A Concubine's Competitive Life in the Prince's Household-Chapter 160

Shen Wei felt uneasy in her heart.

If Military Advisor Zhao harbored ulterior motives and was profoundly scheming, it would likely spell trouble for her. Should Military Advisor Zhao return to the capital of Yan and come across Qixiang Studio and the Zhao Yang Princess’s residence, he might detect Shen Wei’s presence...

Friend or foe—it remained unclear. Moreover, given that he had risen to the position of military advisor and designed devastating landmines, his intellect was undoubtedly formidable.

“The princess is drunk. Cai Lian, Cai Ping, escort her back to the princess’s residence.” Distracted, Shen Wei instructed her maids to take the intoxicated princess away.

Left alone in the waterside pavilion, Shen Wei pondered the enigmatic “Military Advisor Zhao.” She could not afford to overlook any potential threat and had to prepare countermeasures.

Lost in thought, Shen Wei unconsciously picked up her wine cup and took a sip. By the time Cai Ping returned, she realized Shen Wei had absentmindedly drunk nearly half the fruit wine.

Cai Ping gasped in shock and hurried over to support the swaying Shen Wei. “Mistress, you’ve had too much!”

“Quick, someone help me take the mistress inside! De Shun, tell the kitchen to prepare sobering soup!”

Shen Wei had a low tolerance for alcohol.

After half a jar of wine, she was utterly drunk. Fortunately, she didn’t act unruly when intoxicated—she simply lay still and slept. Cai Ping helped her into bed, removed her shoes and socks, and then went to check on the sobering soup in the kitchen.

As dusk approached, Prince Yan returned to the Glazed Pavilion. The rich aroma of wine greeted him, and there lay Shen Wei, flushed like rouge, sprawled drunkenly across the bed.

Prince Yan: “...”

“Your ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍Highness, the Zhao Yang Princess visited this afternoon. The mistress had a few drinks with her and accidentally overindulged,” Cai Ping explained hastily as she entered with the sobering soup, offering a plausible excuse.

Hearing the commotion, Shen Wei drowsily opened her eyes. The world swayed before her, but she immediately recognized Prince Yan standing by the bed.

Shen Wei smiled.

She tugged at his sleeve, grinning as she struggled to sit up. Then, she wrapped her arms around his waist and murmured, “You’re back… I adore you so much…”

Hugging Prince Yan filled her with boundless contentment—he was her gold and silver, her endless fortune.

Prince Yan’s lips curved slightly, his heart stirring with warmth.

As the saying goes, drunken words reveal true feelings. Even in her stupor, Shen Wei hadn’t forgotten her love for him.

Prince Yan gently pushed her back onto the bed and teased, “Shen Wei, do you truly love me this much?”

Still clutching his sleeve, she slurred, “Of course… I long for you every day… I wish I could strip you bare… leave not a single thread…”

In her mind, she wanted to wring every advantage from him, to take everything he had.

Prince Yan coughed lightly, glancing down at her grip on his sleeve. This little minx, even drunk, was still scheming to undress him and have her way.

How utterly endearing.

Cai Ping brought in the sobering soup, and Prince Yan personally fed half a bowl to Shen Wei before she collapsed back into deep slumber, sleeping soundly through the night.

...

Meanwhile, far away in the border city of Liangzhou, a cold moon hung high, casting a frost-like glow over the vast desert.

The general’s residence was brightly lit as soldiers celebrated a hard-won victory, drinking and reveling through the night.

In a secluded courtyard, Military Advisor Zhao Qing had left the feast early, returning to her quarters under the pale moonlight.

She closed the door, secured the latch, and after ensuring no one was around, carefully retrieved an aged goatskin journal from a box beneath her pillow.

The journal was at least a century old, preserved by special treatments to prevent decay. The ink on its pages was equally resilient, unfaded by time.

By the dim candlelight, Zhao Qing sat on the edge of her bed, flipping through the journal. On its cover were the words Taihua Notes, scrawled in rough, uneven characters that differed slightly from the script of Qing State.

The journal contained both text and crude sketches of weapons.

“Aside from firearms and landmines, what else here can be used?” Zhao Qing muttered, turning the delicate pages with care.

Rockets, airships, nuclear weapons… these terms were utterly foreign, and the bizarre illustrations seemed impossible to construct by human hands. Flipping further, she stopped at a page titled Composite Bow.

Her eyes lit up as she painstakingly deciphered the messy handwriting: “Energy-efficient, long-range, highly lethal. In absence of alloy materials, alternatives include ox horn, deer sinew, and fir wood…”

She committed the page’s contents to memory before carefully tucking the precious Taihua Notes back into its hidden box.

This journal was a divine gift, the key to changing her fate.

Years ago, Zhao Qing had been an ordinary herb gatherer in Liangzhou. While foraging in the mountains, she had stumbled into an abandoned cave. Inside were traces of human habitation—a decayed wooden table, shattered jars—but in a corner lay the perfectly preserved goatskin journal.

The writer had long turned to dust, but Zhao Qing, armed with the journal’s designs for ingenious weapons, had risen to become the Marquis of Southern Garrison’s trusted military advisor, revered by the border city’s people.

She would guard this secret for life.

Knock knock—

A gentle voice called from outside. “A-Qing, are you still awake?”

Zhao Qing quickly composed herself and hurried to open the door, her heart lifting. “My lord, I’m still up.”

The wooden door creaked open, revealing Shangguan Xuan bathed in moonlight. Clad in military attire, his handsome features carried the steadiness of a seasoned commander. In Liangzhou, where men were often rough-hewn, Zhao Qing adored Shangguan Xuan’s refined and scholarly demeanor.

She knew he had a wife back in the capital.

But so what?

On the final page of Taihua Notes, its original author had written: Defy convention, pursue love bravely.

Zhao Qing lived by these words. Happiness was in her own hands—she would take that bold step forward. No longer would she linger in war-torn Liangzhou. She would go to the prosperous capital of Yan and become the esteemed marchioness.

Shangguan Xuan stepped inside, his handsome face softening with a tender smile. “A-Qing, my mother’s birthday falls in early winter. With the war stabilized, I’d like you to accompany me back to the capital in two months. Would you agree?”

Zhao Qing nodded eagerly. “As long as I’m by your side, my lord, I’ll go anywhere.”

In the flickering candlelight, Shangguan Xuan gazed at the woman before him—disguised as a man yet radiating intelligence and beauty. Born and raised in the capital, he was accustomed to demure, rule-abiding noblewomen.

But stationed in Liangzhou, he had come to admire the bold, unrestrained women of the borderlands—women who drank freely and wore their hearts on their sleeves.

Zhao Qing embodied the best of them: spirited, brilliant, and lovely.

When he took her to the capital, Shangguan Xuan would petition the emperor to make her his official wife and demote Sun Qingmei to a concubine.

After all, the Sun family had fallen from grace. Their daughter was no longer fit to be a marchioness.