Chapter 7

The Princess Royal was undeniably beautiful. Unfortunately, a beauty with a venomous heart inspired hatred.

Again and again, she tormented those young women with cruel punishments. They had hated her for a long time.

A few days earlier, when I returned to the rear courtyard, I saw them weeping as they undressed to apply medicine.

“The princess is so beautiful. How can she be so cruel?”

“What beauty? She’s nothing but a beast in fine clothes! What good does making her more beautiful clothes do? The moment she’s displeased, she’ll kill us anyway!”

Seeing me in the doorway, they fell silent.

They all knew the embroiderer Lin Qiu was now the princess’s favorite. A casual word of accusation from me could send them to their deaths.

Besides, what they had said was treasonous.

But I liked it.

“If any of your clothes are torn, bring them to me. I’ll mend them.”

The princess deliberately had their clothes ripped and whipped to shreds first, then sent them back in rags, covered in wounds.

The night wind was cold. This was torture, and humiliation too.

Ignoring their questioning looks, I sat down in the room and took out my needle and thread to mend their clothes.

These embroiderers’ hands and feet had been crippled by beatings. Making clothes would be difficult for them for a while.

But the princess kept them in her household only for amusement.

She could not wear so many clothes. She merely lacked people to torment when she was angry.

At last, someone could not help asking, “Why are you helping us…?”

I looked up and smiled. “Perhaps because Mother once told me women ought to be beautiful. Or perhaps, being an embroiderer, I simply have an itch to make clothes.”

By the time I finished mending their clothes, it was nearly time to attend the princess.

If I meant to report them, this would be the perfect moment. It was also their best chance to stop me.

But I simply closed the door quietly, exchanging a smile with the women inside.

That was enough.

I knew now that besides me, there were other like-minded women in this residence who wanted to resist the princess.

This box of richly fragrant ointment, made from corpse fat, was the gift I offered her on their behalf.

The corpse-fat ointment worked much like my skin cream, but it was potent. At first, it made the skin soft and delicate. In larger doses, however, it caused the skin to ulcerate and peel away, while the princess’s face began to give off the stench of decay.

An embroiderer cared most about the smoothness, wholeness, and smell of her fabric. I had planned to save the princess’s face until last. Now I could hardly wait to see it rot.

I would strip the skin from her body with scissors. But that face she was so proud of—I wanted her to peel it off herself.

I wanted to watch her see herself change from the beauty of the capital into an ugly monster wearing human skin.

Before leaving, I put the box of ointment on her dressing table.

I knew how greedy she was. She would certainly use more in secret.

I looked forward to the day she discovered this surprise.