You Listen to Hearts, I Eat Melon; Newlywed Couples Swap with Laughter. Chapter 32

The westering sun cast long shadows against the vermilion palace walls.

Li Chengyu walked slowly out of the palace gates. The wind caught a corner of his plain cyan robes, making his figure appear exceptionally solitary and desolate against the solemn and majestic walls.

He descended the final step but did not immediately call for his sedan chair.

Instead, he walked slowly westward along the palace path. His black brocade boots stepped on the bluestone imperial walkway, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridor—one by one, deep and steady.

But his heart was far less calm than his footsteps.

His mother, the Empress, had exactly the same thought as he did.

Chenglu's marriage could not be delayed forever.

The flower appreciation banquet had been held, and the portraits had been collected. Those sharp-nosed old ministers in the court had their eyes fixed on this matter. Today, they could delay it under the guise of careful investigation, but what about in three months? Or half a year?

There would eventually have to be a candidate.

There would eventually have to be a royal wedding.

And once the wedding took place... amid the bridal chamber's candlelight and the warmth of the red silk curtains, the secret of that body could no longer be hidden. When that time came, not only would Chenglu die, but all who knew, all who were involved, would share the same fate.

Certain death, with no chance of survival.

Therefore, his mother had said there was only one path left for Chenglu—

Death.

Only by dying could she continue to live.

Li Chengyu paused his steps slightly and looked up at the sky. The evening clouds were gathering, and the overlapping palace buildings with their sweeping eaves formed silent silhouettes against the fading light.

He had considered this idea last night.

It was a well-known fact that Chenglu suffered from a hidden ailment and had a frail constitution. The imperial physicians checked his pulse every month and always prescribed gentle, nourishing remedies. The palace servants privately whispered that the Ninth Prince's health was too fragile to sustain.

In that case... dying of illness would be the most logical and reasonable conclusion.

Bedridden for three years, constantly relying on medicinal brews, and ultimately failing to survive a harsh winter or scorching summer, leading to an unfortunate early demise. The premature death of a sickly prince, while regrettable, was not uncommon.

The royal family never lacked for logical and reasonable deaths.

As for how to die...

Li Chengyu's gaze darkened slightly.

A prescription to induce a state of suspended animation. Imperial Physician Hua came from a long line of medical experts; his family records even contained entries on rare conditions like innate yin and yang inversion. Li Chengyu did not believe the man lacked a formula to make someone appear breathless and pulseless while preserving a sliver of life.

Li Chengyu had clearly seen the way Hua Yuan scrambled away last night, looking like a man who had narrowly escaped a calamity.

That old fox was afraid of death.

And precisely because he feared death, he was incredibly useful. He knew better than anyone that if this matter leaked, the first heads to roll would be his own as the head of the Imperial Academy of Medicine, along with his entire Hua family.

Used well.

He would be the most reliable person.

After the feigned death, where would she be placed?

That was the second dilemma.

A dead prince absolutely could not remain in the palace. Nor could she be casually placed somewhere in the capital—with so many eyes and ears, it would inevitably be exposed.

They needed a place that was absolutely secure, absolutely hidden, and capable of protecting such an earth-shattering secret.

His mother had just given him the answer.

The Weiyuan Marquis Manor.

When the Empress spoke these words, her tone was flat but carried an unquestionable certainty.

The old Marquis was once a personal guard to your grandfather, the Duke of Qin, who promoted him along the way. The old Madam of the manor comes from a military family; she is reasonable, understands the greater good, and her methods... are quite extraordinary.

She paused and looked at her son.

Most importantly, they owe the Qin family a life.

Li Chengyu knew that piece of history. Twenty years ago during the Northern Border War, the old Marquis had been surrounded by enemies. It was his grandfather who led the cavalry to charge enemy lines, rescuing the man from a pile of corpses. After returning to the capital, his grandfather defied all opposition to recommend the old Marquis, then only a subordinate general, to take command of the capital garrison.

The grace of recognition.

The grace of saving a life.

The grace of promotion.

With these three immense favors stacked together, the Weiyuan Marquis Manor and the Qin family had long been bound as a community of shared interests. They would share in both glory and ruin.

Such a relationship was more reliable than any oath.

Speaking of the Weiyuan Marquis Manor...

A face subconsciously surfaced in Li Chengyu's mind. Carefree, smiling, yet with eyes that always hid something unfathomable.

Pei Cijing.

The Second Young Master Pei.

Before deciding to approach him, Li Chengyu had already sent people to investigate him thoroughly. The results... were utterly unremarkable.

