Volume One, Chapter One: For Whom Does She Bear This Favor?

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The Fourth Prince, Zhao Ye, once again had an unpleasant quarrel with Miss Ouyang, his childhood friend and soon-to-be princess consort. This time, it was because Miss Ouyang exchanged a few lighthearted words with Prince Han, sparking Zhao Ye’s jealousy and leading to a heated argument that ended in discord.

After returning to his own chamber in the Pavilion of Fragrant Collection, Zhao Ye sat on the floor, clutching a wine jug to drown his sorrows.

Usually, it was Shuang Ling, the chief palace maid, who brought him sobering soup. This time, however, Shuang Ling had been struck by sudden stomach discomfort. She happened to run into Xiang Zhu in the courtyard, hurriedly thrust the soup into Xiang Zhu’s hands, and rushed off to relieve herself.

Xiang Zhu, a second-rank maid in the Pavilion of Fragrant Collection, usually spent her days sweeping and cleaning. To ensure she could leave the palace at twenty-five, she always avoided the princes, never mind entering their bedchambers to serve them up close.

She had not expected that her first such encounter would end in mishap.

Zhao Ye was not lacking in tolerance for wine, yet after barely half a jar, he felt his whole body flush with heat and dizziness. He shook his head and, through blurred vision, glimpsed a graceful figure approaching, her features indistinct.

Her voice, calling to him softly by his ear, was more alluring than any he had ever heard.

As she drew near, her slender and elegant form carried a cool scent of bamboo, dispelling the haze of alcohol around him and making him feel oddly comfortable and intoxicated. He only wished to draw closer and breathe in her fragrance...

The moment Zhao Ye pulled Xiang Zhu into his embrace by her wrist, her years of training kicked in; she deftly shifted the tray holding the sobering soup, managing to set it down and prevent the porcelain bowl from smashing to the floor.

Relieved, Xiang Zhu suddenly realized that what she needed to worry about was not the little spilled soup, but herself.

When she felt Zhao Ye’s burning hand tug at the sash at her waist, Xiang Zhu’s body stiffened, her mind numb, and a tingling heat surged through her.

Since his betrothal to Ouyang Yanwan, the Fourth Prince’s chamber had remained immaculate, not even housing a single personal maid. He was a man of strict propriety; aside from his future princess consort, the only maid who served him closely was Shuang Ling.

After Zhao Ye moved into the Pavilion of Fragrant Collection, the Empress herself assigned Shuang Ling to serve him, intending that as Zhao Ye grew older, Shuang Ling might “teach” him.

Yet, as Xiang Zhu knew, despite six years at his side, Shuang Ling remained untouched.

If even Shuang Ling had never been favored by the prince, what merit did Xiang Zhu possess that might earn his attention?

Her first thought was that Zhao Ye had mistaken her for Shuang Ling.

“Your Highness, I am Xiang Zhu, a second-rank maid from the inner courtyard, not... um...”

The chill of her garments being peeled away made Xiang Zhu blush fiercely, covering her mouth with her hand.

She could not believe that last sound had come from her.

Zhao Ye shook his head again, his gaze settling on Xiang Zhu.

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Though the girl covered half her face, the eyes revealed were dark and glistening, reflecting his figure clearly within them.

So pitiful, so hesitant, yet inviting. And that delicate fragrance...

Zhao Ye leaned in close to Xiang Zhu’s slender neck, inhaling deeply, his tipsy face suffused with intoxication.

“Xiang Zhu,” Zhao Ye murmured in a hoarse voice, “if this is your ploy, your aim, then you have won.”

He had always disliked the scent of cosmetics on women. Because of this, he often argued with Ouyang Yanwan.

Yet the little maid in his arms—whether she wore cosmetics or perfume, he could not tell—her scent was so enchanting that he could not bear to let her go.

A strange, tingling sensation spread over Xiang Zhu’s cheeks and ears, turning them crimson. Nervously, she curled her toes.

She wanted to push the Fourth Prince away with her arms.

Yet, somehow, her strength seemed drained, her limbs limp and powerless, unable to move his hot, heavy body.

All she could do was struggle in his embrace, trying to make him release her.

But the more she struggled, the more it stoked his desire to conquer.

Zhao Ye’s breathing grew heavier, a muffled groan escaping his lips.

Xiang Zhu felt his transformation, her face flushing, her breath growing hot.

She stammered, “Your Highness, you’re drunk—why not drink the sobering soup first?”

Zhao Ye paid no heed, his lips grazing her fevered neck. “Xiang Zhu, you smell so sweet...”

Her presence, true to her name, exuded the fresh scent of bamboo, piercing his heart, stirring his soul.

Zhao Ye’s gaze lingered on Xiang Zhu’s parted lips.

He yearned, deeply, to taste the sweetness of that bamboo fragrance.

His scorching fingers gripped her chin, his intoxicated eyes fixed on her slightly open lips.

Xiang Zhu ought to resist.

In two months, she would turn twenty-four; only one more year, and she could leave the palace. If she lost herself to Zhao Ye, could she still be free?

But the Fourth Prince was the Empress’s legitimate second son, the blood brother of the Crown Prince. To be chosen by him was an honor. She must obey and serve him—how could she refuse?

Fourteen years in the palace had taught Xiang Zhu to remain calm in all things. Yet for the first time, she was panicked and helpless.

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But above all, she felt shame and confusion.

For Xiang Zhu realized that, instead of recoiling in disgust, she was drawn to this entanglement.

Her body, most honestly, responded.

After so many years in the palace, Xiang Zhu sensed something was wrong. She suddenly looked up at the purple-gold incense burner on the table by the couch.

A wisp of smoke curled from its top.

Within the faint aroma lay a sweet undertone, reminding Xiang Zhu of the scent of euphoric incense.

At last, she understood why she was losing control.

Why Zhao Ye was behaving so abnormally.

The incense was tainted; both she and Zhao Ye had fallen victim to an aphrodisiac!

The drug was alarmingly potent.

She had been in the bedchamber for barely a quarter of an hour, and already its effects had clouded her mind. What of Zhao Ye, who had been drinking within this room all along?

Heat surged within her, demanding release and relief. Xiang Zhu struggled to warn Zhao Ye, but when she tried to speak, the sound that escaped was a trembling moan, enough to make her blush.

Her attempts to push him away slowed; as her hands touched Zhao Ye’s fevered skin, her consciousness faded, her body surrendering to the drug.

It had taken full hold.

Xiang Zhu clung tightly to Zhao Ye, thinking with the last remnants of her awareness: Tonight, whose favor am I receiving in place of?

The curtains fell, shrouding the chamber in mystery.

When Xiang Zhu’s senses returned, her waist ached and her legs felt weak. She glanced at the incense burner, now devoid of smoke, and sat up, supporting herself with her arms.

Her clothes were trapped under Zhao Ye’s sleeping form; as she moved, her sheer inner robe slipped from her shoulder, revealing the beauty beneath.

Xiang Zhu gently tugged her garments free and straightened them, sitting to reflect on all that had transpired.

Her gaze wandered to the incense burner.

On the couch, Zhao Ye slept deeply, undone by the dual effects of incense and wine.

Now was the perfect moment for Xiang Zhu to examine the burnt remnants of the incense in the burner.