Jinsui looked at her young mistress in sheer panic.
Back in the Qin household, the two of them had depended on each other for survival. Qin Susu had always been timid and cowardly, reluctant to ever pick a fight with anyone. The Crown Princess had likely taken a fancy to this very weakness when selecting her to enter the East Palace.
Originally, the Qin family matriarch had wanted to replace Jinsui with one of her own trusted people, but Qin Susu had shown a rare spine, standing her ground to protect Jinsui from the fate of being hastily married off to some random person.
Jinsui’s heart ached for her mistress, never imagining that she would now have the audacity to defy the Crown Princess. With a face full of lingering terror, Qin Susu gently patted the back of her hand and reassured her, “Trust me, nothing will happen.”
Taking a deep breath, Qin Susu walked down the corridor until she reached the East Palace study.
Before she even drew close, she heard a woman’s voice.
Her eyes narrowing, Qin Susu instinctively reached up, plucked one of the hairpins from her coiffure, and tucked it away into her sleeve.
“Big Brother Wei Zheng, please do me this favor and put in a good word. My mistress hasn’t seen His Highness in ages, and today she sent over snow-pear and duck soup that she brewed herself with her own hands. Won’t you just…”
The pink-dressed maid’s voice cut off mid-sentence. Clearly, she had caught sight of Qin Susu.
Susu’s official title had not yet been formally conferred; though whispers were spreading quietly through the East Palace, aside from the Crown Princess, none of the other consorts or women had laid eyes on her yet.
Standing right beside the pink-clad maid was Madam Meng Zhao.
She possessed a dazzling, voluptuous beauty, her hair styled into a trendy soaring cloud bun (lingyun ji) from which protruded a pure gold and kingfisher-feather inlaid peony hair-trembler. She wore a formal red silk-brocade court gown, the collar densely embroidered with winding floral patterns in gold thread, and wide sleeves revealing a pair of snowy wrists adorned with glittering jade bracelets.
What was most captivating were her eyes; the irises were a shade lighter than ordinary people’s, glowing with amber highlights under the sunlight.
Meng Zhao cast a nonchalant sweep over the group, her gaze finally locking onto Qin Susu.
That look was devoid of even a shred of warmth. Her aura was blazing and dazzling enough to sting the eyes, yet a layer of unyielding, untouchable frost seemed permanently frozen between her brows.
When she had caught sight of her from afar earlier, Qin Susu had silently cursed in her heart. If Qin Huan was a smiling tiger, then this Meng Zhao was an absolute, unadulterated madwoman!
Thinking back to the deep, hidden amusement in Qin Huan’s eyes as she watched her leave, Susu finally realized that Qin Huan had dug a massive pit for her right here.
Bitter gall flooded her mouth, but with wolves in front and tigers behind, Susu had no room for second thoughts.
She stepped forward and offered a bow. “Greetings, Madam Meng.”
Meng Zhao lowered her eyes, measuring Qin Susu up and down.
Her father was a military official, and in her youth, Meng Zhao had once tagged along with her older brothers to visit pleasure houses. The shouma (young girls raised to be sold as concubines) hidden away in those places, meant to be fought over by men, were the exact same brand of artificial, hypocritical fragility as Qin Susu!
She was built of water-bone and jade-flesh, her skin a porcelain white that had rarely seen the light of day, so thin that the pale blue veins beneath could be faintly seen, while her cheeks always carried an unnatural, sickly flush. Her willow-leaf eyebrows were thin and curved, the outer corners drooping slightly to naturally project a three-part timidity, and her pupils were moist and ink-black, always casting a misty, hazy veil whenever she looked at someone.
Susu wore a fallen-horse bun (luoma ji), her dark hair held together loosely by a single plain jade hairpin. She wore a moon-white patterned satin tunic and skirt, the fabric light, soft, and smooth. There wasn’t a single flashy color on her entire body, and even her lips were stained with only the palest rose balsam.
Yet precisely because of such plain simplicity, that delicate and timid aura between her brows was set off to be all the more pitiful—like a pale magnolia blossom trembling and half-unfurled in the spring rain.
What an utterly seductive creature!
In an instant, Meng Zhao confirmed the identity of the person before her: the Qin concubine’s daughter who had crawled into the Prince’s bed last night.
Imposing and aggressive, Meng Zhao stepped forward, her previously relaxed features leaking a few strands of sharp malice.
“You must be Qin Susu?”
Susu took a step back to avoid the brunt of her hostility.
“Replying to Madam, it is indeed this concubine.”
She looked back at Jinsui, whose face had gone completely pale, and said softly, “The Crown Princess instructed this concubine to deliver pastries to the study. Originally, I was worried His Highness might not be here, but with you here, Madam, even if I fail to fulfill the Crown Princess’s instructions, my heart feels much more at ease.”
Susu did not address the other women in the Prince’s inner courtyard as “elder sister” the way Qin Huan had told her to. Some people enjoyed acting out this farce of sisterly affection, but with someone like Meng Zhao, if she truly dared to call her “sister,” she would undoubtedly court disaster.
It was far better to stick strictly to formal etiquette.
Hearing this, Meng Zhao tightened her brows, though her disgust for Susu naturally extended to Qin Huan as well. In her eyes, no matter how beautiful Qin Susu was, she was nothing more than a chess piece in Qin Huan’s hand. Only the person holding the chess pieces was worthy of being her rival.
Noticing that Susu’s facial flush somehow looked even more intense than before, Meng Zhao let out a cold hum.
“If His Highness refuses to see me, he certainly won’t see you either. Instead of trying to curry favor with me here, you’d better figure out how you’re going to report back to Qin Huan.”
With that, Meng Zhao didn’t bother sparing Susu another glance, flicked her sleeves, and swept away.
Jinsui hurried forward, looking at Susu with words trembling on the tip of her tongue.
Susu knew the worries churning inside the maid’s heart, but she said nothing, raising her eyes instead to look at Wei Zheng.
At this moment, a ball of fire felt as though it were about to erupt from her chest, making even her fingertips tremble slightly.
“Might I trouble you to announce my presence to His Highness? This concu—”
Before she could finish, Wei Zheng’s frost-covered face twitched, and he spoke up, “His Highness gave orders today: he will not see anyone from the inner courtyard.”
A trace of shame bloomed on Susu’s face. “N-No, it’s not that I wish to see His Highness. I only ask that you announce my coming so that if Eldest Sister asks… she will at least know I made the trip…”
Hearing this, Wei Zheng shot her a quick glance. Susu’s appearance was genuinely breathtaking, yet unlike those vixens who tried to hook men at a single glance, her eyes were as clear as a pool of spring water, making it hard not to trust her.
After a long pause, he finally relented.
“Wait a moment, Imperial Concubine. I will go report it.”
With a shy, timid smile hanging on her face, Susu watched him step inside.
However, before Wei Zheng could even close the door behind him, a heavy thud rang out, immediately followed by Jinsui’s frantic, panic-stricken scream.
“My Lady?!”