The Vicious Supporting Villainess’s Chronicle of Serving Pleasure (Historical 1v1, H) - Chapter 3

Shen Chiying’s eyes stung; it felt as if something heavy were lodged in her chest.

She’d thought at the very least he craved her body, but today, after merely seeing her legitimate elder sister once, he didn’t even want to touch her.

Night had sunk deep. The bedchamber was hushed. In the corner, smoke coiled up from a gilt boshan censer; a faint scent of cedar and mint twined together, there and not there.

Shen Chiying had slept an entire day, yet lying on the couch now she had no sleep in her at all.

Thinking of the child in the book who never came into the world, she hesitated for a while, then finally pushed herself up and, with practiced ease, swung a leg over to straddle the man’s waist.

“What are you doing.” Huan Jin lifted his eyes to her, anger held down beneath his tone.

His stare made her heart go weak, but she forced herself to stay steady, trembling fingers undoing the ties of her thin Hangzhou-satin sleepwear.

Beyond the embroidered canopy, the glass lamps flickered dimly; their soft glow washed her lush face, making her look so enticing she could have dripped.

As the sash fell loose, two full, round snow-white br3asts sprang free of her undergarment, quivering—vivid and ripe.

The summer ice basin in the hall had already melted away. Heat surged through Huan Jin’s body; his throat went terribly dry.

Sensing a change in a certain place, Shen Chiying’s cheeks flushed, but her courage only swelled. She shifted her hips to rub against him, and hooked a fingertip into his slightly opened collar.

Her fingertips carried a fine electric tingle; everywhere they passed, a shudder followed. Huan Jin went taut all over, the muffled groan in his throat restrained and dark.

“I want it…” Shen Chiying’s apricot eyes turned wet; she deliberately softened her voice, teasing.

The c0ck she kept grinding with her plump ass grew thicker and more swollen by the moment, hard as iron.

But Huan Jin suddenly caught her restless hand. “Does the empress still remember how she fell ill?”

Shen Chiying blinked, blank, and shook her head honestly. “I don’t know.”

“The day before yesterday—boating on Taiye Lake. Forgotten?” His voice was low and hoarse, words bitten through his teeth.

Her heart gave a thump.

The day before yesterday, on the west side of the palace at Taiye Lake, she’d spotted her elder sister Shen Wanhua enjoying the view on the bank. She had deliberately clung to Huan Jin and begged for pleasure.

Thinking back now, she didn’t know whether her sister had seen that ridiculous scene…

Funnier still, the one who’d started it all had ended up catching cold—she’d come back with a fever that wouldn’t break.

Shen Chiying bit her lip in vexation.

Taiye Lake and she must be at odds in their very stars—first boating and catching sick, then falling in and miscarrying.

And both disasters were ones she’d asked for. She deflated, sulking like a frost-wilted eggplant.

While she was dazed, Huan Jin pulled her off his body and turned onto his side, back toward her.

His empress looked plump and luscious, all pearl-round and jade-smooth, but in truth she was delicate and sickly.

Most likely she’d been ground down in childhood; all these years of silk and nourishment still hadn’t restored what she’d been depleted of.

Huan Jin could still see how she’d been when he took her from the marquis’s estate four years ago—nearly of hairpin age, yet so small and thin she looked like a scruffy little girl, her wrists so fragile they seemed they’d snap with a twist.

Seeing that he’d reacted yet refused to have her, Shen Chiying grew all the more certain his oddness must be because he’d seen the heroine, Shen Wanhua, at noon.

Irritation, helplessness, confusion—emotions surged up. Shen Chiying clenched her fists and even felt a flicker of misdirected anger toward the cold man beside her.

If he cared so much about Shen Wanhua, then why hadn’t he refused her from the very start?

Princess Royal of Fuyang’s residence, the Viewing-Waves Study.

After returning from visiting the sick at Kunning Palace at noon, Shen Wanhua had locked herself in her study and ordered that no one be allowed near.

She copied sutras over and over again. Ink splattered her robe; her wrist ached and went numb, but she still wouldn’t stop.

If she relaxed in the least, the things that had happened at Kunning Palace today would flash over and over in her mind.

Childhood sweethearts for years, she had always believed herself the person in the world who understood her seventh cousin Huan Jin best.

Yet she had never known that an emperor so cold and distant as Huan Jin could lower himself and tend to another with such care…

The concubine-born sister, Shen Chiying, had a fever that wouldn’t break and urgently needed to take a cooling decoction, but in her coma she clenched her teeth tight; the maids were helpless.

Then Huan Jin arrived, and without so much as a word took the bowl. He not only pried open Shen Chiying’s jaw himself to feed her the medicine, he even remembered to pat her back lightly to soothe her.

His movements were practiced as if he had done it hundreds of times. The sight pricked Shen Wanhua’s eyes to pain.

Now, even the slightest recollection made her chest seize.

Just then, with a creak, the tightly closed door to the study was pushed open and a boy not yet rid of his childishness entered.

Twelve or thirteen, with rosy lips and white teeth, fine-browed and bright-eyed.

Shen Wanhua frowned slightly. “Second Brother, why are you suddenly here?”

Shen Yilin studied her for a moment, then asked with concern, “I heard Elder Sister has been shut in the study since you returned from Kunning Palace at noon. Did that b1tch Shen Chiying bully you again?”

“Watch your tongue.” Shen Wanhua cut him off at once. “How could you address Her Majesty the Empress by name?”

Shen Yilin only snorted. “It’s only because Mother is so magnanimous that she’s willing to acknowledge her as a concubine-born daughter of our Shen family. Otherwise, a base-born dancing-girl’s brat like her—how could she ever reach the empress’s seat?”

He was in the midst of his voice changing; his tone was hoarse and rough, as if scraped over and over with sandpaper.

“Shen Chiying is just like the woman who bore her—unpresentable trash. She’s only clambered onto the empress’s seat by crooked means, and His Majesty will abolish her sooner or later.”

“If you ask me, His Majesty is merely dazzled for the moment by that fox-spirit Shen Chiying. Once Elder Sister enters the palace, His Majesty will certainly see who is the fish-eye and who the pearl.”