Shen Ziqin clutched his chest. “Cough, cough!”
His chest, which had behaved for days, now ached from coughing.
Chu Zhao hadn’t expected to choke him, and hurried around the table to pat his back and help him catch his breath.
So when Xiao Dong came in, from his angle he saw this scene:
Shen Shizi’s autumn-tinted eyes were misty, the corners tinged red-beautiful and pitiful-while the prince was gently comforting him.
Xiao Dong’s eyes sparkled: Am I even allowed to see this?
So beautiful, so sweet-he wanted more.
But he was tactful, never staring at his masters for long. After all, it would be rude and improper, and if his gaze made them uncomfortable, that would be bad.
So when the atmosphere was just right, he’d simply lower his presence, sneak a glance now and then, and be satisfied.
Shen Ziqin: “Cough, cough… whew…”
Finally, his breathing eased.
Chu Zhao quickly poured another cup of tea. “Take it slow, take it slow.”
Shen Ziqin took the cup and, this time, sipped carefully. At last, he felt alive again.
Finally able to speak, Shen Ziqin couldn’t hold back his complaint: “How can they spread something so ridiculous?”
“It’s probably the work of someone in the palace,” Chu Zhao thought, relieved he’d warned him in advance-otherwise, if Shen Ziqin heard it unexpectedly tomorrow, who knows how shocked he’d be.
To the emperor, even if he planned to use Chu Zhao, he never intended to clear his name. For him, it was better if Chu Zhao’s reputation stayed bad-easier to control.
“Slandering me, I’m used to-but this time it’s dragged you in too.” Chu Zhao didn’t want Shen Ziqin to feel bad, so he picked what he thought was most important to reassure him: “But don’t worry, truly wise people won’t believe it. For example, Lord Bai would never be fooled.”
Shen Ziqin: ? What’s the protagonist got to do with it?
He didn’t understand why, out of everyone, Chu Zhao specifically mentioned Bai Junxing, but that wasn’t the point. Now that he’d calmed down, Shen Ziqin realized the rumor actually hurt Chu Zhao’s reputation the most.
They were married, and in the eyes of outsiders, a wedding meant a wedding night-so he suffered no loss. Instead, Chu Zhao’s bad reputation only grew.
The emperor really was something else. If he couldn’t touch Chu Zhao’s achievements, he’d do everything possible to ruin his private reputation.
Shen Ziqin lowered his hand from his chest. “I’m fine, but for them to slander your name like this is just… salted vegetables fried with salted beans-”
“Too much time on their hands!”
Chu Zhao burst out laughing. “Haha!”
He’d just said the rumor might have come from the palace, and here was Shen Ziqin openly mocking the emperor.
Xiao Dong and a few servants bringing in the food hadn’t heard the earlier conversation, but were still amused by that line. They kept their heads down, stifling laughter as they quickly set the table.
Eight-treasure stuffed duck, Longjing shrimp, lotus root and pork rib soup, and several small dishes-the aroma was mouthwatering.
Shen Ziqin said, “The dishes in Mingyue Pavilion are all mild in flavor-I don’t know if you’ll like them.”
Chu Zhao waved it off. “I prefer savory, but not too spicy. When I was campaigning, I even ate grass roots at the hardest times. Now that I’m home, I don’t skimp on myself, but I’m not picky with the cooks-if it tastes good, that’s enough.”
Shen Ziqin had just picked up his bowl of so up when he froze at Chu Zhao’s words. “Grass roots?”
Campaigning was tough, but with Great Qi’s resources, there was no way the army should be eating grass roots. Was someone in court sabotaging them, skimming off military supplies?
Chu Zhao split off a piece of eight-treasure duck-each strand of duck meat was richly flavored, the aroma alone enough to make one’s mouth water. There was no need to rush at home, so Chu Zhao waved the servants away and slowly picked the meat apart himself, nodding as he spoke: “That was when I was in the northern frontier. We’d just won several battles and wanted to press the advantage and secure our gains, so we pushed deeper into the grasslands.”
“I didn’t expect that when His Majesty received the battle reports and saw how well I was doing, he’d get upset.”
Chu Zhao’s maternal grandfather, the old marshal, had once told him that while there were talented generals at court, there were no true marshals. A marshal had to watch over all the borders, with both vision and intuition. He’d personally trained Chu Zhao, knowing he was capable of leading Great Qi’s armies.
When the old marshal died, the neighboring states sensed weakness and grew restless. The borders became unstable, and with the situation growing dire, the emperor reluctantly followed the old marshal’s dying wish and appointed Chu Zhao as marshal.
Chu Zhao didn’t let him down. He reformed the army and led them to victory after victory. He joined the army at fifteen, became marshal at seventeen, intimidated neighboring countries to the east, allied with tribes to the south, secured the five passes in the west, and drove out the barbarians in the north. Wherever Prince Qin’s banner went, victory followed, and the borders of the nation were redrawn.
Chu Zhao’s plan was to fight a few good years, win enough battles to ensure decades of peace for Great Qi. That way, he could retire early, and the soldiers wouldn’t have to risk their lives every day. With strong defenses, everyone could live in peace.
But Emperor Cheng’an didn’t see it that way.
Once things were stable, the emperor relaxed-and started thinking about getting rid of the donkey after the millstone was ground.
The emperor not only cut off supplies, but also sent people to the border to block communication between Chu Zhao and the garrison, trying to trap him deep in the grasslands.
That was Chu Zhao’s most dangerous battle. The undefeated prince was nearly killed by his own countrymen.
