Mistakenly Treated The Princess As A Concubine - Chapter 26

Wen Zhuojin followed the maid leading the way to a warm pavilion. Inside, the participants of the Incense Competition were gathered—90% of whom were unmarried women, with a smaller portion being married women. Without exception, they were all noblewomen.

Wen Zhuojin glanced around and recognized a few faces, though she wasn’t well-acquainted with any of them. Among them, the most familiar was Lady Ming, the aunt of her former fiancé, Shen Yuque. Lady Ming, a widow for many years, had left a good impression on her.

Wen Zhuojin had always appreciated Lady Ming’s refined taste in fragrances. Every time they met, she could catch a whiff of the exquisite scents Lady Ming wore, reflecting her impeccable preferences.

When Lady Ming spotted Wen Zhuojin, her eyes curved in a warm smile. She beckoned her over to sit by her side.

Wen Zhuojin took a quick look around and, seeing there weren’t many open seats, decided to join her.

“Ah Zhuo, what a surprise! Who would’ve thought we’d meet again as competitors in the Incense Competition? What fragrance did you bring today?” Lady Ming asked with a soft, charming smile.

“Just something I made casually—not worth mentioning,” Wen Zhuojin replied humbly, her tone light.

“You’re quite secretive, Ah Zhuo. I’ve joined this competition a few times but never been selected. Maybe they think I’m too old for it. I come here just to meet fellow enthusiasts, blend some powders, and have a little fun. This time, I brought…” Lady Ming trailed off, laughing, as she shared details about her fragrance, unconcerned about winning.

Wen Zhuojin listened with a polite smile, her impression of Lady Ming improving further. She found her straightforward and open demeanor quite refreshing.

As they exchanged a few words about the art of crafting fragrances, two female Taoist priests entered the pavilion.

“Light the incense to invite the Heavenly Goddess. The Incense Competition begins now,” one of them announced loudly, while the other lit incense and placed it into the censer.

Wen Zhuojin’s breath hitched—she feared it might be divine incense again.

After taking a careful sniff, she relaxed slightly.

The divine incense likely came with an exorbitant cost and wasn’t something casually burned.

At the moment, they were burning aloeswood incense, with its smoke rising straight upward, symbolizing communication with the gods above.

The scent itself was pleasant—subtle and elegant.

After the incense was burned to invite the deities, the participants were asked to offer their own incense. The incense used was all self-made, as the competition focused on “incense omens,” which were believed to reflect the Heavenly Goddess’s judgment.

Wen Zhuojin was familiar with this process and had also prepared her own stick incense for the occasion.

Having participated in several blessing ceremonies before, Wen Zhuojin had come to understand that the so-called incense omens were determined by observing the height and burn patterns of three incense sticks to interpret fortune and misfortune.

Many believed these were divine signs.

Wen Zhuojin, however, had never believed in such things. Moreover, her years of studying incense had revealed to her just how much human manipulation could influence the results.

Her self-made incense sticks, for instance, were deliberately crafted with slight variations during production. She knew exactly how long each one would burn. By arranging them in a specific order, she could achieve the desired “omen.”

After inserting her incense into the censer and marking it for identification, another round of ceremonies was conducted.

When the incense had burned almost completely, it was time to interpret the omens.

“Life-threatening incense: ill omen.”

“Wish-fulfilling incense: auspicious omen.”

“Sickness incense: ill omen.”

“Longevity incense: auspicious omen.”

….

The female Taoist priests interpreting the incense omens examined each participant’s results and divided them into groups based on their fortunes.

Wen Zhuojin had labeled her incense as “Merit Incense,” symbolizing “divine protection and blessings,” which was considered a good omen. Naturally, she was assigned to the group of favorable omens.

Those with bad omens were said to face potential disasters or to have displeased the Heavenly Goddess. They were grouped separately, automatically given the lowest grade, D rank, which meant elimination.

However, those willing to pay an incense donation fee could receive a method for disaster dispelling and continue participating. Those unable to pay were eliminated on the spot.

Wen Zhuojin silently marveled at how the Incense Competition had become yet another money-making scheme. Are they that desperate for silver? Even more than I am?

After the first round, out of fifty or sixty participants, only two were eliminated due to their inability to pay.

The remaining participants were then led to another location for the next round: blindfolded incense identification.

There were twenty types of incense materials to identify, with a perfect score awarded for correctly naming all of them.

This round was Wen Zhuojin’s forte. Unless it was a material she had never encountered before, she could identify any scent she had seen or studied.

As she waited for her turn, she overheard two female Taoist priests chatting in a nearby warm pavilion.

“Xuan Zhen, do you see anyone promising today? I think the eldest daughter of the Wen family from the Marquis of Jing’an’s household is quite decent. She’s lucky enough to have gotten Merit Incense. She’s also very beautiful—we haven’t seen such striking looks in years,” one priest, Xuan Miao, said.

