Bride of the Forgotten Prince: Wedding Behind Bars

This could be her chance—an opportunity to get close to something medicinal.

While Zheng Quan stood over the stove, stirring vegetables in a sizzling wok, he tossed a glance over his shoulder at Yan Shuixin and jerked his chin toward an open space by the hearth. "Put the firewood there."

"Yes." Shuixin dipped her head obediently and ambled over with the bundle in her arms.

As soon as Zheng Quan's focus returned to the wok, she subtly adjusted her grip—hugging the firewood with one arm while her free hand slipped into her sleeve. From it, she drew out the leaf she had earlier smeared with rodent droppings and, with practiced ease, rubbed it against the armrest of the seat at the head of the table.

Sun Cheng always liked to rest his hand there. A man who broke out in hives just by touching wild fruit wouldn't stand a chance against a surface contaminated with rat waste.

She lowered the firewood beside the stove without a flicker of suspicion on her face.

"Add more wood," Zheng Quan barked.

Without missing a beat, she tossed the tainted leaf in with the rest of the kindling, letting the flames devour the evidence in one seamless motion.

"Old Zhao's fallen sick, and now I'm stuck doing everything! This job's going to kill me!" Zheng Quan cursed as he scraped the contents of the wok into a wooden bucket. Several other buckets already sat ready, filled with rice and boiled vegetables.

"You. Go feed the prisoners."

Shuixin's eyes lit up—this was a rare stroke of luck. She nodded at once, grateful for the assignment.

Balancing a heavy bucket of rice in one hand and a bucket of vegetables in the other, she made her way across the yard toward the prison block.

At that moment, a group of over a dozen guards came striding out of the opposite corridor, their steps firm and voices loud. Leading them was a broad-shouldered man with a long blade at his hip and a uniform far more ornate than the rest—intricate embroidery, deeper hues.

It was none other than the prison warden, Sun Cheng.

As the two groups passed each other, Shuixin quickly lowered her head, posture deferential.

Sun Cheng halted abruptly, narrowing his eyes at the sight of her prison clothes. "Why is the female inmate Yan Shuixin out of her cell?"

Before she could respond, the guard beside him—Li Dian—stepped forward quickly. "Boss, Zhao's sick, remember? This one here's timid but quick with her hands. I told her to take over some chores for the time being."

Sun Cheng's sharp gaze lingered on Shuixin's face. She kept her head bowed, posture meek and respectful.

"Fine," he said curtly. "Just don't let anything happen."

"I won't, sir," Shuixin said quickly, her voice humble. "I'll keep my head down."

Sun Cheng didn't bother with a reply. With a flick of his hand, he led the others toward the kitchen.

Once they were gone, Shuixin carried the food across the clearing, stepping into the cellblock. At the guard station's corner, where no one could see, she set the buckets down, grabbed the ladle—and began to eat.

She shoveled rice and vegetables into her mouth with desperate urgency.

Sharing a single portion of food with Xiao Yeheng twice a day left her perpetually starving.

Today's meal was the same as always—overcooked greens and coarse, yellow rice—but right now, hunger trumped taste. Within two minutes, her stomach was filled, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she resumed her task, heading down the corridor to deliver food to each prisoner.

"Well, well. Ugly girl, how'd you end up on food duty?" sneered the inmate in Cell 1—Sheng-ge. As she approached with the buckets, he reached through the bars, fingers twitching to grope.

"Anyone who misbehaves… doesn't eat," Shuixin said evenly, her grip steady on the ladle.

Holding two full buckets of food gave her a measure of power, and for once, she wielded it.

The other inmates got the message and quietly held out their bowls. No one was willing to risk their meal for the sake of taunting her.

"More! I want more!"

"Extra rice here!"

Shuixin shook her head firmly. "I can only give you what's usual. If I give you more, someone else goes hungry."

"You're no fool," someone muttered with a scowl, but they accepted it.

She moved cell by cell, serving food with practiced precision. The buckets ran low, and she returned to the kitchen multiple times to refill them, her movements swift and efficient.

When she finally reached Cell 59, she filled the two bowls inside to the brim—pressing down the rice until they nearly overflowed.

Xiao Yeheng was surprised.

He hadn't expected her to be put on meal duty, let alone to favor him. He assumed she'd serve him the same meager portions as the rest.

But instead, she gave him two full bowls—stuffed and compacted to fit nearly three servings.

She beckoned him with a curl of her fingers.

Xiao Yeheng crawled closer to the bars.

"I already ate," she whispered. "Hurry and eat before someone sees."

She had shaved off the tiniest bit from hundreds of portions just to feed herself and him.

