The Princess Consort Wants to Rebel Every Day - Chapter 2

I had given up on him, but my scheming elder sister had set her sights on him.

Jiang Yuhe was decisive about men. Whoever caught her eye got three chances.

First, she played hard to get. Second, she tried sweet persuasion. Third, she took matters into her own hands by force.

Most men took the bait on the first attempt. Few ever made it to her earnest persuasion, let alone the third. Zhou Ting’an, of course, was that rare exception.

The first time, Jiang Yuhe happened to fall into his arms, her breasts displayed to dazzling effect. Zhou Ting’an remained unmoved. He kicked her away, pointed his blade at her chest, and snapped, “Do you want me to cut those off?”

The second time, she pressed on. She came to his residence in tears and spent two full hours sobbing out her burning love for him.

This time Zhou Ting’an did not draw his sword. Perhaps it was the first declaration of love he’d ever received from a noblewoman, and his heart was racing. He merely waved a hand. Dozens of hidden guards sprang out, each delivered a kick, and between them they sent Jiang Yuhe flying out of the residence.

On her third attempt, Jiang Yuhe grew ruthless. Three entire packets of aphrodisiac—enough to keep ten grown bulls going all night without sleep—went into a single bowl of thick porridge. She sprinkled it with osmanthus sugar and had it served with dinner.

Zhou Ting’an’s fondness for osmanthus was no secret, and the cooks often added it to his meals. Thinking nothing of it, he drank every last drop.

Overjoyed, Jiang Yuhe stripped naked and arranged herself on his bed, ready to become his princess consort once the deed was done.

She had used too much. Zhou Ting’an spat a torrent of blood toward the sky and seized his sword to kill her.

I had been hiding nearby, watching the show. When I saw he meant it, I came out with my whip, afraid he really would cut Jiang Yuhe down. She fled over the wall without even putting on her clothes. Her backside scraped open on the way over, and she cried all the way home.

Zhou Ting’an and I fought all night, bounding through his residence in the dark. After more than three thousand exchanges, I finally managed to beat down the fire the drug had stirred in him.

The next day, as I left the residence in broad daylight before a crowd of onlookers, my legs gave way and I fell.

Rumors swept the capital: the Regent was as vigorous as an ox, and the second Miss Jiang had nearly died in his bed.

Wretched gossips.

I took Jiang Yuhe out to wander the streets.

Our first stop was a gambling house. She shook her bosom at a cheating gambler until the fellow, well past forty, was too smitten even to remember his tricks. Within an hour, I had won a fortune.

Next we visited a pleasure house. I called over a group of young male entertainers to play music, while Jiang Yuhe coaxed the women there, calling them all her sisters, into teaching her the capital’s latest tricks for seducing men.

After several rounds of wine, Zhou Ting’an appeared.

“What a coincidence, Your Highness. Visiting a brothel too?”

I was already tipsy. I paid no mind to the anger bursting across his face and raised my cup from a distance, inviting him to drink.

Zhou Ting’an was hardly the gentle, understanding sort. He slammed his two-meter blade onto the table. Wine spilled everywhere, and the women hurried away clutching their pipas.

Jiang Yuhe was quickest of all. She gathered her skirts and dived under the bed. In a blink, only her eyes remained visible, fixed on Zhou Ting’an. Humiliation, resentment, admiration—all fought for space in that gaze.

Pathetic.

“I hear you think the betrothal gifts are too small,” he said.

I drained my cup and, for the first time in my life, gave Zhou Ting’an’s face a proper look.

His childhood might have been wretched, but he was born to the imperial house. Command came naturally to him. He had a proud, untamed look: cool pale skin and sharp brows and eyes. In the capital, he counted as a strikingly masculine beauty.

Zhou Ting’an sat down with a sweep of his robes, his bold brows drawn together.

“Jiang Qingye, your father couldn’t earn that much in three lifetimes. And you call it too little?”

I wagged a finger and hiccupped. “You’re quite wrong! With Father’s stubborn principles, he couldn’t earn that silver in eight lifetimes.”

Zhou Ting’an laughed in exasperation. “So you do know.”

Of course I knew. If Jiang Zheng had shown any ambition, I’d have been a princess by now!

“Jiang Qingye, don’t make excuses. You were the one who offered to marry me. If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll surround the Jiang residence this instant and cut off those things your sister is forever flaunting. Let’s see how much trouble she stirs up in the capital after that.”

I glanced under the bed. Jiang Yuhe hugged her chest in terror and tried to tuck it out of sight. Her eyes brimmed with humiliated tears.

A breeze stirred the gauze curtains.

I pushed myself up from the table and stumbled over to Zhou Ting’an. He was much taller and broader than I was. I caught his lapel and squinted up at him.

“Your Highness, do you truly want to marry me?”

He looked down at me, his eyes dark. “What else would I be doing?”

“What do you like about me?”

If memory served, we had met several times. But apart from discussing affairs of state, we’d barely spoken. Affection had never entered into it. If the hundred or so servants who followed him everywhere hadn’t made such a spectacle, I might not even have recognized him in the street.

So what did he like about me? Why pass over a beauty like Jiang Yuhe to marry me?

Zhou Ting’an’s eyes lit up. His brows relaxed, and his face took on a look of fond recollection.

“Never in my life has a woman given me such a satisfying beating!”

Oh. He liked getting hit.