The lamplight was hazy, the night damp and humid. In the room, the green jade vine-patterned brazier burned with Incense Cakes, filling the warm bed curtains with fragrance.
The window curtains fluttered gently, and the bed creaked faintly, releasing soft, kitten-like whimpers.
A hand as white and smooth as jade rested helplessly by the bedside, sheer gauze draped over her body. Under the dazzling moonlight, the blooming crabapple flower on the woman’s shoulder was faintly visible.
The crabapple was delicate and vibrant, yet now it was drenched in dewdrops, swaying to the point of revealing an utterly decadent and alluring spring scene.
Nianyao’s eyes brimmed with tears as she gazed at the excessively handsome man before her, on the verge of letting them fall.
“No, no more…”
The corners of her eyes flushed red, like blooming irises.
Nianyao felt as if she were a small boat adrift on a river, tossed by waves until she lost all sense of direction.
…
After what felt like an eternity, the moonlight had quietly faded, and even the red candle burning in the western corner of the room seemed about to burn out.
From the side of the bed came the sound of steady breathing.
Enduring the soreness that spread through her body, Nianyao hurriedly and clumsily pulled her clothes back on.
Her entire body felt as if it had been crushed, with not a single spot free from pain.
Especially…
But just moments ago, in her dazed state, she had heard the sound of the night watchman’s drum.
Today was her shift, and if she were even half a moment late…
The stern, merciless face of the head matron appeared before her eyes.
Nianyao shuddered, and even her delicate face showed a hint of fear.
Clenching her teeth, she mustered her courage and tiptoed carefully, trying to step over the man who lay sleeping.
But the moment she moved, a strong, forceful grip seized her wrist and pulled her back into his embrace.
The man’s aggressive aura enveloped her.
A warm, moist kiss was about to land on her fair, tender neck, but Nianyao dared not linger any longer.
She pushed him away abruptly.
The man before her let out a muffled groan, as if his head had knocked against the edge of the bed.
A sudden wave of guilt washed over Nianyao.
Yet, she did nothing more.
Nianyao only shrank back slightly, then immediately slipped out of bed, slid her feet into her shoes, and hurriedly left the room filled with enchanting fragrance.
Her surname was Jiang, and her given name was Nianyao.
She was originally the daughter of Prime Minister Jiang, one of the most distinguished noble ladies in Zhaojing.
But after her father’s death, the Emperor, whom she had been raised to respect, accused him of countless crimes, confiscated their family’s property, and exiled all clan members over the age of fifteen.
As for her, the legitimate daughter of the Jiang family—just fourteen years old at the time—she was spared from exile and sent into the palace.
Now, she had become the lowest and most humble maid in the rear palace.
And because of her status as the daughter of a convicted official, everyone in the palace, even the lowliest eunuch, dared to bully her.
Yet the man who had just taken advantage of her on that bed…
Was none other than the Crown Prince—a man whose status was worlds apart from hers, noble beyond measure, lofty and unattainable!
Nianyao recalled the rumors she had once heard: a young lady from a prominent family, who had adored the Crown Prince since childhood, had attempted to climb into his bed.
But before she could accomplish anything, she had her hand severed.
Her family, treating her as a disgrace, shaved her head and sent her to a nunnery, where she passed away the following month.
Despite his cold and aloof appearance and demeanor, his methods were so violent and cruel!
And now, she had inadvertently provoked such a man.
The mere thought sent a chill through Nianyao, right down to her palms.
She lowered her head, tightened her robes, and casually smoothed her disheveled hair.
Never mind. Tonight was dark and windy, and the candlelight was dim. The Crown Prince likely wouldn’t remember someone like her.
Nianyao tried her best to ignore the needle-like headache, forcing herself not to dwell on those inexplicable matters. Alone, she hurried toward Shouning Palace under the dim glow of palace lanterns.
Getting to her duty on time was crucial—if the matron noticed she was late, she would likely face another palm-striking punishment.
After changing her clothes, she entered the inner hall.
Immediately, a sharp finger jabbed at her forehead.
Nianyao instinctively tightened her grip on the handkerchief in her hand. Her legs went weak, nearly buckling to kneel before the matron.
Her voice was soft and delicate, much like her lotus-like face, carrying just the right touch of charm: “Matron, this servant is late. Please do not blame me.”
The matrons of Shouning Palace were old, devout women who had spent their entire lives within the palace walls.
