The Prime Minister’s Daughter and the Marquis’s Fool – Chapter 282

Bonus Chapter 18

Let’s give it a try.

Seated at the edge of the bed, Zhao Ningying’s eyes were knotted with conflict, her fingertips twined together, head bowed — she did not know how to answer.

            

Which kind of liking?

A few years ago, it would certainly have been the affection between sisters. But ever since they had both passed their jiji coming-of-age, her feelings toward Qu Ning had shifted.

Even though Qu Ning was the Imperial Crown Princess, the Female Emperor of the future, what Zhao Ningying felt for her only deepened with each passing day.

            

Yet she also knew there was a fundamental gulf between them. She could serve her as a subject, stand beside her as a friend, love her as family — but the moment she became her beloved, everything would change.

She would want more from Qu Ning. Qu Ning was the sovereign and she the subject; whatever Qu Ning wanted, she could give — must give. But what about what she herself wanted?

Ever since that rainy night at the inn, she had understood this with perfect clarity.

            

And her own identity carried reasons she could not defy: the bloodline of Haichao Kingdom ran in her veins. Even if she would not yield for her own sake, she would yield for Haichao’s.

For now, the elders still held Qu Ning in check. But what of later?

Would the woman of that day still be herself? She was no favored daughter of heaven, but neither did she intend to live at another’s mercy.

            

“Sisterly affection, of course.”

After that endless wait, Qu Ning heard the answer she had least wanted to hear. Yet that answer told her another answer as well.

Zhao Ningying was lying.

            

If her conscience were clear, why had she needed so long to reply?

The words had barely left Zhao Ningying’s lips before Qu Ning seized her and pulled her off balance, tumbling her against her body.

“Look at me. Say it again.” Disbelief filled Qu Ning’s eyes.

            

Face to face with Qu Ning at a hand’s breadth, Zhao Ningying’s heart skipped several beats. She hesitated for an instant, then said, “I don’t know.”

The last line of defense in Zhao Ningying’s heart crumbled at the sight of Qu Ning’s face — so full of grievance and unwillingness.

“You don’t know?” Qu Ning watched Zhao Ningying turn her face aside, then pinned the arms braced on either side of her. “Fine. Then let me help you confirm it.”

            

The next moment, their positions were reversed.

Qu Ning’s eyes narrowed slightly. Drunk as she was, she was using less than half her strength — Zhao Ningying could have thrown her off with ease.

But she didn’t.

            

Zhao Ningying gazed up at Qu Ning suspended above her and guessed what she meant to do. Just as Qu Ning leaned down to kiss her, Zhao Ningying did not dodge — she only called a halt: “Your Highness!”

That single address dragged Qu Ning back from the brink of madness.

Qu Ning looked at her, unblinking. Whether from the wine or from a grievance that ran truly that deep, tears slowly welled in her eyes.

            

Scalding drops fell onto Zhao Ningying’s cheek, and panic seized her too.

She had never seen Qu Ning like this.

“I understand now. I’m sorry.” Qu Ning slumped weakly to one side; Zhao Ningying caught her on instinct and eased her slowly down.

            

Qu Ning turned to look at her. Through the tears in her eyes, Zhao Ningying shattered into countless reflections — much like her heart in that moment, broken beyond all shape.

Zhao Ningying rose and left, Qu Ning’s gaze trailing after her. She thought Zhao Ningying was angry — but moments later, she saw her return.

Looking at the tear tracks at the corners of Qu Ning’s eyes, Zhao Ningying’s gaze went soft. She reached over with the towel in her hand and gently dried her tearful eyes.

            

Qu Ning still did not blink. Looking at Zhao Ningying’s stern, unsmiling expression, she understood the price her impulsiveness would cost her.

Perhaps, from this day on, they would have nothing left to call each other but sovereign and subject.

“You needn’t trouble yourself over me, Ying-meimei. I’ll be fine after some sleep.” Qu Ning’s voice was tightly controlled, straining to sound normal.

            

Zhao Ningying raised her eyes to her. She wiped Qu Ning’s face gently, then moved on to her fingers.

Their fingertips brushed. Ashamed of her offense and presumption just now, Qu Ning dared not touch Zhao Ningying again. She withdrew her hand and turned her gaze away.

