The news of the Crown Prince’s assassination attempt in the imperial garden quickly spread throughout the palace, sending the Emperor into a rage. He ordered a thorough investigation to root out the mastermind behind the plot.
The palace was gripped with tension, and armed imperial guards could frequently be seen patrolling, interrogating anyone who seemed suspicious.
Of course, none of this concerned Zhou Shengsheng.
She was still keeping watch by Jiang Zhiyu’s bedside, where the girl remained unconscious.
To avoid drawing the attention of the imperial physicians, Zhou Shengsheng quietly fed Jiang Zhiyu a bottle of anti-inflammatory medicine she had exchanged from Ah Pang, which also had a slight pain-relieving effect.
The wound itself was left to the physicians to treat.
In the meantime, Song Weiqing sent Zhang Jian to retrieve all the rewards he had previously bestowed upon her. When a group of people arrived to confiscate her treasures, Zhou Shengsheng nearly fainted on the spot.
Though rumors claimed the Crown Prince had been injured in the assassination attempt and was recuperating in the Eastern Palace, Zhou Shengsheng knew the truth.
She had merely kicked him a little too hard, causing a minor issue with his waist—but she’d done it to save him!
Ungrateful!
Heartless wretch!
Thinking of her lost chests of rare treasures, Zhou Shengsheng viciously bit into an apple, imagining it was Song Weiqing’s head.
“Mmm… Wasn’t that for me?” A weak, hoarse voice spoke up.
Zhou Shengsheng turned in delight toward the bed. “Xiao Yu! You’re awake! Are you in pain? Do you want water? Are you hungry?”
Jiang Zhiyu pouted and nodded. “So hungry.”
“Here, drink some water first.” After helping her sit up and sip some water, Zhou Shengsheng peeled another apple, cut it into small pieces, and fed them to her.
“Eat this for now. I’ll make you some porridge later.”
Jiang Zhiyu nodded obediently, her pale face—drained of color from blood loss—looking pitifully fragile.
Zhou Shengsheng stroked her gaunt cheek with concern. “All the weight you’d gained is gone again. You can’t take such risks, understand? If that arrow had been just a little lower and hit your heart, you’d be dead. Do you hear me?”
Jiang Zhiyu didn’t argue, only kept nodding. “I understand.” But inwardly, she thought, Next time, I’ll do it again.
After all, she was the chosen heroine.
When news of Jiang Zhiyu’s recovery reached Song Weiqing, who was lying stiffly in bed, he ordered Zhang Jian to summon Zhou Shengsheng to attend to him personally.
Standing before the Crown Prince, whose expression was far from pleasant, Zhou Shengsheng bowed properly before cautiously saying, “Your Highness, this servant prepared some food for you. Would you like to try it?” Her tone carried a coaxing lilt.
Song Weiqing glanced at her. “Bring it here.”
[Good thing I made extra, or there wouldn’t be enough to go around.]
Carrying the food box, Zhou Shengsheng knelt by the bed, lifted the bowl of porridge, and brought a spoonful to his lips.
Song Weiqing’s expression darkened. How bold—daring to serve him leftovers.
“I won’t eat.”
Zhou Shengsheng paused. “Your Highness, just a little? It’s delicious.”
Song Weiqing narrowed his eyes. “Are you treating me like a child to be coaxed?”
“Then will Your Highness eat or not? If not, this servant will take it away.” She made to withdraw the spoon.
“You have quite the nerve.” His voice was stern, but the maid who should have been trembling on her knees seemed entirely unafraid.
With a sigh, she said, “Then what does Your Highness want from me? If you won’t eat and won’t let me leave, should I warm your bed instead?”
[You heartless wretch! You took all my treasures! What more do you want?!]
At the mention of “warming the bed,” Song Weiqing raised a brow. “Xiao Hong’s grown bold, daring to climb into my bed now.”
Zhou Shengsheng hastily denied it. She had planned to smother him with a pillow if he agreed—taking someone’s wealth was like killing their parents, so they might as well perish together!
Just as Song Weiqing was about to order her to get on the bed, he hesitated.
Was there anything she wouldn’t dare?
“Your Highness?” Zhou Shengsheng called again.
Taking a deep breath, he was about to tell her to leave when he suddenly remembered something.
“What exactly did Prince Shen say to you?”
Unsure of his intent, Zhou Shengsheng obediently repeated their conversation—phrases like “the joys of intimacy,” “passion between men and women,” and “bedroom affairs” making Song Weiqing’s head throb.
“I see. So Xiao Hong suddenly wanted to warm my bed because she learned a few things from Prince Shen.”
Learned what? Zhou Shengsheng wondered.
“Well, since Xiao Hong insists, come up and warm the bed for me.”
Her eyes widened. Seriously?
[I was joking! Why are you so eager to play along?!]
“What’s wrong, Xiao Hong? Did you not hear my order?” Song Weiqing had figured her out—Zhou Shengsheng was all bark and no bite.
Seeing his resolve, she set down the food box and reluctantly approached.
[You asked for it~]
A bad premonition struck Song Weiqing just as Zhou Shengsheng, pretending to trip, flung herself onto him.
A pained groan filled the room. With her face buried in the bedding, Zhou Shengsheng stuck out her tongue before lifting her head, eyes brimming with tears. “Your Highness! Are you alright? This clumsy servant is at fault! Someone, call the physician!”
When Zhang Jian rushed in, he found Zhou Shengsheng sprawled over Song Weiqing as if unable to get up.
“Your Highness, you must exercise restraint in matters of passion!” The physician lectured sternly, disapproval clear in his eyes.
Though pale and grimacing, Song Weiqing maintained his composure, promising to heed the advice before having Zhang Jian escort the physician out.
Zhou Shengsheng bit back laughter at his “postpartum” posture.
Song Weiqing closed his eyes wearily, realizing he’d been played.
But when had he become so indulgent toward a servant?
A maid who dared harm and mock her master should have been dragged out and beaten to death. Yet he had allowed Zhou Shengsheng—this duplicitous little thing—to repeatedly test his limits?
His mood darkened, and when he opened his eyes again, his imposing aura returned in full force.
“Here, Your Highness, don’t be angry. Let this servant feed you.” A smiling face suddenly appeared before him, holding a spoonful of fragrant, steaming porridge.
And just like that, Song Weiqing’s regained authority dissipated.
“It’s too hot. Blow on it for me.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
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