Chapter 2

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Xiao Lan looked in the direction of the voice and saw the prince consort standing at the entrance of the room. He had already removed his armor and changed into his usual black robe. Behind him, the full moon hung high in the sky, and the frost-covered ground seemed to accompany him like a fitting backdrop.

The man exuded a cold, noble aura—his sharp brows and bright eyes filled with a quiet charm. His gaze was deeply fixed on Xiao Lan, and she often found herself entranced by this gentle, affectionate look. Even the servants in the palace believed that the prince consort was deeply in love with her.

But only she knew it was all a facade.

“Princess, I have finished my dinner. I was just about to pay my respects to the Eldest Princess,” he said with a slight bow, already turning to leave.

“There’s no need,” Xiao Lan called out, breaking from her thoughts. She recalled what her aunt, Xiao Ming, had instructed her to do earlier in the day. “Aunt is tired from the journey. She wished to rest early, so we’ll go and pay our respects tomorrow.”

“Very well,” he responded curtly, as was his habit. He then helped Xiao Lan make a list of anything else she needed to be delivered or acquired.

After finishing their tasks, they both washed up separately. Xiao Lan lay in bed early, her mind quietly simmering with thoughts.

The prince consort, as he did every evening, left a basin of warm water on a small table near her bed. He said it helped with the dry autumn air, making the room more comfortable for sleeping. He trimmed the wicks of the candles, leaving just enough light to have a calming effect and then arranged the bed curtains neatly and set her shoes at the right hand side of the bed.

Although the servants could have easily done all these tasks, he seemed strangely insistent on doing them himself. After completing his routine, he was about to head to the study to attend to his military duties when Xiao Lan quickly called out to him, “Wait.”

“Yes, Princess?” He paused.

“Your mother visited a few days ago.” At the mention of his mother, Xiao Lan could feel the prince consort tense up.

Since her marriage, Xiao Lan had noticed the strained relationship between him and his mother, Lady Wen. There was a hidden rift between mother and son and this was something she could never quite understand.

Remembering her aunt’s advice, she decided to overlook the strangeness of it. “The house has many servants, and it’s difficult to keep things from her.”

Xiao Ming had advised Xiao Lan to use Lady Wei and the Wei family to pressure the prince consort, knowing that the issue of an heir was always of great concern to powerful families. It had already been half a year since their marriage, and it was only natural for the Wei family to start pushing for progress. If the prince consort truly cared for her, he would certainly choose to stay the night with her.

“You and I are husband and wife. There is no reason for us to sleep in separate rooms every night,” Xiao Lan’s small hand gripped the bedcovers tightly, finding strength in that action. Her voice slowly became steady and clear. Even if they were not going to consummate their marriage, she still wanted to maintain her dignity as a royal princess.

“If word of this were to spread, people would say that I am difficult to please. If my uncle hears of it, then wouldn’t I have been blamed wrongly?”

In the dark, the prince consort’s tall and imposing figure stood like an immovable mountain, creating an inexplicable sense of pressure on her. But just as quickly as she felt it, the feeling disappeared, making Xiao Lan wonder if she had imagined it.

A long, agonizing silence followed. The shadow of the prince consort outside the sheer bed curtains remained motionless, making every breath feel as if she were treading on thin ice.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before there was any answer.

Xiao Lan’s nose began to tingle with sadness, and her almond-shaped eyes glistened with unshed tears, blurring the bed curtains above her.

Could it be that the prince consort truly loathed her that much?

But then, how could she explain all the meticulous care he had shown her?

Just as Xiao Lan’s mind spiraled deeper into confusion and hurt, she suddenly noticed the bed curtains being tugged. Turning her head, she realized that the prince consort had laid down—not beside her, but on the floor outside the bed. He had pulled the curtains by accident as he made himself a bed on the ground!

All the doubts, frustration, insecurity, and bewilderment that had plagued Xiao Lan since their marriage surged forth like a flood, crashing through the walls of composure she had painstakingly maintained. Her rising fury was unstoppable, and for the first time, she felt a profound sense of humiliation.

She shot upright from the bed. “Since you’re unwilling to share the bed with me, why did you even agree to this marriage in the first place?”

Hearing her voice, trembling with both restraint and vulnerability, Wei Jin felt his chest tighten as if mountains were collapsing upon him. The walls of his self-control, built up over such a long period of time, crumbled into nothing.

Feeling deeply uncomfortable, Wei Jin blurted out, “I have never and will never be unwilling to share a bed with the princess.”

It was, in fact, his lifelong wish…

Dark clouds rolled across the inky sky, signaling yet another stormy night. The palace maid hesitated at the door with her hand raised, but then she slowly lowered it again.

Inside, the candlelight flickered, casting shadows on the white silk curtains that swayed gently around the bed. Xiao Lan found the whole situation exhausting and humiliating. She sighed, closing her eyes, hoping to let the matter drop and find some peace.

Just then, the soft mattress beside her dipped slightly, sinking a bit deeper as someone lay down. The faint scent of sandalwood and ink wafted towards her. It was comforting and familiar.

Xiao Lan slowly looked up at the canopy covering her bed and from the corner of her eye, she saw that the prince consort had finally laid down on the bed next to her. The two were separated by less than an inch of space. The soft rustling of silk between them was faint but it echoed in her mind like a tickle against her heart, stirring an unspoken hope that spread like ink across her heart.