But within moments, the hand she had drawn away was caught in Zhao Ningying’s grasp and gently drawn back.

            

Stunned, Qu Ning turned to look — Zhao Ningying was studying her fingers, wiping them gently with the towel.

“Ying-meimei, you don’t have to do this.” Qu Ning’s tone was light, masking the ache inside.

Zhao Ningying looked up at her. After a moment, she sighed softly. “Ning-jiejie is drunk. It’s only right that I look after her.”

            

“There’s no ‘only right’ about it. I made a fool of myself and frightened you just now, Ying-meimei — it would serve me right if you left me alone.” Qu Ning understood perfectly well: Zhao Ningying would yield to no one. Her wild outburst just now had been nothing more than a spent force’s final struggle; she had long since seen that Zhao Ningying no longer wished to love her.

It had been the desperate act of a woman out of options, and the wine had magnified and goaded what was in her heart until she misstepped and made a fool of herself.

Zhao Ningying’s hand paused in its wiping. She glanced sideways at Qu Ning, at the effortful tilt of her head as she fought back tears, then lowered her eyes for a moment. Her soft lips pressed together briefly before she spoke. “I’m afraid that Ning-jiejie will regret it someday.”

            

Zhao Ningying’s words rushed into Qu Ning’s ears like a gust of wind, and she thought she must have misheard.

“What do you mean?” Qu Ning stared at her, stunned.

Zhao Ningying slowly lifted her bowed head and looked at Qu Ning’s bewildered face. “Since you would come to regret it, it would be better if it had never begun at all.”

            

Qu Ning was more confused than ever. She knew Zhao Ningying was speaking of the two of them, but where had regret come into it?

“Since I know I love you, regret has never once entered my mind.” Qu Ning rejected her words outright, slowly sitting up.

“And if one day Ning-jiejie decides we don’t suit each other — what then?” Zhao Ningying asked.

            

Qu Ning’s throat worked, and she burst out, “In all these years, when have we ever had a single unhappy moment? How could we not suit each other?”

It was true they had never had an unhappy moment — but that was because Zhao Ningying had always yielded. Out of fondness for her, of course. And out of a reluctance to let go.

“Is Ying-meimei worried we’ll quarrel someday?” Only now did it dawn on Qu Ning: once, Zhao Ningying had seemed a match made for her in every way — yet every time Qu Ning’s words refused to bend, it was Zhao Ningying who gave ground.

            

Qu Ning lowered her eyes, a flush of shame rising to her face. Back at the inn, Zhao Ningying had wanted to speak, but Qu Ning’s presumption had sealed her lips — and then she had even ordered her, in the tone of a command, to call her Ning-jiejie.

Were it not for who Qu Ning was, Zhao Ningying’s temperament would never have met her head-on — but she would certainly have argued the point in her own roundabout way.

Yet Zhao Ningying’s response had been nothing but the habit of deference built over years of knowing her.

            

“Could you… give me one chance for us to try? If Ying-meimei still feels we don’t suit, I swear I will never cling.” Qu Ning looked at Zhao Ningying, pleading and humility mingling in her eyes. In this moment, she was no longer the Imperial Crown Princess enthroned above them all.

She was only a pitiful soul denied the favor of the one she loved.

The air in the room suddenly seemed thin. As the wait stretched on, the hope in Qu Ning’s heart guttered out bit by bit.

            

“Before we return to the capital, I will give Ning-jiejie my answer.” Zhao Ningying had thought it through. She looked at Qu Ning. “Let’s give it a try.”

Qu Ning’s fall through the abyss stopped midair. She stared at Zhao Ningying, eyes brimming with disbelief — and with a joy welling up from within.

“All right.”

            

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When Qu Zhimu and Zhu Qianjie failed to return with the hangover soup, Zhao Ningying decided to fetch it herself — and walked straight in on the two eavesdroppers at the door, startling them so badly they nearly spilled the tray.

“Hey! Careful!” Qu Zhimu hoisted the hangover soup high.

Zhu Qianjie scrambled to dodge, but one look up at Zhao Ningying’s fixed stare and she dropped her head at once, rooted to the spot.

            

Qu Zhimu, at least, had a thick skin. She coughed lightly to cover her embarrassment. “We were listening to you two talk, so we didn’t come in and interrupt.”

Zhao Ningying’s lips curved in resignation. “Give me the soup.”

