Transmigrated as the Princess Consort of a Fallen Nation

Chapter 12.2



Chapter 12.2

When she used her chopsticks to pick up the chicken meat to eat, she still couldn’t stop praising, “Sister A-Zheng, how did you make this soup? The chicken meat is so tender, not tough at all.”

Qin Zheng chuckled. “Slowly stewed over low heat, that’s why it’s more flavorful.”

Seeing that they had all finished, she said, “There’s still some left in the pot. Let me serve you some more.”

Lin Zhao quickly said, “No need. Are you sure there’s enough for all of you?”

Qin Zheng smiled. “There’s enough. I made a big pot.”

Qin Zheng knew the appetites of these people well.

The prince didn’t seem to like chicken soup much, probably due to his severe injury.

Qin Zheng thought he might not want oily or meaty dishes, so she decided to make porridge for him at night.

She decided to give the rest of the chicken soup to Lin Zhao and the others.

As the sky darkened, the Western Mountains were enveloped in a glow.

After drinking two bowls of chicken soup, Lin Zhao sat contentedly on the doorstep, watching Qin Zheng not far away, meticulously picking out small stones and grains from the rice.

Suddenly, she said, “Sister A-Zheng, you’re different from what I imagined.”

Qin Zheng fed the grains she picked out to the tied-up chickens and asked with a smile, “Oh? How so?”

Lin Zhao scratched her head. “I thought Sister A-Zheng must have been a young lady from a big family before. I thought you had been living a life without any hardship. But I didn’t expect you to have so many skills and knowledge.”

Moreover, there was no hint of disdain towards them, the mountain bandits.

Lin Zhao could still distinguish between superficial flattery and genuine sincerity, and it seemed that Qin Zheng’s words were the latter.

Qin Zheng’s lips curled up, and her clear and bright eyes were full of vitality. “People must always look forward. You can’t just hold on to the past.”

This sentence could be interpreted in many ways.@@@@

Lin Zhao didn’t ask further, but it was evident that Qin Zheng seemed closer to her than before.

After Lin Zhao and her group left, Qin Zheng washed the rice, which had been picked clean of stones and grains, with clean water and put it in boiling water.

When Qin Zheng was cleaning the large basin of vegetables brought by the big man, she found a piece of pork and a pig’s leg inside.

She guessed that the pig was slaughtered in the stronghold for tonight’s banquet.

Lin Zhao’s gesture of bringing so much meat over was indeed thoughtful.

The pork bones were covered with lean meat, with the meat near the bones appearing tender and tempting.

Qin Zheng miraculously understood his thoughts and moved the bowl towards herself. “Radishes have a medicinal property. You can’t eat this.”

The prince remained silent, taking a sip of the vegetable and lean meat porridge.

Although plain, it still tasted quite savory.

Seeing that Qin Zheng didn’t move the plate of preserved meat from the table, the prince quietly picked up a piece with his chopsticks.

Qin Zheng wanted to remind him that the preserved meat might be tough on the teeth, but it was already too late.

After taking a bite, the prince covered his jaw with one hand, his expression inexplicable.

Struggling to hold back her laughter, Qin Zheng asked, “My lord, are you alright?”

The prince glanced at her faintly. “I’m fine.”

After finishing the remaining half bowl of porridge, he placed the bowl down and leaned against the bed, seemingly resting with his eyes closed.

Qin Zheng, who had nibbled on two pieces of pork bone, inexplicably felt a little guilty.

She tidied up the bowls and plates, and when she returned to the room again, she held a freshly brewed bowl of medicine in her hand. “My lord, this is brewed according to the prescription you modified.”

The prince took it and finished it in one gulp. When he handed the bowl back, he noticed a smudge of soot accidentally smeared on her face, her eyes slightly lowered. “Come here.”

Qin Zheng approached, puzzled.

The prince instructed again, “Bend down.”

Bend down? What for?

Though puzzled, Qin Zheng complied, bending down until her eyes met the prince’s.

The prince raised his hand and rubbed her face twice.

His fingertips were slightly cool, with a faint callus from years of writing, making the sensation on her face particularly clear.

With a loud “boom” sound, Qin Zheng felt her blood rushing to her head, her face uncontrollably heating up.

However, the next second, she saw the prince lift his hand, now smudged with soot, and say casually, “You have soot on your face.”

Qin Zheng: “...”

Let the ground swallow her up!


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