Chapter 3: Let Me Have Half the Bed

Jun Buwen wore a dark robe embroidered with mysterious patterns, its collar and cuffs edged with gold-threaded clouds, a white jade sash encircling his waist. His garments floated about him, untouched by the slightest speck of dust. His porcelain-like skin gleamed with a soft luster, harmonious with the jade hairpin binding his hair—together, they cast a radiant glow. The only blemish upon this perfection was the faint swelling and redness at his usually cool, thin lips.

Summer Jiuxiang’s eyes sparkled when she beheld him. “Well now, a change of attire truly brings out a different presence,” she remarked, using words Jun Buwen could scarcely comprehend. What on earth was this “change of skin” she spoke of?

He chose to ignore the strange phrase and pressed on, “Why were you sleeping beside me? What have you done to me? Wasn’t I gravely ill? Did we… did we consummate our marriage?”

His barrage of questions drew a laugh from Summer Jiuxiang. “One at a time! With so many questions, how am I to explain? Besides, do you really want to ask such things in front of others?”

Jun Buwen caught the hint in her words. What could she not say before Meng Lao and Nightshade? He straightened his expression. “Meng Lao, Nightshade, wait outside.”

Without hesitation or doubt, the two replied in unison, “Yes, Your Highness,” and withdrew.

Jun Buwen turned to Summer Jiuxiang. “Say what you wish.”

She leaned back in her chair. “You were afflicted with a new poison, which made your usual fever unbearable. I alone could save you—I could not simply let you die.”

If he died, she’d be left a young widow. There was no way she’d let him simply expire.

Jun Buwen’s sharp gaze lingered on her. Not even Meng Lao knew of his fevered affliction—how could this woman? All these years, he’d suppressed the malady with his inner strength; how had she managed to alleviate it?

“What method did you use to save me?” he demanded.

She answered directly, “Let me put it simply: you suffer from fever poison, and I possess a body of pure yin—a rarity among thousands. There is no one else in this world who can counter your condition but me.”

She had no intention of revealing the truth about the Mother of Five Poisons Gu. No one would believe it anyway. Her excuse was plain: fever poison required a yin constitution to neutralize it. Her reasoning, at least, was plausible.

Jun Buwen’s eyes grew cold. “So you saved me. But how? With my fever poison and your pure yin, does that mean you and I…”

Seeing his frosty demeanor, Summer Jiuxiang replied, “See, I’m still wearing my bridal robes, stitches and all—not a thread unraveled. No consummation took place. Of course… if you’re really eager for it, that can be arranged.”

In Li, bridal gowns were sewn shut in many places, requiring the groom to untie the knots on the wedding night—a test of affection and a symbol of the bride’s trust.

Jun Buwen nearly spat out his tea. Who wanted consummation? He had only feared that, in his unconscious state, something untoward might have happened against his will.

He sternly asked, “If nothing happened, then why were you in my bed?”

She replied in mock astonishment, “Because I saved your life last night! After rescuing you in the dead of night, I was exhausted. Where else should I have slept if not your bed? Should I have taken the floor? Be reasonable. I save your life, you grant me half the bed—what’s the harm?”

Half the bed?

Hearing such brazen words openly declared left Jun Buwen speechless. Yet, with her title as Princess Consort, her claim had an odd legitimacy.

He took another sip of tea to calm himself, wincing at the sting on his lips, and instinctively touched the corner of his mouth.

Summer Jiuxiang smiled knowingly. “Your lips hurt, don’t they?”

Jun Buwen frowned, casting her a sidelong glance. If she claimed to be of pure yin and denied any consummation, then how had she alleviated his fever?

His gaze turned icy. “What… did you do?”

She, too, felt the burning pain on her lips. “What could I have done? I kissed you all night long—of course your lips are swollen and sore. It would be odd if they weren’t.”

He recoiled in shock. “What? You kissed me?”

She looked perfectly serious. “I did ask for your permission. Since you didn’t object, I went ahead.”

His mouth twitched. Ask a man lost in a coma? If he could resist, would she have needed to ask?

She rolled her eyes. “Did you think the yin energy could suppress your fever through proximity alone? Not unless you’re a leaf performing photosynthesis just from a bit of sunlight.”

“Photosynthesis?” Jun Buwen was bewildered once again by her strange words.

She couldn’t be bothered to explain. “It was only a kiss. I didn’t do anything else to you. Why the fuss? If you can’t bear the slightest sacrifice, how will you ever cure your fever poison? Go find some woman to quell it, then. If anyone should be outraged, it’s me—you lost nothing.”

Jun Buwen stared at her, astounded by her shameless candor and the ease with which she spoke. Yet, oddly, he did not dislike her. At least she was more genuine than the scheming women of the imperial city.

She continued, “Let me tell you: your fever poison has been with you since birth. I don’t know who would be so cruel as to poison your mother. You’ve managed it all these years through inner strength, but the poison from last night was meant to trigger a crisis—to make your illness erupt.”

Jun Buwen clenched his fists. So those people were stirring again.

She went on, “This so-called consummation is nothing more than a union of yin and yang—a temporary fix at best. If you truly broke your vows and sought a woman to suppress your fever, you’d be ruined. My method is the only way to restrain it once more.”

This marriage—was it the work of one faction behind the scenes, or two, or even three?

The King of Brocade’s wedding: someone poisoned Summer Jiuxiang, causing her to fall ill upon arrival at his manor—one faction’s scheme. The red bridal veil was dusted with poison, harmless to most but designed to trigger Jun Buwen’s fever when he lifted it—a plot against him. And had there been no outbreak, the wedding night itself would have doomed him if he broke his vows, the fever poison destroying him. Those behind it were truly cunning, plan stacked upon plan.

Jun Buwen’s gaze darkened, shadowed with hatred and a flicker of murderous intent.

Fever poison was not easily detected; a body of pure yin was even rarer. Jun Buwen had searched the world for a cure, but never heard of one. Who was Summer Jiuxiang, and whence came her skills? How did she know a pure yin body could counteract the fever?

He strode over and seized her wrist, his eyes sharp as blades. “Who are you, really? Who sent you to my side?”

She retorted, “My lord, your question is odd. It was the Emperor who granted this marriage—I cannot defy imperial will.”

Who in their right mind would seek out Jun Buwen? Handsome as he was, she had entered the manor as Princess only after becoming Summer Jiuxiang.

His hand moved to her face, checking—was she wearing a disguise? No. He felt only her real skin, no trace of a mask. The woman before him was truly Summer Jiuxiang, the one who entered his manor.

She blinked deliberately and teased, “My lord, barely recovered, and already so eager to flirt with me? How impatient you are.”

He had not expected such words from her, and was so startled he began to cough violently. He’d had no such intention, but her boldness and audacity left him thoroughly taken aback.