Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"I'm going, I'm going." Hui Qing shivered for no reason and hurried out of the room.

The four maidservants, Xingchun, Lanqiu, Randong, and Wangxia, who had been waiting at the door, all looked into the room upon seeing Hui Qing leave.

Seeing Jiang Mo's hand covered in blood, Lanqiu and Randong rushed in first.

"Princess, what happened?" Lanqiu quickly took the golden wound salve and began to treat Jiang Mo's injury.

Standing to one side, Xingchun said, "The princess broke a string while playing the zither and injured her hand."

Randong immediately said, "I'll go get Prince Yu."

In their eyes, the prince treated the princess very well. Although he hadn't visited the Chaomu Courtyard for over ten days, he sent small items every day—pastries, tribute tea, silk and satin, gold hairpins, and jewelry—as if he'd provided everything.

They all thought the couple had had a quarrel that night. Xingchun, Lanqiu, and Randong had all advised Jiang Mo to soften her attitude.

They had no idea that the prince was just putting on a show for them. In the entire Prince Yu's mansion, apart from the four maidservants and Hui Qing, all other informants had been driven out.

"Don't go. Don't worry the prince. It's just a small injury; it will heal soon."

Xingchun earnestly advised, "Princess, just now the prince asked if you were hurt. That shows he truly cares about you. You claimed you weren't hurt out of spite, but I believe you should give the prince a way to make up."

Randong continued coaxing, "You refuse to yield. What if I pretend to accidentally mention it and tell a eunuch from the main courtyard about your injury?"

Lanqiu, while bandaging, affirmed, "I think Randong's idea is a good one."

Xingchun promptly responded, "I agree too."

The three of them crowded around Jiang Mo, chattering; only Wangxia stood quietly aside, saying nothing.

Jiang Mo couldn't argue with them and finally agreed, "I'll listen to you this time."

She knew that if she didn't agree and continued to avoid Prince Yu like this, before those two fertile days came around, Xingchun would probably report to the Empress.

With permission, Randong dashed out.

Within half an hour, Qiao Yun helped Chen Yingchou into Chaomu Courtyard, accompanied by Imperial Physician Xu.

After examining the wound, Imperial Physician Xu re-bandaged it, gave some instructions, and took his leave.

Chen Yingchou extended his hand toward Jiang Mo. "Let me have your right hand."

Looking at Chen Yingchou's slender fingers and slightly flushed palm, Jiang Mo's breathing slowed without her realizing it. She reached out, hesitantly brushing his palm.

Chen Yingchou felt her fingers and took her wrist, gently placing her right hand in his left palm.

His hand was dry and warm. She dared not move; her entire arm stiffened.

Fortunately, it didn't last long. Chen Yingchou ordered Qiao Yun to prepare for dinner in Chaomu Courtyard, then released her hand.

One was blind; one had an injured right hand. Both needed help with their meal. In such an awkward situation, Chen Yingchou still managed to show his care—telling Xingchun to serve her dishes, asking for soup to be brought—but none of the dishes he had served were to her liking, so her meal felt like chewing wax.

Chen Yingchou also had little appetite and finished dinner quickly.

Outside, the sky had darkened. Inside, candles were lit. At the hour of Hai, Chen Yingchou dismissed the attendants.

Jiang Mo knew that the tenderness just now was all a performance; now his true nature would show.

"What piece did you play today?" Chen Yingchou leaned against the soft couch, feeling for the window and opening it a crack.

Jiang Mo sat on the other side of the couch. "It's called 'Midsummer Falling Blossoms,' a piece I wrote myself."

Chen Yingchou seemed to be getting very hot; he opened the window all the way. "No wonder I've never heard it. Could you tell me about this piece?"

How should she explain? Should she say that in the midsummer of the year she was born, the jasmine flowers in the courtyard were beautiful, and since her mother's favorite flower was jasmine, she was named Jiang Mo? Or that after her mother passed away, she composed the first half out of longing, and after Luo Li left, she wrote the second half? Or tell him that midsummer is her birth month, and "flying flowers" refers to jasmine and pear blossoms—that this piece was written to remember the departed and encourage herself?

Her real name, her mother, her close friend—she couldn't tell him any of that. So how could she talk about anything related to this piece?

"Last year, with nothing to do, I wrote it on a whim."

Chen Yingchou seemed even hotter; he opened the window completely. "Princess, are you unwilling to tell me? This piece has sorrow, longing, courage, and hope. It couldn't have been written on a whim."

Jiang Mo was silent.

"If you don't want to say, then don't." Sweat beaded on Chen Yingchou's forehead, and his body grew hotter, with an indescribable desire growing inside him.

Realizing he had been drugged, Chen Yingchou said sternly, "Wei Yalan, you drugged me!"

Seeing Chen Yingchou was not himself, Jiang Mo hurriedly explained, "No, it wasn't me."

Chen Yingchou frowned in thought.

Jiang Mo continued, "I, your wife, have already agreed with you on the day for consummation. There's no reason to drug you."

Chen Yingchou was silent for a moment, then his tone softened. "Are you okay?"

Jiang Mo hadn't expected Chen Yingchou to believe her so quickly.

"I'm fine."

Chen Yingchou groped for the teapot on the table, picked it up, and gulped down several mouthfuls. "It must be Xingchun. The Empress sent her."

Only Qiao Yun and Xingchun served during dinner.

Chen Yingchou breathed heavily, the veins bulged on his forehead, his face and ears red, his breath was hot.

He knew he couldn't stay longer. Afraid of losing control, he didn't dare let Jiang Mo touch him. He groped his way toward the door.

