Consort Ning's expression twisted almost imperceptibly.
But she quickly composed herself, stepping closer to Sima Qing with flawless cordiality.
"Since the Prince Consort is new here and rarely seen around the palace, His Majesty mentioned that Your Highness hasn’t returned for quite some time, so I thought—"
Before she could finish, the man who had been crouched on the ground brushing his dog suddenly stood up, giving her a pointed look.
"So you came specifically to mock me?" Sima Qing’s tone was eerily calm.
Consort Ning, who had only intended to probe Sima Qing’s intentions: "…Huh?"
Her eyes widened slightly as she tried to backtrack, but a soft scoff cut her off.
"Forgive my bluntness," Sima Qing said coolly, glancing at her, "but who are you?"
"I—This Consort—"
"Are we acquainted?"
"No—"
"Or perhaps His Highness is close to you?"
"This Consort—"
"I thought not." Sima Qing crossed his arms, smiling faintly. "Otherwise, you’d have visited sooner, right… Consort Ning?"
Consort Ning, utterly unable to get a word in: "…"
Her lips parted, a sudden wave of helplessness washing over her.
Sima Qing, however, had already shifted his gaze to the attendants behind her, each holding gifts. He raised a brow. "Are you here to deliver presents?"
"…Yes." Consort Ning seized the opportunity to steer the conversation back. "Last time, I came in haste. Now that His Highness is newly wed, I thought to make up for the missed formalities."
"Ah, I see." Sima Qing’s demeanor abruptly softened. He nodded apologetically. "How discourteous of me earlier. Surely you won’t hold it against a rough man like me."
Consort Ning smiled gracefully. "We’re family, after all."
"Wuchang, serve tea," he instructed before leading Consort Ning to the courtyard seating.
"Your timing is rather unfortunate, Consort. His Highness hasn’t returned yet, so I can’t invite you inside without his permission."
Sima Qing idly smoothed his sleeves, cutting straight to the point. "But I’d be happy to accept your gifts on his behalf."
Consort Ning sat stiffly in the chilly breeze, motioning for her attendants to step forward.
As the gifts were presented one by one, Sima Qing didn’t bother inspecting them, merely tilting his head curiously. "So you came specifically to make up for His Highness’s missed gifts."
A bad premonition prickled at Consort Ning.
Sure enough, Sima Qing’s next words confirmed it: "And where’s mine?"
Consort Ning: "…"
"This Consort—"
"Ah, again, you came in a hurry and forgot. Understandable." Sima Qing smiled magnanimously.
Consort Ning was taken aback—she’d assumed this Prince Consort, who seemed even more abrasive than Yan Zhaoning, would be unreasonable. Was he actually this accommodating?
Just as she began to relax—
Sima Qing added, "But forgetting so often isn’t healthy. The palace has many physicians—you should visit them regularly."
His eyes brimmed with concern. "At your age, neglecting your health is unwise."
Consort Ning: "…"
A second person in this palace had earned her unwillingness to smile.
No wonder Yan Zhaoning chose him as her consort. They were two of a kind—equally insufferable!
Her fingers clenched whitely beneath her sleeves as Consort Ning rose abruptly.
Yan Zhaoning was one thing—she couldn’t afford to clash with her yet. But who did this man think he was, daring to disrespect her in the Great Yan palace?
Consort Ning forced a frosty smile. "The Prince Consort is quite sharp-tongued. No wonder His Majesty asked me to assess you. Now I understand—His Highness must have fled the Eastern Palace to escape your barbs."
Sima Qing, struck where it hurt: "…"
His lips pressed thin before he yielded with apparent humility. "Your reprimand is justified."
Consort Ning finally felt a sliver of satisfaction.
"But forgetfulness truly is an ailment," Sima Qing continued, his tone dripping with faux concern. "I merely offered advice, yet you took offense… Clearly, your temper is rather volatile. Best have the physicians check that too."
