Bride of the Forgotten Prince: Wedding Behind Bars

Xiao Yeheng sensed a hint of caution in her tone.

Perhaps he was overthinking it.

In this prison, his identity no longer carried any weight. On the contrary, there were plenty who'd be glad to trample him.

Yan Shuixin, utterly exhausted, saw that he hadn't misunderstood and closed her eyes to sleep.

Xiao Yeheng tilted his head slightly and happened to catch her sleeping profile.

Her lashes were long, casting delicate shadows beneath her closed eyes like the sweep of a fan. Her lips were soft, tinged with the flush of crabapple blossom; her nose straight, features refined, and skin pale. Though frail, her figure had gentle curves in all the right places.

She was, in fact, very beautiful—if not for the acne that dotted her face.

There were over two hundred male inmates in this prison and only thirty or so women. With one female prisoner dead, there were likely twenty-nine left.

Few women, many men—among such wolves and jackals, her blemished face was, ironically, a kind of armor.

Xiao Yeheng unknowingly watched her for a long time, as sunlight filtered through the narrow vent in the wall, casting a warm glow across his body.

He didn't know whether it was the sunlight warming him, or the quiet kindness she had shown. But something gentle began to melt the ice long frozen in his heart…

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor outside the cell.

Judging by the gait, it was likely the jailer, Li Dian.

Xiao Yeheng glanced at Yan Shuixin, still asleep. Her posture was slightly suggestive—he didn't want the jailer seeing her like that and getting any ideas.

Just as he was about to wake her, Yan Shuixin startled awake on her own.

She shot upright from the wooden bed and quickly took a seat in the corner, safely behind the bars.

Jailer Li Dian stopped outside the cell, glanced in, and remarked with a touch of surprise, "Well, well. The foulest cell's been cleaned up nicely."

His eyes slid over to Xiao Yeheng, smirking. "You changed his pants too?"

Clearly, he had noticed the earlier accident.

Yan Shuixin nodded.

"Not afraid of the stench, are you?" Li Dian snorted. "Since you're so good at cleaning, until Zhao recovers, the cell corridor and courtyard will be your responsibility."

"Yes, Officer," she said quickly, eager for the opportunity.

Xiao Yeheng's festering wound desperately needed medical care. Without medicine, even a skilled healer like her could do nothing.

But now—at least she'd have a chance to step outside this cell.

Her stomach clenched with hunger just as the scent of food drifted in from the corridor.

A laborer came down the row with two wooden buckets, stopping at each cell to ladle food into bowls placed just inside the bars.

From the original book, Yan Shuixin knew that this man had deliberately skipped Cell 59 for three days because of the smell.

Which meant Prince An had gone without food for three whole days.

If she hadn't given him some water and a few melon seeds, he might already be dead.

No one here cared whether the prince lived or died.

If they didn't start feeding him soon, there'd be a corpse on their hands.

Yan Shuixin watched anxiously as the man skipped past their cell again after serving the one opposite and began turning back.

She quickly called out to Jailer Li Dian, "Officer, cleaning the corridors takes strength. I'm starving. May I have some food?"

Li Dian considered for a moment, then waved at the laborer. "Zheng Quan, from now on, make sure she gets her meals."

Zheng Quan wrinkled his nose as he approached, clearly expecting the usual stink from Cell 59. But to his surprise, it smelled clean.

"Who cleaned this place up?" he asked.

Li Dian clapped him on the shoulder. "Yan Shuixin's in charge of cleaning until Old Zhao recovers. Should save you some effort."

"Got it." Zheng Quan used a long-handled iron ladle to scoop food from the buckets into a single bowl.

It was coarse, yellowed rice topped with a bit of overcooked greens.

Yan Shuixin spoke softly, "Officer, there are two of us in this cell. One bowl of food isn't enough."

"That food's for you," Li Dian said flatly. "That crippled husband of yours won't last long anyway. No point wasting food on the dead."

"But—"

"Say one more word, and I'll rip your lips off!" he snapped.

She quickly lowered her head. Her heart, however, boiled with rage.

Ten years is not too late for a lady's revenge!

Once the two men were gone, she brought the bowl to Xiao Yeheng.

"Your Highness, please eat."

Starving as he was, he still shut his eyes at the sight of the food—as coarse as pig slop.

"But it's not for me," he muttered.

Seeing he wouldn't eat, she sat down and began to lift him upright.

"I'll feed you, then."

"It's pig slop," he said flatly. "I'm not eating that."

You're really picking now? Yan Shuixin's patience was thinning. She had saved this entire portion for him, even as she herself was on the verge of collapse.

"You're eating it," she said sternly, scooping up a handful of rice and holding it to his lips. "Open up."

He kept his mouth shut.

She narrowed her eyes. "If you don't eat, I'll chew it and feed it to you from my mouth!"

"You—" He glared at her.

