Lord Cui’s cry was full of fatherly sorrow, his eyes brimming with grief and helplessness. He probably thought his words would move anyone who heard them.
Yes-he was the only one who thought so.
Even Dongning was startled, widening his eyes to study Lord Cui’s face.
Shen Ziqin guessed Dongning was either measuring just how thick Lord Cui’s skin was, or wondering what on earth was going on in his head.
Stunned by the sudden “child” card, Shen Ziqin leaned back tactically, pointed at himself: “Lord Cui, I’m twenty-one.”
He looked at Dongning: “Dongning is only six.”
Then he delivered the soul-searching question: “How old is your son?”
Calling him a child in front of them?
Lord Cui choked: his precious son was already twenty-six.
“In every parent’s eyes, their children are always children, no matter their age,” Lord Cui said tearfully. “I hope the consort will understand.”
The words themselves weren’t wrong-in another context, from another person, they might be touching. But coming from Lord Cui today, they were nothing but ironic.
His son is a person, but when Cui Qingshan rampages outside, aren’t the people he bullies also someone’s children?
Shen Ziqin’s smile turned mocking. “I understand it’s not easy for you, Lord Cui, but I really can’t say much more about this.”
As he spoke, he pressed a hand to his chest. “I was startled and upset today, and still don’t feel well. I probably won’t have the energy to go to court for the next couple of days. The prince told me not to worry about anything and just rest, so I can’t help you.”
Lord Cui panicked: “Are you alright, Your Highness? I brought some fine medicinal herbs today-all the best from the Cui household, very good for your health.”
He was truly anxious, because news had already spread among officials that the consort had nearly fainted from anger at the palace gates.
The emperor had not only sent the beauties back, but also rewarded Prince Qin’s household.
Shen Ziqin had made a name for himself, and everyone now believed in his frailty.
If he really fell ill now and said it was because of Cui Qingshan, the punishment would be even harsher.
Why is someone so young always sick? Lord Cui was terrified, both blaming and praying that the consort wouldn’t get sick in the next few days.
Just then, Shen Ziqin coughed, looking even more unwell. Lord Cui was on edge: “Cough, cough, does Lord Cui have any other business?”
A clear dismissal.
What else could Lord Cui say? What would he dare say?
He swallowed his bitterness and forced out a few words: “…I’ll take my leave. Please take care of your health, Your Highness.”
His departing figure looked utterly dejected.
Once he was gone, Shen Ziqin dropped his hand from his chest, picked up his teacup, and took a leisurely sip.
But Dongning looked a little nervous: “Sister-in-law, you’re not feeling well-should I call the imperial physician… ah, I mean the doctor.”
Shen Ziqin gave him a bright smile: “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
Dongning was actually starting to care for him-proof that taking the child out to play was the right choice; it helped him quickly feel at home in the Prince Qin’s residence.
Thinking it over, just in case, Shen Ziqin decided to give Dongning a little heads-up: “I couldn’t go out much before because of illness, but I’m much better now. An occasional cough or chest pain is nothing serious, so you don’t need to worry.”
He gave the clever prince a hint: “Sometimes, coughing might even be necessary.”
Dongning blinked, caught Shen Ziqin’s meaning, and suddenly understood.
…Oh, just like when he pretended to cry earlier. Got it.
Knowing Shen Ziqin was all right, Dongning was reassured. Still, seeing his sister-in-law take medicine every day, he knew he was far from healthy and resolved to study hard so he could help his royal brother and sister-in-law as soon as possible.
When Shen Ziqin first transmigrated, he hadn’t planned to use his sickly reputation for anything. In front of Chu Zhao, he’d even stubbornly tried to prove he wasn’t some fragile weakling.
But life is unpredictable. From the moment he faked illness at the palace gates, Shen Ziqin found himself on a path of no return.
Why? Because with everyone convinced he was a sickly young master, pretending to be ill was just too effective.
It didn’t matter if the trick was old-as long as it worked. Try it once, get hooked twice.
