Underneath A Thousand Skies ✔️

41 Favoring Qie Over Wife (41)

Zhao Cheng raised the corner of his sleeves to wipe his tears and stared at the soaked hem in shock.

He glanced at Song Jia, who was also sobbing.

This kind of dumbfounded appearance...it only confirmed to the rest of the room that the third prince had been truly overwhelmed by his emotions.

"Stop crying, zhen understands," Jingshao Emperor said helplessly. He coughed again, but this time there was a soft smile on his weary face. "Your consort-mother has been taking good care of zhen, so zhen will definitely recover quickly. You have just come from battle, you also need to rest well. Spend three days in the wangfu to get some rest and accompany your wife. Because zhen is sick, there is no one to take care of the matters of the state. You brothers have to put more effort in handling court affairs."

The imperial princes instantly stepped forward and reassured him, that each one of them would do their best.

Jingshao Emperor swept his gaze over the four of them. The crown prince, behaving meek and timid in his presence. The first prince, looking wan and lethargic because of sexual overindulgence. The third prince, his eyes still red but his face resolute. The fourth prince also looked determined to prove his worth, his hands clenched by his sides.

Jingshao Emperor's eyes slightly paused when it came to the fourth prince.

This child could also be considered to be a good seedling, but when compared to Cheng'er...Jingshao Emperor closed his eyes.

"Alright, all of you can leave. Zhen is tired and wants to be alone."

Coming out of the hall and stepping down on the top-quality white-marble stone steps, Zhao Cheng once again took hold of Song Jia's hands as he looked deeply at her.

When she kept silent, he asked her, "Does Jia'er have anything to say?"

He wiped her tears with his thumb as he waited for her answer.

Song Jia looked around. Seeing that the rest of imperial princes and princesses have already gone far ahead, she smiled mischievously and winked at Zhao Cheng, "Wang ye's meaning with his words, qie doesn't understand at all."

Watching her acting naughty, Zhao Cheng lost his motivation to press her for further details. He felt...that he was only beginning to understand this wife of his.

She could be so wise in her letters, so clever when dealing with disobedient servants that wanted to frame her, and so beautiful when climbing a peach tree. The songs from her guqin couldn't be heard from anywhere else, she could sneak out of the wangfu without alerting his shadow guards, and that small bean which could make him cry in an instant...he had eaten many exotic spices from the south, but none that burned with such savage heat. His Third Highness felt that his wang fei's secrets were no less numerous than his.

"Jia'er, you heard what fuhuang said as well, didn't you?"

Song Jia tilted her head. "At which part of His Majesty's speech is wang ye referring to?"

"'Spend three days in the wangfu...accompany your wife...'" Zhao Cheng brought the hand that he was holding to his lips and kissed it, "Fuhuang's orders, benwang will definitely fulfill."

Song Jia's heart trembled, but she recalled Bai Mei Lien's eager expression that morning and her pregnant belly.

This was probably another promise...that he would also break.

...

After returning to the wangfu, Zhao Cheng ordered hot water to be carried into the zhengfang. His hair was disheveled from travel, and the scent of iron and dust still clung faintly to him. Steam soon rose from the copper bath basin placed behind the folding screen, scented faintly with crushed orchid petals. Outside, servants quietly prepared clean robes while the sound of splashing water came from within.

When Zhao Cheng emerged, his hair was still damp, dark strands clinging to his neck. Dressed only in a light inner robe of white silk, he walked barefoot across the floor. The faint fragrance of sandalwood clung to him, mingling with the clean scent of water and warmth.

Song Jia was lying sideways on the guifei couch, a silk scroll resting loosely in her hands. She didn't look up when he entered, only asked, "What does wang ye want for lunch?"

Zhao Cheng leaned down, sliding an arm around her slender waist to draw her back against him. His breath brushed against her ear, low and teasing. "Whatever wang fei decides."

The tip of his nose grazed the curve of her shoulder, leaving a damp trace where his breath touched skin. 

Song Jia twitched at the sensation but did not move as she instructed Minglan, "Have the kitchens prepare the food that wang ye likes."

"Nubi understands."

Minglan bowed her head and pulled along Ruolan with her, leaving only Song Jia and Zhao Cheng in the bedroom.

Once they were gone, the only sounds left in the room were the faint hiss of incense and the rustle of silk. Zhao Cheng's lips wandered higher, brushing the fine hairs at the back of her neck. Song Jia turned slightly and reminded him, her voice soft but deliberate, "Wang ye, Sister Bai is pregnant."

Zhao Cheng stilled, then cupped her cheek to turn her face towards him. He placed a soft kiss on her mouth before saying, "En, I know."

"Wang ye should go and visit her."

Song Jia knew that in this era, it was normal for a man to make a woman pregnant and visit another woman the next day. But Bai Mei Lien was his sweetheart...Zhao Cheng probably placed a lot of importance on the child in her womb.

Zhao Cheng propped his chin on her shoulder, hiding his expression, "Jia'er is such a virtuous wife."

"Qie thanks wang ye for his praise."

Song Jia smiled dazzlingly. She had succeeded in becoming a virtuous wife! Like this, he shouldn't have any problems with Li Jia anymore and the two of them could divorce peacefully.

Zhao Cheng studied her, then shifted, his weight suddenly over her. "Since Jia'er is so virtuous," he murmured against her ear, "there should be no problem fulfilling her duties as a wife."

Her eyes flew open. "Wang ye, this is..."

Before she could finish, he caught her wrist and guided her hand down until she felt the hard line beneath his robe. "Benwang's meaning with his words, does Jia'er still pretend not to understand?"

When Song Jia snatched her hand back, the excited Little Brother Zhao stood out clearly. She almost nearly kicked him and harmed the future dragon root, "Wang ye, it's the middle of the day!"

"All the more to see Jia'er better, isn't this good?"

Good, your sister! Song Jia blocked his lips with her hand and raised her knee to block his lower body, "Wang ye, of course this isn't good."

"Wang fei, I don't think it's a virtuous conduct for a wife to defend herself against her husband."

"Wang ye is joking, qie only wants her husband's tired body to rest."

When Minglan peeked after she knocked twice to tell them that the food was ready in the outer rooms, the scene she encountered was this:

Wang ye, pinning wang fei on the floor, his hands grabbing her wrists.

And wang fei, her hair a mess, her delicate foot on wang ye's face.

Minglan: "..."

Then, very slowly, she stepped backward, closed the door, and stood there in silence for a long time before muttering under her breath, "Nubi saw nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Inside, Zhao Cheng and Song Jia stared at each other in mutual disbelief: one caught mid-pounce, the other mid-defense.

The silence stretched, and then—Song Jia couldn't help it—she laughed.