Mistakenly Treated The Princess As A Concubine - Chapter 6

The frail person was still struggling, eyes wide open. In the dim light, her pupils gleamed with a translucent blue, wet and glistening, her lashes stained with tears. She looked delicate and pitiful, yet stubbornly resisted, refusing to be touched, a low growl rising weakly from her throat.

Wen Zhuojin was reminded of a long-haired snow-white lion cat she had once raised as a child.

Its pale blue eyes were round and large, exceptionally beautiful.

Highly vigilant, it lashed out at anyone who came near, swiping rapidly with its claws. If its claws were restrained, it would use its teeth to bite.

Fragile, yet defiant.

When Wen Zhuojin first tried to approach it, she was scratched by its claws and bitten.

If it weren’t for her insistence, Nanny Jiang would have sent the cat back.

Now, the person she was holding reminded her so much of that cat.

Fragile, yet unyielding.

The woman’s struggles were draining her strength. Panting, the cold fragrance emanating from her grew stronger, mingling with an increasingly intense scent of bl00d.

Wen Zhuojin noticed the wounds on the woman’s hands and arms, where the skin was cracked and bleeding. Even under the shabby quilt covering her, the metallic tang of bl00d was apparent.

“Big sister, don’t move. You’re injured. I swear I won’t hurt you,” Wen Zhuojin said as gently as she could, softening her voice.

But the woman’s struggles didn’t pause for even a moment.

Wen Zhuojin wanted to restrain her hands and feet but worried that doing so might worsen her injuries. She could only loosen her grip for the time being.

The moment she was released, the woman, like a cat with its fur bristling, raised her body and immediately swung the broken hairpin in her hand toward Wen Zhuojin.

Prepared for this, Wen Zhuojin dodged in time.

The quilt slipped from the woman’s body, revealing her tattered clothing, with several spots stained red by bl00d. Her ankle was a horrifying sight—flesh and bl00d torn apart, with an iron shackle embedded deep into her skin. It looked agonizing, yet she seemed oblivious, gripping the broken hairpin tightly and swinging it forward, continuing her resistance.

As pity welled up in Wen Zhuojin’s heart, so did anger.

How could the people at Xiangxiang Pavilion treat her so cruelly?!

The imperial court’s purge was happening in these few days. How had she sustained so many injuries? No wonder she was so resistant. She looked disoriented, her gaze unfocused.

As a stranger, no matter what Wen Zhuojin said now, she wouldn’t hear it.

Wen Zhuojin’s expression darkened for a moment. She opened the pouch she carried and took out a small, brown incense pellet.

It was a calming incense, made from premium sandalwood blended with lavender, silk tree flower, and lily. It was designed to soothe the nerves, promote sleep, and ease emotions.

There was no charcoal brazier in the room. Wen Zhuojin opened the gilded, hollowed-out incense holder at her waist. Using a firestarter, she lit the incense pellet and secured the holder.

Thin wisps of smoke curled through the perforated pattern, spreading throughout the room.

The scent enveloped the woman, even overpowering the cold fragrance emanating from her body. But instead of calming her, it seemed to make her tremble even more. She even attempted to stand, despite her mangled foot, holding the broken hairpin and stabbing toward the source of the calming incense.

Her aim, however, was off. She wavered and was about to collapse.

Wen Zhuojin sighed inwardly and reached out to catch her. Grasping her wrists again, she held both of the woman’s thin arms above her head.

With one hand supporting her from behind, Wen Zhuojin said, “You’re not stronger than me. Why waste your energy now?”

“Do you want to live? If you do, conserve your strength and calm down.”

“If you wish for death, then keep struggling. Your injuries will only worsen.”

She spoke in a low voice, while her hand gently stroked the woman’s back.

That lion cat used to like being petted on the back. When its temper flared, stroking its back would calm it down and make it obedient.

It seemed to work here, too. The woman’s struggles grew weaker. Her body swayed before collapsing entirely, her head falling onto Wen Zhuojin’s shoulder.

She had fainted.

Wen Zhuojin let out a breath and carefully lifted the woman’s head.

The unconscious woman had her eyes tightly shut, her face still marked with traces of tears, and beads of water clung to her thick lashes.

All that struggling and resistance just now—how terrified and in pain must she have been?

Wen Zhuojin carried her in her arms and gently placed her on the bed.

Her body, soft and weak, felt so light and frail, as if she could be hurt by anyone.

Wen Zhuojin picked up the cloak that had fallen to the ground, dusted it off, and draped it over the woman.

Instead of leaving right away, Wen Zhuojin got up to retrieve the incense pouch she had used earlier.

The incense inside was still burning, and carrying its scent outside would undoubtedly draw attention.

Though it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to use the incense pellet to redeem the woman’s freedom, Wen Zhuojin didn’t regret it.

She didn’t want anyone to know about this matter.

