the fragrant scent of hot steam—the bath had already been prepared. After a long day, a relaxing soak sounded heavenly. I was just about to undress when I noticed none of the four maids were leaving. Each of them stood by with towels in hand, and Yinger had already stepped forward to help remove my robes.

Startled, I took a step back. “What are you doing?” Was she trying to seduce me?

Yinger looked puzzled. “I’m here to help Your Highness bathe, of course.”

“……”