Chapter Twelve: Tossed About by Him

As they drew closer, Ying Jiaojiao could feel the firm, toned body beneath the clothing. Among the men in the military, Xiao Yuanchi wasn’t considered particularly muscular, but every inch of his muscle held exceptional strength and agility. Sometimes, when he practiced with his long spear in the courtyard—a heavy, thick weapon—he wielded it with such vigor and grace that it seemed as light as a sword, utterly elegant.

She would cup her face in her hands, watching him without blinking, her heart fluttering uncontrollably. She wished she were like that spear, tossed about by him, surrendering completely.

Her cheeks flushed, and she struggled to get up, but Xiao Yuanchi’s iron-like arms held her firmly. If he didn’t let her rise, she could only remain lying there.

“What joy are you talking about? I don’t understand,” he said.

“You’re virtuous and gentle. The thing that brings you joy, naturally, is...” Xiao Yuanchi pinched her waist and turned her around, “to find your husband’s confidante.”

“Ah?”

The man gave a half-smile, and Ying Jiaojiao nervously began to explain.

“I don’t want any woman near you but me, of course, but your mother-in-law keeps talking about expanding the family line. I’ve feigned deafness many times,” she wrinkled her nose. “You’ve never praised me; I thought you secretly wanted some beauties to add fragrance around you.”

“Is that really how you feel?”

“Of course.” She decisively wrapped her arms around his waist and cooed, “My lord, whatever you like, I’ll do. Just don’t look at Lady Sun more than me, alright?”

Gu Xuezhi had many titles. Those with tact called her the County Mistress; the careless called her Lady Sun. Especially within Qingning Palace and the prince’s residence, most referred to her as County Mistress. Ying Jiaojiao, however, stubbornly called her Lady Sun ever since Gu Xuezhi returned to the capital a widow, clearly intending to annoy her. Her petty jealousy was never concealed.

Ying Jiaojiao was always so transparent with her emotions.

She had a round face and almond-shaped eyes. When she smiled, a small dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. When she acted coy, the dimple deepened, filled with affection, like a delicious peach.

But at this moment, while her lips acted coquettishly, her eyes were ruthless, perhaps partly truthful, but only just.

Xiao Yuanchi heard and saw everything clearly. His gaze remained clear as he stroked her cheek. His rough fingertips traced down her brow, passed over the dimple, and finally reached her soft chin, lifting it without ceremony.

“Ying Jiaojiao, whatever you want to do, remember one thing: don’t touch what shouldn’t be touched, don’t provoke what shouldn’t be provoked. Behave yourself as a proper princess consort, and don’t cause any bigger trouble!”

Ying Jiaojiao’s heart sank. She understood the meaning behind his words: after all, he still didn’t trust her, but lacking proof, he could only give her a vague warning not to upset his little heart.

Her body stiffened. Holding her breath, she said, “I’ve always been honest. If some people don’t provoke me, I won’t provoke them either!”

“Honest?”

“Much more honest than Lady Sun, who refuses to leave the prince’s residence and insists on crowding in!” She pushed him away and retreated into a corner on her own.

---

“The Sun family’s old mansion is far away in Liangzhou. The residence granted by His Majesty in the capital isn’t finished yet. She’s only temporarily residing there by order and will leave once it’s ready,” Xiao Yuanchi said, lips pressed thin. “She won’t stay long.”

“What if it’s done and Lady Sun doesn’t want to leave? Can you really drive her away?”

“Xuezhi wouldn’t do that.”

“You really trust her.”

Ying Jiaojiao was clearly impervious to reason. Xiao Yuanchi, tired of wasting breath, turned to look out the window.

Damn it, the scoundrel, utterly biased, even lied all the way to the moon, thinking she’d believe that nonsense about Gu Xuezhi leaving sooner or later? Yeah, not staying long—last life, until her death, Lady Sun never left.

She was indignant, her chest rising and falling with frustration, shooting glances now and then. The first glance, the second, and by the third, her anger gave way to doubt.

Earlier in the palace, something felt off. Now that they were closer, a closer look confirmed it.

