Chapter 21: Twins!

Even the closest of brothers could never resemble each other to such an extent.

Gan Qiongying stood by the bedside, looking at Lihua hiding under the covers. A sudden, absurd yet plausible guess flashed through her mind—that Consort Lihua was not merely the biological brother of the male lead in the story.

He and the male lead, Zhongli Zhengzhen, were likely twins…

Twins!

Hiss.

Gan Qiongying silently drew in a sharp breath, feeling as though she had instantly unraveled a puzzle that had long troubled her—the parts of the plot that had never been described in detail.

Why had Lihua, as the biological brother of the male lead, ended up living among the common people under an assumed name?

Why was it that, as the elder brother of a prince of Jinchuan, he had been found but never recognized by the Jinchuan royal family?

The more Gan Qiongying pondered, the colder she felt.

Because they were twins. And all the TV dramas, novels, and even history she had ever seen clearly told her that while modern people rejoiced at having twins, ancient people viewed twins as an ill omen.

This was especially true for royalty. Imagine—imperial power was inviolable. If one person became emperor, how could they tolerate someone else who looked exactly like them?

Even if the emperor could tolerate it, who could guarantee that ministers would not harbor treacherous ambitions, attempting to support the other twin and replace the emperor?

Thus, one of the twins was destined to die.

Gan Qiongying thought of Lihua’s slightly lame left leg.

Those with physical disabilities could not become emperor… Lihua had clearly been abandoned, meant to die quietly at birth.

Gan Qiongying didn’t know how he had survived, but she thought of him as a merchant who had become the consort of the domineering Princess Duanrong. Recalling the plot, where Zhongli Zhengzhen ultimately seized the throne of Nánzhào… Lihua was likely a pawn planted by Zhongli Zhengzhen within the royal family.

A disabled prince, abandoned at birth—was he to be used by Zhongli Zhengzhen until his death?

What Zhongli Zhengzhen wanted to exploit was likely not just the identity of the consort but also his inexhaustible wealth as one of the richest men in the world.

A brief recollection of the plot revealed how successful this move had been. In the story, Duanrong, desperate for Zhongli Zhengzhen’s affection, would stop at nothing.

She had undoubtedly provided him with countless conveniences.

While the identity of the consort seemed useless, subject only to Princess Duanrong’s humiliation and abuse, the title of Consort of Nánzhào might be a laughingstock in the Imperial City of Yindu, but outside the Imperial City, when dealing with traveling merchants or local officials, the name of a royal relative naturally opened all doors.

Thinking of this, Gan Qiongying frowned deeply. She was not skilled in strategy and had struggled to feel grounded since crossing over a month ago.

She only wanted to survive and live well in this world. She cherished the life she had been given.

But today, having uncovered the consort’s true identity, even a slight contemplation filled her with bone-chilling malice.

Now, as Duanrong, she couldn’t help but feel resentment toward the thief who sought to steal the country.

When the nest is overturned, no egg remains unbroken. If Nánzhào were truly destroyed, she, as a fallen princess, would likely meet her end dragged to death by horses, regardless of love or hatred.

At this thought, all warmth vanished from Gan Qiongying’s face.

She herself was unaware that at this moment, she had already become nearly indistinguishable from the true Princess Duanrong—with the same sinister gaze and the same indifferent expression.

She looked at the Consort, who dared not reveal his true appearance, trembling beneath the blankets.

This time, she genuinely felt the urge to step forward, tear the blankets off him, and expose his conspiracy with Zhongli Zhengzhen.

However, Gan Qiongying was, after all, not the real Princess Duanrong. Because she could detach herself from the plot of this world and view the situation from a god-like perspective, her ability to regain composure was astonishingly swift.

She thought of Lihua’s fate in the plot—humiliated and driven to death. She thought of how, despite being the elder of the twins, he was heartlessly abandoned by his own parents due to his disability, and after being found, he was exploited to the extreme. Was any of this his choice?

Was his trembling now out of fear that his true identity would be exposed, ruining their grand scheme to steal the country, or was he afraid of something else?

A prince who should have lived a life of jade-like nobility and golden dignity, abandoned by his own parents, forced to wear a mask, conceal his identity, and marry a princess from an enemy nation who not only did not love him but even despised and humiliated him—wasn’t his entire life already destroyed?

Gan Qiongying stood by the bed, lost in thought for a long time. If she were in his place, not only would she refuse to cooperate, but she would also harbor deep hatred.

Did he hate?

No matter what, she could not expose anything tonight.

Even if she revealed that the Consort looked exactly like Jinchuan Zhizi, what good would it do? In the end, the one to be discarded would still be Lihua.

They could even find a “coincidence” to explain it away, as it had never been heard that the Jinchuan royal family had given birth to twins.

The room was so quiet that the sound of a falling needle could be heard, with only the rustling of the blankets as they trembled. A group of maidservants, having received no instructions, stood with lowered eyes at the doorway, neither daring to enter nor leave.

Gan Qiongying slowly knelt halfway onto the bed. Leaning forward, she did not pull down the blanket covering Lihua’s face but instead gently embraced him along with the blanket.

Having already gathered her tangled thoughts, she held Lihua and said, “Coming here in the dead of night must have frightened you, right?”

“I’m drunk, so don’t be afraid…” Gan Qiongying indeed still had a lingering flush on her face, and pretending to be drunk was the perfect excuse.

“I… I fell into the water today.”

“The Princess Manor is too far, and it’s too cold. I heard you hadn’t returned home, so I came here.”

Gan Qiongying tightened her embrace around Lihua through the blanket and said, “I’ll take a bath and then sleep… I won’t be angry about you not coming home, okay?”

