Ye Ting felt a sudden chill run down her neck, jolting her awake. The person before her abruptly opened their eyes, and when their gazes met, her reaction was sluggish. A heavy, indescribable tension hung between them.
She quickly snapped out of it, hastily withdrawing her presumptuous hands from the disheveled collar of the other person’s robes. Overjoyed, she stammered, "Y-You’re alright?"
The Crown Prince was, of course, far from alright. His face was ghostly pale, like a drowning man on the brink of death, his breathing weak and labored.
He sat up, his deep-set brows shadowed, his voice hoarse with exhaustion as he asked, "What were you doing?"
The question undoubtedly referred to Ye Ting’s earlier boldness—pressing and fumbling over him without restraint.
"I was just…" The words "saving you" nearly slipped out, but she caught herself just in time, abruptly remembering her purpose here. Instead, she offered a dry, unconvincing reply: "Attending to you."
Ironically, in this situation, the flimsy excuse was so fitting it was almost flawless.
After she spoke, the Crown Prince’s gaze shifted subtly, his brows knitting slightly. His pallid face remained expressionless, his thoughts unreadable as he stayed silent for a long moment.
Ye Ting had no interest in deciphering the fragile prince’s inner turmoil. All she wanted was to escape unscathed. She cautiously suggested, "Your Highness, you look unwell. Should we summon the imperial physician? Let this servant help you out first."
Heaven knew her words were genuine concern. She truly didn’t want to witness the Crown Prince collapsing and dying on the spot—the consequences would be unbearable.
This cursed place—she didn’t want to stay a second longer.
But when Ye Ting reached out, the Crown Prince didn’t comply. Instead, he shook his head wearily, his slender fingers slowly picking up the dagger beside him.
Ye Ting tensed.
Why was he reaching for a blade? What was he planning?
The Crown Prince lowered his gaze, examining the dagger carefully. He didn’t do anything drastic, but when he struggled to his feet, his body swayed violently. The unsheathed dagger dangled loosely in his grip, its sharp edge glinting ominously, as if ready to claim a life at any moment.
Then, the frail Crown Prince extended a hand toward Ye Ting—presumably a silent command for her to assist him.
Yet, for some reason, she hesitated, an inexplicable chill creeping up her spine.
The Crown Prince looked at her, his lips curving into a faint, gentle smile. His tone was indulgent, almost tender, as he asked, "What’s wrong?"
That smile—soft as a breeze—gave the illusion that no matter what she did, he would tolerate it.
Ye Ting blinked, stammering, "N-Nothing. I was just worried… worried that Your Highness might accidentally cut yourself with the blade."
The Crown Prince studied her quietly for a moment.
Then, with a clatter, he tossed the dagger aside and chuckled, "You’re right."
Ye Ting exhaled in silent relief.
The Crown Prince seemed to have reached his limit. Suddenly, his strength gave out, and half his weight collapsed onto Ye Ting, nearly sending her to her knees.
Gritting her teeth, she steadied him. They were so close she could smell the metallic tang of blood laced with an unusual fragrance—and then she heard it: a heavy, pounding heartbeat.
For a moment, she couldn’t tell if it was hers or his. The sound drilled into her skull, sharp and piercing, sending waves of pain through her head—
Ye Ting felt like her skull was about to split open.
But what truly shattered her composure was the Crown Prince. One second, he seemed fine; the next, he was coughing violently, blood splattering from his lips.
Ye Ting’s pristine collar was stained crimson. The sensation of warm liquid trickling down her neck made her skin prickle in horror. "W-What’s happening?" she gasped.
The Crown Prince, however, remained eerily calm, as if this were routine. Breathing shallowly, he murmured, "It’s nothing. Let’s go."
Ye Ting couldn’t dismiss it so easily. But as she steadied her steps, a strange buzzing noise invaded her ears—
[Should we dispose of this one too?]
[...No. Let it be.]
Ye Ting paused, shaking her head to clear the sound.
