Chapter 39: My husband is like this, he broke his brain

The chill was the first to wake up.

Like sinking deep within a frozen lake, her consciousness obscured by the thick ice and flowing water, hazy and stagnant. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt heavy, holding them back only a fraction.

Headache.

It felt like someone was hammering at my skull with a blunt object. Even worse was the emptiness and the endless confusion.

She frowned, fought against the heavy dizziness, and opened her eyes with difficulty.

The blurred light and shadow gradually condensed.

The first thing that caught my eye was the unfamiliar Chengchen, a dark-black base embroidered with dark cloud patterns in gold thread. The room was filled with a clear, cool fragrance and the aroma of medicine.

who is she?

Where is this place?

The sound of footsteps approached, so light yet still disturbing her distracted thoughts. She tried to turn her head, struggling to focus her vision.

A figure stood beside the bed, hazy through the curtains. It was a tall man, dressed in a dark robe, almost blending into the dim light of the room.

He stood there silently, as if watching to see if she would wake up.

Her throat was so dry that she couldn't make a sound. She could only move her fingers very lightly, and her fingertips on the quilt rubbed against the cool satin.

The figure moved immediately, and the veil was gently lifted by a bony hand, allowing light to pour in. She subconsciously closed her eyes and then slowly opened them.

The man's face became clearer.

He was a very handsome man. He had black hair and a skin the pale pale of someone who hadn't seen the sun for a long time. His jawline was sharp and his lips were pale, pressed into a straight line.

His eyes were very dark, like black jade dipped in a cold pond. At this moment, he was looking down at her. It was impossible to tell whether he was worried or happy, only focused.

He helped her sit up very carefully, and the warmth of his palms transmitted through her pajamas.

"Are you awake?" His voice was gentler than his temperament. "How do you feel? Are you feeling any discomfort?"

She shook her head blankly, her throat dry: "Water..."

He immediately turned around and poured warm water, carefully holding it to her lips. The water was just the right temperature, moistening her burning throat.

"I..." She tried to speak, her voice was very hoarse, "Where is this?"

Hearing the sound, he went to the table and poured another half-full cup of warm water, handing it to her. This time, she tried to take it herself, but her fingers were weak and she nearly knocked the cup over. He held it steady, still bringing the rim of the cup to her lips.

"Be careful of the heat."

She felt better after the warm water went down her throat.

"Who are you?" she asked. "And who am I? I don't seem to remember anything."

She raised her hand to press her still painful forehead, but found even this simple action difficult.

The man's body was a little stiff, and his eyes, which were too deep, stared at her for a while.

He put down the cup and said in a lower voice: "Your name is Shen Zhiwei." He paused and added, "I am Xiao Wangqing. This is my residence."

Shen Zhiwei.

Xiao Wangqing.

She repeated it silently in her mind and scanned it in her empty mind, but there was no sense of familiarity.

"You were injured and were in a coma for several days. The imperial physician said that you might have some aftereffects, including memory loss. You need to rest well and recover slowly."

Injured? Comatose? She tried to recall, and the dull pain in her head immediately intensified, causing her to gasp and turn even paler.

"Don't force yourself," he said, his fingertips moving slightly, as if he wanted to move forward, but then he stopped in his tracks, "If you can't remember, then don't think about it. Your health is more important."

His dissuasion made her break away from her futile efforts, and she could only look at him: "Well, what is our relationship?"

When she asked this question, she felt a sense of emptiness and helplessness. The man in front of her who called himself Xiao Wangqing was the only piece of driftwood she could hold on to at the moment.

It's too dangerous, but there's no one else I can trust.

Xiao Wangqing was silent for a few breaths.

"I am your husband," his eyes never moved away, nor did they flicker. "A few days ago, you accidentally fell from the attic ladder and hit your head. You were unconscious for many days."

Husband.

Shen Zhiwei chewed on these two words, his eyes falling on his face.

He was indeed very handsome, with the lines of his brow and nose as sharp as those of a cold mountain, and his lips were thin and pale. When he looked at people, his eyes were focused and calm, and he had a naturally cold temperament, but the tone he spoke to her was particularly gentle, which was indeed the tenderness of a husband towards his wife.

It was indeed the look she liked.

Shen Zhiwei tried to find a trace of her husband's face, but her mind was still empty, and her heart was also empty, with nowhere to rest.

That's right, she doesn't even remember her own name, let alone other people's.

She uttered an "oh," accepting his explanation. Right now, she had no choice but to believe him. Besides, she couldn't be harsh with someone who cared for her.

Xiao Wangqing brought the medicine that had been kept warm. The dark liquid was in a white porcelain bowl and had a bitter smell, which made her frown subconsciously.

"The prescription prescribed by the imperial physician is good for your health." He handed the medicine bowl closer, his tone unquestionable, but his movements were filled with patience. "The temperature is just right."

She held his hand, swallowing the medicine mouthful by mouthful, holding her breath. The bitter taste spread from the tip of her tongue to her throat, and she couldn't help but turn her face away and cough lightly.

A plain silk handkerchief was passed to her lips at the right moment. He wiped the medicine stains from the corners of her lips, his fingertips passing through the handkerchief, not touching her skin directly, a perfect sense of measure.

"Candied fruit." He produced a small glass dish from somewhere, which contained a few amber candied plums.

She picked one up and put it in her mouth, the sweetness quickly dispelling the bitterness. She looked up at the bedroom, which was furnished in a luxurious yet elegant manner. Everywhere she looked, the curtains, the desk, the incense burner, were exquisitely crafted, noble yet understated.