The trajectory of his eighteen years of life was so clear it was almost pale: the only son of the Marquis Manor's second branch, spoiled by his parents, playful since childhood, disliking studies, and spending his days idling in teahouses and taverns.

A standard idle young nobleman.

Even his studies only began after he married. It was said that he was pressured by his in-laws and supervised by his wife, which finally forced him to reluctantly pick up a book.

But Li Chengyu didn't believe it.

Or rather, he had seen too many facades and had long learned not to just look at the surface.

Under the corridor of the Imperial College, when Pei Cijing shared melon seeds with him, the clarity and understanding in his eyes were absolutely not something a pure playboy should possess.

By the waterside pavilion at the flower appreciation banquet, when he hinted that twins look exactly alike, the almost compassionate insight shining through his caution was far beyond the reach of ordinary youths.

This man was absolutely hiding his true depths.

If looking solely at this Second Young Master, the Weiyuan Marquis Manor... was indeed worthy of being entrusted with the task.

However, the Weiyuan Marquis Manor also had an heir.

Li Chengyu's brows furrowed imperceptibly.

Pei Ciling.

While investigating Pei Cijing, he had also uncovered the absurd affairs of this heir. Having an illicit affair with his fiancee's younger sister, being caught red-handed, causing a scandal throughout the city, and finally ending up with a swapped marriage...

When Li Chengyu read the secret report at the time.

He only felt it was absurd.

The current Weiyuan Marquis, Pei Fucheng, was considered a fierce general in the military with strict discipline. How could he raise such a... thing?

Being a lustful womanizer was one thing.

But he was also completely brainless!

Acting without considering the consequences, he had forcefully ruined a perfectly good hand of cards!

If the Weiyuan Marquis Manor was truly to be inherited by such an heir in the future...

Li Chengyu shook his head. He had an extremely poor impression of Pei Ciling and genuinely looked down on him. He didn't even want to evaluate the things this person had done; he could only say the man was unfit for great responsibilities.

However, since his mother had chosen the Weiyuan Marquis Manor, she must have her considerations. The affection and methods of the Marquis and the old Madam might be able to suppress this worthless grandson. Moreover, with that slippery little fox Pei Cijing around, things should be handled well.

The final point...

Li Chengyu stopped his steps once more, having reached the palace gates.

The twilight was heavy. The personal guards waiting outside the palace gates led his horse forward. He raised his hand to take the reins but did not immediately mount.

The final, and most difficult hurdle—

Chenglu herself.

A person who had been a prince for sixteen years, suddenly being told: You are a woman!

Your agonizing abdominal pain every month is a woman's menstrual cramp. You can no longer be a prince; you must die, and then live on as a woman under another identity...

Such a world-shattering discrepancy.

Such a life-upending truth.

Could she accept it?

Even if she accepted it, would she harbor resentment? Would she suffer an emotional breakdown? Would she... reveal a flaw in some careless moment?

Someone was needed to guide her.

They needed someone who was good at communicating, who could make her lower her defenses, and who could strictly keep a secret, to accompany her through this most difficult path.

Such a person was hard to find!

...

Anle Residence, study.

The windows were clear and the tables clean.

The autumn sunlight spilled through the diamond-latticed window, casting mottled shadows on the smooth red sandalwood desk. A few sprigs of golden osmanthus were arranged in a plain white porcelain vase on the desk, their faint, elegant fragrance drifting subtly through the room.

Pei Cijing leaned over the desk, his brows furrowed tightly. Holding a brush in his right hand and pressing down the paper with his left, he was writing furiously on the unrolled Xuan paper before him.

His brush moved with the vigor of dragons and snakes.

The ink flowed freely.

He was writing an assigned policy essay sent yesterday by his father-in-law, Shen Zhongcheng—"On the Pros and Cons of Water Transport."

The topic wasn't overly tricky, but it wasn't simple either.

Water transport concerned the national economy and the people's livelihood. Moving grain from the south to the north sustained the rations of hundreds of thousands of troops at the northern borders, and it also affected the livelihoods of millions of commoners in Jiangnan. The stakes involved were intricately complex.

Although Pei Cijing hadn't been a history major in his previous life, he still possessed basic political and economic common sense. Coupled with the special training he had received from his father-in-law recently, devouring various classics and case files, he finally had some substance in his head.

But having knowledge alone wasn't enough.

The imperial examinations ultimately judged one's superficial skills on paper.

An essay required a rigorous structure, clear and powerful arguments, elegant and appropriate diction, and a clean and tidy presentation—none of these could be lacking.

So, these days, Pei Cijing was truly living a bitter life of having a minor test every three days and a major test every ten days. The questions his father-in-law set were endless, simply endless.

He had to memorize the Four Books and Five Classics.

