After Being Marked by the Eldest Princess, I Got Pregnant with Her Child [Transmigration into a Novel] - Chapter 6

Yan Chen gazed quietly at the young girl before her. Delicate wrists wrapped bandages around her in careful circles, while jet-black hair cascaded down her back, swaying slightly with each movement. A few stray strands clung to her clothes, resting motionless against the curve of her slender waist.

A sudden impulse seized Yan Chen. She tugged the half-crouching figure beside her into an embrace. Song Shujiu, in the midst of bandaging, was caught off guard by the abrupt pull and tumbled forward into her arms.

“What are you doing?”

With her uninjured hand, Yan Chen idly brushed the top of Song Shujiu’s head. The faint scent of hair ointment drifted up as she leaned closer, gathering a lock of hair and bringing it to her nose for a delicate sniff.

Song Shujiu stiffened, sprawled across Yan Chen’s lap. What was she doing?

Was she out of her mind?

Song Shujiu sighed inwardly. Was she even going to finish bandaging her?

Her legs were going numb.

“Um—”

Song Shujiu tried to speak up, but Yan Chen seemed not to hear.

After a long pause, Yan Chen brushed aside the stray hairs near Song Shujiu’s left ear, revealing the vivid crimson mark blooming there, just as expected.

The crown prince of Zhao had always been a formidable Qianniang, blessed with extraordinary abilities. Yet from birth, the court astrologer had divined that Yan Chen was the kingdom’s sole powerful top-tier Qianniang. That was why, during the marriage alliance negotiations with Yue, Yan Yue had been chosen instead.

But in this lifetime, the throne would never be hers.

The thought of the person seated upon it softened Yan Chen’s heart. She studied the youthful face before her—this body’s compatibility with hers was astonishingly high.

After two temporary marks, the pheromones surging from the gland were overwhelming, easily stirring her emotions, infecting her, tempting her.

Her throat moved imperceptibly as the heart-shaped birthmark began emitting a faint violet fragrance.

Under Song Shujiu’s innocent, puzzled gaze, Yan Chen hooked a hand behind her neck and pulled her close without hesitation, pressing a slow, deliberate lick just an inch below her left ear.

A jolt like electricity coursed through Song Shujiu, leaving her limbs weak. Yan Chen was absolutely insane, it tickled so much.

When she looked up, Yan Chen had already released her, her dark eyes swirling with emotions Song Shujiu couldn’t decipher. Yet it didn’t stop the fluttering in her chest.

“Attendant Song, the night chill is harmful. Take care.”

Yan Chen stood, her expression now perfectly composed, though the clumsily tied bandage around her hand made her raise a brow.

As she turned away, the corner of her lips curled up.

Song Shujiu watched her retreating figure. She really came and went as she pleased.

Why hadn’t she asked earlier what exactly an attendant’s duties entailed?

Accompanying Yan Chen in reading and compiling literature?

Well, tomorrow’s problems could wait.

The whole ordeal had left her wide awake.

But now her stomach was growling.

“Xiao Tao—”

Never mind. She was going to hunt down some food. Since she hadn’t officially started her duties yet, she still had time to laze around.

Inside the imperial palace, the emperor’s chambers were brightly lit. Before the main hall stood a water wall, its surface carved with undulating wave patterns. Water trickled down the grooves, collecting in a circular pool below, its edges lined with pebbles and adorned with flowers.

The palace perfumers had prepared calming incense early, and the maids placed slender sticks into the qilin-shaped burners, filling the grand hall with a tranquil haze.

Before the vanity, Hua Ling helped Yan Yue out of her imperial robes, replacing them with a spring-green gossamer gown embroidered with a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix. The golden hair ornaments were removed one by one, letting her long, silken tresses cascade freely after being pinned up all day.

In the bronze mirror, Yan Yue removed her makeup, her face pale and slightly weary.

“Your Majesty is busy with state affairs, but you must take care of your health.”

Night and day, she reviewed memorials, her body growing increasingly frail.

“Great Zhao needs you.”

“Don’t comfort me. This broken body is merely clinging to life.”

Yan Yue no longer carried the imperial dignity of the court, instead revealing a woman’s delicate melancholy. She gazed at her sickly reflection in the mirror every day, she spent hours applying makeup and exhausting vast resources to nurse her failing health.

Though her body appeared youthful, the Grand Diviner had long predicted that her inner vitality had already entered deep winter. The flame of her life would flicker out in just a few years.

“You are the Son of Heaven, protected by the dragon’s aura. You will endure for eternity.”

Hua Ling gently comforted her while combing her hair.

“Hua Ling, since we’re alone, I’ll speak plainly this throne was never meant to be mine.”

The guardians of Zhao had their destined candidates in every generation.

“My sister sacrificed her future for my sake. Truthfully, I might not have done as well as she would have.”

Exhaustion lingered between Yan Yue’s brows. Yan Chen was the true Son of Heaven in the eyes of the Grand Diviner.