Xiao Yuanchi’s left cheek bore a faint red mark—likely treated with medicine, healing well but still visible. His skin was pale, inherited from his Uyghur mother, unusually fair despite years of harsh campaigns under sun and wind. Such a mark would be barely noticeable on others but clear on him.

A slap mark.

Ying Jiaojiao was stunned. Who in the world dared slap Xiao Yuanchi—and actually landed the blow?

Could it be the emperor?

Impossible. Just days ago, Xiao Yuanchi was commended by the emperor for his wise counsel and rewarded with several chests of treasures. Father and son were on the best of terms.

Could it be Consort Ji?

Even less likely. Xiao Yuanchi was brought back to the palace at age eight to be recognized by Consort Ji as her son. Princes had their own chambers and tutors. The relationship between Consort Ji and him was more about interests than daily interaction, which was always polite and distant. There was no way it escalated to physical violence.

Then who else could he have silently endured a slap from?

Ah, lovers sometimes hit each other in playful scuffles. She had some experience here—once, during intimacy, he had teased her fiercely, and she instinctively swatted him. Of course, a man with high martial skills wouldn’t let such a slap land fully. But what if it was someone he cared for deeply?

With that thought, Ying Jiaojiao lost interest in speculating further.

Most likely, it was because of yesterday’s incident. Xiao Yuanchi didn’t immediately defend Gu Xuezhi, leading to an argument and a scuffle where a slap might have accidentally landed.

Serves him right!

Ying Jiaojiao muttered in secret resentment.

---

Back at the residence, the two remained silent. To avoid revealing more cracks, she hurriedly dismounted and plunged into her small courtyard. The beauties she had personally recruited followed her, standing gracefully, awaiting orders.

“Princess Consort, these four girls bestowed by the Empress, why not send them to the estate?” Xia Lan suggested. “Do you really plan to keep them here to flirt with the prince?”

Ying Jiaojiao took the tea handed by Qiu Ming but was thinking of something else.

That girl Xia Lan could no longer be trusted.

Though she hadn’t fully betrayed her yet, Xia Lan’s subtle maneuvers were increasing. Not only did she try various ways to incite conflict between Ying Jiaojiao and Xiao Yuanchi, but she also subtly defended Gu Xuezhi.

In her previous life, Xia Lan had caused her to break a leg and lose a child. Resentful, Ying Jiaojiao pondered. She couldn’t have done it alone; there had to be someone behind it. She investigated but found nothing. Before she could discover anything, Xia Lan hanged herself in prison, and shortly after, her parents and siblings perished in a great fire.

The strange massacre of her entire family drew local officials’ attention, leading to an investigation that ultimately pinned the blame on her, accusing her of arrogance and cruelty that drove her personal maid to death and, to cover the truth, massacred the maid’s entire family. The evidence seemed ironclad, leaving her powerless to resist.

The case shocked the entire Eastern Capital. Neither the Prime Minister’s mansion, the prince’s residence, nor any noble in the palace spoke in her defense. If the princess consort hadn’t been sentenced to death—such a serious matter—she might have died then, long before the prince shot her three months later.

Clearly, Xia Lan must not be allowed to act freely. Taking her down would be easy. The real difficulty lay in uncovering the mastermind behind.

Ying Jiaojiao sipped her tea.

“Xia Lan, how long have you served me?”

“Your Highness, I’ve been with you for sixteen years!”

“Has it really been that long?” Ying Jiaojiao looked at her. “Xia Lan, have I treated you well?”

Xia Lan was momentarily stunned, then answered slowly, “You’ve treated me very well. Among the three daughters in the Prime Minister’s mansion, you, the eldest, treat your servants best. Even when servants make mistakes, you punish but rarely dock their monthly wages. At year’s end, whether silver or cloth, you always give more, never less. Everyone says serving you is like having ancestral blessings.”

Qiu Ming nodded in agreement.

“Sister Xia Lan is right.”

“Sounds like I’m not a bad mistress,” Ying Jiaojiao smiled faintly.

“Very good,” they agreed.

Ying Jiaojiao’s smile softened. “Then, Xia Lan, what do you hate about me?”