[...Headache. Wonderful. What is it this time?]
The indistinct murmurs in her ears were barely audible, but the last thing she sensed was a surge of icy, murderous intent. Startled, she blurted, "What?"
The Crown Prince, his brows furrowed in pain, hadn’t spoken a word. His face was deathly pale, his low coughs betraying his suffering.
Once they stepped out of the inner chamber, the Crown Prince addressed the attendants waiting outside, his voice hoarse but composed: "Attend to me."
That single, quiet command brought the previously motionless guards to life, rushing in as if summoned from the dead.
Lin De, the Crown Prince’s chief eunuch, arrived in a flurry. The moment he saw his master’s state, his aged face twisted in alarm. "Your Highness! What happened?"
Though the Crown Prince looked ghastly, his tone remained steady. "It’s nothing. An old ailment acting up."
But with blood staining his lips, no one dared take it lightly. Lin De was frantic, barking orders, "What are you all standing around for? Fetch the imperial physician! How could you let this happen? Useless fools!"
Chaos erupted in the Copper Sparrow Pavilion, but the servants moved swiftly, ensuring the ailing Crown Prince was tended to without delay.
Lin De paced like an ant on a hot griddle, torn between fury and terror—terrified his master might truly breathe his last.
Meanwhile, Ye Ting quietly retreated from the spotlight.
Just as the old eunuch seemed to remember something, his sharp eyes snapped toward her—the one trying desperately to vanish. He frowned, about to speak, when the Crown Prince’s weak voice cut in:
"She served well. Lin De, take her to my Eastern Warm Pavilion."
Ye Ting, who had been shrinking into the background, stiffened at his words.
What in the world was he saying?
Had he lost his mind from blood loss?
Lin De was equally stunned. The Eastern Warm Pavilion? That was the Crown Prince’s personal quarters since childhood—hardly a place for random maids or concubines to linger overnight. And this woman’s background was still unclear—how could she be placed right under His Highness’s nose?
Hesitantly, Lin De ventured, "But Your Highness—"
The Crown Prince wiped the blood from his lips, leaning heavily against the couch. His gaze, though weak, was unwavering as it settled on Lin De.
The eunuch immediately bowed. "Understood. This servant will arrange it at once."
Ye Ting’s entire being screamed refusal, but the damned Crown Prince gave her no chance to protest—having delivered his decree, he promptly collapsed like a delicate, dying flower.
And Lin De, ever the loyal servant, had no qualms about obeying. Moving her right under the Crown Prince’s watch was no small matter, yet he carried it out without hesitation.
Ye Ting, suddenly thrust into an unwanted spotlight, felt her head throb.
Hadn’t he already cheated death? Why was she still involved?
Besides, this Crown Prince was on borrowed time—what was the point of "attending" to him now?
Delivered to the Eastern Warm Pavilion, Ye Ting’s anxiety gnawed at her stomach.
As Lin De turned to leave, she called out urgently, "Wait—Eunuch Lin, a moment!"
Lin De stood by with a respectful bow.
Ye Ting rubbed her temples, struggling to find the right words. "Eunuch Lin, the Crown Prince is of noble birth, while I... this lowly servant am unworthy... cough Who knows if I carry some lung disease? How could I possibly serve in His Highness's bedchamber? This is utterly improper. Eunuch Lin, surely you see..."
Before she could finish, Lin De cut her off, his wrinkled face breaking into a doting smile.
With solemn conviction, he declared, "Miss Pingting, you misunderstand. His Highness nearly met disaster at the hot springs, and it was only thanks to your quick thinking—slaying the traitor and seizing the blade to save him—that he survived. Such merit is unmatched. Rest assured, once you reside in the Crown Prince's chambers, this old servant will ensure no gossip reaches your ears. I’ve already arranged for your health to be restored promptly, so nothing delays your... ahem... closeness with His Highness."
Ye Ting: "..."
The sheer density of his words slammed into her like a tidal wave, leaving her utterly dazed.
