The Vicious Supporting Villainess’s Chronicle of Serving Pleasure (Historical 1v1, H) - Chapter 14

Beneath the latticework eaves where flower-shadows swayed, a boy of twelve or thirteen in an indigo round-collared brocade robe, fair-faced and handsome, glared at Shen Chiying with eyes gone round with rage.

The several dozen eunuchs and maids attending all blanched in fright. A few quick-witted young eunuchs darted forward, ready to drag off this brazen troublemaker.

Unexpectedly, Shen Chiying lifted a pale wrist and stayed their hands.

Seeing this, Shen Yilin grew all the more pleased with himself, certain she still feared him as she had when she was small.

“Shen Chiying, don’t get carried away!” Disgust, naked and unmasked, filled his gaze. “Once Elder Cousin the Emperor sees your true face, he’ll certainly strip you of the empress’s seat!”

Shen Chiying’s expression shifted. Most of the times she’d courted death in the book had been goaded on by this bastard Shen Yilin.

The attendants around them held their breath, not daring a sound.

Head maid Feicui stepped forward at once and snapped, “Insolence! How dare you be rude to Her Majesty the Empress!”

But Shen Chiying waved Feicui back and smoothed her sleeve unhurriedly. “Very well—let’s hear it. What shameful true face am I hiding?”

“Why, it’s…” Shen Yilin stalled, face flushing hot; he stammered, “You used base means to steal Elder Sister’s empress’s seat!”

That did make Shen Chiying’s eyes flicker aside.

Feicui rushed to argue, “Before His Majesty named his empress, he had never taken a wife, nor had any betrothal—how does the young heir claim our empress stole the princess’s seat?”

Seeing even a maid dare to contradict him, Shen Yilin only grew more furious.

“Shen Chiying was born low, with no talent and no virtue! My elder sister is the daughter of a princess, long hailed as the foremost lady of the capital, and she grew up childhood sweethearts with Elder Cousin the Emperor—she’s the only one truly fit to be empress!”

He had a touch of softness to his features—rosy lips and white teeth—yet he was in the midst of his voice breaking; the hoarse rasp made him sound especially ridiculous.

Shen Chiying let out a breathy laugh. “You and I are brother and sister of the same father… if I’m low, what does that make you, Shen Yilin?”

“Ptui!” Shen Yilin spat, scorn thick. “A concubine-born brat of a cheap dancing girl like you—how could you be mentioned in the same breath as me?”

At that, anger flared up hot in Shen Chiying’s chest; even her fingertips trembled.

She could not bear anyone belittling and insulting her birth mother, dead these many years—least of all Shen Yilin.

“Your Majesty…” Feicui said through clenched teeth, “why waste breath on such a person? Let them drag him away.”

Shen Chiying’s lips hooked suddenly; chill pooled in her eyes. “Shen Yilin, you seem to forget you’re merely the heir of a marquisate. I am the empress of the realm.”

She enunciated, one word at a time: “It is you who are not fit to be mentioned in the same breath as me.”

“You—!” Shen Yilin shook with rage. “Just wait until Elder Sister enters the palace—see how long you can strut!”

Shen Chiying tipped a brow, contemptuous. “That cracked-gong voice gives me a headache. Attend me—thirty slaps. Let him learn the meaning of rank.”

Before the words had finished, the young eunuchs who had been straining at the leash pounced like starving tigers.

Before Shen Yilin could react, a rank sweat cloth was shoved roughly into his mouth; only a muffled “mmph mmph” echoed down the corridor.

Even after the struggling figure had been dragged away, Shen Chiying stood where she was, dazed.

It had been eight years, and still the scene of her mother on her sickbed forcing an oath from her was stark before her eyes…

After a while, Coral ventured to call softly, “Your Majesty the Empress?”

Shen Chiying slowly let out a long breath, then stepped up onto the gilt footstool and into the phoenix palanquin.

“Return to the palace.” Then, as if remembering something: “Send someone sharp to the Qianqing Palace to sound things out. If His Majesty is free tonight, say I have urgent business to discuss.”

A young eunuch came forward at once with an ingratiating smile, wrinkles piling on his face. “Rest easy, Your Majesty—this is just the errand for me. I’ll see to it without a leak!”

Shen Chiying turned her eyes on him; her gaze sharpened.

This little eunuch, 徐, was also important in the chapbook—like Feicui and Coral, he was one of her capable confidants.

All that business of framing others and ferreting out news—Xu Rong had had his hands in plenty of it.

At the thought, Shen Chiying’s lips lifted slightly. “Good. I remember your name is Xu Rong. Once it’s done, collect your reward.”

Xu Rong jolted; his eyes went round—

He was only a lowly runner who carried messages, never one who served close. The empress remembered his name?

With a thud, he dropped to his knees; his forehead knocked the bluestone with a series of thumps. “This slave thanks Your Majesty for her grace! Thanks Your Majesty for her grace!”

Shen Chiying felt a sudden, inexplicable softening in her chest. “Enough, enough—go on, then.”

“Yes, yes!” Xu Rong scrambled up, not even pausing to brush the dust from his robe, and stumbled off toward the Qianqing Palace.

Night deepened; all was still. Huan Jin came to Kunning Palace in the cool wash of moonlight, where a few glass lamps still burned.

On the huanghuali soft couch, Shen Chiying sat cross-legged in lazy ease, lifting a fresh-picked bayberry to her lips with a slim jade-white finger.

Two cups of iced almond dew sat on the table, milk-white and gleaming softly in the candlelight.

Huan Jin’s gaze flickered—he had never cared much for food or drink, but only in summer did he favor this one sip of iced almond dew.

Being a man, a taste for sweets was hardly elegant; he had never shown it before others. He had not thought she would notice something so minute.

He took up the fuller cup and drained it in one swallow, the cool, sweet silk of it sinking into his heart.

“Your Majesty!” Shen Chiying’s red lips parted as she stared—he had boldly emptied the very almond dew she’d meant to keep for herself.