“You always focus on appearances, Xuan Miao. What’s the use of beauty? What matters is whether they can be of service to us. According to the records, she’s been frail since childhood and rarely leaves her house. She was recently rejected from an engagement. If she’s trying to join the Heavenly Xuan Temple, it’s probably just to secure a good marriage. There are plenty of women like her, and their personalities make them unreliable,” replied Xuan Zhen, whose features were strikingly bold but carried an air of weariness.

“Then we’ll keep observing. By the way, Xuan Zhen, how is our master doing these days?” Xuan Miao asked.

“She’s doing well,” Xuan Zhen said, though her expression darkened slightly as she spoke.

“Is our master residing in the palace with His Highness in Yunjing City, or is she meditating here in seclusion? When can I visit her? I really miss her,” Xuan Miao said with a wistful tone.

“Master is meditating in seclusion and does not wish to be disturbed. Let’s discuss it in a few days,” Xuan Zhen replied.

“Alright, you’ve always been the one she favors. Have you found anyone you’re interested in?” Xuan Miao dropped the topic and shifted the conversation.

“Let’s wait and see. It’s not over yet,” Xuan Zhen said, propping her head on her hand and gazing outside, though her thoughts seemed to have wandered far away.

It was soon Wen Zhuojin’s turn for the incense identification test. Blindfolded, she named each incense material she was given.

“Sister Priestess, the balm you used today contains jasmine. It’s fresh, subtle, and smells delightful,” Wen Zhuojin said with a smile after completing the test, addressing the priestess recording the results.

“Quite the sharp nose—every scent identified correctly. Grade A, excellent,” the priestess exclaimed in surprise, then smiled.

“Thank you, Sister Priestess!” Wen Zhuojin said cheerfully, removing her blindfold with a bright smile.

Whenever Wen Zhuojin wanted to, her smiling demeanor could easily win people over.

“Miss Wen, please go and rest for now. Prepare yourself for the upcoming blended incense presentation,” the priestess said warmly.

Wen Zhuojin thanked her and walked out of the incense identification pavilion.

“Ah Zhuo, I just heard you received a Grade A! Congratulations,” Lady Ming greeted her warmly.

“Congratulations to you too, Lady Ming, for passing this round,” Wen Zhuojin replied with a polite smile.

A maid came to guide them to the hall for the blended incense presentation. Wen Zhuojin and Lady Ming walked together.

As they walked, Lady Ming chatted with Wen Zhuojin. At first, Wen Zhuojin didn’t pay much attention, but after a while, she noticed something was off. The path they were taking seemed unfamiliar, leading them further away. The fragrance in the air grew faint, replaced by the earthy smell of soil and stone. Up ahead, a rock garden loomed in sight.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Wen Zhuojin asked.

“It is. Once we pass through this rock garden, we’ll arrive,” the maid replied, glancing at Wen Zhuojin before lowering her gaze.

Wen Zhuojin frowned, taking a few steps forward and catching a familiar scent—unpleasant and unwelcome.

“Is this someone you arranged?” Wen Zhuojin turned to Lady Ming, her tone tinged with disappointment.

“…Ah Zhuo, I mean you no harm. Someone begged me, and I truly had no way to refuse. I’ve relied on the Duke’s household for support all these years since I became a widow. I couldn’t turn them down. He only said he wanted to speak with you for a moment—nothing more,” Lady Ming explained softly, her voice low and pleading, her expression filled with sorrow and apology.

“…” Wen Zhuojin suddenly thought of the beautiful woman from Wujiao Alley.

Perhaps she was simply incapable of resisting this kind of desperate plea.

In the brief moment Wen Zhuojin hesitated, the unpleasant smell grew stronger. Soon enough, the source of the scent arrived in front of her.

“Ah Zhuo!” A man’s voice called out, urgent and insistent.

Wen Zhuojin frowned as she glanced at the man approaching—it was none other than her former fiancé, Shen Yuque.

“Ah Zhuo, I’ve wanted to find you for so long but never had the chance. I didn’t agree to the annulment. I’ve heard the Marquis’s household is arranging a match for you, but that Cheng family son is notorious for his violent temper—he even killed someone in a fit of rage. How can I let you fall into such a pit of fire? I haven’t been able to eat or sleep these past days. I pleaded with my mother for a chance—I can take you as my equal wife. Ah Zhuo, I know I’ve wronged you, but I am truly sincere. I will never let you down,” Shen Yuque said anxiously, his gaze filled with fervent emotion.

While Shen Yuque spoke, Lady Ming quietly took the maid and left.

Wen Zhuojin had no interest in listening to Shen Yuque’s words and tried to leave, but he stepped in her way.

After finishing his plea, Shen Yuque looked at her with deep affection, as if waiting for a response.

Wen Zhuojin couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

If Shen Yuque had lent even the slightest assistance back when her uncle faced calamity, she would have remembered his kindness and repaid him tenfold, allowing them both to part with dignity.