It was better to keep a low profile.

As Wen Zhuojin turned to extinguish the incense, she failed to notice the slight movement of the eyelids of the woman lying on the bed. Beneath the cloak covering her, the woman’s hand still tightly gripped the broken hairpin.

Yan Qinglan felt as though she had sunk into a deep, sticky swamp. Her mind was dazed, her consciousness vague and unclear, unable to distinguish whether her surroundings were real or an illusion.

Only a faint instinct urged her to protect herself at all costs, to keep anyone from approaching.

Until just now, when a girl’s sweet, clear voice began to gradually wake her. A light, refreshing scent with a faint hint of sweetness broke through the haze clouding her mind, clearing a small space of lucidity.

At that moment, her senses anchored, and everything felt tangible again. But with that came an overwhelming rush of pain.

A warm hand had restrained her, and a soft, low voice tugged at her consciousness.

“Do you want to live? If you do, save your strength and calm down.”

She did want to live. She couldn’t die yet!

But who was this person in front of her, and what was the deal with the scent on her?

Had she, by some mistake, escaped to Xiangxiang Pavilion only to be found again?

Yan Qinglan’s head throbbed with pain.

Having been betrayed by her most trusted confidant, she no longer trusted anyone, especially not a stranger.

When she collapsed, she had still retained a faint trace of awareness. Even though her body was incredibly weak, she held onto that sliver of clarity.

Unable to see much, she relied on her ears to listen and her nose to catch scents.

Soon, she heard footsteps. Yan Qinglan sensed that the girl was approaching again, and her body tensed involuntarily. Then she felt a warm touch on her forehead. The texture wasn’t smooth; the palm had a thin layer of calluses.

“She’s burning up. Ugh, she needs to see a doctor immediately…” The girl’s voice sounded again, tinged with frustration. It seemed slightly angry, but there was also a mix of other emotions.

A knock came from the door outside. Wen Zhuojin got up, walked over, and opened it to see Luan Niang standing there, her face tilted upward in a flattering smile.

“Young master, once the deal is sealed, there’s no going back. One incense pellet is already quite cheap. If she weren’t ill, it wouldn’t have been this affordable. Ah, if you plan to spend the night here, the overnight fee must still be paid—this is the rule. However, I can waive the overnight fee for you. But let me remind you, that lady isn’t in good condition. Be gentle with her. If anything happens, don’t blame me,” Luan Niang said to Wen Zhuojin.

Lying on the bed, Yan Qinglan overheard Luan Niang’s words.

She recognized this person—she was from Xiangxiang Pavilion.

Listening to their conversation, Yan Qinglan felt her bl00d boil.

Had she just been purchased by this girl—or boy?!

And for only one incense pellet?

What kind of trap had her enemy set this time?

“I’m taking her with me today. Is there a back door? Lead the way,” the girl’s voice came, sounding slightly irritated.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take you right away!” Luan Niang replied with a smile.

Wen Zhuojin had her doubts, but the priority now was to get the woman to safety and treat her injuries.

Turning back, Wen Zhuojin wrapped the woman tightly in a cloak, covering her from head to toe.

Wrapped like a cocoon, Yan Qinglan couldn’t move, and soon her body began to sway slightly. Her breathing grew irregular.

Luan Niang escorted Wen Zhuojin out of Xiangxiang Pavilion through a small back door.

Wen Zhuojin didn’t say much to her, simply carrying the woman and striding away. She circled to the back of the carriage she had hired earlier and climbed in.

Zi Rong, who had been peeking out the carriage window, trying to spot Wen Zhuojin, immediately turned her head at the sound of movement.

“Young mast—uh, my lord, you…” Zi Rong’s eyes widened as she saw Wen Zhuojin carrying someone. She almost called her “young lady,” but remembered Wen Zhuojin’s earlier instructions to refer to her as “young master” when outside.

Wen Zhuojin settled into her seat and gestured for Zi Rong to stay quiet.

“To Wujiu Alley,” Wen Zhuojin instructed.

Zi Rong didn’t dare ask further, urging the coachman to head to Wujiu Alley.

Wen Zhuojin owned a three-courtyard residence in Yunjing City, located in Wujiu Alley. The property was stocked with various incense materials Wen Zhuojin had purchased, and the courtyard itself was planted with all kinds of aromatic herbs. For scents that were too intense, she would use this place as a workshop.

It was a secret little base of hers.

She had originally planned to sell it and had even contacted a broker. But with the recent turmoil, it hadn’t been a good time to sell, so she kept it for now.

Throughout the journey, Yan Qinglan remained in Wen Zhuojin’s arms. The ride was smooth, and Wen Zhuojin was careful to avoid touching her visible injuries.

The faintly sweet and refreshing fragrance lingered in the air, gradually stabilizing and expanding the thread of clarity that Yan Qinglan had struggled to retain.

