The autumn rain drizzled on relentlessly.
By the late hours, it hadn’t abated; instead, it fell even harder, tapping against the tiled roof in a constant, insistent patter that frayed the nerves.
Lin Qianshan lay on the hard plank bed, turning from side to side.
The image of Xiao Yu’s eyes—the pain and fatigue in them—his cold fingertips, and the low, resonant words he had spoken as he left, replayed over and over in her mind.
An indescribable emotion grew in her chest: part worry, part a subtle, inexplicable flutter.
She rolled over, facing the mottled wall, and let out a soft sigh. In this treacherous prince’s manor, what would this unusual attention mean—blessing or curse?
At that moment, a faint “tap-tap” came from outside the window, like a bird’s beak pecking hidden under the rain, yet with a peculiar, deliberate rhythm.
Lin Qianshan froze, every nerve taut. This was no ordinary noise!
She sat up silently, bare feet on the cold floor, and crept to the window. Pressing her ear to the thick paper covering the glass, she tried to catch any sound over the rain. Through the downpour, she could just make out muffled, intermittent conversation.
“…Really? The prince… personally went to the small kitchen?” A high, slightly sharp female voice, tinged with disbelief. Lin Qianshan’s heart skipped a beat. That voice… it sounded like Xiao Que, the third-rank maid of Consort Liu!
“Absolutely!” A deeper, firmer voice answered. “I saw it with my own eyes. The prince sat inside for at least the length of an incense stick, and he even drank the soup the girl made! When he came out, his complexion looked much better!”
It was one of the elder maids responsible for the backyard, surnamed Qian. Lin Qianshan remembered her as usually quiet and reserved, but now…
“Hmph! Just a mere kitchen maid, daring to tempt the prince with a bit of skill!” Xiao Que’s voice seethed with jealousy. “Consort Liu already knows and smashed a set of tea cups in anger! And Chef Zhang sent word too, saying this girl cannot stay—if she keeps showing herself in front of the prince, trouble is inevitable!”
Lin Qianshan’s heart sank, her hands and feet turning icy. As she suspected! Consort Liu and Chef Zhang… they had already teamed up!
“Then… what shall we do? The prince is paying attention to her now…” Elder Qian hesitated.
“Attention?” Xiao Que sneered. “The prince is just curious for now, enjoying a bit of her cooking! Once she ‘accidentally’ makes a serious mistake, angers him, or… simply ‘falls ill,’ see if he bothers with her again!”
“‘Falls ill’?” Lin Qianshan clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms sharply, forcing clarity into her scattered thoughts.
“Chef Zhang’s meaning is…” Elder Qian lowered her voice, words trailing off, but fragments like “medicinal herbs,” “conflict,” “no evidence” pierced Lin Qianshan like ice picks.
Her back broke out in cold sweat. They were planning to tamper with the herbs, exploiting the principle of conflicting ingredients! Such a method was covert and vicious—if it succeeded, as the person in charge of the prince’s soups, she would be the first to suffer, with no way to defend herself.
A few more low whispers, then footsteps receded into the rain, as if nothing had happened.
Lin Qianshan stood frozen at the window, the chill creeping from her toes through every bone. Outside lay endless darkness and cold rain; inside, she was utterly alone, facing a surge of malice.
She slowly crouched, hugging her knees, burying her face in her arms.
Fear wrapped around her like creeping vines, constricting until she could hardly breathe. She was just an insignificant kitchen maid, powerless—how could she stand against Consort Liu and the long-established chef?
Was her hard-won lifeline about to be snatched away?
No!
She lifted her head sharply, a flash of stubborn determination lighting her eyes. She, Lin Qianshan, had fought her way from the modern workplace to a Michelin three-star kitchen—what storms had she not faced? She would not yield so easily!
They wanted to tamper with the herbs? Then she would know herbs better than they ever could!
Thanks to her modern knowledge and professional understanding of the properties and interactions of ingredients, she knew the flavors, nature, and compatibility of common medicinal herbs inside and out. Chef Zhang’s attempt to trap her might well fail.
Moreover… they likely didn’t realize that the prince’s stomach ailment wasn’t just simple spleen weakness. The fatigue hidden in his eyes, the faint scent of medicine clinging to him, and the soldier’s alertness that lingered even in pain—all pointed to deeper causes.
Perhaps… she could even turn this to her advantage.
A bold thought began to take shape in her mind. The risk was enormous, but if it succeeded, she might not only protect herself but truly establish her position in the manor.
She lay back down, wide awake. Her eyes stared into the darkness as she listened to the continuous rain, mentally rehearsing each step she would take.
By dawn, the rain had eased. Lin Qianshan rose, washed up as usual, and made her way to the small kitchen. Her complexion was pale, with faint dark circles under her eyes, but her gaze was calm and resolute.
She prepared the morning soup as meticulously as ever. When selecting herbs, she inspected them more carefully than before—checking not only appearance but for any subtle tampering.
Chef Zhang observed coldly from the side. Seeing her so cautious, he emitted a nearly inaudible snort of disdain.
Lin Qianshan ignored him, inwardly smiling coldly: Just wait. Your schemes won’t succeed. And I’ll ride this tailwind to ignite an even bigger fire!