Volume One, Chapter Six: How Could You Marry Another?

Xiangzhu approached Zhao Ye, enduring his gaze which made her scalp tingle. Seeing him sitting motionless on the stool, she could not help but remind him, "If it pleases Your Highness, please rise."

"Very well." Zhao Ye obediently stood to the side, though his eyes flickered toward Xiangzhu’s wrists.

Xiangzhu stepped in front of him and bent down to undo his belt. As she had expected, the Fourth Prince was suspicious of what happened last night. Now, it seemed he was not entirely certain who he had been with. Perhaps Miss Ouyang’s suggestion to bring her into his chambers had tipped him off to something unusual. Regardless, she had to remain composed; she could not let him see any flaws in her performance.

Steadying her nerves, Xiangzhu recalled the details of serving her master. She first removed the jade pendant from his waist, then took off the belt and placed it on a nearby tray.

An alluring, faint fragrance lingered nearby. Images of his own unrestrained behavior while holding Xiangzhu the previous night surfaced in Zhao Ye’s mind, causing his heart to race.

Xiangzhu stripped off Zhao Ye’s soiled outer robe, picked up a clean one from the tray, unfolded it, and stood on her tiptoes to drape it over his shoulders. After assisting him, she moved to his front to re-tie his belt and hang the jade pendant.

Just as she finished and was about to step back to bow, Zhao Ye suddenly seized her wrist. Caught off guard, she cried out in pain and stumbled into his arms. She blocked the close proximity between them with her arm, looking up in a panic, only to find herself trapped in his dark, ink-colored gaze, which had been tracking her every move.

"Xiangzhu," Zhao Ye said, his voice husky, "that person last night..."

"Your Highness," Xiangzhu interrupted him softly, struggling to keep her voice from trembling, "your clothes are changed. Miss Shuangyun was quite frightened today; would you like to go see her?"

The clear, spring-like sound of her voice dispelled Zhao Ye’s impulse. He observed her carefully. If he hadn't been partially conscious last night and woken up immediately after the effects of the aphrodisiac wore off, he would have truly been deceived by her acting.

He had given her many chances. While she served him, he had wondered when she would confess that it was her. He had even considered how he would treat her if she were honest, and how he would explain his motives for taking in Shuangyun. He had thought of so much, but he never imagined that Xiangzhu would be willing to let Shuangyun take the blame for her.

He admitted that his actions last night were born of base, selfish desires, but he also had to admit that he had initially thought the affair was orchestrated by her, and he had truly been addicted to the sensation she gave him. It was for his own selfish desires that he had recklessly broken his own boundaries.

He stared into her eyes. He could see that she was not playing hard to get; she truly did not want to acknowledge that she was the one who had shared such intimacy with him.

With mixed feelings, he let her go. He walked back to the table, picked up the robe he had just taken off, and retrieved a white jade porcelain bottle, placing it on the table.

Xiangzhu instinctively moved her wrist, which she had kept hidden in her sleeves. Cuizhu had used immense strength, truly intending to break her wrist. Her skin was very fair, and even a slight bump would leave a bruise; now, a dark, unsightly ring of fingerprints marred her wrist.

Zhao Ye picked up the bottle and returned to her side, reaching out to lift her sleeve to check the injury. Xiangzhu dodged his hand. "I am unharmed, thank you for your concern, Your Highness."

Zhao Ye pressed his lips together and handed her the bottle. So, the Fourth Prince had come here to bring her medicine. Fortunately, she had kept her composure and had not confessed under his prodding. Keeping her head bowed, she held out both palms, facing upward in a gesture of respectful acceptance.

A sense of irritation rose within him. Afraid of losing his composure, Zhao Ye did not dare stay longer. He placed the bottle in her palms and turned to leave.

Xiangzhu took the bottle and curtsied. "I respectfully see Your Highness off."

Zhao Ye, who was about to open the door, paused. After a long silence, he asked the question that had been gnawing at his heart, unable to let it go: "Xiangzhu, what if I were to take you as a concubine?"

He was not yet married, and he had a childhood bond with Ouyang Yanwan. Before marrying her, he could not take a concubine. For him to say this to Xiangzhu carried immense weight. He believed that with her intelligence, she must understand the sincerity in his words. His breathing was shallow, his heart thumping like a drum, and he found himself clenching his fists.

"Your Highness, I am not willing."

Zhao Ye turned abruptly. "What did you say?"

Xiangzhu remained in her curtsy, head bowed, her voice soft but firm. "Your Highness, I do not wish to be a concubine."

"If you do not wish to be a concubine, do you intend to be a secondary consort instead?" Though his voice was raised in a reprimanding tone, he was already calculating the possibility in his heart. It was not entirely impossible—if she could bear his child. His gaze drifted downward to her slender waist. She had left in such a hurry last night that she likely hadn't taken any contraceptive decoction. He wondered if she might...

Before the thought could finish, Xiangzhu had changed her curtsy to a kneeling position.

"If it pleases Your Highness, before I entered the palace, my elders arranged a marriage for me. The man is a fine person, and I am merely waiting until I am of age to leave the palace to marry him."

As she spoke, her heart raced. She could feel two burning gazes fixed upon the top of her head. She dared not move. Regardless of how much the prince was probing, if word got out that she had rejected him, and the managing matrons learned of her audacity, she would undoubtedly be punished.

Her words felt like a raging fire inside Zhao Ye, burning his insides, flushing his face, and making him want to laugh wildly at the heavens.

Zhao Ye actually laughed out loud. "Xiangzhu, do you know what you are saying?"

"My family elders have..."

"Enough!" Zhao Ye barked, cutting her off. Overcome with emotion, he gasped for air, his face showing signs of shock. Was he truly losing his composure over a mere palace maid? He felt a mix of shame and rage. He, the Fourth Prince, the second son of the Empress, the biological brother of the Crown Prince—was he really going to abandon his dignity and status to yield to a maid again and again? If his father knew, how disappointed would he be? His father would surely blame the Empress and his brother for failing to raise him well.

Xiangzhu fell silent. Zhao Ye watched her kneeling quietly. He felt as though he were ill. He knew he should not let her sway his heart, yet he felt soft and pained for her. He worried for her injured wrist. With that thought, he stepped forward, careful to avoid her wounded arm as he helped her up. Fearing his touch was too gentle and might cause misunderstandings, he changed his grip to a firm tug.

He then lifted her chin with his other hand, "forcing" her to meet his gaze. These eyes had appeared in his dreams countless times. His mind wavered, and the question escaped his lips:

"Xiangzhu, you are already mine. How can you possibly marry another?"