Wait, since when did I slay a traitor? How could I not remember doing something so bold? And this nonsense about recovering my health just to sleep with the Crown Prince—what kind of logic is that? She felt wronged beyond words.
Ye Ting opened her mouth, unsure which part to refute first, but Lin De gave her a knowing, indulgent smile. "No need to explain, miss. This old servant understands."
Her heart clenched.
Understand my foot.
With the Crown Prince nearly assassinated and the traitor revealed as a maidservant from the inner court, panic had spread like wildfire. Lin De swiftly excused himself amid the chaos.
And so, Ye Ting was left stranded in the Eastern Warm Pavilion.
Before she could even recognize half the faces around her, she’d somehow been catapulted into the dual roles of the Crown Prince’s savior and rising favorite—all in less than a day.
It was like cheating her way up some backwater power ladder... Now sprawled across the lavish bed in the Crown Prince’s chambers, Ye Ting’s mood grew heavier the more she thought about it.
Things were spiraling in a bizarre direction.
She couldn’t tell if this was good or bad, but one thing was clear: given her awkward position, defiance was futile. Fleeing in the dead of night? Not a chance. The doors were sealed.
Sighing, Ye Ting stared at the gauzy canopy overhead and turned her thoughts inward.
Lin De had called her "Miss Pingting"—likely a bestowed name, since etiquette would’ve demanded her surname otherwise. No surprise there. I’m just a decorative piece. Flashy stage names come with the territory.
Her mind wandered further.
She guessed her original self had been a troublemaking beauty in the Crown Prince’s household. The clues were obvious:
First, the previous owner had landed herself in the servants’ quarters after some drama, wrecked her health, and died—a rebel among pretty faces.
Second, the inner court didn’t officially house entertainers or concubines, so she’d probably been smuggled in as part of someone’s "gift package."
The realization brought a pang of melancholy.
Even cannon fodder lives are hard.
Well. Time to lie low.
She rolled over, exhausted, and shut her eyes—only for the life-value screen from earlier to flicker back into view. The nearly depleted health bar had inched forward slightly.
Ye Ting jolted upright, eyes flying open.
But the vision vanished. Closing her eyes again revealed nothing; it had been a fleeting glimpse, leaving no trace.
What does this mean?
She scrambled up, scanning the room for anomalies, only to whack her head hard against the bed frame. Pain flared.
She knew she hadn’t imagined it. Her life points had increased. As calm returned, a suspicion took root.
When she first woke in this world, her health had been critical, teetering on death’s edge. Now, after hauling the half-dead Crown Prince back from the hot springs, her meter had ticked up.
If this followed game logic... Did I just complete a quest and earn HP?
This is literally like grinding missions.
The plot was unfolding.
A spark of excitement flared, and Ye Ting swiftly analyzed her situation—only to reach an exasperating conclusion:
The Crown Prince’s survival was tied to hers.
Or, in plainer terms: Crown Prince lives = I live. Crown Prince dies = I die.
But why?
It made no sense. Yet the change was a blatant hint:
Her fate was now lashed to the Crown Prince.
Gripping the bed frame, Ye Ting took a deep breath.
So... becoming a decorative "gift package" and climbing the ranks—this absurd strategy was actually correct?!
Her mission target was a cannon fodder character doomed from the start.
You’ve got to be kidding me. How am I supposed to pull this off?
She’d not only transmigrated awkwardly but possibly into the wrong account. Even with meta-knowledge, she felt zero security.
Just as she stewed in frustration, noise erupted outside. A maid approached hesitantly, and Ye Ting, distracted, asked, "What’s wrong?"
Chunya bowed. "Miss, Xue’er has requested an audience three times, claiming she has something urgent to present. Will you see her?"
In the Crown Prince’s household, the shrewd knew how to read the winds. Regardless of Ye Ting’s past, residing in the Eastern Warm Pavilion meant she’d caught His Highness’s eye—hence the sudden deference.
