Chapter 91
Early in the morning, as Youxiang stepped out of her room to stretch and enjoy a stroll around the courtyard, the Prime Minister’s wife unexpectedly appeared with a group of attendants. Youxiang’s heart sank—only two days under the same roof, and she was already overwhelmed. The Prime Minister’s wife clearly had her sights set on matchmaking.
As the lady entered, she spotted Youxiang collecting flower dew in the yard, apparently to prepare medicine for Murong Qiufeng’s condition. The sight delighted her. This young woman was not only beautiful and talented but also considerate and dedicated to her son’s well-being.
If only Youxiang knew what was on her mind, she would’ve rolled her eyes. Of course I care! If Murong Qiufeng loses a strand of hair, I’ll bear the consequences. Please stop meddling, ma’am. He’s destined to remain unattached for life.
Watching the lady’s enthusiasm, Youxiang felt a twinge of pity. The prince really has no shame, stealing away an upright young man and depriving his parents of a grandson.
The lady smiled warmly. “Oh, my dear Youxiang, why are you up so early? Leave these tasks to the servants. A young lady should rest properly.”
Youxiang forced a polite smile. “I usually prefer to handle these myself to ensure everything’s done right. Speaking of which, I believe Qiufeng is awake now. I’ll go check on him.”
“No need, no need,” the lady insisted, grabbing Youxiang’s cold hand affectionately. “I’ve prepared some nourishing soup for you two to share. Later, have it together. I’ll be heading to the temple to pray for blessings today, so I’ll leave Qiufeng in your care.”
With a strained smile and stiff mouth, Youxiang accepted the tray and bid the lady farewell. As she examined the soup, a gasp escaped her lips, followed by a stifled laugh. The Prime Minister’s wife must be eager for grandchildren. This soup is no less potent than an aphrodisiac. If Murong Qiufeng drinks this, the prince will skin me alive.
She hesitated before discarding it, then suddenly smirked with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Turning, she headed toward Murong Qiufeng’s room.
Murong Qiufeng’s morning routine was predictable. After washing up, he would read to clear his mind before practicing his swordsmanship. He likely avoided his mother earlier, knowing her intentions.
Pushing open the door, Youxiang found him engrossed in a book. With a sly smile, she approached with the soup. In a cloyingly sweet tone, she said, “Qiufeng, look! Mother made this special soup just for us. Care to try it?”
Murong Qiufeng froze, visibly confused. His gaze shifted between her overly affectionate demeanor and the soup’s suspicious aroma.
Seeing his bewilderment, Youxiang raised her brow slightly and mouthed two silent words: Play along.
Though skeptical, Murong Qiufeng complied. “You drink first,” he said softly, his naturally gentle voice sounding even warmer. “I’ll have some later.”
Suppressing her laughter, Youxiang leaned closer and adopted an even more saccharine tone. “Mother insisted you drink it right away. Come, let me feed you. Open wide, and don’t spill!”
Amused, Murong Qiufeng watched as she theatrically ladled the soup—but not into his mouth. Instead, she discreetly poured it into a small pine tree on the table. He quickly caught on, noticing a faint disturbance outside the room. Mother must’ve sent someone to spy on us, he mused, shaking his head in silent amusement.
Suddenly, Youxiang’s expression shifted as she placed the bowl down and approached him dramatically.
“Oh no, Qiufeng! You feel so warm. Are you running a fever? I told you not to get up so early while you’re still recovering. Come, lie down. Oh no, don’t pull at your clothes—I’ll help you!”
Pushing him toward the bed, she continued her act. “Ah, Qiufeng, don’t! What are you doing? Let go of me!”
Murong Qiufeng played along, allowing her to push him down and lower the bed curtains. “Hmm, you’re right. It is a bit warm. Youxiang, your hands are so cool.”
“Stop it, you rogue! Don’t touch me there. Ah, Qiufeng, we’re not even married yet! This—this isn’t proper!”
“I’ll take responsibility,” he replied smoothly. “In a few days, I’ll ask the prince for your hand. You’ll be mine.”
…
Murong Qiufeng’s eyes widened as he watched Youxiang crouched by the bedside, having a full conversation with herself. He couldn’t believe how flawlessly she mimicked other people’s voices. What startled him even more was how convincingly her imitation resembled his own tone. The soft hums she added to her act made his face flush red. His mind wandered, recalling past misunderstandings with Shangguan Ye. Did I sound like that back then? How embarrassing…
Noticing Qiufeng suddenly holding his forehead with a mix of blush and pallor on his face, Youxiang sighed inwardly. The prince really is pure-hearted. Despite everything, he’s still this innocent. At this rate, when will I ever get to “eat” him?
Suddenly, a light knock came from the door, followed by an urgent yet feigned calm voice. “Young Master, the Prime Minister requests Miss Youxiang to come over.”
Raising her brows, Youxiang’s lips curled into a smug smile.
Murong Qiufeng frowned slightly, then pressed his lips together in a thoughtful smile. His gaze shifted to Youxiang with an expression that carried equal parts admiration and amusement.
That meaningful glance made Youxiang’s heart skip a beat. What a charmer, she cursed internally, a true seducer. She quickly turned her head, lifted the bed curtains, and exited the room. Opening the door, she addressed the maid waiting outside, “Why is the Prime Minister calling for me?”
At the doorway stood a plain-looking maid, about fifteen years old. Startled by Youxiang’s sudden appearance, the maid hesitated before lowering her gaze. For a brief moment, a flicker of cold intent crossed her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a bow. “I-I don’t know, Miss. The Prime Minister only said it was urgent and asked for you to come to the palace immediately.”
Youxiang’s face was still slightly flushed from Qiufeng’s earlier glance, her expression tinged with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. To add to the effect, she had intentionally left her collar slightly disheveled, creating an image so suggestive it was more convincing than any deliberate performance.
Smiling faintly, Youxiang turned back to the room and called out, “Young Master, you should rest well. I’ll be back soon.” She stepped out fully and informed the maid she needed to retrieve her medical kit before heading off.
However, by the time she left Murong Qiufeng’s room, it was already empty. The window was open, and the cold wind rustled the small pine tree on the table, its leaves trembling slightly.
As Youxiang walked ahead, she glanced at the maid trailing behind her with her head lowered. Curling her lips into a sly grin, she asked, “Why are you walking with your head down? Be careful not to bump into anything.”
The maid quickly raised her head, but her movements were stiff and unnatural. In a small voice, she asked, “Miss, you and our Young Master seem very close. Will you become the young mistress in the future?”
“Uh, maybe,” Youxiang replied shyly, her tone tinged with embarrassment.
Suddenly, the maid stopped in her tracks and let out a sharp scream. “Ah! Miss, don’t move! There’s a bug on your shoulder!”
Youxiang’s lips twitched as she cursed internally. Zhao Xiru, are you an idiot? You seriously thought that excuse would work?