"Don't be afraid. I'm leaving now."

A voice suddenly spoke in Jiang Mo's heart: Make him stay.

Just as Chen Yingchou was about to open the door, Jiang Mo hugged him from behind. "Your Highness, don't go. I want you to stay."

Chen Yingchou froze. He pulled her hands away, turned around, and lowered his head, turning his face away—unwilling to let a woman see him flushed.

"What did you say?"

Jiang Mo grabbed Chen Yingchou's sleeve with her left hand and gently placed her right hand on his waist. "If you leave now, tomorrow the Empress will know. Her Majesty dotes on you and won't blame you; she'll only blame me for failing to keep you."

She untied his sash. "We've already consummated before. Once more wouldn't hurt."

Chen Yingchou's throat bobbed. "Do you truly mean it?"

"I do."

Jiang Mo pulled Chen Yingchou toward the bed. She spoke the truth: if Prince Yu leaves tonight, the Empress will surely summon her to the palace tomorrow.

Moreover, her chastity was already lost, and the twice-monthly obligations were unavoidable. So tonight, what did she have to be coy about?

Besides, she realized she wasn't repulsed by his closeness at all. Instead, seeing him like this made her face flush and heart pound, and she felt a vague longing.

Suddenly, a phrase came to mind: carpe diem.

The moment she thought of it, she felt even more hot and bothered. She led Chen Yingchou to the bedside, undoing his outer robe, then his inner garment.

Her cool hand parted his inner robe and touched his scorching shoulder. Chen Yingchou shuddered, pulled Jiang Mo into his arms, and said in a hoarse voice, "This time, let me lead."

There were no kisses, no caresses—straight to the point. Everything was like a raging storm. Jiang Mo's mind was a blur; her body didn't feel like her own, swaying and unsteady.

When she could take no more, she cried out involuntarily.

This seemed to arouse Chen Yingchou. He held the back of Jiang Mo's head firmly and pressed his lips to hers but paused just before they touched, finally landing on her cheek.

Yet his fingers rubbed her lips so hard it felt like punishment.

After the storm, Chen Yingchou did not immediately get up. He propped himself up on his side, stroked Jiang Mo's face, tucked her damp hair behind her ear, and ran the back of his hand over her jaw again and again.

Jiang Mo didn't know what he was doing; she didn't dare move or ask.

Chen Yingchou's fingers moved upward, tracing her lips, nose, eyes, and eyebrows.

"I remember seeing you at a palace banquet, but I've racked my brain, but I can't recall your face."

His hand finally stopped on Jiang Mo's eyes. "I want to know your face. I want to remember it."

Jiang Mo's heart ached inexplicably. She tilted her chin up, struggling to keep the tears from falling.

When she first learned she was to be a stand-in bride, she had cursed heaven for giving her a face identical to another woman's. But at this moment, a warm, indescribable feeling flowed through her heart, slowly dissolving that resentment.

Then, Chen Yingchou got up, reached for his inner garment, and put it on.

Seeing this, Jiang Mo's heart chilled instantly. "Is Your Highness leaving?"

Chen Yingchou smiled faintly and reached out his hand. "I need to bathe. Can you help me, Princess?"

Jiang Mo's cold heart instantly warmed. She grasped his outstretched hand. "Alright."

It was ridiculous—though they had been intimate twice and she had seen his most private parts, she still felt shy when bathing Prince Yu.

As she poured water over Prince Yu's shoulder, she saw a deep scar. Her eyes followed the scar downward, and she saw that his entire back was covered with scars of varying depths. She moved to the front of the tub, and what she saw was even more shocking than his back. Some scars were uneven in color and irregular at the edges, twisting across his pale skin.

She looked at Prince Yu's arms—there were also a few scars, but far less severe than those on his chest.

These old scars made Jiang Mo's heart ache.

Before, she thought "general" was just a word. At this moment, she understood what that title really meant.

She had never seen a battlefield, but she had imagined it—grand slaughter, the clash of thousands, fearless charges, beating war drums, blood on armor, fallen soldiers.

Yet when all of this was so vividly embodied in one person, it was so heartbreaking and painful.

From the Flying Cavalry to the Yulin Army guarding the palace, the Jinwu Guards protecting the capital, the city defense troops of each prefecture, the border garrisons—so many soldiers. Every soldier who took up arms against the enemy—how many scars did they bear?

"What's wrong?" Sensing that Jiang Mo had stopped moving, Chen Yingchou picked up the towel from the edge of the tub. "Are you tired? Go rest first. I'll do it myself."

"Does it hurt, Your Highness?" Jiang Mo asked, staring at the deepest, ugliest scar.

Chen Yingchou was stunned for a moment, then immediately said, "Did I frighten you? That was thoughtless of me."

Before Jiang Mo could answer, Chen Yingchou called out loudly, "Qiao Yun."

Then to her, he said, "You go rest first."

Jiang Mo wanted to say more, but Qiao Yun had already entered the bathhouse.

Jiang Mo was wearing only a thin robe; instinctively she grabbed her outer garment and slipped it on. But Qiao Yun, as if used to such scenes, showed no awkwardness or avoidance. He bowed to her calmly and then attended to Chen Yingchou.

After about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, Chen Yingchou emerged from the bathhouse, wearing a soft, comfortable white inner robe with auspicious dark patterns.

The pure white concealed all the old scars on his body, but Jiang Mo still clearly remembered what those scars looked like.

She walked toward the bathhouse. Chen Yingchou heard her footsteps and said, "I'll wait for you. I want to hear you hum that tune."