Chapter 2
The lashes of my body trembled.
The three hundred and fifty-second, I counted silently.
With nothing better to do, I wondered how this transmigrator would die. Pierced by ten thousand arrows? Wasted away by despair? Torn apart by five horses? Or burned alive, like the one before her?
The little beast was certainly no decent man. But these women had wealth, beauty, and power. Why surrender the dignity of a princess and destroy themselves trying to reform some wretched slave of unknown origin? It cost them everything and gained them nothing. I could never understand them.
Utterly, hopelessly stupid.
I settled in to see how this one would fawn over him.
The woman opened her eyes.
There was no confusion in them. No bewilderment, shock, or fear.
Instead, they held a composure far beyond her years. Her gaze swept the room, gradually brightening with interest, before coming to rest on the kneeling youth.
Black hair cascaded over the edge of the bed.
She lifted one pale, slender arm and propped her chin on her hand.
The robe draped loosely over her body slipped from one shoulder.
A faint fragrance stirred through the room.
Her small face was lushly, almost dangerously beautiful. Amusement shimmered in her eyes, sensuality in the curve of her crimson lips. Yet the cool calculation beneath her smile sent a chill down the spine.
She listened as the servant embellished his accusation with obvious malice, then met the fallen youth’s bottomless black eyes. Her smile deepened.
“Qiuxiang, tell me. Under the laws of this dynasty, what is the punishment for stealing from this princess?”
My maid Qiuxiang stepped forward. “Your Highness, a servant who steals an article belonging to the imperial family is to receive fifty lashes and be expelled from the palace.”
The woman’s laugh was light and musical. She studied the terrible wounds on the youth’s body, then pointed lazily at the accusing servant.
“Even so, I gave no order. How dare you administer punishment on your own authority?”
The servant went white and dropped to his knees. “Mercy, Your Highness! I was only furious that this mongrel dared steal your jewelry. Heaven and earth can attest to my loyalty—”
She chuckled, then abruptly changed tack. “How many lashes did you give him?”
Cold sweat beaded on his brow. His lips shook. “Ten…”
The youth pressed his thin lips together and stared at the princess on the bed. Like a venomous snake about to strike, his gaze seethed with hatred and murderous intent.
Idiot.
What an idiot.
To reveal such naked bloodlust before someone who held power over his life! Had I still controlled my own body, I would not have cared whether he had been wronged. Better to kill the innocent than spare a future threat. I would have dragged him outside and had his head cut off on the spot.
I had never been kind. My mother died young, and survival in the imperial harem was no easy matter. I schemed, removed every rival, and finally won my imperial father’s affection. My estate now stood at the height of its influence. I would never allow anyone within it to escape my control.
Yet the transmigrators were even greater fools.
Who was he? And who was I?
They could have used my body to be willful, arrogant, and unrestrained. A princess ought to possess a princess’s pride.
Instead, they forced my imperious face into servile, flattering expressions and used it to please a little beast whose bloodline this dynasty could never tolerate.
The thought alone made me furious.
But disappointment had become a habit. I drew a slow breath and waited to see what trouble this woman would make.
“Oh? Ten lashes?” She smiled, sounding almost puzzled. “Does that not leave forty?”
Her crimson lips parted. Her voice was gentle—and merciless.
“Drag him outside. Continue.”
“Still, I am a benevolent woman. Once the punishment is complete, there is no need to expel him from the estate.”
I stared at her. What?
Shock joined the loathing in the youth’s eyes. This transmigrator had condemned him without even investigating.
Well, well. Now this was interesting.
Every woman before her had exposed the person who framed the little beast, cleared his name, and summoned an imperial physician to treat him. No matter how cruelly he insulted them, they remained devoted to him.
Especially after that venomous line of his: “To think the mighty Princess Changle could debase herself into a slave’s whining lapdog.”
Had it been me, I would have cut out his tongue long ago.