The next day, Ji Zhaohe slept until late morning before slowly waking. The person who had been in her arms was long gone, considerately replaced by a pillow. She lazed in bed a while longer, her eyes vacant as she stared into space.

So boring—life without a phone felt like an eternity!

After washing up and having breakfast, Ji Zhaohe slumped over the desk, listlessly glancing at Jiang Deming. “Jiang Deming, where is my husband?”

Jiang Deming bent forward with an ingratiating smile. “He woke up early and is painting in the courtyard! There’s a lake on this estate, surrounded by mountains, flowers, and koi—a truly refreshing and elegant spot. Would Your Highness like to see it?”

Jiang Deming’s tone was like that of a supermarket promoter, full of “just give it a try, no pressure to buy” energy.

Ji Zhaohe waved her hand. “I’d better not disturb him.”

Last night, he’d complained about his legs hurting after walking all day and said he didn’t want to go out today. Yet he’d risen earlier than the roosters to go paint. She really couldn’t understand these ancient people.

On normal days off, she could lie in bed with her phone all day. But now, on a day off, there was nothing she could do. Going out? No plans, didn’t feel like it. Reading? The flowery prose was too hard to get into. Practicing calligraphy? The original owner’s messy handwriting was no better than her own.

“Jiang Deming, tell me, what’s there to do for fun at home?”

Jiang Deming thought for a moment. Her Highness’s usual favorite pastime was gathering her consorts to watch dances, listen to music, and enjoy massages and shoulder rubs—all to please herself. But now all the consorts were gone, leaving only her husband. She couldn’t exactly pester him nonstop, so it was no wonder she was feeling bored. “Your Highness could play pitch-pot, go fishing, admire the flowers, play chess…”

Before he could finish, Ji Zhaohe cut him off. “Alright, alright, stop. Those are all incredibly boring.”

“Oh!” Ji Zhaohe’s eyes lit up. “Did you buy those books I asked for?”

Jiang Deming nodded hesitantly. Yesterday, while Her Highness was busy playing, she’d secretly asked him to buy those books. She’d been active since eighteen—what did she need those for? He assumed they were for her husband, so he’d made sure to buy varieties with plenty of illustrations.

“Should this servant deliver them to your husband?” In broad daylight? Was that really appropriate?

Ji Zhaohe gave him a strange look. “What would he need them for? They’re for me. Stop wasting time and go get them!”

Jiang Deming seemed to want to say something, hesitated again, then finally retreated to fetch the books.

He’d watched Her Highness grow up and thought he understood her thoroughly. But lately, he found himself increasingly confused by her—sometimes he didn’t even understand what she was saying.

Ah, he really was getting old. Her Highness didn’t need him anymore, keeping her thoughts and secrets to herself. Thinking this, Jiang Deming nearly shed tears.

While waiting for Jiang Deming, Ji Zhaohe drank several cups of tea to calm her excitement.

After she finished reading, should she have Shen Qingtang take a look too? What if he didn’t understand either?

Ji Zhaohe stood up and did a few stretches on her own. The several cups of tea hadn’t soothed her mind—instead, she felt even more energized.

..

“Master, Steward Jiang sent word that Her Highness is awake.”

Shen Qingtang’s brush paused mid-stroke. He added a few more hurried lines, then brought the painting to an abrupt end.

“Did he say anything else?” Shen Qingtang asked, glancing sideways.

Fu Jiu: “Steward Jiang only said that Her Highness seemed very bored after waking up but didn’t ask for you to come.”

Shen Qingtang’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. Yesterday, he’d spent the day outside, his emotions swinging wildly between joy and distress, leaving him utterly exhausted. So when Ji Zhaohe suggested exploring the area, he’d begged for some rest.

Still, she was stuck at home bored because of him. He ought to go check on her. Shen Qingtang rolled up the painting and stood. “Let’s go see Her Highness.”

Fu Jiu took the painting, pleased. “Alright!”

Yesterday, seeing his master angrily ignore Her Highness had worried him and Steward Jiang to no end. This morning, his master had risen early to paint, and Her Highness hadn’t followed. He’d thought his master was still upset.

But now, his master was going to see Her Highness, and there was no reluctance or resistance in his eyes. Fu Jiu felt relieved. It was common for couples to argue and make up—he’d just been worried his master was too prideful to apologize to Her Highness.

…

When Shen Qingtang entered the room, it was quiet. Had she gone back to sleep? He scanned the room and finally spotted Ji Zhaohe on the daybed behind the screen.

The woman lay lazily on her side, one hand propping up her chin, the other flipping through a book.

Ji Zhaohe was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Shen Qingtang approaching. He cautiously leaned over to glimpse the contents, but his eyes met with indecent illustrations that made him quickly look away, feeling scalded.

