The Vicious Supporting Villainess’s Chronicle of Serving Pleasure (Historical 1v1, H) - Chapter 2

“When His Majesty arrived, the princess was already in the bedchamber.”

Coral bowed her head, voice thin as a gnat’s buzz. “At that time Your Majesty was still unconscious. The princess was trying with us to feed you medicine, but we were afraid of choking you and didn’t dare force it down…”

“As soon as His Majesty came, he personally fed Your Majesty the decoction.”

Shen Chiying’s fingertips unconsciously clenched her sleeve, pinching a few wrinkles into the soft satin.

“Other than that, His Majesty and the princess did not exchange a single word,” Feicui added, trembling.

But her words didn’t ease Shen Chiying’s expression in the slightest; if anything, a deeper shadow fell over it—

In that chapbook, the male and female leads seemed to run into each other no matter the time or place, as if fate itself were pulling the strings.

Though they hadn’t been alone this time, nor had they spoken, just the thought that they were so “in tune”—coming to visit a patient at the very same time—was enough to make Shen Chiying feel something stuck hard in her throat.

After all, she knew better than anyone that the honor and station she held now had all been stolen.

Precisely because of that, she guarded herself everywhere, terrified that the slightest misstep would send her plunging from the clouds back into that lightless mire.

Seeing her face so bad, Feicui and Coral hurried to change the subject, chattering about recent trifles.

The empress dowager’s pet cat had gone missing, the Jiangnan Weaving Bureau had offered up new fineries—things of that sort.

Shen Chiying listened absentmindedly, her gaze fixed blankly on her reflection in the Western mirror.

The woman in the glass had skin whiter than snow, yet she had grown slightly plump and rounded, the very opposite of the currently favored “slender and willowy” ideal.

The chapbook even said bluntly that she was “big-chested and brainless.”

But before her hairpin ceremony, she had actually been a small, bony, frail thing who could barely bear the weight of her clothes.

In this dynasty, the gap between legitimate and concubine-born children was not great. Family property and titles still favored the eldest legitimate son, but the matriarchs of old houses, for the sake of their reputations, rarely mistreated the concubine-born.

Shen Chiying was an exception.

Under Great Wei law, a prince consort might not take concubines.

And yet she was precisely the concubine-born daughter of a prince consort, born in violation of the statutes.

Because of her birth, her father lost his office and was left only with the hereditary title of Marquis of Wuxing.

Thus from childhood her days in the marquis’s household hadn’t even measured up to those of a respectable maid.

Until Huan Jin—then still only the Prince of Xin—took her away…

“His Majesty arrives—”

The eunuch’s sharp voice sliced the air. Shen Chiying’s drifting thoughts were yanked back hard.

She looked up on reflex to see the bead curtain shivering violently as a tall, straight figure stepped into the hall.

In the candlelight, the black dragon-patterned court dress gleamed coldly, making the man look even more austere.

Shen Chiying scrambled to her feet, about to bow, when a broad, warm hand supported her. “No need for ceremony.”

In a heartbeat the attending servants had withdrawn without a sound. The hall fell suddenly still, leaving only the fine crackle of candle flames.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Shen Chiying lowered her head, blushing.

The young emperor, sword brows and starry eyes, wore a cold face. The cutting pressure of the man in power settled like storm clouds, crushing her until she dared not look up to meet his gaze.

“Why are you standing there like a block of wood?” Huan Jin frowned, faintly impatient.

Shen Chiying’s heart skipped; she hurried forward, docile, to help him out of his outer robe.

They lay down side by side. For a time, neither spoke.

For ease in serving, the consort ought to sleep on the outer side of the bed, but Shen Chiying was a heavy sleeper; every morning when she woke, the man had already gone. Little by little, she had grown used to sleeping inside.

Listening to the man’s low, even breathing at her ear, Shen Chiying couldn’t help recalling the plot of that chapbook again.

In about two months, the empress dowager would host a banquet by the Taiye Lake.

In the book, she took it into her head to frame her legitimate elder sister, the heroine.

First she picked a fight with her for no reason, then pretended to slip, dragging her in so the two of them fell into the water together.

The book said Huan Jin was the first to dive in to save someone—but the one he saved wasn’t the heroine, Shen Wanhua. It was the supporting girl, Shen Chiying…

The heroine struggled alone in the water for a long time before a maid skilled in swimming pulled her ashore.

Watching Huan Jin carry the concubine-born sister away, Shen Wanhua’s heart twisted with pain; tears fell like rain.

But retribution came swiftly. When Shen Chiying fell into the water, she hadn’t known she was pregnant. She didn’t bleed then and there, but after days of cold and wind, she ultimately couldn’t keep the child.

From then on she never conceived again; that miscarriage had injured her root.

At the thought, Shen Chiying touched her lower belly without thinking. Her heart prickled as if stabbed with fine needles.

Counting back, the life in her belly would likely have been conceived in these last few days.

Forcing the bitterness down, Shen Chiying carefully looped her arm through the man’s and murmured softly, “I heard Your Majesty came to see me today. I was very happy…”

She meant to please him, so of course she pressed herself all the way in.

Especially those full, plump br3asts of hers: through the thin fabric they pressed tight against the man’s hard, powerful arm.

Huan Jin’s gaze darkened; his Adam’s apple worked a few times.

Unexpectedly, he smoothly drew his arm back, his tone distant and cool. “Don’t act wanton. Sleep.”

Shen Chiying started; the words she’d meant to use to coax and beg for pleasure jammed in her throat.

The world said the emperor and empress were as inseparable as paired fish; the emperor had repeatedly rejected the selection of new beauties at court, and Empress Shen’s daily provisions even matched the empress dowager’s, ten times what a common empress should receive.

But only Shen Chiying knew that Huan Jin’s feelings for her were far from what the rumors claimed.

Huan Jin never spoke of court affairs with her, and he had no patience for her domestic chatter.

They rarely talked at all, as if an invisible screen stood forever between them.

Only in bed would he shed a little of his imperial dignity, arranging her into all manner of shameful poses and driving into her without a trace of pity.

The more she whimpered and begged for mercy, the more he redoubled his efforts.