SBMT Chapter 11

Everyone tacitly agreed to move on from Elder Cen’s outburst, and the wedding banquet continued.

 

Even without anyone forcing drinks, by the end of the banquet, neither groom could say how many cups they’d had.

 

Shen Ziqin drank his fill of water, and Chu Zhao filled himself with wine.

 

Of course, Shen Ziqin didn’t just drink-he ate plenty too.

 

The prince’s cooks were excellent; every dish was delicious. The honey-glazed roast goose was juicy and tender, the red-braised pork melted in the mouth, and the best was the squirrel-shaped mandarin fish-sweet and sour, with smooth, fragrant flesh that lingered on the palate.

 

Some guests hadn’t come for the food, but with dishes this good, it would be a shame to waste the chef’s effort.

 

It was so tasty, Shen Ziqin helped himself to more-he wasn’t about to shortchange himself.

 

From dawn to dusk, the guests gradually left, the tables in the prince’s back courtyard were cleared, and finally came the essential ritual for every newlywed-

 

The bridal chamber.

 

With Prince Qin’s reputation for violence and rumored cruelty in the bedroom, no one dared to play pranks during the bridal night. The guests all hurried out, not wanting to get involved, and even those who trusted Chu Zhao’s character had no intention of teasing him.

 

Shen Ziqin and Chu Zhao entered the bedchamber and, in perfect unison, let out a long breath.

 

Their movements were so synchronized that they both paused, met each other’s eyes, and then burst out laughing.

 

They sat across from each other at a round table, the lamplight glowing warmly through the glass shade, making the whole room feel cozy and lazy-perfect for doing nothing at all.

 

Chu Zhao propped his cheek on a loose fist. “I never thought getting married would be so exhausting.”

 

Shen Ziqin lazily slid down to sprawl on the table, hands folded, chin resting on top. “It really is.”

 

All the little things didn’t matter much on their own, but put together, they made for a nonstop day.

 

The room was a tapestry of red and gold-red candles, red silk drapes for celebration, gold embroidery and gold goblets for honor and status.

 

On the table sat a golden jug for the nuptial wine-everything was ready, but since neither of them would drink, it was just for show.

 

Chu Zhao said, “I was worried you wouldn’t be used to it, so I’ve told the staff to keep calling you Shizi in private. If we’re out, whether to call you consort or not will depend on the situation. Is that alright?”

 

Shen Ziqin nodded-this was perfect. If someone called him “consort” in his ear every day, he really wouldn’t get used to it.

 

Because his chin was on his arms, his whole body rocked with the nod, making him look oddly cute.

 

But if anyone said he was harmless, the Marquis’s household-who’d been driven half-mad-would be the first to disagree.

 

Chu Zhao was unexpectedly charmed by the little gesture. After a moment, he returned to business. “This courtyard is called Mingyue Pavilion. It’s yours now. By the way, the main houses in the prince’s residence are laid out a bit differently from usual.”

 

Shen Ziqin asked, “Is there something behind the door next to the bedroom?”

 

Chu Zhao snapped his fingers. “You’re observant-not bad.”

 

Most big houses in Great Qi had the usual outer and inner rooms, but Shen Ziqin had noticed that the bridal suite had another door inside, as if there was something more.

 

“All the main houses in the prince’s residence have been remodeled to connect directly to a bathhouse,” Chu Zhao said, sitting up straighter, full of pride for his home’s layout. “There’s a sunken bath inside, copper pipes run underground to bring water, and a floor-heating system lets you control the temperature-hot or cold, however you like. It’s very convenient.”

 

Shen Ziqin’s eyes lit up, and he instantly sat up straight-this was on par with a modern bathroom!

 

A bathhouse connected to the bedroom, with a big tub, and most importantly, no need for a crowd of servants to haul hot water-he could control the temperature himself. He never thought he’d get to enjoy such a comfortable bath in ancient times.

 

The prince’s residence was paradise!

 

Seeing Shen Ziqin’s reaction, Chu Zhao felt even happier. He knew no ancient person could resist such a bath. He pointed to the wardrobe. “Fresh clothes are in there. You can take a bath and rest.”

 

Shen Ziqin opened the wardrobe and found brand new underclothes. He picked up a set. “Then I’ll go wash up first?”

