We Agreed On Experiencing Life, So Why Did You Immortals Become Real?-Chapter 377: A Wife? A Wife.

It was the third day since Jin’s army arrived at the prefectural seat of Luzhou.

Qin Jingyuan also mustered one hundred and fifty thousand troops from his two fiefs and set out together with Jin.

Jin marched under the banner of “Qin’s ruler is dim and tyrannical; the First Prince is incompetent; the Second Prince ought to set Qin’s state altar and throne back on the proper track.”

In truth, everyone knew every word of that was bullshit—only dressed ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) up to sound more righteous.

What “dim and tyrannical”?

What “the First Prince is incompetent”?

It was all wolfish ambition, all for the Second Prince to seize that lofty imperial throne of Qin!

The army passed Luzhou and arrived at Jinzhou.

Jinzhou was also Qin Jingyuan’s fief, and most of its commanders had already been replaced by him.

The current city lords were either mediocrities with no accomplishments, or else confidants the Second Prince had kept and fed for years.

When these commanders saw a million troops pressing to the walls—and especially under the Second Prince’s call for surrender—they surrendered directly, with almost no hesitation at all.

Of course.

Qin valued martial spirit, and even more so now that Qin’s national strength was rising by the day; most of its people carried a kind of pride in Qin.

And so some useless wastrels who used to haunt brothels and live off ancestral favor instead became unusually firm when faced with a matter of such right and wrong—cursing Jin and Qin Jingyuan from the battlements, louder than anyone.

That completely exceeded Qin Jingyuan’s expectations.

But so what?

The defending commanders had insufficient troops. The city fell quickly.

Those commanders, naturally, either died or fled.

Because the sieges had gone far too smoothly, all of Jinzhou soon fell, and Jin’s army had started to get carried away.

Some commanders even felt that whether this Second Prince existed or not made little difference.

At most, taking Qin would cost them a bit more effort—but they could still conquer Qin by strength alone.

That so-called tiger-and-wolf army of Qin seemed to be nothing special after all.

And the result was this: in the ranks, more and more commanders stopped taking Qin Jingyuan seriously, feeling Qin Jingyuan was superfluous.

To the point that at a merit banquet one day, someone began to egg him on, demanding that Qin Jingyuan perform a sword dance to liven things up.

Asking a man to dance with a sword for entertainment—even as a “joke”—was the kind of thing that made people draw steel on the spot.

But Qin Jingyuan only smiled it off and said he did not know how to do a sword dance.

Seeing that reaction, the man felt Qin Jingyuan truly was trash, and he grew even more brazen in his jeering.

But at that moment, Ji Yue, seated beside Qin Jingyuan, rose to her feet and inclined in a bow to the assembled commanders.

“This little woman lacks talent,” she said. “But since the gentlemen are in high spirits and wish to see a sword dance, then this little woman will dance with the sword to amuse you all.”

When she finished, Ji Yue drew her husband’s sword and began to dance within the command tent.

Ji Yue’s talent was ordinary—she was only at Foundation Establishment—but she did at least cultivate sword arts as her main path, and from childhood she had studied the zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, and Jin court dance.

So when Ji Yue danced with the sword, it was exceptionally pleasing to the eye—hard and soft in balance.

But when Ji Yue reached the end, she brought her sword down in a single cut.

Deputy General Gai—the one who had urged Qin Jingyuan to dance—started in fright and hurriedly dodged. The teacup on his table shattered under Ji Yue’s blade, and wine splashed all over him!

The commanders all jolted, yet not a single one dared to speak.

Because no matter what, Ji Yue was Jin’s Eldest Imperial Princess—the face of Jin’s royal house, and the treasured pearl in Jin’s ruler’s palm.

For Jin’s ruler to marry his eldest princess to Qin’s Second Prince, he had made an enormous decision—so much so that he had quarreled with the empress for a long time.

Even now, Jin’s ruler still carried guilt, intending to make it up to his daughter once matters were accomplished.

So none of them dared to treat this princess who had been married out as inconsequential.

“I wonder,” Ji Yue said coldly, “how was this little woman’s sword dance?”

“It was—of course it was very good,” Deputy General Gai said at once. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

He had not the slightest doubt that Her Highness’s sword just now had truly meant to kill him.

“Ji Yue, don’t make trouble,” Qin Jingyuan said as he rose. He cupped his hands and bowed to the commanders. “My wife was playing for a moment and did not know proper measure. I ask the generals to forgive her.”

“HAHAHAHA... King Jing, what are you saying?” Yan Liuyun said with a laugh. “For us to witness Her Highness the Princess dance with the sword is already something rare in a lifetime. How could it be ‘making trouble’?”

“Tiger Marquis, your magnanimity is boundless!” Qin Jingyuan bowed again to Yan Liuyun.

“Come—keep drinking. And Her Highness the Princess, please be seated as well,” Yan Liuyun said, smiling.

Ji Yue swept the crowd with a cold glance, then returned to her husband’s side and sat.

At that moment, Ji Yue was again as docile as a rabbit, nothing like the sharpness she carried when she danced the sword.

After the banquet, Qin Jingyuan used his inability to hold liquor as an excuse and left the command tent with Ji Yue.

After Qin Jingyuan left, Deputy General Gai slammed the wine jug hard to the ground and snarled, “That piece of trash living off a woman! If not for Her Highness the Princess, he wouldn’t even be fit to wipe my boots!”

Yan Liuyun heard the deputy general’s fury and said nothing—only drank in silence.

Back in the tent, Ji Yue moved to remove Qin Jingyuan’s shoes and attend him to sleep.

But Qin Jingyuan dodged her, removed his own shoes, and lay back on the bed.

Ji Yue glanced at her husband and said nothing. After inclining in a bow, she went to sleep on another bed not far away.

Since their marriage, Ji Yue and Qin Jingyuan had shared a room, but they had never shared a bed.

And just as Ji Yue lay down, Qin Jingyuan’s voice came from not far away.

“Do you think I’m useless?”

Ji Yue sat up and looked at her husband.

Qin Jingyuan stared at the ceiling and continued, “Back then, in the imperial capital, how glorious I was. And now—for that throne—I have to beg Jin. Even when people mock me, I have to swallow it down, because the moment I stepped onto rebellion, there was no road back.”

“...” After a brief silence, Ji Yue lifted her head and said earnestly, “I... I have never thought that.”

“Heh. Is that so?” Qin Jingyuan gave a soft laugh. He did not ask again, only said slowly, “In the future, you don’t need to stand up for me. There’s no need. Your dignity as a princess—each time you spend it, you have less.”

“But... but I’m your wife...” Ji Yue clenched the quilt tightly.

“I’ve said what needed saying,” Qin Jingyuan replied. “You and I bear the name of husband and wife, but not the substance. Think for yourself. You don’t need to concern yourself with me.”

“I...”

“Sleep.”

Ji Yue still wanted to say something, but Qin Jingyuan cut her off and turned his back.

“Yes,” Ji Yue said softly, nodding.

Qin Jingyuan lay on his side facing the window, watching the boundless night.

In his mind, the image of Ji Yue’s sword cutting down toward Deputy General Gai kept replaying—along with the words she had just said.

Without meaning to, the corner of Qin Jingyuan’s mouth quietly lifted.

Yet the man’s smile seemed to carry a hint of mockery as well.

“A wife?”

“A wife...”