The pain in her body became increasingly distinct.

Yan Qinglan had always feared pain. She wanted to pretend she was still unconscious, but her breathing had already become uncontrollably erratic, and the whimpers in her throat were forcibly suppressed.

From her back came a rhythmic, gentle stroking, seemingly an attempt to ease her discomfort.

When they arrived near Wujiu Alley, Wen Zhuojin instructed the coachman to stop. She and Zirong walked the rest of the way to the small courtyard in Wujiu Alley.

This courtyard was managed by Wen Zhuojin’s other senior maid, Jinrui, who oversaw a few servant women. At Zirong’s knock, Jinrui came to the door. Upon seeing the group, she was too startled to ask questions and quickly let them in.

“Miss, what happened? What’s going on?” Jinrui asked urgently after closing the door.

“Jinrui, have someone boil water and send for Doctor Zheng. Zirong, it’s late, and the curfew is about to begin. Take one of the servant women with you and return to the Marquis’ residence. Tell Nanny Jiang I’m staying here in Wujiu Alley, so she doesn’t worry,” Wen Zhuojin instructed swiftly.

“Zirong, don’t tell anyone else about this.” Wen Zhuojin added, as if recalling something important.

Zirong had always been discreet, even keeping Wen Zhuojin’s past escapades of scaling walls and horseback riding secret until expressly permitted to speak.

Today, Wen Zhuojin hadn’t just gone to Xiangxiang Pavilion—she’d even bought someone out of there. This was far more reckless than anything she’d done before. If Nanny Jiang or her uncle found out, she couldn’t imagine the scolding she’d receive.

“Miss, I understand. I won’t breathe a word,” Zirong quickly assured her.

Having given her instructions, Wen Zhuojin walked briskly toward her room in the courtyard.

Jinrui, older and more composed than the other maids, lit a lantern for Wen Zhuojin, brought it to the room to light a candle, and then placed a brazier in the room before leaving to handle the rest of the arrangements.

Wen Zhuojin didn’t often stay here, and the ground heating system hadn’t been lit, so the room felt a bit chilly.

She gently placed the person in her arms onto the bed, then turned and pulled the thick quilt over them.

As the quilt was laid over her, Yan Qinglan let out a muffled groan. The weight pressed against her injuries, causing her to curl up in pain.

Some injuries would hurt with the slightest movement or stretch. As she curled up, the pain intensified. Her tightly shut eyes filled with tears, and they spilled over, leaving tracks on her face.

Wen Zhuojin’s heart tightened, and she hurriedly pulled the quilt back off.

The quilt was thick and heavy, made of cotton, and the weight added pressure to the injured areas.

She moved the brazier closer and, recalling Yan Qinglan’s injuries, quickly looked around the room. She found a medical kit.

Because of her research into the art of incense, which involved medicinal herbs, Wen Zhuojin had read many medical books and had some basic knowledge of healing.

Moreover, having been injured herself earlier that year, she had some treatment supplies. While waiting for the female doctor, she could handle the more minor external wounds.

From Wen Zhuojin’s perspective, the injuries on the woman were severe but not life-threatening, despite what Luan Niang had said. There might be deeper circumstances at play, but she would need to wait for the doctor to arrive for a more thorough examination.

For now, she could address the external wounds.

Wen Zhuojin placed the medical kit aside and bent down to undo the cloak on Yan Qinglan, allowing her bound hands to move.

Wen Zhuojin intended to check which injuries to tend to first, but when she tugged on Yan Qinglan’s collar, she saw that the woman, who had been crying from the pain, had reached out with her thin hand and was holding the broken hairpin against Wen Zhuojin’s chest. However, due to her weakness, it didn’t pose any real threat.

Yan Qinglan’s previously closed eyes opened, revealing eyes that were wet and misty, clearly fragile and vulnerable, yet also bristling like a hedgehog—hard to approach.

Wen Zhuojin had thought that Yan Qinglan’s earlier pain was a subconscious reaction, that her curling up was instinctive.

But in reality, Yan Qinglan had been maintaining her consciousness all along.

When Wen Zhuojin unwrapped the cloak and touched her, pulling at her tattered clothes, Yan Qinglan’s patience finally wore thin.

She recalled Luan Niang’s words.

This person bought her freedom, and even if they weren’t from that particular group, they were still a lecher.

Was it really that urgent?

“Move again, and I’ll kill you!” Yan Qinglan said, her voice weak. Even though the words were filled with fierce intent, it sounded more like a soft, feeble threat, akin to a kitten trying to sound tough.

Wen Zhuojin froze for a moment. So this was how her voice sounded—soft and tender.

“I just want to apply some medicine to your wounds. Does it hurt a lot?” Wen Zhuojin said gently, reaching out to hold Yan Qinglan’s hand, which was gripping the broken hairpin.