Truly, it was a blessing in disguise.
Shen Ziqin had come to terms with it. As long as Chu Zhao and the trusted people in the prince’s residence knew he wasn’t someone who’d collapse after two steps, that was enough.
He thought he understood his own image, but he might have been mistaken.
Take Chu Zhao, for example: even knowing how smart and capable Shen Ziqin was-and having seen him fake illness-some impressions and habits are hard to change. Even now, Chu Zhao still felt Shen Ziqin’s body was made of paper and had to be handled with care.
The rest of Prince Qin’s household followed his lead.
If it was windy or rainy, Shen Ziqin had to be tucked safely indoors; someone who drank medicine every day needed to take care of himself.
Prince Qin’s residence: caring for the heir is everyone’s responsibility.
It was already dusk and nearly dinnertime, so Shen Ziqin simply ate with Dongning.
Meanwhile, Chu Zhao had finished work and was heading to Jinxiu Pavilion.
After parting from Shen Ziqin at noon, Chu Zhao immediately sent word to the second prince, making sure someone would bring up Cui Qingshan’s case at court the next morning.
Lord Cui had been so busy today precisely because he feared someone would impeach him or escalate things against the Cui family, so he had to act quickly.
Unfortunately, none of his efforts worked. He’d have to keep thinking of solutions-he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.
Lord Cui didn’t exactly blame Prince Qin’s household, but after so many setbacks, his disappointment and anxiety shifted-most of his resentment now landed on the Vice Minister and Minister of Works.
Especially the Minister, who took the gifts but did nothing. That was just shameless.
Whatever Lord Cui thought, Shen Ziqin and Chu Zhao didn’t know. Either way, Cui Qingshan was about to be kicked out of the Patrol Battalion-there was no changing that.
Tonight, Chu Zhao had reserved Jinxiu Pavilion. After three cups of wine, the atmosphere grew lively.
Everyone in the Patrol Battalion knew about Cui Qingshan’s fate. They all said a new commander always makes a statement, but no one expected the first thing their boss would do was burn Cui Qingshan. Whether it was a scheme or just luck, it was clear who called the shots now.
They’d thought Prince Qin would be stuck after returning to the capital, hated by the emperor, but a single imperial marriage had turned his fortunes around. Everyone raised their glasses, each with their own thoughts, to toast Chu Zhao.
On stage, the performers danced gracefully and the musicians played beautifully; below, wine and conversation flowed, faces bright but hearts hidden.
Chu Zhao tapped his fingers in time with the music, relaxed and unhurried. He could hold his liquor, never refusing a toast, never getting drunk.
Some officers started out just being polite, but after a few rounds, they genuinely admired Chu Zhao’s drinking ability.
Military men love to bond over wine; after a few drinks, some grew bolder.
When a round of dishes arrived, there was a new dessert-pear blossom custard. Chu Zhao tasted it: sweet but not cloying, with the delicate fragrance of honey and a rich, milky aftertaste. It was something the palace cooks hadn’t made before.
This was just the kind of treat Shen Ziqin would love.
Chu Zhao set down his chopsticks and told a servant, “Have another serving of this custard made, along with a few other specialties, and send them to Prince Qin’s residence for Mingyue Pavilion.”
The servant replied, “Yes, sir.”
A nearby officer, tipsy and cheerful, had chatted with Chu Zhao earlier and found him easy to talk to. He joked, “Oh, Your Highness still thinking of home while out? Newlyweds, such a loving couple.”
Chu Zhao paused, gave a vague “mm,” and let it pass.
Inside, they knew it was a partnership, but to outsiders, they looked like a real married couple.
A younger man said enviously, “It’s great to have a family. I want to settle down too. Doesn’t have to be a wealthy match-just someone gentle and quiet.”
As he spoke, his eyes grew dreamy, already imagining the future. An older, more experienced man chuckled and burst his bubble: “Kid, you only envy the good parts of marriage-you don’t know the hardships.”
