“Enough. How well he serves me is none of your business.” Xue Qingzhi glanced unhappily at Wu Hanyu. “If there’s nothing else, head back to your Wu Mansion. This Palace doesn’t have the spare time to entertain you.”
Wu Hanyu’s face stiffened. He wanted to say something more, but Qingdai cut him off. “Princess, the Eldest Princess has arrived.”
Xue Qingzhi lazily lifted her eyes. “Imperial Sister is here. Go ahead and have a seat inside. This Palace will change clothes and join you shortly.”
Wu Hanyu turned at the sound of her voice. He froze for a moment before coming to his senses and bowing to Xue Yunyi. “Greetings, Eldest Princess.”
These two princesses in the palace had never gotten along well. Running into the Eldest Princess here truly caught him off guard.
Xue Yunyi’s gaze remained fixed on Wu Lang, who was kneeling beside him. The youth knelt in an impeccably standard pose, but his thin knees trembled fiercely. Clearly, his stamina was nearing its limit.
Mo Ying slowly pushed the wheelchair forward, allowing Xue Yunyi a clearer view. Fresh, glaring purple bruises marred Wu Lang’s pale, slender neck—marks that could only come from vicious pinching and twisting. Stray locks of hair framed his face in disarray, failing to hide the bright red handprint blooming across his cheek like a freshly opened rose, thorny and searing to Xue Yunyi’s eyes.
The wheelchair came to a stop before the table. Two folding screens blocked Xue Yunyi’s line of sight. She could no longer see Wu Lang’s figure, only the array of pigments Mo Ying laid out on the desk: greens, purples, and vivid reds.
Wu Hanyu glanced toward the screens, hesitated for a long moment, then lowered his voice and spoke to Xue Qingzhi in a placating tone. “I came today because I have one more thing to ask of the Princess.”
“Out with it.” Xue Qingzhi sounded thoroughly impatient.
“The Wu Family received its marquisate through the Late Emperor’s great grace, and we dare not forget that kindness for a moment. But my father is advanced in years now, so it’s time to settle the matter of succession. His Majesty has been preoccupied with affairs of the Former Dynasty and might have overlooked it. Could I trouble the Princess to remind him when you have the chance?”
By the Southern Frontier Ancestral Laws, the marquisate passed from father to son or brother to brother. All it took was an imperial decree, and it could be inherited perpetually.
Wu Hanyu had already passed his coming-of-age ceremony, yet the Emperor had yet to issue any decree naming him as heir. Besides, the Wu Family’s Marquis of Pingkang title was unlike others—it had been an exceptional grant from the Late Emperor. Wu Hanyu couldn’t rest easy, which was why he’d come begging Xue Qingzhi.
“Though the Wu Family isn’t much, we’ve helped the Princess a little in the past. I hope the Princess will consider that favor and make this easy for us.” Wu Hanyu kept a smile plastered on his face.
Xue Qingzhi’s expression changed abruptly at his words. She shot up straight, glaring at him fiercely.
Qingdai gave a light cough by way of reminder. “The Princess is busy today. Young Master Wu, come back another time. The Eldest Princess is still waiting inside.”
She emphasized “Eldest Princess” just so. Wu Hanyu knew he’d spoken out of turn and hurriedly bowed in apology. “It’s my fault for intruding. Then… then I’ll come pay my respects another day.”
A palace servant led Wu Hanyu away.
Behind the screens, all was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of paper.
Xue Qingzhi slowly leaned back onto the couch.
She figured she had nothing to worry about.
Even if Xue Yunyi learned that the drug crippling her legs had come from Wu Hanyu, what of it? The entire Wu Family was bent on currying her favor—even going so far as to hand over Wu Lang to vent her anger. That showed their unwavering loyalty to her.
The Wu Family wouldn’t give the antidote to Xue Yunyi.
One was a cripple whose mother was dead. The other was the precious Anyang Princess, doted on beyond measure.
As long as the Wu Family had any sense at all, they’d know which side to choose.
With that thought, Xue Qingzhi fully relaxed. She instructed Qingdai to fetch her change of clothes while beckoning to Wu Lang, who knelt before her. Her mood was cheerful as she crooked a finger at him. “Come here.”
The youth kept his head lowered and obediently crawled forward on his knees. Xue Qingzhi’s fingertip idly traced the bruises on his neck from her earlier abuse. Her tone was unusually gentle, almost coaxing. “You heard all that just now. Your brother… and the Wu Family… they’ve long since abandoned you. Even if This Palace killed you, they wouldn’t care.”
Wu Lang stayed silent, burying his head even lower.
Xue Qingzhi went on. “So you can only rely on This Palace. Serve This Palace well, and your days will be easier.”
“Yes.”
His voice was hoarse. Thick, crow-like lashes veiled his dark, grape-like eyes, hiding whatever lay in their depths.
Wu Lang had known since he was very young that the Wu Family didn’t like him. No—it was hatred.
He had no memory of his birth mother. A stewardess in the mansion had raised him. She told him his mother was called Rong Niang, a household servant born into servitude. Desperate for wealth and glory, she’d seduced Old Master Wu into bed and secretly tampered with her Contraceptive Decoction to conceive him.
But Wu Lang knew that wasn’t true.