Embarrassed, he softly called out, “Wife…”

He’d thought Ji Zhaohe was reading political essays—who knew it was salacious material disguised as something proper? Although such books weren’t explicitly banned, members of the royal family usually avoided them, considering them vulgar and damaging to refinement. Yet here was Her Highness, brazenly reading one in the open, utterly captivated…

Ji Zhaohe felt half her body go numb at the sound of “Wife.” She closed the book, knelt up on her elbows, and rubbed her stiff neck, looking somewhat surprised. “Weren’t you out painting?”

“Finished,” Shen Qingtang said, increasingly suspecting Ji Zhaohe’s actions were an attempt to cover something up. “What were you reading, Wife?”

“Oh,” Ji Zhaohe picked up the book and openly showed him its contents. “Just studying a bit to avoid hurting you.” She hesitated, glancing sideways at the young man. “Maybe… you should take a look too?”

As she spoke, she tried to push the book into his hands.

Shen Qingtang refused to take it, but unexpectedly, Ji Zhaohe lost her grip. The book fell with a crisp sound, landing face-up with two pages spread open, revealing secret and taboo content: a woman lying on a recliner in a courtyard, a man straddling her with legs parted. The recliner swayed slightly. Though both were clothed, the implication was clear to anyone who understood.

Before marrying, Shen Qingtang had been taught about marital intimacy. He understood the scene all too well.

The tips of his ears burned crimson, like vermilion roots, though his expression remained composed. He bent slightly to pick up the book, his rounded curves inadvertently displayed to Ji Zhaohe.

Ji Zhaohe suppressed the creeping urge in her heart—she was definitely not a lecher like the original owner!

Shen Qingtang placed the book on the desk and sat beside Ji Zhaohe. “Wife… why are you suddenly reading this today?”

Ji Zhaohe wrapped her arms around his slender waist from behind, enveloping the young man entirely in her embrace. She rested her chin on his shoulder and said lazily, “Just making up for our wedding night.”

“I didn’t skip the consummation intentionally that day. I just wanted to wait until we knew each other better.”

His words warmed Shen Qingtang’s heart. His wife respected his wishes. “By the way, Wife, how did you manage to hide the matter of the chastity mark from Steward Jiang and Father Consort that day?”

Ji Zhaohe chuckled awkwardly. It hadn’t taken any effort at all—just a few words. Given the original owner’s reputation in the eyes of Jiang Deming and Father Consort, they would never believe she’d let a duck that had fallen into her hands go uneaten.

They probably weren’t even suspicious about whether the marriage had been consummated—more likely, they were deeply concerned about his physical and mental well-being.

“Let’s just say I have my ways. Don’t worry about it.” Ji Zhaohe turned her head and kissed his neck, then gently shook the soft body in her arms. “So, are we consummating tonight or not?”

Was it really necessary to ask his opinion? And in broad daylight, no less? Shen Qingtang wished he could vanish into the ground. Agreeing would make him seem immodest, but refusing might hurt his wife’s feelings.

Besides, he had already married her—how could he possibly refuse?

Shen Qingtang gave a slight nod. Overjoyed, Ji Zhaohe planted several fierce kisses on his fair, tender cheeks.

“Let’s have lunch soon. Afterward, I’ll have someone prepare the face mask and show you how to use it. How does that sound?”

Ji Zhaohe often sought his opinion at the end of her sentences. Shen Qingtang nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.

His mother and father had always worried he would suffer after marrying the Third Princess. Before the wedding, his older sister had even said that if he didn’t want to go through with it, she would resign her official post and do everything in her power to stop the marriage. When they returned to the capital, he would tell them that he and the Third Princess were deeply in love, that she was not the absurd figure of rumor but instead respected and cherished him. They would surely be relieved.

At this thought, Shen Qingtang could no longer suppress his smile. He slipped free from the sandalwood scent of her embrace and stood to fetch the landscape painting he had just finished.

“Wife, look!” The young man presented it to Ji Zhaohe like a prize-winning certificate, his expectant, kitten-like eyes utterly adorable.

Ji Zhaohe pretended to examine it carefully while secretly scrambling for vocabulary.

Good heavens! As a science student, she had no talent for flowery compliments—especially for a landscape painting she couldn’t even understand.

With her limited vocabulary, all she could muster was: “There are mountains, water, fish… pretty.” Two words of wisdom.

After racking her brain, she finally blurted out, “It’s so beautiful!” Then she seized the opportunity to steal a kiss. While Shen Qingtang was still dazed by the kiss, she added, “My precious Tangtang is amazing!”

And successfully diverted his attention.

Just as the atmosphere in the room began to intensify, the door was gently knocked. Jiang Deming’s voice came from outside.

“Your Highness, the Crown Princess’s envoy has arrived.”