Without a word, he picked up the bowl and began to eat.

Only then did she exhale in relief.

Later, once the guards had finished their own meal and cleared out, Shuixin washed the buckets and even took it upon herself to clean the kitchen dishes.

When Zheng Quan awoke from his nap and found all the chores done, he was quite pleased. "You've got a good eye for work."

"Thank you, Brother Zheng," she said sweetly.

"Oh? 'Brother Zheng'? Now that's a first," he laughed. "No one's ever dared call me that before."

"It's only right," she replied politely. "If you need anything done, just tell me."

His gaze lingered on her figure, a lewd glint flickering in his eyes. "Anything?"

Her stomach clenched. But she kept her face calm.

"I'm not much to look at, Brother Zheng," she said, forcing a smile. "Too ugly for that sort of thing. Just give me rough labor—I can handle it."

Zheng Quan took one more look at her acne-scarred face and lost interest. With a wave of dismissal, he let her go.

She walked away silently, relief flooding her chest.

Back in Cell 59, she greeted the man lying in the straw. "Your Highness."

Xiao Yeheng had gathered a pile of hay in the corner and was seated atop it. He crooked his finger at her again.

As she approached, he brushed the straw aside to reveal a hidden bowl of rice.

"Eat."

She stared at him. "I told you—I already ate."

Then it dawned on her. He hadn't believed her.

So he'd eaten only one bowl… saving the second just in case she'd lied.

Warmth spread through her chest.

He actually cared whether she had eaten.

"You eat more," he insisted.

"I'm full," she said, grinning. "Don't believe me? Feel it." She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her stomach.

Her belly was firm and round from food.

Xiao Yeheng jerked his hand back as if burned. "Mind yourself."

She smiled. "You're my husband. What's there to mind?"

He opened his mouth—then closed it again, speechless.

Forced into marriage or not… did she really consider him her husband?

Whatever the case, his mood visibly improved.

"Eat more, Your Highness," she coaxed gently. "You won't heal properly if you stay hungry." She ended up feeding him the rest of the rice herself.

It was the first time since his imprisonment that Xiao Yeheng had eaten his fill.

That evening, she helped with dinner duty again, sneaking more food and making sure he had two full bowls once more.

She even retrieved a chamber pot from the supply room, remembering how Zhao the lazy assistant had previously stolen it from his cell.

Xiao Yeheng said nothing—but something in his expression softened.

That night, Shuixin approached him with care. "Your Highness, you'll sleep on the bed tonight."

Last night, he'd insisted on sleeping on the floor of straw. She'd collapsed on the plank bed simply from exhaustion.

But tonight—no. Not again.

"I said I'd sleep on the floor," he replied, shaking his head. Even wounded, he wouldn't fight a woman for a place to sleep.

"That won't do. I said you'd sleep on the bed, so you will." She didn't give him a chance to protest. With surprising strength, she hoisted him onto her back and carried him to the bed.

"No one overrides my decisions," he growled, struggling to get down.

"And if your wounds reopen?" she countered.

"I don't need your pity," he snapped, but the moment he tried to stand, his leg buckled.

She caught him just in time and forced him back onto the bed. "Fine, then… we'll sleep together."

Xiao Yeheng stiffened.

A flush crept up his cold, pale face.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not trying to take advantage," she said, quickly explaining. "Even a hard bed is better than the floor. With the straw, it's almost comfortable. Besides… it's colder tonight."

He gave a tiny nod.

He almost wanted to say, I wouldn't mind if you took advantage…

But the words died in his throat.

He watched as she smoothed the straw across the wooden bed with practiced ease. Her movements didn't match those of a pampered noble daughter—yet there was an effortless grace in every motion.

Maybe… she really was different.

Once she laid him down, she went to the corner, retrieved a thin iron shard, and began sharpening it on the stone floor.

Earlier, she'd begged a bamboo tube from Zheng Quan for drinking water. Now she dipped the shard in water and ground it slowly against the tile—over and over.

Xiao Yeheng lay on his side, watching her silently. He didn't know what the shard was for, and he didn't ask.

She kept at it for nearly half the night, grinding it until it gleamed like a blade.

Then, slipping over to the wall, she carefully wedged it into the cracks between stone and packed dirt, sprinkling dust over the spot to hide it.

After washing her hands, she returned to the bed.

It was narrow—barely a meter wide, hardly long enough for him alone.

He had already taken up most of it, but left the wall side open.

Shuixin hesitated for just a moment, then saw he was already asleep.

Relieved, she climbed onto the bed and carefully swung one leg over him, nestling quietly into the space beside the wall.