Chapter 20: The Consort’s True Face
No one dared to stop Gan Qiongying. She was already soaked through, and even after changing into dry clothes, her hair was still wet, the carriage was damp, and she was nearly frozen stiff on the way back.
She came to find Lihua not only to prevent him from avoiding her but also because the Consort’s residence was not originally bestowed by the emperor, nor was it designated as a Consort’s mansion. Moreover, this villa was located in the bustling city, much closer than returning to the Princess Manor, which had been converted from a palace.
Gan Qiongying was directly assisted by her maids into the Main Courtyard, then strode straight in and opened the door to enter the room.
Guarding outside Lihua’s door were Tianjiao and San Jiu. When they saw Gan Qiongying, their expressions turned vivid and complex. However, loyal to their master, they braved the risk of angering Princess Duanrong and blocked the doorway.
Unfortunately, the entire Consort’s residence was sparsely populated. Not only did it pale in comparison to the extravagant scale of the Princess Manor, which housed over four thousand servants and guards, but even compared to the wealthy households in the city, it appeared rather shabby.
Along the way, several Side Courtyards were in disrepair from years of neglect. Although the overall layout was elegant, not even a single lantern was lit under the corridors for the night—truly frugal to an extreme.
Gan Qiongying sighed inwardly, thinking she needed to learn from the God of Wealth’s habit of thrift.
Silver Moon and several other maids followed closely beside her, taking the initiative to open the door for her as if they were the hosts. They even nudged the young and naive Tianjiao, who was unaware of the world’s dangers, several steps away.
“The Eldest Young Master has already retired for the night, Princess, you…” Tianjiao’s words were cut short halfway, as a shadow guard descended out of nowhere, pressing a blade against the necks of San Jiu and another attendant blocking the way.
The gleaming blade not only symbolized Princess Duanrong’s inviolable status but also the authority of imperial power and nobility, a majesty that brooked no defiance.
Seeing the situation turn unfavorable, Tianjiao immediately raised her voice to warn the Eldest Young Master inside.
But Silver Moon, clever and sharp-witted, swiftly covered Tianjiao’s mouth and handed her over to others to drag away.
Thus, like a bandit raiding a village, Gan Qiongying entered Lihua’s bedroom with almost no effort.
She was in a hurry to wash up and warm herself, not there to kill or fight anyone. Although she felt helpless at her subordinates’ aggressive, almost murderous demeanor, she paid it no mind. She simply said to Silver Moon, “Quickly prepare water for a bath.”
Then she stepped into the room.
Gan Qiongying was truly cold and hurriedly rushed into the inner chamber. She bypassed the screen, intending to grab a blanket to wrap herself in for warmth, only to find the bed curtains tightly drawn, with not a sound coming from inside.
Gan Qiongying was in high spirits tonight and had no intention of scolding her dear Consort for disobeying and refusing to move from the Consort’s residence.
She lifted the bed curtains with a flattering gesture, prepared to soothe and coax him no matter what expression the God of Wealth wore.
But as soon as she parted the curtains a crack, instead of meeting Lihua’s startled, angry gaze as she had expected upon being disturbed in the middle of the night, she saw someone sleeping peacefully.
His sleeping posture was very proper, with both arms neatly tucked under the blanket, lying face up, his long hair scattered messily across the pillow.
The gentle smile on Gan Qiongying’s lips remained, but upon clearly seeing the sleeping face, it froze solidly in place.
Then, Gan Qiongying’s fingers, which had been lifting the bed curtain, trembled violently. The curtain slipped from her grasp and fell, while she stood frozen outside, swallowing with great difficulty—slowly, bit by bit, like rain soaking parched earth.
Her phoenix eyes widened into circles, and she remained in the posture of lifting the curtain, holding her breath for several moments before suddenly realizing she hadn’t been breathing at all!
Holding that breath, she did something even she found unbelievable: she turned and fled toward the door, lifting her skirt and tiptoeing as if she hadn’t entered her own Consort’s bedroom but some strange man’s chamber.
Just as she reached the door, Tianjiao outside freed her mouth for a moment and called out in a loud voice, “This servant greets the Princess!”
At the same time, Silver Moon happened to lead a procession of maidservants out, carrying hot water and utensils for washing and bathing.
As the door opened, they nearly collided with Gan Qiongying, who was hunching her shoulders and clutching her skirt.
Gan Qiongying’s first reaction was to cover Silver Moon’s open mouth, then whisper harshly, “Don’t make a sound! The Consort is resting!”