 

Chu Zhao gestured. “Please.”

 

“Oh, right-the fish tail on the faucet: left for cold, right for hot, don’t forget.”

 

The underclothes fit perfectly. When the wedding clothes were made, Chu Zhao had ordered several extra sets in Shen Ziqin’s size. Shen Ziqin had dressed plainly at the Marquis’s house, but now he’d get to experience real comfort and care.

 

Shen Ziqin carried the clothes to the bathhouse. Inside, the racks, towels, and soap were all ready… Wait.

 

He picked up the white “soap” and felt it-this faint scent and smooth texture, it was clearly a bar of modern-style bath soap.

 

Great Qi manufacturing, truly ahead of its time.

 

The bath was spacious, big enough for several people. There was a drain at the bottom, and the faucet was a bronze fish-flick the tail, and water gushed from its mouth.

 

Beautiful and practical, with a touch of artistry.

 

Shen Ziqin slipped into the water, leaned against the edge, and massaged his tense calves. If he’d had his modern body, today’s standing would have been no problem, but with this body, his legs would probably ache tomorrow.

 

As he massaged, he thought: it should just be soreness, not enough to keep him from walking… right?

 

After a comfortable soak, he put on the cloud-patterned underclothes and returned to the bedroom.

 

Chu Zhao looked up and was greeted by the sight of a fresh-from-the-bath beauty.

 

Two drops of water slid slowly down to Shen Ziqin’s collarbone, glistening in the lamplight, dazzling to the eye. His pale skin, moistened by the bath, glowed with a healthy color-whiter than snow, like jade, with a faint flush as if brushed with rouge, subtle yet impossible to ignore.

 

His black hair fell like a waterfall, making the contrast of black and white all the more striking. And that waist-so slender it looked as if it would snap with a touch.

 

A lotus emerging from water-gorgeous but not gaudy.

 

A beauty under the lamplight, breathtaking in the silent night.

 

For the first time, Chu Zhao found himself thinking “look away, don’t stare” at a man.

 

No wonder Zhou Danmo chased after Shen Ziqin, desperate to paint him.

 

Chu Zhao pretended nothing was wrong and looked away, but in truth, he didn’t dare look at Shen Ziqin at all. He hurriedly grabbed his own clothes and headed for the bathhouse. “My turn next. Go ahead and get some sleep.”

 

Before Shen Ziqin could say anything, he felt a gust of wind-and Chu Zhao was already gone.

 

Shen Ziqin blinked: Wow, worthy of a martial artist-such speed.

 

The prince must be eager for a bath; he looked really impatient.

 

To make Shen Ziqin comfortable, the underfloor heating had been on for a while, making the room very warm. Still, Shen Ziqin didn’t dare sit around in just his underclothes for long; before the warmth faded, he slipped into bed.

 

Anyway, neither of them had other intentions, so sharing a bed didn’t matter.

 

Besides, Steward Meng knew their sharing a room was just for show, and had thoughtfully prepared two quilts for them-both with festive mandarin duck patterns. The design didn’t matter; what mattered was that they were soft, cozy, and skin-friendly-truly comfortable.

 

Shen Ziqin curled up comfortably, worming his way to the inner side of the bed, leaving the outer half for Chu Zhao.

 

When Chu Zhao came out, Shen Ziqin was already half-asleep, but he looked over at the sound.

 

He’d only meant to glance over before going back to sleep, but that one look caught his gaze.

 

Chu Zhao was the classic type: slim in clothes, muscular without. Under the thin underclothes, his muscles were faintly visible-smooth, natural, and full of restrained power, radiating a silent sense of strength.

 

In modern terms: overflowing with hormones.

 

Both had slender frames, but Chu Zhao’s was defined and strong, while Shen Ziqin’s was just thin and frail.

 

Comparisons really do make you jealous.

 

No wonder Zhou Danmo wanted to paint Chu Zhao on sight-Shen Ziqin was truly envious of that physique. Such nice abs-what a waste not to use them as a washboard.

 

Chu Zhao went to turn off the lights. Maybe it was the shock of seeing that physique, but suddenly Shen Ziqin, who’d been indifferent about sharing a bed, felt a little nervous. Watching Chu Zhao move about the room, he wanted to say something to steady himself.