They were as rigid as if they had emerged from a temple, quick to scold or strike any young maid who showed even a hint of beauty.
And Nianyao’s face was nothing short of breathtaking.
Upon hearing Nianyao’s words, Zhao Momo snorted coldly, her sharp, sour eyes scrutinizing Nianyao from head to toe.
Though Nianyao usually resembled a delicate lotus in her tenderness, today she seemed inexplicably and excessively radiant.
Like a lotus blooming for the first time in spring, dewy and irresistibly alluring.
Suppressing the envy and resentment in her heart, Zhao Momo struck Nianyao with a slender bamboo rod.
The pain made Nianyao shudder uncontrollably.
Her entire body ached terribly.
Especially when the bamboo rod occasionally tapped against her waist, bruised and sore from the man’s earlier rough handling.
Zhao Momo’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Hmph, still acting like some official’s young lady, are you? Have you forgotten what time it is? Learning to slack off and shirk your duties already!”
Nianyao’s lips paled slightly, but she forced herself to speak: “This servant did not.”
Seeing her dare to retort, Zhao Momo glared, raising the rod to strike harder.
But just then, a maid in pink clothes, holding her head as high as a little peacock, walked past.
Zhao Momo immediately withdrew the rod and hurried forward to greet the girl.
Her smile deepened the wrinkles on her face: “Yun Guniang, Her Majesty the Empress Dowager hasn’t awakened yet. Where might you be headed?”
Yunrou raised the bundle in her arms: “To wash clothes.”
Only then did Yunrou notice Nianyao standing nearby, head bowed, appearing obedient and well-behaved.
She had always disliked Nianyao, finding her pretentious—her face perpetually wore a pitiful, longing expression, as if someone were bullying her, and with that seductive face of hers, who was she trying to tempt!
Zhao Momo’s eyes darted shrewdly. She pinched Nianyao’s arm, dragged her over, and shoved her in front of Yunrou.
“Yun Guniang, feel free to order this wretched girl around,” she said, her face brimming with smiles. “After all, everyone knows you’re different from the other maids. You were personally chosen by Her Majesty the Empress Dowager, destined to be bestowed upon the Crown Prince as a noble lady.”
Yunrou seemed accustomed to such flattery. She waved her hand dismissively, her expression indifferent.
Yet, her gaze lingered on Nianyao.
In Nianyao’s mind, only the words “Crown Prince” from Zhao Momo’s mouth echoed.
Her long, soft eyelashes trembled violently at the term, but she clenched her wrist, refusing to let her body react further.
Yunrou stared intently at Nianyao’s profile, which, though concealing its allure, remained strikingly captivating.
Jealousy overwhelmed her.
Yunrou snorted coldly: “I’ll make use of this one for now.”
Hearing Yunrou’s words, Nianyao’s body shuddered violently.
Yunrou, with her tender face and venomous heart, took the most pleasure in tormenting her on a daily basis. If she fell into Yunrou’s hands, there would certainly be no good outcome.
But Zhao Momo, eager to flatter Yunrou at the moment, would hardly care about Nianyao’s feelings.
Thus, Nianyao was dragged by Yunrou to the side of the small river.
On that early winter morning, Nianyao was thinly dressed, and the biting cold wind, especially the gusts sweeping across the river, made her shiver uncontrollably.
Yunrou looked down at Nianyao’s delicate, pale fingertips and snorted coldly before giving her order.
“From now on, you will wash all my clothes for me. Do you hear me?”
Nianyao opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw Yunrou’s furrowed brows, she froze.
Two years in the palace had already worn away her original nature beyond recognition.
Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to utter a word of refusal.
Seeing Nianyao finally look up at her, Yunrou noticed her face as radiant as polished jade—even the coarse clothing she wore couldn’t conceal her beauty.
A flicker of malice flashed in Yunrou’s eyes.
With such looks, if the Crown Prince were to see her, wouldn’t he…
If she were disfigured, there would be no more worries.
Perhaps the chill in Yunrou’s eyes was too obvious, and Nianyao, not being foolish, sensed it clearly.
Just as Yunrou was about to step forward, her intentions becoming increasingly evident,
Nianyao saw the murderous gleam in her eyes.
As Yunrou was on the verge of approaching, Nianyao suddenly knelt to the side.
“This humble maid greets the Crown Prince.”