A night of passion, the bed in complete disarray.
Youli, her hair disheveled, lay stiffly on the embroidered bed. Though awake, her soul had left her body.
The Heir beside her gave a soft cough or two, then slowly rose. Youli’s nerves instantly tensed, unsure of what to do.
She clutched the thin quilt tightly with her bare hands. Beneath it, she wore not a stitch, and a dull ache in a certain place kept reminding her of the shameful things that had happened the night before.
The Heir lifted the bed curtains and left the bed, his refined voice hoarse with fatigue as he called for someone to bring in water.
Youli dared not open her eyes.
Her heart was dead with despair.
Sold into the Yongan Marquis Mansion as a servant girl at the age of ten, this was now her fifth year in the household.
Over these five years, Youli had risen step by step from the lowest-ranking sweeping maid to the most favored Chief Maid at the side of the Yongan Heir—a modest peak achieved in her career as a maidservant.
She was quite satisfied with this life. She dared not hope for more, planning to save her money carefully and one day beg her masters for the grace to buy her freedom and marry, becoming the wife of an ordinary household and her own mistress for once.
But then, just last night, as the rain fell sparse and the wind blew fierce, she was doing embroidery in the Heir’s bedchamber. By the flickering candlelight, she waited for him to return from the study so she could attend him as he retired for the night.
Ahem—certainly not that kind of attending.
The attending that meant serving tea and water, helping him change and bathe.
Having been promoted three days earlier to first-rank Chief Maid at the Heir’s side, she had earned the qualification to keep the night watch.
She slept on a small cot beside the canopy bed, unable to sleep deeply, ready to rise at any moment should her master stir in the night, awaiting his commands.
The Heir was peerlessly handsome, dignified and composed, a prodigy of his generation—a Licentiate at twelve, and at fifteen the youngest Recommended Candidate in the Great Zhou Dynasty. He was the most brilliant presence in the Marquis’s Estate, hailed as the Star of Literary Eminence descended to earth, of inestimable nobility.
In daily life, he had none of the bad habits of other young men from great families. He either attended classes at the private school in the Minister’s Mansion or stayed in his study reading and practicing calligraphy, sometimes reading so late that it reached the deepest hours of the night.
The previous two nights had been fine, but this night the wait felt especially long—so long that she had dozed off slumped on her cot. And then he returned.
His steps unsteady, he stumbled into the bedchamber and, without a word, pulled her close and began kissing her.
Though the Heir carried an air of scholarly refinement, he was tall and slender, roughly eight chi tall (about over 1.8 meters in modern terms). How could she possibly resist him? She was quickly pinned down on the bed, and they tumbled through a night of passion.
By now, every bone in her body felt broken apart.
The Heir seemed frail and bookish—who would have thought his explosive power in this regard would be… so astonishing!
If it hadn’t truly happened last night, Youli would never have believed that this aloof, ascetic, immortal-like man would actually sleep with his Chief Maid like this!!
Her chastity was gone without a trace.
Now, she had truly become the Heir’s Bedchamber Maid.
Yet a Bedchamber Maid was a position even lower than a Concubine.
Without name or status, if she lacked her master’s favor, once he married, she could be casually dismissed and sent away. Only a precious few ever rose to become Concubines.
She had originally served in the Old Madame’s courtyard, and later the Old Madame assigned her to serve the Heir, so she had been at his side for two years now. But she had never imagined that the proud and aloof Heir would ever take notice of a lowly maid like her.
And last night’s dream had indeed told her exactly that.
That night of passion had left her as if shrouded in mist, and in her half-dreaming state, she had discovered that she was actually a minor character in a storybook.
The storybook said that she would receive the Heir’s grace—her contract would be returned, she would leave the residence to reunite with her family, and a marriage would be arranged for her. But all of this was only the beginning of a nightmare. She suffered every hardship, until fortunately the Heir, remembering their years of master and servant, rescued her from her misery. Yet before long, the Heir fell ill and died suddenly…
Youli found this strange. If what the storybook said was true, then how could she have suddenly shared a night of intimacy with the Heir?
And if it wasn’t true, then why would she have such a dream?
Youli was frowning in thought when her body was suddenly lifted into the air. She cried out in alarm, and the moment she opened her eyes, she saw the Heir’s eyes, calm as an ancient well.
They were like a bottomless abyss, like a dangerous whirlpool, trapping her firmly within.
The Heir was not only exceptionally talented, but also strikingly handsome—skin like polished jade, eyes like bright stars, dignified as the wind beneath the pines, his bearing pure and distant, untouchable.
Though she attended him closely every day, Youli always kept a maidservant’s sense of propriety and never looked directly at her master. This was the first time she had gazed at him from such a close distance.
Her Heir was truly a feast for the eyes!
Suddenly realizing what she was thinking, Youli’s face flushed red in an instant.
Oh no—she had just committed sacrilege in her heart against her pine-like Heir…
She was guilty!
At this moment, the doors and windows of the room were tightly shut. He carried her straight in his arms to the washroom to bathe.
She was truly petite in his embrace, and at this moment she was somewhat overwhelmed by the favor, her round eyes red, like a trembling little rabbit.
When had the Heir, that favored son of heaven, ever held anyone like this?
The two of them entered the bathing tub together. Youli’s whole body was wrapped in warm water, easing the discomfort in her body, but she instantly grew more alert, her expression turning to shock.
The clear reality told her that she was still a servant, and must attend her master.
The Heir leaned back against the side of the tub with his eyes closed, resting.
She stepped out trembling. The man’s thin, pale eyelids opened, and Youli’s smooth, fair body came into his view.
A girl just past her coming-of-age, she had quietly shed her beanpole frame, and in the blink of an eye her exquisite figure had fully bloomed—neither too plump nor too slender, her waist slender and supple, her neck graceful and elegant, her cheeks flushed pink…
Now water droplets glistened over her jade-like skin, radiant as a lotus rising from clear ripples.
His gaze darkened a few shades, and he asked in his still-hoarse voice, “What are you doing?”
Youli, her snow-white slender arms wrapped around herself, heart pounding wildly, lowered her eyes submissively and answered in a tiny voice, “This servant… this servant will tidy up and attend the Heir as he bathes and dresses…”
He braced his arms on the rim of the tub and watched her at his leisure. “You worked hard last night as well. You may bathe with me.”
Youli: Just listen to that. Is that something a person says?
Still… it had indeed been exhausting.
Noticing the Heir’s deep gaze roaming over her body, she immediately sank back into the water.
What should she do?
How should she get out?
She didn’t dare move carelessly, doing her best not to touch the Heir’s body.
The Heir suddenly extended a hand, fingers long as bamboo joints, and lifted her lustrous chin. Within her startled, fawn-like gaze, he spoke with elegant calm, “Last night was not my intention, but since it has happened, I will not treat you poorly in the future. When my proper wife enters the household, you will be raised to Concubine.”
Youli’s heart leaped violently again.
Concubine?
The storybook never mentioned that!
Sure enough, that storybook from last night’s dream could not be trusted.
Even so, she had never dreamed of becoming the Heir’s concubine.
After all, the Heir was someone far too high above her to reach…