Consort Ning: "…"
She stepped forward furiously. "You—"
Sima Qing retreated in tandem, theatrically covering his nose. "Consort, do you smell that?"
Her eyelid twitched, and she froze. "What?"
"Gunpowder," Sima Qing said gravely.
Consort Ning, who’d assumed he’d detected the scent of her hidden medicinal powder: "…"
Jiu Yue, eavesdropping around the corner: "…"
Watching Consort Ning clutch her chest and stagger away, Jiu Yue nearly applauded.
That mouth of his could truly eviscerate a person.
She almost pitied Consort Ning.
Why bother speaking at all? Should’ve just delivered the gifts and left!
Jiu Yue shook her head ruefully.
Behind her, Sima Qing’s smirk faded as he noticed Jiu Yue standing silently at the gate, gazing into the distance.
His expression stilled, his eyes flickering to the food box in Lianqiao’s hands, lost in thought.
Jiu Yue turned and found him lingering. She arched a brow, approaching.
"Your Highness’s wit never disappoints!" Jiu Yue was in high spirits after Consort Ning’s humiliation, and Sima Qing seemed marginally less irritating now.
Sima Qing lowered his gaze. "Your Highness, my title is ‘Prince Consort.’"
Jiu Yue: "…"
She straightened, then gestured politely. "Then, Prince Consort, let’s talk inside. I have matters to discuss."
Sima Qing hesitated briefly before taking the food box from Lianqiao and following her.
The sky had darkened, and the unlit room felt dim.
Jiu Yue sat first, pouring two cups of tea.
Sima Qing took the seat opposite, unable to decipher her impassive expression. His brow furrowed unconsciously.
Jiu Yue slid a cup toward him, her tone solemn. "Regarding our past misunderstandings—since we’ve both deceived each other once, let’s call it even."
She raised her cup in a toast. "A clean slate."
Sima Qing paused, surprised. "You remembered?"
Jiu Yue rubbed her nose. "Let’s avoid alcohol from now on."
"Wise suggestion." Sima Qing’s lips curled, a gleam of triumph in his eyes as he clinked his cup against hers. "Then we’re even."
After he drank, Jiu Yue tapped the table and stated, "I’ve given it much thought… In two years, I’ll ensure your safe return to Tianqi."
Sima Qing, who’d assumed they’d settled into harmonious matrimony: "…"
His smile vanished instantly.
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
"This political marriage lasts two years. After that, whether by annulment or staged death, I’ll grant you freedom," Jiu Yue explained.
"An… nulment?" Sima Qing stared at her, then laughed hollowly. "Another transaction, then?"
Of course it was a transaction—a deal between a taskmaster and her pawn.
Jiu Yue hesitated. "If you refuse, I’ll—"
"Kill me?" Sima Qing challenged.
Jiu Yue’s lips twitched. "It’s not that serious—just a bit of a sacrifice on your part… Don’t you want to return to Tianqi?"
Sima Qing lowered his gaze, watching the tea leaves swirl in the cup, listening to her tone of negotiation. Suddenly, his mind cleared.
She was rejecting him.
So, the reason she had been avoiding him wasn’t guilt over deception… but distress over how to turn him down.
Sima Qing pressed his lips together, then raised his eyes to meet hers. "By ‘cooperation,’ do you mean this arranged marriage?"
Jiu Yue nodded.
Wasn’t the mission all about the marriage? Rounding it off, the two were practically equivalent. Made perfect sense!
"This prince has no objections," he replied, his tone suddenly more formal. "Strengthening ties between our nations is the goal. Your Highness need not concern yourself further with my feelings."
"It’s no trouble," Jiu Yue said. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill. Rest assured, I won’t let you die a stranger in a foreign land."
Sima Qing: "…"
Outside, a clap of thunder roared, and a flash of lightning illuminated the calm depths of his eyes.
"Your Highness remains as compassionate as ever," he said with a faint smile.
