The Vicious Supporting Villainess’s Chronicle of Serving Pleasure (Historical 1v1, H) - Chapter 4

Shen Wanhua’s gaze trembled; complex emotions surged across her face. “Second Brother, if you came at this hour just to spout this filth, you’d best go back and rest. I won’t see you out.”

Shen Yilin looked abashed and rubbed his nose without thinking.

As the Princess Royal of Fuyang’s only son and the marquisate’s heir, he’d always had his eyes above the top, brazen and unrestrained. Only toward his mother and elder sister did he show deep respect, not daring the least disobedience.

After a moment’s hesitation, he still couldn’t hold back his true thoughts. “Even if that b1tch Shen Chiying is squatting in the empress’s seat right now, Elder Sister could always stoop a little and enter the palace first as a consort…”

“Across the whole Great Wei, who but His Majesty is worthy of Elder Sister?” Shen Yilin fumed.

By the dim glow of candles, Shen Wanhua fell into a long silence. The knuckles of her writing hand blanched with strain.

Even now, she regretted what she had done, over and over again.

If not for the compassion she’d felt in that moment back then—asking Huan Jin to bring her concubine-born sister out of the marquis’s estate—she should have been the one ruling the Central Palace today.

Shen Wanhua was certain Huan Jin had feelings for her. Why else would he have broken precedent to grant her a commandery princess title despite her different surname?

Perhaps, as Second Brother said, she ought not cling to lofty purity. Entering first as a consort… was not, perhaps, unacceptable.

At that thought, her gaze deepened; a faint thread of anticipation stirred in her chest—so long as she opened her mouth to ask, Huan Jin would not refuse.

At dawn the next day, Shen Chiying blinked awake and glanced down to see her sleepwear loose and messy; a flash of confusion crossed her eyes.

He’d rejected her coaxing last night. She clearly remembered tying the sash of her undergarments tight with her own hands—so how had it come undone by the time she woke?

When she sat up, Coral, Feicui, and the others filed in with washing trays in their arms, serving her toilet and dressing with practiced order.

“Your Majesty the Empress, it’s the first of the month. We should go to the Cining Palace to pay respects to the Empress Dowager,” Coral reminded her gently.

Shen Chiying pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. “I know.”

Paying respects on the first and fifteenth was, to her, like walking to an execution ground.

The Empress Dowager of the Yu clan was Huan Jin’s legitimate mother, the founding emperor’s wife from his humble days. Now over sixty, she still managed the affairs of the harem.

Strictly speaking, the Empress Dowager had never truly made things hard for a daughter-in-law young enough to be her granddaughter, but she made no attempt to hide her dislike of Shen Chiying.

Summer blazed; the heat on the air was molten.

By the time Shen Chiying mounted her phoenix palanquin, many imperial kinswomen had been waiting in the Cining Palace for quite some time.

From afar, as the splendid gold-topped phoenix palanquin approached in graceful procession, every gaze slid to the first seat below the place of honor—to where Princess Duanhui, Shen Wanhua, was seated.

Seeing her rise with composure, the rest followed suit, standing quickly to welcome.

Soon a noble young woman in magnificent attire entered the hall, surrounded by dozens of attendants. Everyone bowed as one. “Greetings to Your Majesty the Empress.”

Shen Chiying lifted her chin slightly, savoring the stars-circling-the-moon tableau.

Yet when her eyes fell on her legitimate elder sister bowing not far away, a flicker of panic flashed through them—so faint it was almost imperceptible.

Before long, Elder Sister, the heroine, would learn that she had stolen the credit for saving Huan Jin’s life.

And because of that, she would set her heart on killing the heroine, scheming again and again to trap her.

But the heroine always turned misfortune into blessing—and could easily spur a crowd of side characters to die for her.

Shen Chiying had seen it clearly now: as the villain, no matter what she did to the protagonist, it was an egg against a rock—ruin of her own making.

For the moment, the only thing she could do was tangle herself with Huan Jin over these next few days, conceive the child from the book, and do everything in her power to keep it.

Whether it was a boy or a girl, it would be one more talisman for her life.

“Rise. There’s no need for such ceremony,” Shen Chiying said, flicking a bored hand. Only after she sat at the east side of the main seat did she pass the cooling ice pouch in her arms to a maid.

“Thank you, Your Majesty the Empress.” The women settled back into their seats.

The Empress Dowager was still in her inner chambers; her trusted attendant, Aunt Qu, dared not slacken and presented tea herself. “Please, Your Majesty, take tea.”

Freshly steeped, the tea sent up curling steam. Shen Chiying was already irritable, and the sight of heat made her mood worse.

“It’s this sweltering. Switch it for chilled sour plum soup. I can’t drink hot tea.”

A hush fell through the hall.

They had all heard of this Empress Shen’s arrogance and overbearing ways, but they hadn’t expected her to show such disregard even for Aunt Qu, the Empress Dowager’s most capable woman.

With that striking beauty and brazen manner, she looked less like a mother of the realm and more like a calamity-bringing temptress.

Aunt Qu’s smile froze at the corners of her mouth. “It was remiss of this servant. I’ll have it changed at once.”

Silence dropped again, broken only by the softest of footsteps as eunuchs moved about.

Shen Wanhua lifted her eyes to the diagonal above and saw her concubine-born sister painted and glittering, jeweled hairpins flashing with light. A tangle of complicated emotion surged through her chest.

Her second brother’s words still rang in her ears. Drawing a deep breath, she made a private decision—it was time to find Huan Jin and speak plainly to his face.

On the strength of the life-saving grace she’d once given him, asking for a consort’s rank should not be difficult.

The Empress Dowager felt unwell that day; after a few brief words to the assembly, she dismissed them with a wave.

Shen Chiying could not have wished for more. She took the lead and departed in her phoenix palanquin; the others withdrew in turn.

No sooner had she stepped out of the hall than Shen Wanhua lifted her skirts and hurried toward the Qianqing Palace, her normally stately gait now a touch too quick.

At that very moment, the empress’s procession had already halted outside the Qianqing Palace.

The palace maids lifted the bright yellow palanquin curtain, revealing a delicate, dazzling face.