Chu Zhao had already experienced all the good parts of marriage. Not only was the emperor no longer trying to kill him, but Shen Ziqin’s presence had brought a special warmth to the household. Every conversation with him left Chu Zhao feeling relaxed and happy, with a sense of “if only we’d met sooner.”
And now Shen Ziqin wanted to be his strategist too-marriage was nothing but benefits.
As for the hardships… Chu Zhao hadn’t experienced any yet. He raised his cup, took a sip, and listened intently.
“At first, it’s all sweetness, but after a while, you’ll be arguing all the time, trust me.”
“Yeah,” someone else chimed in. “My wife is way too controlling, it’s miserable!”
“So you can still laugh about it?”
“What else can you do? Life has to go on, hahaha!”
The group joked and laughed among themselves. Chu Zhao thought, *Looks like I’ll never get to experience the hardships of marriage-after all, he and Shen Ziqin keep a proper distance, and Shen Ziqin never tries to control him-*
Hmm… wait.
If Shen Ziqin really does become his strategist, it’s true that a strategist sometimes finds ways to manage their superior…
As Chu Zhao was pondering this, the young man eager for marriage sidled up with his wine bowl: “Your Highness, can you teach me-how do you win someone’s heart?”
Chu Zhao: …
Good question. He didn’t know either-this was out of his league.
But as the “deeply affectionate” Prince Qin, he couldn’t say he didn’t know, so he picked a safe answer: “Treat them well.”
The young officer nodded enthusiastically. “Mm! Mm!”
After nodding, he looked at Chu Zhao with wide, eager eyes: And then? And then?
Chu Zhao: “…”
Stop looking at me. There’s no ‘and then.’
Why aren’t you drunk and asleep yet?
Chu Zhao raised his bowl and clinked it against the young man’s. The officer didn’t understand, but since they’d clinked, of course he drank.
One bowl, two bowls, a whole jar…
Soon, the officer collapsed onto the table, off to dream of his beloved.
Chu Zhao finished his own bowl, leisurely: See? That’s how you answer that question.
The moon moved across the sky. By the hour of the boar (late evening), most of the room was drunk. Chu Zhao had the inebriated sent home, told those who wanted to keep playing to enjoy themselves, and got up to return to the residence.
After bonding with his subordinates, only after he left did some people truly let loose and drink without restraint.
Back at his own courtyard, Steward Meng had lit the lamps and brought up sobering soup. As Chu Zhao drank, he caught the scent of incense in the room.
Chu Zhao: “What’s that incense?”
Steward Meng: “It’s called Qinghe Xiang-Clear Lotus Incense-brought back today by the young lord and the princess. The young lord had some sent to your courtyard as well. I had the doctor check it; it’s safe and smells pleasant, so I lit some.”
The elegant fragrance dispelled the smell of wine. Surrounded by the gentle scent, Chu Zhao paused-this residence… really was starting to feel like home.
Why did it suddenly feel like he had a wife and child already?
Chu Zhao’s scalp tingled. *I must’ve drunk too much tonight. Better clear out these weird thoughts.*
After a moment’s silence, he gave instructions.
“Bring the Jinxiu Pavilion account tomorrow, and tidy up the other ledgers. Bring them all when you come with me to Mingyue Pavilion.”
Even the Jinxiu Pavilion accounts?
Steward Meng was surprised, but didn’t ask more and bowed: “Yes, sir.”
To others, Jinxiu Pavilion had nothing to do with the royal family, but only a few knew its real owners were Chu Zhao and the third prince-a well-kept secret.
Chu Zhao thought, If I’m going to use Shen Ziqin as a strategist, there are things he should know.
But in Steward Meng’s eyes, it meant something else.
Account books meant household management. If even Jinxiu Pavilion was to be shown to Shen Ziqin… perhaps soon, everyone would have to start calling the Mingyue Pavilion resident “princess consort” for real.
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(advanced chapters available on kofi)