“Even though the messages sent to my army were intercepted and supplies stopped coming, I guessed something had gone wrong at court. We couldn’t keep fighting, so I had to lead everyone in a retreat-but we were still a bit too late. We ran out of food, and the whole army survived on grass roots for three days.”
Chu Zhao’s tone was calm, as if recounting something that had nothing to do with him, but Shen Ziqin felt a lump in his throat, unable to swallow another bite of soup.
The original novel never described in detail how Chu Zhao fought his battles.
This wasn’t some distant record in a history book-the man who lived through it was sitting right in front of him. Chu Zhao’s few words didn’t detail the daily suffering, but Shen Ziqin knew that every casual phrase covered hidden hardship.
Chu Zhao looked up and saw Shen Ziqin’s expression, and actually smiled: “Hey, don’t worry. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. Let’s not talk about it. The eight-treasure duck is good-you should try some.”
Chu Zhao finished picking the duck, passed it to Shen Ziqin with clean chopsticks, and Shen Ziqin, still silent, served Chu Zhao a bowl of soup.
“The lotus root is good today too… Your Highness, if you have time, tell me more about these things in the future.”
Chu Zhao took the soup. “It’s nothing interesting. People say I’m a brilliant strategist, but there’s nothing glorious about war-it’s all blood and flesh.”
“I don’t like fighting,” Chu Zhao put down his bowl, the fine porcelain making a soft sound on the table. “I couldn’t bring every brother back.”
Shen Ziqin wanted to say, you did your best, but the words stuck in his throat.
He knew Chu Zhao didn’t need that kind of comfort.
He wondered, after all those experiences leading the army, did Chu Zhao ever want to take the emperor’s head and use it as a football?
The original said Chu Zhao had no interest in court intrigue, but Shen Ziqin trusted what he saw with his own eyes. Whether or not Chu Zhao was involved in the second prince’s schemes was now an open question.
But even if Chu Zhao was secretly up to something, he probably wouldn’t tell him yet.
First, their relationship hadn’t reached the point of complete honesty; second, Shen Ziqin was sure that, in Chu Zhao’s eyes, he was just a fragile patient in need of protection, not someone to plot with.
But that was fine-he’d already decided to help Chu Zhao, and there would be chances to change his mind.
The more he learned about Chu Zhao, the more he realized that beneath the dazzling surface was a core of iron and blood.
The epic stories of generals throughout history always ended in tragedy.
What a miserable fate.
The emperor really was inhuman.
Once he got his official post tomorrow, Shen Ziqin planned to make good use of it. He might have no power or influence now, but he’d find an opportunity.
“Your Highness,” Shen Ziqin said, “now that the borders are peaceful, your days will only get better.”
Chu Zhao didn’t know what he was thinking, and just took it as comfort: “From your lips to heaven’s ears.”
Chu Zhao thought, The heir is soft-hearted-he looked so gloomy just hearing my story, feeling bad for me. He’d had a hard time in the Marquis’s house, so now that he was here, it was better to talk about lighter things and keep his spirits up.
Though the heir now carried the title of consort, Chu Zhao was determined not to drag him into the schemes he and his brothers were planning. Keeping him safe was still the priority.
Both had made decisions in the other’s best interest, and on the surface, everything was harmonious: “Let me help you with the food,” “Let me serve you soup”-the sight brought tears to Xiao Dong’s eyes. He was completely satisfied.
They’re so loving! I’m so moved!
*
The next day, the prince’s household staff made sure everything was ready so the two masters’ trip to the palace would go smoothly.
Shen Ziqin asked if he needed to get up early, but Chu Zhao said no, telling him to sleep in.
First, they’d visit the Empress Dowager and sit with her for a bit, then go see the emperor.
Shen Ziqin slept well, woke refreshed, ate breakfast and medicine, and got ready to go out.
Today he wore a dark robe with wide sleeves and gold-embroidered clouds and cranes, a gold crown, and a jade belt. Just putting it on took several attendants to make sure nothing went wrong-it was no simpler than wedding clothes.
It was formal dress, matching what Chu Zhao wore that day.
Now that the weather was warming, most people were switching to lighter clothes, but Shen Ziqin could finally go out without an extra cloak.
Since transmigrating, this was the first time Shen Ziqin had worn such dark, formal clothing-intricate yet cleverly designed, radiating nobility. He was already striking without being gaudy, but the ceremonial robe added a touch of dignity and grandeur, like a hidden flower in the clouds, a true national beauty.
Chu Zhao glanced at his outfit and blinked lightly: Shen Shizi really looked good in anything.
Looking at Chu Zhao, Shen Ziqin once again marveled that Prince Qin was a natural clothes model-whether in arrow sleeves or wide sleeves, Chu Zhao always looked effortlessly dashing. Maybe it was a temperament forged on the battlefield; just standing in a crowd, he was always the center of attention.
Good looks and a good figure-he really was enviable.
When Shen Ziqin boarded the carriage, Chu Zhao naturally reached out to help him again.
…Do martial artists always move this fast? Once again, Shen Ziqin lost the chance to refuse: I’m really not a fragile porcelain doll who needs a helping hand at every step!
He sighed inwardly, only to catch Xiao Dong’s openly sparkling gaze.
Not just him-even little guard Bai Xiao’s eyes were just as bright.
The difference was, Xiao Dong’s focus was on Chu Zhao’s hand supporting him, while Bai Xiao’s eyes were glued to their clothes.
Bai Xiao, always straightforward, said, “Your Highness, Shizi, your outfits match so well today-you really look like a pair.”
Shen Ziqin froze.
Ah, if Bai Xiao hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have noticed, but now that he did, it was obvious-their outfits today were basically… a couple’s set?
—
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(advanced chapters available on kofi)
SO CUTE