Chapter 56: Don’t Look at the Female Guests

Gan Qiongying collapsed to the ground, her vision spinning. Just before completely losing consciousness, she saw a flash of yellow at the palace entrance.

Princess Hui’an had been watching from inside the hall. When she saw Duan Rong stagger a few steps and sway unsteadily, she had already stepped out of the doorway.

She was advanced in years, and her heavy, ornate robes made it difficult to move quickly. Aunt Wumei tried to come forward to support her, but Princess Hui’an pushed her forward instead, her expression anxious as she urged, “Go quickly and see what happened to that child, hurry!”

Then Princess Hui’an ordered the other maidservants around her to immediately summon Imperial Physician Wu, who always traveled with her.

When Gan Qiongying regained consciousness, she felt a sharp, needle-like pain on her face.

To her surprise, as she groggily opened her eyes, she indeed saw a man with a face full of wrinkled, orange-peel-like skin holding a silver needle, about to prick her.

Gan Qiongying instinctively wanted to shout: I confess, I confess everything!

Her gaze swept around the room before returning to the bed. Seeing the familiar furnishings, she knew she was back in her own courtyard.

Someone was speaking nearby, but she couldn’t make out the words clearly. However, seeing Aunt Wumei there, her heart settled firmly.

The “bitter flesh” strategy had worked. This “male momo” pricking her was undoubtedly Princess Hui’an’s person.

Wumei was speaking with Lihua.

“The Princess suffered greatly in her youth, and her stomach is very delicate,” Aunt Wumei said gently, avoiding any mention of Gan Qiongying fainting from the heat after going to Princess Hui’an to admit her mistake. She only said, “At noon, she drank a bowl of chilled sour plum soup. Perhaps the weather was too hot, and she was too greedy for something cool, which shocked her system.”

“Thank you for the advice, Auntie,” Lihua listened attentively, committing all of Aunt Wumei’s words to memory.

“The Princess lost her parents early,” Aunt Wumei continued. “The Consort has a gentle temperament. Please be more tolerant of the Princess. Only then can the Grand Princess be at ease.”

“You are absolutely right, Auntie,” Lihua lowered his head, appearing humble and receptive to the guidance.

Seeing his obedience, Aunt Wumei did not press further. She took a step back, performed a slight bow, and left along with the imperial physician.

After seeing them off, Lihua immediately walked to the bedside. Looking at Gan Qiongying’s originally fair face, now flushed red from the sun, he felt a pang of discomfort.

Manyue was beside her, constantly wiping her face with an ice-wrapped handkerchief, but the redness stubbornly refused to fade. Manyue was so anxious her fingertips trembled, tears glistening in her eyes.

Everyone in the room was bustling around Gan Qiongying, hearts aching with worry, while she herself was secretly chuckling inside.

Princess Hui’an’s heart had already softened. With such a good start, she wouldn’t have to worry too much about what came next.

Although Gan Qiongying felt weak—probably a bit of heatstroke—she was, after all, young and not seriously harmed.

The art of playing the victim required knowing when to stop. As long as it moved Princess Hui’an, it was enough.

Therefore, supported by Lihua, she forced herself to drink several bowls of bitter medicinal soup and ate a few pieces of pastry. After resting for a while, she soon returned to her spirited state.

Gan Qiongying believed she was fine, but Lihua stayed by her side, fetching tea and water, fulfilling every request, his face etched with worry. He knew Gan Qiongying’s fainting incident wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

But having just been admonished by Aunt Wumei, and with only San Jiu—who had been secretly patrolling—having seen Gan Qiongying standing in punishment under the blazing sun outside the Grand Princess’s door, he wasn’t clear on the other details. He didn’t know if he should ask.

After all… he was just a merchant.

Even with the status of Consort, he still could not hold his head high in front of true imperial relatives and nobles. Every word spoken earlier by Aunt Wumei, though seemingly flattering, was in fact a blunt warning for him to know his place and serve Gan Qiongying dutifully.

Lihua felt a pang of discomfort in his heart.

“Husband, don’t worry,” Gan Qiongying said, noticing his concern. She smiled and placed her hand on his. “I just suffered from heatstroke. It’s nothing serious.”

Lihua clasped her hand in return. Hearing her words, he pursed his lips tightly, his brows furrowing into a deep frown. “Why put yourself through such suffering? Couldn’t you have waited until the evening banquet to see her?”

“When I was young and foolish, I offended my aunt and earned her displeasure,” Gan Qiongying replied without hesitation, laying everything out plainly. “I want to seek her forgiveness. If I miss today, I fear I may never have another chance.”

“Even so, there must be a better way,” Lihua said, his grip tightening slightly, his expression tense. “You didn’t have to stand under the sun for two hours.”

Gan Qiongying said nothing more. Listening to Lihua’s concerned admonitions, she smiled happily, even feeling rather pleased.

She pulled his cool hand and pressed it against her feverishly warm cheek, sighing softly. “You don’t understand… sometimes you have to risk something to gain something…”

Lihua sighed but ultimately said nothing further. He turned to fetch the ointment.

Manyue had intended to take over, but Gan Qiongying refused. Seeing Tianjiao standing nearby, equally unable to help, Manyue stuck out her tongue. The two young maids, understanding the situation, tactfully stepped out of the room.

Lihua personally applied the ointment for Gan Qiongying.

He dipped his fingers into the ointment bit by bit, carefully dabbing it onto her face, his heart growing increasingly filled with guilt and unease.

The Princess was being so open and honest, yet he was about to hand over her network of influence to someone else. The thought of his meeting with Zhongli Zhengzhen tonight tore at his heart, leaving it feeling raw and bleeding.

The sun soon began to set.

By evening, before the birthday banquet had even begun, attendants arrived to escort Gan Qiongying and Lihua to their respective seats.

The banquet was set on a stone terrace halfway up the mountain, with the men’s and women’s seating areas arranged opposite each other on two sides. Gan Qiongying glanced at her and Lihua’s seats, which were relatively favorable, offering a clear view of the song and dance performances below.

Nánzhào had always been known for its open and liberal customs, and Princess Hui’an’s birthday banquet was naturally no exception. Men and women mingled without awkwardness, their gazes openly directed toward the opposite side.

Many guests had already taken their seats. The men’s and women’s seating areas formed a circle, now filled to capacity. It was evident that most of the nobility from Yindu had likely gathered for tonight’s celebration.

“Husband,” Gan Qiongying said, holding Lihua’s hand with one hand while pointing with the other to a seat diagonally across from them. “Your seat is over there.”

She then stood on her tiptoes, leaning close to his ear, and whispered, “You have a delicate constitution. I had Manyue check—the wine served at the banquet is all fine tribute wine from various regions, quite strong. Don’t overindulge.”

The warmth of her breath and her admonitions seeped into his ear, causing Lihua’s back to stiffen instinctively.

Their overly intimate behavior had already drawn the attention of others.

Sensing the gazes of the crowd, Lihua did not falter this time. He straightened his back, following the direction Gan Qiongying had pointed, and even returned the squeeze of her hand under the cover of his wide sleeves.

Before he could locate his seat, his ears suddenly flushed red—because Gan Qiongying had pinched his fingers and lightly traced his palm. She whispered in his ear again, “Don’t stare at the female guests.”

Lihua wanted to say “I wasn’t,” but quickly realized her meaning wasn’t that he was watching, but rather that he shouldn’t watch later.

He took a slight breath, pursed his lips, and nodded, suppressing his embarrassment.