But Ye Ting’s focus snagged on one detail: Xue’er? Who’s that?
She kept the thought to herself. What if she’s the original host’s sworn sister?
Makes sense. I’ve suddenly risen as the new favorite, and my struggling comrade-in-arms would be frantic without context.
Plus, she had questions of her own.
Ye Ting nodded warmly. "Let her in. Thank you."
Chunya murmured deference and withdrew.
Once the room emptied, Ye Ting straightened her robes. Soon, Xue’er entered—the same maid she’d seen in the dingy room when she first woke.
Ah. No wonder she looked so shocked back then...
Her smile froze as Xue’er suddenly erupted like a rabid beast.
"You dare go back on your word?! And shamelessly seduce the Crown Prince?! You betrayed us, you idiot!"
Ye Ting: "..."
What kind of delusional nonsense is this?!
Amid the fury, one word snagged her attention: betrayal. Wait—was she in cahoots with that assassin at the hot springs?
Holy hell.
This just got intense.
Xue’er gripped her wrist, sneering. "Years of planning, and you throw it all away for the Crown Prince’s favor? Wake up. This fantasy won’t last."
If it weren't for this idiot's stunningly beautiful face—making her the easiest to approach the Crown Prince and the simplest to control—this good-for-nothing would have been disposed of long ago.
By now, Ye Ting had mostly pieced things together, though her expression remained unreadable. Feigning anger, she spat out, "I've done everything you asked! What more do you want from me?"
This wasn’t over.
But then what? What did they want her to do?
"That’s up to you," Xue'er replied. "Don’t forget, I still hold your secrets. Don’t make any rash moves. We’re tied together—if I’m exposed, you’re finished too."
As she spoke, she discreetly slipped a slender bamboo tube containing a deadly poison into Ye Ting’s hand. In a hushed voice, she added, "This is the last dose of Jade Blood Bone Rot."
Ye Ting’s mood was absolutely foul.
So, it seemed her original self was one of those nameless undercover NPCs in the game—the kind who schemed to bring down the Crown Prince and ended up being sliced to pieces.
A faceless spy whose rebellion shook the heavens. What a brilliant, leaky disguise.
Xue'er, seeing Ye Ting calmly accept the item, didn’t push further. She probably still considered Ye Ting a useful idiot, not worth burning bridges with just yet.
Xue'er was about to say more when a soft knock interrupted them. "The hot water is ready. Would the mistress like to wash her feet now?"
The two exchanged a glance.
Ye Ting replied flatly, "Sure. Bring it in."
Xue'er’s acting was impeccable. In an instant, she reverted to her usual meek, harmless maid persona. But before leaving, she hastily whispered in Ye Ting’s ear, "Do this well, and the master will protect you."
Time was too tight. Ye Ting never got to ask who the hell this so-called "master" plotting against the Crown Prince even was.
After washing her feet and dismissing the servants, Ye Ting carefully examined the slender bamboo tube for a long time.
So this was it.
The ultimate mission of a pretty face stationed in the Crown Prince’s residence: to poison him without a trace.
Expressionless, Ye Ting lifted the cover of the bronze brazier and tossed the tube into the blazing coals. A wisp of black smoke curled up—
Poison his ass.
Go choke on ashes, you moron!
Only after watching the thing burn to nothing did Ye Ting finally relax and return to bed.
Assassination? Not happening.
Not in this lifetime.
---
Meanwhile, the Crown Prince reclined on his couch, draped in a thick black fox fur blanket that made his already pale face appear ghostly under the dim candlelight.
He listened absently to his subordinate’s report before suddenly asking, "What do you think of her?"
The subordinate hesitated, stumbling over his words. "This… this woman…"
The Crown Prince’s gaze remained fixed on the night outside the window. Then, with an elegant chuckle, he covered his lips with his hand and coughed lightly before answering his own question. "Quite amusing."
His eyes, tinged with a faint red, curved into a smile—gentle yet unsettling, carrying a trace of something disturbingly unhinged.