The maidservants immediately softened their movements, holding their items and waiting at the door for instructions.
Gan Qiongying’s mind raced. Thinking of the face on the bed, her heart pounded wildly, as if several national-level athletes were performing consecutive ten-meter platform dives.
She considered ordering another room prepared, to avoid disturbing Lihua further, but just as she was about to speak, a voice came from behind the bed curtain.
“Who’s there!”
Lihua’s tongue was injured, so this rebuke was trapped in his throat—unpleasant to hear, but fierce.
In the blink of an eye, Gan Qiongying’s thoughts twisted and turned a hundred times. Then she turned and said, “Awake? Why didn’t you come home tonight? How could you break your promise to me?”
Deliberately making her footsteps loud, her tone took on a coquettish note as she walked toward the bed, saying, “Husband, I’ve come to take you home.”
Inside the bed curtain, Lihua froze for a moment upon hearing Gan Qiongying’s voice.
But he quickly reached up to touch his face, then frantically rummaged through the small cabinet by the bed, pulling out a soft, flesh-colored object shaped like human skin. However, there was no time to put it back on.
Hearing Gan Qiongying’s approaching footsteps, he panicked and shouted, “Don’t come over!”
His tongue, still healing, tore open the partially healed wound from the strain of this urgent, strained cry. A trace of metallic-tasting blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
But he had no time to care, terrified that Gan Qiongying would ignore him and lift the curtain.
In such a short time, he couldn’t reattach the mask, so he pulled the quilt over his head instead.
Even through the quilt, he could sense that Princess Duanrong was now standing right beside his bed.
Lihua trembled all over in fear.
This was a dread that seeped into his bones—he couldn’t bear for anyone to see his face.
The last time he had been this afraid was when his father discovered he was still alive.
In an instant, Lihua broke out in a cold sweat, filled with regret for not returning home tonight and for impulsively removing the human skin mask.
He feared his own face, and even more, the catastrophic disaster it could bring upon him.
“Don’t…” Blood began to flood his mouth, choking him until he could hardly speak.
With his tongue injured, he mumbled incoherently, unable to form a clear sentence, only repeating over and over, “Don’t…”
No one knew whom he was pleading with or what he was begging them not to do.
Lihua hid under the covers, a grown man, yet tears streamed uncontrollably beneath the blanket.
In the end, he couldn’t even utter another “don’t,” because it was useless.
Whether he had begged his mother not to hurt him in the past, or later pleaded with his father not to kill him, or even when he said he didn’t want to be caught in the conflict between Nánzhào and Jinchuan, wishing only to live as a recluse in the mountains, a humble peddler or laborer—
None of it mattered.
It was useless!
No one cared about his thoughts, no one asked whether he was willing or not.
Lihua clutched the blanket, nearly sobbing aloud.
He just wanted to survive, to stay far away from all of this and live a peaceful life, even if it meant never showing his true face to anyone. But… why was it so difficult?
He heard Gan Qiongying lift the bed curtain.
Though the sound was faint, he heard it with startling clarity—like the pitying yet resolute look in his mother’s eyes when she turned away from him, like the sharp blade of his father’s guard swinging down toward him.
In that moment, Lihua suddenly stopped trembling. He stopped moving altogether.
He became like a lifeless object, as if all sensation had been stripped from him in the blink of an eye.
He knew he was about to descend once more into the abyss that belonged to him alone.
What could he do besides endure it, besides wait?
Gan Qiongying’s heart was also uneasy. After lifting the bed curtain, she had hoped Lihua would have returned to his usual self in that short time.
Though she was shocked to the core, and no matter how hard she searched her memory of the plot, she couldn’t recall such a twist, she truly wasn’t the least bit curious.
She wasn’t curious at all—not even a shred of curiosity—about what the Consort, who had died early at the hands of Princess Duanrong in the story, actually looked like.
Even though she had long noticed something off about his face, long observed how his expressions never quite reached his cheeks, how his ears flushed crimson while his face remained unmoving.
She had never wanted to pry, especially since this was a secret Lihua had fought so hard to conceal.
She already had enough secrets of her own to deal with; she didn’t need to know anyone else’s!
Today’s accidental discovery of Lihua’s true appearance was purely coincidental!
But Gan Qiongying truly never expected…
That the Consort of Princess Duanrong would have a face identical to that of Jinchuan Zhizi, Zhongli Zhengzhen.