But instead, he vanished without a trace.

It wasn’t until her uncle was demoted and she earned her place at the Incense Competition that he reappeared, spouting such words.

How utterly ridiculous.

“Shen Yuque, my marriage is now in the hands of the Heavenly Goddess. Do not speak such things to me again!” Wen Zhuojin said sharply, turning away to leave.

Shen Yuque froze in place for a moment before quickly chasing after her.

He thought that by saying such things, Wen Zhuojin would be moved. Who would have guessed she’d respond with this attitude?

Shen Yuque did have some affection for Wen Zhuojin, but not enough to sacrifice his own interests for her. Now that she had made a name for herself among noblewomen at the flower appreciation event and caught the attention of a Daoist priestess to gain entry into the Incense Competition, he finally decided to see her.

“Ah Zhuo, the immortal masters are always strict in accepting disciples. You might not even qualify. Besides, they would never take a woman who secretly meets male guests as a disciple,” Shen Yuque said as he chased after her, grabbing her sleeve.

Wen Zhuojin stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Shen Yuque. He still appeared proper and refined, but now she found him utterly revolting, inside and out.

How fortunate she was that the engagement had ended early.

Wen Zhuojin smiled at Shen Yuque, then slowly pulled a fire striker from her sleeve pouch.

Shen Yuque was momentarily dazed by her smile, but soon a strange smell reached his nose.

“What do you think of this incense?” Wen Zhuojin asked, covering her nose and mouth.

“What kind of incense is this?” Shen Yuque felt dizzy, his head beginning to throb.

“This is mihuixiang—a confusion incense. Shen Yuque, you’re worse than that Cheng family son. Let this serve as a lesson today,” Wen Zhuojin said calmly.

As the incense took effect, Wen Zhuojin extinguished it, pocketed it, and delivered a sharp kick to Shen Yuque’s abdomen. As he doubled over, she kneed him in the face and shoved him to the ground, proceeding to unleash a flurry of punches and kicks.

Wen Zhuojin was no ordinary frail woman. She often kneaded incense clay herself, climbed walls to sneak out, and practiced horseback riding and archery with her cousin. She was far from weak.

Shen Yuque, already disoriented from the incense, was left even more dazed by the beating.

When Wen Zhuojin finally grew tired, she noticed a different scent in the air—someone else was approaching. If Lady Ming was fully cooperating with Shen Yuque, she might have brought a Daoist priestess. Wen Zhuojin decided to stop.

“If you wish to be beaten daily in the future, go ahead and spread the word or propose marriage to the Marquis’s household. You can even tell people I was the one who hit you. But next time, I won’t stop at confusion incense,” Wen Zhuojin warned in a low voice.

Shen Yuque, his face so swollen that he could barely open his eyes, looked at Wen Zhuojin with sheer terror.

He never could have imagined that Wen Zhuojin would turn out to be someone like this.

Wen Zhuojin ignored Shen Yuque, avoiding the direction filled with chaotic scents and slipping deeper into the artificial rock garden.

She had barely turned a corner when she spotted someone.

It was a woman whose age was indiscernible, seated in a wooden wheelchair. She wore plain clothing, her appearance simple and unremarkable, and she carried almost no scent at all.

The woman’s eyes were vacant, devoid of any light or emotion.

Wen Zhuojin had no idea who she was, but with people likely approaching from behind and the risk that this woman might have seen her beating Shen Yuque, she had no choice but to confront the situation head-on.

“Apologies, but let me push you further in so we can talk,” Wen Zhuojin said, grabbing the wheelchair and quickly maneuvering it deeper into the winding paths of the rock garden.

The maze-like paths twisted and turned, but Wen Zhuojin relied on her keen sense of smell to estimate a safe direction. After some time, they finally exited the garden.

“Immortal Sister, could you please not tell anyone about what just happened?” Wen Zhuojin asked, catching her breath and crouching slightly to meet the woman’s gaze. Seeing that her robe looked like a Daoist priestess’s attire, she deliberately emphasized her devotion. “I am wholeheartedly loyal to the Heavenly Goddess, but that man tried to undermine me with such despicable means. I acted in the heat of the moment. Please, could you keep this a secret?”

“Being the concubine wife of the heir to the Duke’s household wouldn’t be good?” the woman asked, her voice cold and emotionless.

“Not good! Absolutely not! Even if it were to be his principal wife, I wouldn’t agree. My heart belongs only to the Heavenly Goddess!” Wen Zhuojin exclaimed, shaking her head furiously.

“…And if the Heavenly Goddess decreed you remain unmarried for life, would you accept it?” the woman asked again.

“Of course! What’s so good about marriage anyway?” Wen Zhuojin replied, her tone resolute and matter-of-fact.

“Very well. I won’t tell anyone,” the woman said, her vacant gaze finally focusing on Wen Zhuojin.