"Have we... lived here forever?" she asked. She felt that the layout and atmosphere of this room did not resemble that of an ordinary prince's residence.

He looked calm as he replied, placing the medicine bowl and dish back on the tray beside him. "Well, if you feel bored, you can go for a walk in the garden out back. The scenery there is quite nice. But you are weak now, so you need someone to accompany you. Don't go far alone."

"Have I slept long?"

"Seven days," he replied.

"How did you get hurt?"

"You fell from a height, hit your head, and were in a coma for several days." His tone was steady and concise, without any abnormality in his words, as if he was describing a trivial matter that had nothing to do with him.

So that's what happened. He broke his brain.

She fell silent, trying to accept this fact. She had lost her past, like a person who appeared out of thin air, clinging to a strange name and a husband who was... as cold as ice.

This realization made her feel helpless and even a little absurd.

"What about my family?" she asked with a glimmer of hope. Since she was married, she should have parents and relatives.

He was silent for a moment, and finally said, "You have no other relatives in your family, only a younger sister, who is now accompanying the Empress in the palace."

Alone, with her only sister still in the palace. Shen Zhiwei frowned, lowered her eyes, stared at the intricate dark patterns on the brocade quilt, and stopped talking.

He didn't seem to know how to comfort her, so he just said, "You should have a good rest. If you need anything, call someone." "Okay, thank you."

The footsteps faded away and the door closed gently.

At least he didn't rush into being affectionate, otherwise she wouldn't know how to respond.

Shen Zhiwei lay alone on the large bed, looking at the unfamiliar carvings above his head, his mind in a tangle.

Xiao Wangqing. Shen Zhiwei.

Her husband. Her name.

Everything was cold and unfamiliar.

For the next few days, she rested in this exquisitely decorated palace room.

The medicine was delivered daily, bitter as hell, but she drank it quietly each time. Her strength gradually returned, and her headaches stopped, but her memory remained blank.

Xiao Wangqing came every day, at varying times: sometimes in the early morning when she woke, sometimes in the evening. He didn't stay long each time, asking a few questions about her health, telling her to take her medicine, and then sitting in silence for a while, reviewing some files that she was familiar with but didn't understand.

He spoke very little and his expression was always cold, but Shen Zhiwei could sense that underneath that coldness was a clumsy concern.

She slept restlessly at night and was sometimes frightened, so he would rest on the couch in the outer room. If she made the slightest movement, he would come over in his clothes, light a lamp, sit with her in silence for a while, and sometimes read a few pages of a book until she fell asleep again.

He rarely showed his emotions, even being deliberately distant, as if afraid that getting too close would disturb her. This cautiousness actually made her feel less stressed when facing this husband.

She tried to get information from him about his past.

"Have we... been married for a long time?"

He was watching the falling snow outside the window. He turned his head when he heard this, thought for a moment, and then answered.

"soon."

"So...what kind of person am I?"

Xiao Wangqing was silent for a moment before he said, "Quiet, likes reading, doesn't like crowds."

This was consistent with her perception of herself in recent days. She really liked quietness and could spend half a day reading a book brought to her by her maid.

"We..." She hesitated for a moment, but still asked, "We don't seem to be very close?"

The question was asked bluntly. He seemed to pause for a moment, then slowly turned around and looked at her with his dark eyes, the emotions in them were complex and difficult to discern.

"I've been stationed in the army for a long time. I have a cold personality and am not good at getting along with others," he said, as if talking about someone else. "You... are also indifferent. It's good for us to get along like this."

They turned out to be a couple who respected each other, Shen Zhiwei thought, which was consistent with the strange atmosphere between them.

She didn't ask any further questions.

Since the past was so uneventful, there must have been nothing earth-shattering worth remembering. Forget it, forget it.

When she felt better, she began to explore this place called the mansion.

The waiters were very respectful, calling her Madam and Xiao Wangqing the Third Prince. Only then did she realize that her cold-faced husband was actually the current prince.

The palace she lived in was enormous, with winding corridors and deep courtyards. It was simply too quiet, even deserted. It didn't seem like the residence of a prince's wife, but rather a refined villa.

She asked the maid about it, but she simply lowered her head and replied, "Your Highness prefers quietness and is not used to being served by many people. Madam, you have also instructed us not to disturb you unless necessary."

That's very much what she would do.

She would occasionally encounter other servants, all of whom held their breath, moved silently, and were respectful to her, but without a hint of familiarity, as if she were just a sudden guest.

Everything seemed to make sense, yet strange.

She remembered nothing, was in a strange place, and faced a cold husband, but for some reason, she did not feel afraid.

Perhaps it was because although he was cold, he never hurt her, and could even be said to be caring for her.

Or maybe... it was just because he looked so good that she instinctively wanted to believe him a little more.

Don't want to think about it anymore.

Since I can’t remember, let’s just leave it like this for now.

At least at this moment, the medicine was warm, the bed was soft, and the man who claimed to be her husband, although a little cold, did not make her feel uneasy.

As for the rest... I'll talk about it after my headache stops.

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The author has something to say: The most ridiculous thing has begun, the chef is flipping the spoon in the backstage [kiss]

Boss, do you want to see 1v2 or 1vn in the next book? You can tell me in the comments. After the chef is finished, I will count and decide the number of male protagonists in the next book. The pre-collection words of the next book can be seen. Please collect it>< The taste of the imprisoned golden sparrow will be stronger