He had to read the classics, histories, philosophers, and collections.

He had to write policy essays on current affairs.

He felt like he was about to drown in a sea of words.

But...

Pei Cijing paused the tip of his brush and glanced sideways.

On the other side of the desk, Shen Ninghuan sat upright, holding a scroll of the Laws of the Great Qian Dynasty in her hands, her eyes lowered as she read carefully. Her moon-white dress accentuated her snow-like skin, the lines of her profile were soft, and her long eyelashes cast shallow shadows beneath her eyes.

As if sensing his gaze, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

Shen Ninghuan's lips curved slightly, revealing an incredibly faint smile that was nonetheless enough to make Pei Cijing's heart skip a beat.

"Has my husband finished writing?" her soft, gentle voice sounded.

"N-not yet..." Pei Cijing hurriedly withdrew his gaze and looked back at his essay.

He couldn't be distracted.

He absolutely could not be distracted.

The reason he could persevere, studying hard day and night, practicing his writing every evening, aside from genuinely wanting to earn an official rank to protect his wife and family in the future...

It was also because of the rules set by his wife.

If the essay assigned by his father-in-law received an A-grade evaluation—

His wife would give him a special reward.

As for what the reward was...

Pei Cijing's ears grew slightly hot, and the tip of his brush paused again. Although it was about what new positions his wife was prepared to unlock, and he was no longer that inexperienced virgin boy, what red-blooded young man could withstand such temptation?

He couldn't think about it.

He definitely couldn't think about it right now!

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus and pulling his thoughts back to the pros and cons of water transport. The tip of the brush resumed its dance across the paper, and lines of neat, small regular script gradually filled the Xuan paper.

"...Therefore, the benefit of water transport lies in adjusting surpluses to relieve shortages, stabilizing the foundation of the state; the drawback of water transport lies in its massive cost, creating opportunities for corruption. To promote the benefits and eliminate the drawbacks, one must start from three aspects..."

Just as he reached the crucial point, his thoughts flowing like a spring and the brush in his hand moving ever more smoothly.

Suddenly—

Achoo!

The brush tip trembled.

A drop of ink splattered onto the paper.

Pei Cijing froze, not even having the time to feel annoyed before—

Achoo! Achoo!

He sneezed twice more in a row!

The writing brush in his hand lost control entirely, swiping a long, ugly streak of ink across the paper with a swish, completely ruining the small paragraph of text he had just written!

"..."

Pei Cijing stood frozen on the spot.

His eyes stared fixedly at the glaring ink stain on the paper, looking as if he had been struck by lightning.

It was over.

It was all over.

It was well known that the imperial examination also graded the presentation of the paper. For an essay to pass, the paper had to be clean and tidy, without typos or alterations. It was best to write it in one breath, from beginning to end, without changing a single word.

So, to train him, Shen Ninghuan had set a rule:

For every essay, he was given two sheets of paper.

One draft paper, where he could scribble and alter as he pleased.

One final paper, onto which he had to transcribe everything from beginning to end, word for word, perfectly cleanly.

If any alterations, ink stains, or typos appeared on the final paper—

No matter how well the essay was written, how brilliant the logic, or how beautiful the prose.

There would be no reward.

Pei Cijing looked at the palm-sized ink blotch on the paper, then at the culprit wolf-hair brush in his hand, and finally raised his head slowly to look at the clear autumn sky outside the window.

His expression shifted from shock, to bewilderment, to grief, and finally morphed into a towering rage.

"Which—bastard—"

He enunciated every word, gritting his teeth.

"Is—talking—about—me—behind—my—back—?!"

The voice squeezed out from between his teeth, filled with deep, tearful accusation.

Shen Ninghuan put down her book and stood up to walk over. She cast her eyes down at the ruined final paper on the desk, then looked up at her husband's tearless, grief-stricken, and indignant appearance.

She pursed her lips.

She suppressed the smile that almost spilled over.

"Husband," her voice was still soft and gentle, but it clearly carried a hint of imperceptible teasing, "it seems today... you won't be able to finish writing."

Pei Cijing slowly turned his head to look at her.

His gaze was resentful.

Like a cat whose dried fish had just been snatched away.

Shen Ninghuan reached out, gently slipped the brush from his hand, rolled up the stained paper, and set it aside.

"Rewrite it," she said.

After a pause, she added, "Today... just practice one more essay. We will hand them both to father to read tomorrow."

Pei Cijing: "..."

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

In the end, he merely let out a long, long sigh.

Resigned to his fate, he spread out a new sheet of draft paper.

He picked up the brush once more.

But before the brush touched the paper, he couldn't help but look up and glare fiercely out the window once more.