“If you don’t want to see me, then keep it covered,” Gan Qiongying said, patting Lihua’s back through the blanket as if soothing a child, though her eyes held little warmth.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

Gan Qiongying said, “Tomorrow, we’ll go home together.”

As for Lihua, from the moment he was embraced, he had already turned to stone, not moving again.

Curled up under the blanket, clutching his face, blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

His nails nearly dug into his own skin, as if he wished he could tear off this face of flesh and blood.

All the misfortune and calamity in his life stemmed from this face.

He used to hate his parents and siblings, but now he only hated himself.

He hated his own incompetence, his inability to escape all of this, and his powerlessness to save the Momo who had secretly picked him up and raised him.

The first time this face of his was exposed to others was at birth—the day he was abandoned and “dropped to his death.”

The second time it was exposed was at seventeen, when he was playing in the streets and his mask fell off. He was discovered by his father’s guards, captured, and imprisoned in a dark, blood-soaked dungeon, teetering on the brink of life and death.

Later, because he excelled in business and had value to be exploited, he survived.

Since then, he had worn a mask day and night, never daring to expose himself in the slightest. If he were exposed again tonight… he would surely not survive.

But his feeble attempt to conceal himself was not brutally torn away.

There were no harsh words, no disgusted glances, no shock or anger wishing for his death.

He was gently embraced, and through the blanket came soft, warm words he had never heard in his life.

She said if he didn’t want to be seen, he could stay covered and meet her tomorrow.

She said not to be afraid, she was just drunk.

She said she wasn’t angry at his defiance, she had only come to take him home.

Lihua bit his aching tongue, the pain of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth unable to stop his unstoppable tears.

But he had no home.

The Momo who secretly raised him was dead.

He had no home.

Gan Qiongying soon went to wash up, giving Lihua time to disguise himself.

Soaking in the bathtub, even if she tried not to think about it, she couldn’t help herself.

She now had to clarify two things.

Whether Lihua was willingly helping Zhongli Zhengzhen.

And whether her absurd arranged marriage was truly the Emperor’s way of punishing and humiliating her, or if he had discovered something.

Gan Qiongying leaned toward the idea that the Emperor had ulterior motives. Otherwise, no matter how the Consort for a Princess was chosen, or how many schemers were involved, it would never fall to a mere merchant.

And if the Emperor truly hated her so deeply that he would use her lifelong marriage to humiliate her, then why did he keep sending gifts—those priceless treasures she had given to Zhongli Zhengzhen?

It made no sense.

Gan Qiongying washed for a long time, and by the time she finished, dawn was approaching.

Her mind was about to explode from overthinking. She wanted to return to her residence immediately, send a message to the palace, and request an audience with the Emperor.

She even began to suspect that Zhongli Zhengzhen’s sudden show of goodwill last night, even resorting to the hallucinogenic drug he had planned to use on her later, was part of some sinister plot.

But all these thoughts were clearly not something she could unravel in a short time.

After finishing her bath, Gan Qiongying thought that with the opportunity she had given him, Lihua would surely have fled.

Or at least gone to put his mask back on.

But to her surprise, Lihua hadn’t run away. Instead, he had rolled himself in the blanket and moved to the inner side of the bed to lie down.

The blanket was pulled over his head, clearly showing he hadn’t bothered to put the mask back on but knew to cover his face. Some of his hair peeked out, messy and disheveled.

Listening to his breathing rhythm, he had actually fallen asleep, leaving half the bed for her.

Looking at him, the chaotic thoughts in Gan Qiongying’s mind temporarily scattered.

She almost felt like laughing.

She was truly being overly suspicious.

Although she hadn’t spent much time with Lihua, he was indeed different from Zhongli Zhengzhen’s decisive, adaptable methods.

Everyone said that those who achieve great things do not fuss over minor details. Zhongli Zhengzhen could patiently coax her into opening the door, but when Lihua mistakenly thought she wanted to consummate the marriage, he pulled out a small knife to threaten her. After the knife was taken away, he tried to bite his tongue to end his life.

With such a temperament, such clear yet foolish eyes—

How could he willingly be a pawn?

She had just heard him sobbing through the quilt moments ago. What kind of chess piece cries like that?

Gan Qiongying sat by the bed, silently laughing for a while, then dismissed the maids, climbed into bed, and closed her eyes to sleep.

Having exhausted herself all night and used up too many brain cells, Gan Qiongying quickly fell asleep.

She didn’t know that Lihua was actually awake, deliberately steadying his breathing as he lay under the quilt, waiting.

He didn’t know what he was waiting for either. Perhaps he was waiting for Gan Qiongying to discover his secret.

He felt a desperate, self-abandoning resolve, yet in his heart, there was an irrepressible, unquenchable hope.

Were the things she said true?

Would she respect his wishes, not pull back his quilt, not be angry about him lying to her and not returning to the Princess Manor, but simply come to take him… home?

No one could understand why Lihua, after enduring humiliation and beatings time and again, would, on a night like this, foolishly place hope in his tormentor.

Perhaps it was because the word “home” had always been an unattainable dream for him.

Perhaps Lihua had simply been deceived by those soft, gentle words, like someone bewitched.

Or perhaps… it was like a dog, abandoned and beaten since birth, drifting from place to place, who didn’t even need a bone—just a beckoning finger—to follow.

He waited for a long time.

He heard Gan Qiongying climb into bed.

He heard her breathing gradually steady.

Then, sometime after she fell asleep, as the sky grew bright, he felt an arm draped over his waist, like an embrace.

In that moment, Lihua even wanted to burst into tears.