 

“By the way, I just remembered-about the personal attendant I brought from the Marquis’s house, I want to fire… let him go.”

 

Chu Zhao, adjusting the lampshade with his back to him, replied, “Sure. Do you want to hire from a broker or just pick someone from my residence? There are plenty of clever ones…”

 

Chu Zhao’s words cut off. He quickly looked up, turned sideways, and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling Shen Ziqin to be quiet.

 

Chu Zhao: “Shh-”

 

The gesture was for Shen Ziqin, but his gaze was fixed toward the door. Shen Ziqin wasn’t sure what was happening, but he tensed up too, sitting up slightly.

 

A few moments later, Chu Zhao lowered his voice to a whisper: “Someone’s outside the door… it should be a palace eunuch, here to check on us.”

 

Shen Ziqin hadn’t heard anything, but he didn’t doubt Chu Zhao’s judgment.

 

After all, Chu Zhao’s martial skills were formidable-he could see and hear things ordinary people couldn’t. For someone with no skills at all, “martial arts” always had a bit of a mystical filter.

 

The two eunuchs from the palace hadn’t returned tonight, staying at the prince’s residence. There were guards all around Mingyue Pavilion, but Chu Zhao had ordered that, since the eunuchs were the emperor’s eyes and ears, they shouldn’t be stopped unless absolutely necessary-otherwise, if the emperor didn’t get his news, he’d become suspicious and paranoid.

 

That’s how the eunuchs could get in so easily.

 

Hei Ying was on the roof next door, watching as the eunuch crept up to the door-he could tell the eunuch knew a bit of martial arts, but not much.

 

Sneaking up to the bridal chamber door in the middle of the night and pressing his ear to it… Was he trying to hear if there was any activity?

 

Hei Ying guessed the eunuch’s purpose and clenched his fist: If the emperor didn’t want to confirm whether the prince and heir consummated the marriage, who else would send someone to eavesdrop at night? The emperor really is crazy!

 

If Hei Ying could figure it out, so could the people inside. Chu Zhao ground his teeth and whispered, “The emperor really is…”

 

He didn’t finish, but his stormy expression said it all-he was probably running through every insult in his mind.

 

Shen Ziqin, matching Chu Zhao’s quiet tone, muttered, “If he put this much energy into governing, wouldn’t that be better?”

 

It was absurd.

 

The eunuch was still at the door, ear pressed tight.

 

If the emperor found out they hadn’t actually been intimate, he’d probably spiral into paranoia and imagine all sorts of things.

 

Shen Ziqin and Chu Zhao exchanged a look and reached a silent agreement: they had to put on a show.

 

They didn’t even need to speak to understand each other-once again, their tacit understanding was back. They both nodded.

 

On their wedding night, their eyes were as solemn as if they were taking an oath.

 

Chu Zhao pressed down on the bed frame-with his strength, even the finest, thickest sandalwood bed would creak.

 

There was just one problem: the sound of voices.

 

They’d never done this before, but both knew that bed creaks alone wouldn’t be convincing-there had to be voices, too.

 

Some things, in another context, might sound like flirting, but right now, Chu Zhao had no choice but to ask, “Shizi, can you make those kinds of sounds?”

 

Shen Ziqin: “…Never tried. Uh, Your Highness, can you?” The phrasing was awkward, but he could only ask sincerely, “I have no experience-can you teach me?”

 

Chu Zhao: “…”

 

He didn’t have any experience either.

 

They stared at each other. From Chu Zhao’s thunderous silence, Shen Ziqin realized: the prince had never actually done this either.

 

Wow-in ancient times, in the royal family, at age twenty, with all the “buffs,” he was still a virgin. Truly a rare find.

 

After all, in real ancient times, when a prince came of age, the palace would send people to teach him such things in person.

 

Chu Zhao had only let them leave some manuals and diagrams, then sent everyone away-so he’d only learned the theory.

 

So now, with two people who only knew the theory and had never practiced, how were they supposed to fake the right noises to fool the person outside?

 

Here they were, in the prince’s bridal chamber, waiting for help-urgent.

 

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(advanced chapters available on kofi)