Yao Huang still remembered the torment of being scrutinized carefully by the Prince last time, so after pushing the wheelchair to the bedside, she went to extinguish several lamps in the room.
The brightest were a pair of gilt lotus lamps. Each candle stand extended three lotus lamp holders, each burning three candles as thick as four fingers.
Some breeze could penetrate through the window cracks. The pale yellow candle flames danced gently, like her currently wildly pounding heart.
Drawing closer, Yao Huang picked up the lamp cover placed to the side. Just as she was about to align it with a candle, Prince Hui’s voice suddenly sounded from behind: “Leave them lit for now.”
Leave them for what?
Though the Prince didn’t say, Yao Huang understood clearly. Tonight the Prince hadn’t brought books over—besides looking at her, there was nothing else to see.
And that almost commanding calm tone made Yao Huang unable to generate any thought of further negotiation. During the day the Prince was easy to talk to, but at night he had always been domineering and overbearing. Even if he saw her cry pitifully and coaxed her with words, what should continue would continue. His heart was very hard.
Putting down the lamp cover, Yao Huang walked back slowly, lowering two layers of bed curtains in succession. Inside the curtains it was still quite bright.
The wheelchair was empty, but Yao Huang knew this couldn’t prove anything anymore. The Prince could remove his trousers midway—after all, her back was to him and she couldn’t see.
Climbing onto the bed with a red face, Yao Huang lay directly toward the inner side, anxiously waiting for the familiar chest to press against her.
Just thinking about the Prince, Yao Huang didn’t even notice she had naturally curved her legs forward, cooperating in advance.
Zhao Sui saw this clearly, yet he didn’t hope his Princess Consort would think he was staying over tonight purely for that.
He lay flat on his back facing the canopy top and asked, “You don’t want to see me?”
Yao Huang blinked. “Not at all.”
Zhao Sui asked, “Then why this posture?”
Yao Huang: “…”
It was clearly a misunderstanding, yet Yao Huang had no way to clarify, letting herself stew in frustration.
She turned around, looking resentfully toward the Prince opposite her. “I want to see the Prince. I wish I could keep my eyes open looking from daytime to deep night, then from deep night to dawn. Satisfied?”
Zhao Sui glanced at her, his voice bland. “Stop talking nonsense. Before, you always liked to hold me and chat idly for a while. Tonight you had that appearance—if not angry, what was it?”
Yao Huang still couldn’t refute, because refuting would only add to her own embarrassment and annoyance.
Since he wanted to hear household chat, Yao Huang nonchalantly embraced him, pressing against his shoulder. “Fine, I’ll chat with the Prince now. What does the Prince want to hear?”
Zhao Sui asked, “After Li Dashi died, what happened to Pan Xuniang?”
Yao Huang replied, “…She had no power or influence. Wanting to redress her husband’s injustice, she had no way, so she could only accept it and live her own life well.”
Zhao Sui said, “Elaborate.”
Yao Huang continued, “…To pursue the lawsuit, she sold her family’s original land and was left destitute. Fortunately, she met a kind farmer who was willing to share two mu of land for her to cultivate…”
Zhao Sui interrupted her. “Did that farmer have a wife? Otherwise, rashly helping a widowed woman—this action might provoke gossip.”
Yao Huang: “…”
Asking this and that while telling a story! If not for the fact that the storybook couldn’t be shown to others, she really wanted to throw the book to the Prince to read himself.
Yao Huang began fabricating: “There was indeed some gossip, so after Pan Xuniang planted for a year and saved up some food, she stopped renting his land. Instead, she went to town to find work. She was lucky—she saved an ironsmith’s elderly mother. The old mother, knowing her situation, took her as an adopted daughter. From then on, she did some manual labor at the ironsmith’s shop, supporting herself.”
Zhao Sui said, “Continue.”
Yao Huang replied, “…I only read up to here. I haven’t had time to read what comes after. After I finish reading, I’ll tell the Prince.”
Zhao Sui said, “Very well. I’m not sleepy now. Bring it here and I’ll read it myself.”
Yao Huang was dumbfounded. There was absolutely no way she could fetch that book for him. Gritting her teeth, Yao Huang hugged him and shook him, burying herself in his neck hollow and saying in a thin voice, “The Prince only thinks about reading books. Are books more important or am I more important?”
After a moment of silence, Zhao Sui raised his hand to pat her shoulder, saying in a low voice, “You.”
Yao Huang breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the Prince gave her face and didn’t insist on the storybook anymore.
Without reading the storybook, certain things naturally followed. Prince Hui turned to his side, focusing on accompanying his Princess Consort.
Perhaps he was getting the hang of it—the Prince no longer turned her around. After all, these face-to-face positions didn’t hinder anything either. Yao Huang just closed her eyes and let him move about.
When both of them were about ready, Yao Huang consciously moved to turn her back.
Zhao Sui held her shoulder. “Like this.”
Yao Huang: “…”
Just thinking about it seemed difficult. Yet Prince Hui insisted on trying. He only needed to speak—the one exerting effort to cooperate was Yao Huang.
Nothing seemed to work. Yao Huang didn’t mind, but she feared the Prince couldn’t endure repeated failures.
Yao Huang didn’t even dare open her eyes to look at his expression.
Suddenly, the instant she unintentionally raised her left leg high, the Prince supported her. “Like this.”
Yao Huang: “…”
Yao Huang was almost lying back into the brocade bedding. The Prince pulled away her pillow, so when she was forced to shift upward there was no resistance whatsoever.
On previous nights, Yao Huang had been half-prone, most of her face buried in the pillow. The Prince couldn’t see her clearly, and she only looked back at him twice when begging for mercy. Now Yao Huang could clearly feel the Prince’s gaze traveling up and down over her. She saw it herself too—as if the earth moved and mountains shook. But she didn’t want to watch at all and grabbed her inner garment to cover her face.
Zhao Sui didn’t interfere. This way was more exhausting. He also didn’t want the Princess Consort to see his embarrassment or ferocity as he indulged in this matter despite his disability.
When the Prince finally released his right hand, Yao Huang’s left leg seemed disabled too.
Zhao Sui rested first. After resting enough, he turned to his side. Just as she was still against the headboard, it was convenient for him to loosen the muscles of her left leg.