They were twin sisters, yet born moments apart, their fates worlds apart.

She had been frail since birth, and ordinary tonics were useless. The Grand Diviner declared she would not live past ten.

But she had an elder sister who stubbornly prolonged her fate, though it was merely a desperate struggle.

“The Grand Princess is exceptional in ability and shares a deep bond with you. She will surely find a way to extend your guardianship over Great Zhao.”

Hua Ling removed the last traces of lip rouge from her lips.

“Who can say for certain about the dragon’s aura? Perhaps only the true dragon can possess it. Even sitting on this throne, I may just be wasting time.”

“Who said that?”

A cool voice sounded from behind them. Both women startled. Hua Ling recognized the newcomer and stepped forward to bow, but Yan Chen waved her off and took the comb from her hands.

Hua Ling glanced between the two and tactfully withdrew.

In the room, aside from the curling incense smoke, silence fell.

“Didn’t I tell you not to dwell on such thoughts? It’s bad for your health.”

Yan Chen stood while she sat, the height difference allowing her to gaze down at her slightly.

Yan Yue recognized the displeasure beneath her sister’s calm tone. Like a child caught misbehaving, her limpid eyes held a barely perceptible submissiveness as she softened her voice. “I was just speaking idly. Every time I sit in this position, I can’t help but reflect.”

She had never been interested in the throne to begin with.

In terms of ability, she didn’t believe herself superior to the woman before her.

“Did someone say something?”

Yan Chen suddenly frowned, studying her as if searching for answers. Who in the court would dare speak out now?

Her own subordinates had long been reprimanded. She was content to serve as a minister, yet Yan Yue carried the weight of guilt, feeling she had wronged her.

“No one dares. With you and me in these positions, who would openly challenge us?”

Rumors of her poor health—anyone who knew the truth back then had long been purged.

“Don’t overthink it.”

Yan Yue reached over and placed a hand on hers. Yan Chen’s gaze softened, her voice gentler now. “Just focus on recovering. Leave everything else to me.”

Yan Yue nodded.

Twins always shared an emotional resonance. The bond they had forged growing up side by side would not change, no matter how their roles had shifted.

“Sister, draw a huadian for me.”

Yan Yue picked up the makeup brush from the dressing table. * Wearing imperial robes every day had long made her cast aside the delicate charms of a young maiden. In private moments, she often yearned to don ordinary attire and apply the rouge of her pre-coronation days.

Yan Chen’s heart stirred slightly as she nodded, a smile gracing her lips.

From the mirror’s reflection, Yan Chen stood behind her—steadfast as an ancient tree, shielding her from storms all along the way. If she wished to wear rouge now, it must surely be for the person before her.

Yan Chen’s fingers lightly pressed against her shoulders, feeling the slender bones beneath. Not long ago, that spirited girl with mischievous eyes had collided into her, and she had likewise sensed the fragility of that slender frame.

Dipping the brush into rouge, Yan Chen traced a delicate line across Yan Yue’s forehead.

Yan Yue smiled back at her through the mirror, joy shimmering in her eyes.

Yan Chen relaxed unconsciously, meeting her gaze with a soft smile of her own.

The warm incense in the burner flickered steadily. Behind the huanghuali wood table, an eight-panel sandalwood and coral screen reflected their figures as though merged into one—one tall, one petite, their silence speaking volumes.

Princess’s Manor

Song Shujiu clutched a chicken leg in one hand and gnawed on a duck wing with the other, her mouth working overtime. With Yan Chen absent, she had no idea what meals the princess’s household would prepare.

Dragging Xiao Tao along, she sneaked out to the marketplace and promptly devoured half the street food on offer.

“Food outside always tastes better than home cooking.”

Back in her corporate drone days, her own cooking had been bland and watery, while takeout was her lifeline—yet her figure never suffered. Spoiled by such indulgence, she now had an itch to eat out at every opportunity.

“Actually, Yan Chen’s manor must serve better food than this. After all, it’s a government-funded position—meals are covered by state budget, guaranteed quality.”

“Miss, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

Xiao Tao chewed on a fried meatball, baffled. Her mistress had been spouting increasingly strange terms lately—government positions? State budgets? Unheard of.

“Ah, just means working for the royals and getting fed imperial rations in return.”

Seeing Xiao Tao’s blank stare, Song Shujiu suddenly mused, as if struck by a thought, “Does Yan Chen have someone she likes?”

Xiao Tao looked even more bewildered. “No one dares address the Princess by name—even the Chancellor avoids it. And who would dare pry into her affairs?”

Yan Chen was famously reserved yet decisive in action, a reputation that kept others from crossing her lightly.

Song Shujiu recalled the dream where Yan Chen had stroked her ear, murmuring the name “Kunniang.”

Who was Kunniang? A lost love?

And was there really someone Yan Chen couldn’t have?

Between bites of chicken, Song Shujiu pondered, a vague unease tugging at her.