Worried about angering him too much, she softened her voice. "I know you used to eat only the finest delicacies. But things are different now. Just survive. Live long enough, and you'll have those again."

He sneered, "You think we'll get out of here?"

"Even one more day alive is a win," she replied. "After all the effort I went through to clean you up, I can't just let you starve."

He said nothing.

She glanced at the bowl of food—there were only two bowls in the cell, and one had been used as a chamber pot.

Unluckily, the one holding the food was the same one.

"I scrubbed this bowl thoroughly," she said, holding it to her nose. "Smells only of food now, no piss."

She really wanted to throw it away.

But she knew—no jailer would give a prisoner a new bowl.

It had been washed. That would have to do.

Xiao Yeheng wrinkled his brow.

To reassure him, she scooped up some of the rice and shoved it into her mouth, chewing noisily.

She wanted badly to swallow it.

But instead, she puckered her lips and leaned in toward his.

Xiao Yeheng's expression darkened. "I'll eat it myself."

He reached for the food, then let his arm drop as though too weak.

Yan Shuixin, thinking he was too frail, said, "Then let me feed you."

She swallowed her bite and scooped up another for him.

He opened his mouth and ate.

Her gentle care stirred a strange feeling in his chest.

Maybe it was the hunger—but this rough food didn't taste so bad.

Her fingertips brushed his lips now and then. Once or twice, his tongue even grazed her skin.

A jolt shot through her.

He didn't appear to notice, simply eating with a blank expression. He wasn't licking her hand, she told herself.

Just her imagination.

Xiao Yeheng, watching her dazed expression, suddenly had the urge to bite her fingers.

They looked far more delicious than the rice.

Yan Shuixin muttered, "Not even chopsticks. Eating like this is so inconvenient."

She knew full well—they just didn't want to bother giving her any.

Xiao Yeheng, on the other hand, found it rather convenient.

Her hands… were soft.

After a few bites, he shook his head. "I'm done. You eat."

She was just about to scold him for being picky when it hit her—he wasn't disgusted by the food. If he could endure the pain of a festering wound in silence, he wouldn't turn down food lightly.

Realization dawned. "You're trying to save some for me!"

He scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I don't care. You must eat half the bowl," she said firmly. "Or I'll eat none of it."

He stared at her stubborn face, unexpectedly moved.

So the two of them shared a bowl of prison rations.

Though neither was full, at least they had something in their stomachs.

Perhaps it was the weight of his injuries—after eating, Xiao Yeheng fell into a deep sleep.

Yan Shuixin checked his pulse. No signs of poisoning. Just the toll of severe wounds.

She stared at his injured leg.

With no medicine, what could she do?

From somewhere in another cell, the sound of a whip cracked, followed by a man's scream.

The beating only stopped when the jailers grew tired.

Yan Shuixin listened with an unreadable face.

She couldn't save the world. All she could do was protect herself—and…

Her gaze flicked to the sleeping Xiao Yeheng.

That evening, she roused him to share another bowl of food.

Somewhere in the cell, a rat had left droppings and urine again.

The next morning, she resumed her chore of cleaning the corridor outside.

From the guard room, she overheard a jailer named Wang Mo complaining to a colleague. Apparently, he had picked some wild berries to curry favor with the warden, only to be scolded for it. The others sympathized. The warden, Sun Cheng, had sensitive skin. With the prison doctor dead, he feared an allergic reaction from unfamiliar plants.

Yan Shuixin quietly noted the detail.

Later, outside the prison, she picked up a leaf and a stalk of wild grass, bundled the rat droppings and urine in them, and tied it all with the grass. She tucked the package into her sleeve.

Xiao Yeheng, half-asleep, noticed the movement and frowned faintly. But he didn't ask.

She returned her cleaning tools to the storeroom.

Just then, the laborer Zheng Quan stopped her. "Come with me to the kitchen and split firewood."

"Yes," she answered calmly.

The prison's kitchen was located on the first floor of the guards' quarters.

Following him there, she found a small courtyard behind the building. One corner held a towering pile of wood.

Zheng Quan pointed to the heap. "Chop a good stack."

"Yes," she said again.

She grabbed some logs and, picking up the axe, began splitting them on the chopping block.

Zheng Quan, seeing how she struggled just to lift the axe, seemed to relax—convinced she was too weak to pose any threat.

When she had a small pile ready, Yan Shuixin brought the firewood into the kitchen.

It was a spacious room. A large round table sat in the center, topped with several rather unappetizing dishes.

Zheng Quan was busy stirring a massive pot of food for the prisoners.

It was clear—the dishes on the table were meant for the guards.

Yan Shuixin's eyes drifted across the chairs.

One stood directly in front of the door, slightly to the right. Its placement—spaced wider from the other chairs—clearly marked it as the seat of honor.

According to traditional hierarchy, this must be Warden Sun Cheng's seat.

And just like that, her mind began to calculate.