When he was ten, a maidservant who’d once been close to Rong Niang snuck in to see him. Tears streaming down her face, she told him the truth: Rong Niang hadn’t seduced Old Master Wu at all. He’d taken a fancy to her beauty and forced himself on her. Afterward, he’d made half-hearted promises of marriage and kept her in a side room in the mansion. Rong Niang had only hoped their child would one day be protected by Old Master Wu and live a better life than hers. She waited and waited as her belly grew day by day. She never got the marriage, but she did get the return of Madam Wu from the capital.
Madam Wu had known Old Master Wu since their youth. She’d followed him from penniless scholar to lowly ninth-rank official, all the way to Marquis of Pingkang—a hard road every step. She knew men forgot their roots once they tasted riches, so her one demand was that he’d never take a concubine or sire any bastards. This marquisate was the fruit of her tireless efforts. She wanted her legitimate son to inherit it unchallenged, which was only reasonable.
Old Master Wu had agreed readily. But the moment Madam Wu left for Chuzhou to care for her ailing grandfather, he’d dragged Rong Niang to his bed.
He knew full well that without Madam Wu, he’d still be a fawning little official kowtowing to others. So he obeyed her every word and flattered her relentlessly. He’d only slipped up this once. Just once.
To win Madam Wu’s forgiveness, Old Master Wu pinned all the blame on Rong Niang, claiming the lowly slave girl had seduced him while he was drunk.
Rong Niang lost all hope. She begged Madam Wu with her life to let Wu Lang stay in the mansion.
With one bowl of poison down her throat, Rong Niang shed tears. Old Master Wu couldn’t bear to lose her beauty. Behind Madam Wu’s back, even as the drug took effect, he toyed with Rong Niang several more times.
In the end, Rong Niang died.
And Wu Lang became the son of that shameless bed-crawling maid in the Wu Family’s mouths.
Apart from his title as the Wu Family’s second young master, his days in the mansion were no different from the lowliest servant’s. When word came that he’d offended Xue Qingzhi, Old Master Wu sent him to the palace without a second thought—even knowing full well what horrors this princess, denied by no one, would inflict in revenge.
That month was true hell on earth for Wu Lang.
Cold. Scorching heat. Hunger. Thirst.
The stench of blood assaulted his nose. Pain wracked his lungs without cease, tormenting him endlessly.
He lay curled and gasping in the dim punishment chamber, passing out countless times only to be jolted awake by buckets of icy water. In his delirium, his eyes would flutter open to a flash of crimson skirt hem. The exalted Second Princess stood there, horsewhip in hand, her smile chilling and terrifying.
“You dare refuse someone This Palace wants? You’re the first.”
“And the last.”
At first, he’d struggled and fought back. When the guards got drunk one night, he slipped away. But he hadn’t gotten far before the Second Princess’s servants dragged him back.
“Think you can run? Do you hate This Palace that much?”
Candlelight gleamed coldly off the iron bars. Xue Qingzhi called for her guards and softly ordered them to break his legs.
Eventually, he gave up. He bowed his head before Xue Qingzhi, gritted his teeth, cast aside his pride, and forced out the words she most wanted to hear.
“This Base Slave adores the Princess.”
“I beg the Princess to allow this Base Slave to serve you.”
He wanted to live.
Only by living could he glimpse even a sliver of daylight.
“Enough. Go kneel over there by the window. Don’t get in This Palace’s way.” Xue Qingzhi rose to her feet, letting Qingdai help her change.
Wu Lang rasped an acknowledgment and crawled toward the rosewood side table by the small window. He was often punished to kneel beneath it—a spot where Xue Qingzhi could see him clearly without him getting in the palace maids’ way.
That morning, on a whim, she’d made him do her hair. He’d never learned how and accidentally tugged too hard. He’d taken two heavy slaps and been thrown off the bed to kneel for three hours.
The incense in the silver censer had only been replenished once.
By his count, he still had over an hour to go. If Xue Qingzhi was in a bad mood, it might be a full day.
Wu Lang stared down at the floor before his knees. He’d long grown accustomed to such treatment. Xue Qingzhi had said he might be dull and uninteresting, but he endured pain well enough to provide some amusement.
Xue Qingzhi finished changing and headed behind the screens.
Her footsteps faded away. Wu Lang quietly lifted his eyes, then quickly dropped them again.
He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for the screens—the Eldest Princess shouldn’t be able to see him in this abject state.
Eyes like the Bodhisattva’s shouldn’t behold filth like him.
Xue Yunyi had been waiting for some time.
Just one screen away, she’d heard every word Wu Hanyu had said, clear as day.
There was no need for Wu Hanyu to spell it out himself. Xue Yunyi had already guessed it. He had once helped Xue Qingzhi obtain a rare elixir, one so uncommon that across the entire Southern Frontier, only the Wu Family could produce it.
Since the Wu Family had thrown their lot in with Ninghua Palace, they certainly wouldn’t aid her—the Eldest Princess who had lost her mother and had never enjoyed the Emperor’s favor. And so, she hadn’t rushed to send Mo Ying to summon Wu Hanyu.
Today she had simply run into him here by chance, and she discovered that Wu Hanyu wasn’t quite the poised and refined gentleman that people made him out to be. Wu Lang was his younger brother, yet crude words spilled from his mouth without a second thought. Clearly, he was in the habit of berating the boy, tossing out vulgarities as easily as breathing.
The image of the youth—brows lowered, thin lips pressed tight—flashed in her mind, and a faint pang tugged at Xue Yunyi’s heart. Mo Ying had been right after all. The entire Wu Family truly treated him as less than human.