The Cold Prince's Legitimate Consort

He was ugly, and she was talentless. When they were betrothed by imperial decree, everyone laughed and said they were truly made for each other. She smiled. Wasn’t that right? The Pavilion Master of Wind Pavilion and the Master of Listening Snow Tower joining forces, what could be a more perfect match? ◆◆◆ They thought it was nothing more than a game: imperial favor they couldn’t refuse, each side getting what they wanted. But before they knew it, it had become a beautiful marriage. He said, “From now on, if you’re in danger, stand behind me. As long as I’m here, I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you.” She said, “You’ve always protected me. This time, let me protect you.” ◆◆◆ [On dealing with scoundrels] He lifted his eyes and looked at her with an unreadable smile. “Someone is offering ten thousand gold for Your Highness the Princess Consort’s head.” She arched a brow. “My head is worth only ten thousand gold? Keep the money, Your Highness. Just leave the person to me.” He raised his chin. “I had them brought here a while ago. They’re waiting outside. Do as you please.” [On their true identities] She was the useless, talentless, and unvirtuous failure of her family. Her fiancé had sworn to break off their engagement and marry her elder sister, making her a laughingstock. She was also the head of Wind Pavilion, the Southern Wei intelligence network, with wealth rivaling a nation and power to match. He had been sent to a neighboring kingdom as a hostage when he was young. When he finally returned, he was the prince everyone looked down on most. He was also the Master of Listening Snow Tower, the most elusive assassin organization around, a name that struck fear into everyone's hearts. When their identities were finally revealed, they exchanged a smile. In this world, who didn’t have one or two other identities? [On showing off their love] A storm raged outside. The woman lounged against a chaise longue and recited, “At night I lie and listen to the wind’s whisper; iron steeds and frozen rivers invade my dreams.” The man paused his writing and glanced up at her. “Who is this Iron Steed? And who is this Frozen River?” “...You, you’re both of them. You’re the Iron Steed and the Frozen River.” The man considered this. “An iron steed? I’d gladly be your beast of burden, as long as you give me some grass.” “...” What the hell? Someone drag away this shameless man with his boundless imagination!