Qu Zhimu handed over the tray. Watching Zhao Ningying turn back toward the room, she craned her neck for a peek, then grabbed Zhu Qianjie and trailed after her.

            

By the time Zhao Ningying entered, Qu Ning was already sitting up, roused by the footsteps. At the sight of Zhao Ningying coming toward her, her face lit with the joy of beholding the one she loved.

“Drink your hangover soup. We’ll head back after you’ve slept.” Zhao Ningying sat down and scooped up a spoonful, blowing on it gently.

Qu Ning nodded. When the spoonful came to her lips, she leaned forward slightly and drank it down slowly.

            

“Tasty?” Qu Zhimu asked, entirely on purpose.

The Qu Ning of old had never let anyone feed her — she had always eaten and drunk by herself.

Qu Ning had taken two sips when Qu Zhimu’s voice suddenly issued from an unseen spot beside the bed — and she choked violently.

            

The hangover soup sprayed across the entire bed…

“Cough, cough…”

Zhao Ningying hastily passed the bowl to Qu Zhimu, rose to rub Qu Ning’s back, and pulled out her own handkerchief to wipe the soup from her lips.

            

Qu Zhimu was frightened too; she stood frozen with the bowl, not daring to make a sound. Zhu Qianjie, for her part, hurried forward, wanting to reach out and help but finding no way to lend a hand.

“Are you all right?” Zhao Ningying asked, worried.

Qu Ning’s coughing subsided. Her face flushed crimson, and she waved a hand at Zhao Ningying, voice hoarse. “I’m not that fragile.”

            

“Next time, announce yourself sooner, Mu-jiejie.” Qu Ning looked at Qu Zhimu with a trace of reproach.

Thank heavens she hadn’t done anything — or said anything — to Zhao Ningying just now.

“I’ll go get Ning-jiejie a fresh quilt,” Zhu Qianjie volunteered at once.

            

Qu Zhimu held out the soup. “More?”

Zhao Ningying glanced back and took the bowl, intending to feed her — but Qu Ning snatched it and gulped it straight down, glug, glug.

She absolutely refused to give Qu Zhimu anything to laugh about.

            

The soup finished, Zhu Qianjie returned with the fresh quilt. Zhao Ningying tucked it around her, watched her settle down, and slipped out with Qu Zhimu and the others.

Left alone on the bed, Qu Ning found herself regretting that she hadn’t held Zhao Ningying back and asked her to stay and keep her company. As if she could possibly sleep now.

After suffering through a full shichen, at the sound of the door opening, Qu Ning closed the eyes that had never once managed to shut.

            

“Still not awake?” Zhao Ningying walked over and said softly, “If you don’t wake soon, I may just head back without you.”

Her lashes still trembling, Qu Ning’s eyes flew open at once.

Zhao Ningying broke into a smile. At the shy look in Qu Ning’s eyes as they turned to her, her own brows curved with delight.

            

“Did you sleep well?” Zhao Ningying asked gently.

Qu Ning shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep after Ying-meimei left.”

Zhao Ningying blinked in surprise — though, given their agreement from earlier, sleeping really would have been difficult. Not that she had been idle out there either; Qu Zhimu’s interrogation had left her head pounding.

            

“Then would you like to sleep a little longer, or head back to the camp?” Zhao Ningying asked, her voice soft.

“Let’s go back.” Qu Ning pushed back the quilt and made to rise.

Watching Qu Ning climb down from the bed, Zhao Ningying remembered that she had lain down fully dressed, and a chill had settled outside — she would certainly feel cold going out now.

            

Zhao Ningying turned to fetch the cloak. By the time Qu Ning had put on her shoes and risen to her feet, Zhao Ningying was draping the cloak about her shoulders.

Zhao Ningying tied the cloak’s strings while Qu Ning stood quietly, eyes lowered, watching.

The instant Zhao Ningying finished the knot and moved to let go, Qu Ning raised her arms and gathered her into an embrace.

            

The motion startled Zhao Ningying. Her first instinct was to pull free — then she yielded, and rested her chin on Qu Ning’s shoulder.

“Ying-meimei, I will surely cherish you.” Qu Ning spoke with the utmost solemnity and held her tighter. She would never again give Zhao Ningying the chance to say they didn’t suit each other.

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