The Vicious Supporting Villainess’s Chronicle of Serving Pleasure (Historical 1v1, H) - Chapter 6

Huan Jin was the seventh son of Huan Yan, founding Taizu of Great Wei; his birth mother, Empress Qi, came from the renowned Qi clan of the northwest.

The realm was in chaos then, warlords contending for supremacy.

After years of campaigns north and south, Taizu Huan Yan stood on the brink of unification—save for the hard bone of the northwestern Qi clan that he could not chew through.

The Qi commanded fifty thousand elite soldiers, bristling with fierce generals, yet they kept to their corner in peace, not meddling in the struggles of the Central Plains.

But “a man is innocent; bearing a treasure is his crime.”

Rumors raged: “Whoever wins the Qi wins the world.” Every major power strove to woo them.

By coercion and inducement, by fair words and soft persuasion, all sought to seize this strategic key without a battle.

Weighing the gains and losses, the Qi clan ultimately chose to ally with Huan Yan, then still the King of Wei.

To show sincerity, Huan Yan did not hesitate to demote his primary wife of the Yu clan to a secondary consort, and married the Qi daughter with the rites of a principal wife.

With the Qi iron cavalry behind him, Taizu Huan Yan swept the Central Plains in a mere few years, fixed the tripod of the empire, founded Great Wei, and invested the Qi daughter as empress.

The child of the founding emperor and empress—Huan Jin—was born at the very dawn of the flourishing age.

Taizu Huan Yan was already past forty; his first six sons were all born of concubines. Though the youngest, Huan Jin was the eldest legitimate son, the obvious choice for heir apparent.

But heaven’s storms are unforeseeable. When Huan Jin was five, Taizu died suddenly, leaving not a single testamentary decree.

Veteran ministers and imperial kinsmen, wary of the Qi clan’s power, instead enthroned the eldest concubine-born son, the Prince of Zhao, Huan Yao—and joined forces to compel Empress Qi to die in his tomb.

At that time, the Qi elite were locked in a bitter fight in the treacherous southwest, too far to intervene; by the time the news reached them, it was beyond saving.

After the Prince of Zhao ascended, he immediately summoned Taizu’s original consort of the Yu clan back to the palace and honored her as Empress Dowager.

Though once demoted because of the Qi, the Empress Dowager Yu repaid resentment with virtue and repeatedly stepped in to protect Huan Jin, the seventh prince.

Thus when Huan Jin later won the empire, he still honored Empress Dowager Yu as his legitimate mother and treated her with exceptional respect.

As for how Shen Wanhua saved Huan Jin’s life only to have Shen Chiying steal the credit, that must be traced back ten years—

Even with the Empress Dowager Yu’s care, Huan Jin remained a thorn in many eyes.

The veteran ministers who had once joined hands to force Empress Qi to her death in particular feared that when Huan Jin’s wings grew full he would avenge his birth mother, and they longed to be rid of him.

A child struck by sudden upheaval, Huan Jin moved with utmost caution, treading thin ice, never putting himself needlessly at risk.

But even a hundred precautions leave one gap.

In the sixth year of Hongchu, months of drought gripped many regions; the starved dead lay everywhere. The Empress Dowager led the imperial clan to Jingfa Temple beyond the capital to fast and pray for rain.

Rooms at the temple were limited, and Huan Jin was placed in the most remote western meditation court.

At the third watch, a faint clatter of tiles sounded; he woke at once—cold light flashed outside the window—

A poisoned crossbow bolt sliced the air and nearly grazed his ear.

The eleven-year-old rolled off the bed; a second bolt thudded into the place he had just lain.

“Assassins!”

The word was barely out when pain ripped his left shoulder; the third bolt had sunk into flesh.

Without hesitation he snatched the white porcelain teacup off the desk and smashed it at the lattice. With a crisp shatter, he shouldered through the door and into the night.

Footfalls of pursuers drew near behind him. Clutching his bleeding wound, he stumbled forward.

Nine-year-old Shen Wanhua was copying sutras in the adjoining courtyard when a strange noise came from the bamboo grove. She eased open the diamond-paned window—

In the moonlight stood an unearthly beautiful boy, face white as paper, swaying on his feet. Bl00d welled from the bolt in his shoulder, soaking his dark-gray brocade.

“Seventh Cousin!” Shen Wanhua’s breath hitched. Without stopping to throw on a robe, she snatched up a silk lantern and ran after him. “Seventh Cousin, what—”

Before he could answer, chaotic footsteps sounded in the grove again.

Shen Wanhua grasped the danger and blew the lantern out in a hurry.

She grabbed the sleeve of the nearly senseless Huan Jin and pulled him into a crevice in the rockery by the pond where captive fish were released.

Then she turned and lunged at the great bell by the water, throwing herself around the high-hung striker and slamming it with all her strength—

A sonorous peal boomed through the temple, shocking roosting birds into flight.

The assassins’ formation indeed shattered at the sudden commotion.

When the bamboo grove finally lay quiet again, Shen Wanhua found several young novice monks and had them help lift the bl00d-drained, unconscious Huan Jin onto a handcart.

Her mother, the Princess Royal of Fuyang, was Taizu’s younger sister; she had been raised by her elder sister-in-law of the Yu clan since childhood and had never gotten on with Empress Qi—much less with Huan Jin, Empress Qi’s son.

After careful thought, Shen Wanhua had the novice monks take Huan Jin to a desolate villa at the foot of the mountain.

That happened to be where her father, the Marquis of Wuxing, had placed his outside woman, Lady Meng, and her daughter.

Over the next few days, Shen Wanhua hid the matter from her mother, went down the mountain repeatedly on the pretext of copying sutras and serving tea, and even coaxed the imperial physician traveling with the retinue—at risk—to treat Huan Jin’s wound and purge the poison.

But fate mocked her. When Huan Jin’s injury healed and he woke, the first person his eyes found was the newly eight-year-old Shen Chiying.

…

“What are you dazing at?” Huan Jin pinched Shen Chiying’s chin between two fingers, gaze sharp. “Did that recent fever cook your brains?”

Shen Chiying winced and knit her brows, muttering, “That hurts… I didn’t get cooked stupid.”

Huan Jin snorted. “Fine to act like this before me, but you’ll rein it in before others. I don’t want talk outside that I set a fool on the empress’s seat.”

Her eyes reddened with instant grievance.

That damned chapbook, too, kept calling her stupid and bad!

She admitted she wasn’t clever; the laughable blunders in the book did indeed sound like something she’d do.

But how was that her fault? She had never had a proper education; even basic literacy had only begun after Huan Jin took her into the Prince of Xin’s palace.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew—then, suddenly, her eyes turned liquid. Swaying her slender waist, she pressed herself tight to the man’s hard, solid body.

“Your Majesty is so hard. You’re poking me.” Her voice was sweet enough to drip, the tail note a hook. “You really don’t want me to serve you?”

“If you don’t, then I’ll take my leave first…”