The curtains slowly stilled, and the room fell silent. The crackling of the candle’s flame became louder, mingling with the rhythmic thumping of two hearts, both beating with fervor.

On the surface, Wei Jin appeared calm and composed, but inside, he was being consumed by a raging inferno. Lying so close to her made him feel both anxious and excited, an unprecedented sensation that pounded in his chest with every heartbeat.

In contrast, Xiao Lan hid her nervousness and awkwardness, pretending to be unaffected, maintaining a calm facade.

After a long moment of silence, Wei Jin’s deep voice broke through the stillness of the night, causing ripples in the air.

“I have trained in martial arts since childhood, and it has left me with some scars. I feared that the princess might be frightened if she saw them, which is why I hesitated.” Wei Jin had spent a long time thinking of an excuse.

The scars weren’t just from the battlefield; they also bore the weight of the abuse he had suffered in his youth, every mark was a reminder of the cruelty he had endured which was inconsistent with his status as the legitimate son of the Marquis and that he didn’t deserve her.

When Xiao Lan heard this, she was reminded of her late father and mother.

Her father had also been skilled in martial arts, being a master of both weapons and military tactics. He had fought on horseback to establish the Qi empire. Years of warfare had left many scars on his body and whenever he changed clothes, he would try to avoid her mother. He was afraid of scaring her or making her cry at the sight of his hideous scars.

But her mother would always walk closer to him and smile while saying: “A husband does not despise his wife for growing old, nor does a wife disdain her husband’s scars. These scars are the emperor’s badge of glory, and I cherish them beyond words.”

Her parents’ mutual love and devotion towards each other left a deep impression on Xiao Lan.

Even an emperor like her father cared about his appearance, so it was understandable that the Prince Consort, with his scars, would feel sensitive about them.

Instead of addressing him directly, Xiao Lan asked a question in return: “One day, when my beauty fades and my teeth are gone. When my face is full of wrinkles, and I stumble slightly as I walk, will you despise me then?”

In Wei Jin’s mind, an image formed of him and Xiao Lan, both gray-haired, holding hands as they strolled together or leaned side by side beneath the eaves. How could he ever despise such a life? It was the very thing he had always yearned for. Unknowingly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“A long life together…that is what I always wish for.” He paused, now understanding the deeper meaning behind Xiao Lan’s words, his heart quietly nurtured by her thoughtfulness.

She was always like this. Just like when they first met, she had reached out without hesitation and pulled him from the filthy, stinking depths of a bottomless swamp and onto a path filled with light and birdsong.

After a brief moment, he looked at Xiao Lan and said with a gentle voice, “I thank you, Princess.”

The formality of his words felt out of place due to their closeness. “In our home, there’s no need for such formality between us,” Xiao Lan said, pressing her lips together as her voice softened, “We are husband and wife now.” As if saying so could hide her embarrassment and light pink cheeks.

The tension in Wei Jin’s heart greatly loosened. Though he knew it wasn’t right and that he wasn’t worthy of the princess, he still allowed himself to sink into the warmth that didn’t belong to him. “Alright, Lan’er.”

The way he called her name was so natural and not unfamiliar at all, for in his heart, and in every time he had watched her retreating figure, he had called her Lan’er countless times.

His voice was cool and pleasant, like an autumn breeze gently nourishing everything it touched.

Hearing his voice, Xiao Lan’s eyes sparkled like water and like stars which seemed to burst into bloom, shining brilliantly.

At that moment, outside, the sudden gusts of wind rustled through the leaves and the bushes.

Unaware of the commotion outside, Xiao Lan was still mulling over her aunt’s advice from earlier in the day. She had tried several times to speak but couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Setting aside her title as princess, she believed herself to be educated and well-regarded in the capital. Marrying her and becoming the Prince Consort was in no way a burden to him.

As for consummating the marriage, it should always be the man to take the initiative. How could she be the one to make the first move? It was far too difficult! Just thinking about it made her sink into an endless frustration and unbearable shame.

Crash—

A sudden clap of thunder shattered Xiao Lan’s thoughts, startling her so much that she instinctively flung herself toward him, like a drowning person clutching desperately at a lifeline.

Trembling, her broken words tumbled out, “Father, Mother, don’t leave, Lan’er is scared…”

The warm, damp pain in her abdomen seemed to have disappeared as fear gripped her. Wei Jin’s body on the other hand, stiffened as his heart felt like it was being pierced with sharp pain.

The late emperor had died from severe injuries he’d received during battle, and less than six months later, the empress passed away from grief, unable to bear the loss. Their death left behind a young Xiao Lan, who wasn’t even six years old.

Since both the emperor and empress had died during stormy nights, every time there was thunder and lightning, Xiao Lan, who was still a child, would be plagued by nightmares. She often had a high fever and spoke incoherent words in her delirium.

Even now, though she had passed her coming-of-age ceremony and had finally gotten married, the trauma from her childhood remained. It was a persistent ailment that could never fully healed.

The court physicians had deemed it a sickness of the heart.

Wei Jin hesitated for a while but slowly lowered his hand onto her back, gently patting her in soothing strokes. His voice was soft and gentle as he reassured her, “I won’t leave. I’ll never leave you, Lan’er—”

He had practiced these gestures of comfort during many solitary nights but he’d never imagined that he would actually need to use them one day.

His voice pulled Xiao Lan back to the present, and she abruptly opened her eyes, her vision slowly clearing. The tears that had fallen onto the bedding had already formed damp spots. The sight was truly pitiful.