Chapter 2: National Beauty and Heavenly Fragrance

Chapter 2: Peerless Beauty

The Great Liang Kingdom, Shangjing.

As the capital of the Great Liang Kingdom, it was undoubtedly the most prosperous place in the world, teeming with life, bustling with carriages and horses, and filled with an endless stream of people. Beneath the feet of the Son of Heaven, there was no shortage of royalty and nobility, nor of wealthy merchants and local magnates. Naturally, commoners made up the vast majority.

In a place with such stark disparities in status and such a dense population, all manner of astonishing and remarkable events were bound to occur—things that people would discuss with relish and find breathtaking. Over the past two months, the topic on everyone’s lips, the one that left people most in awe, was the marriage of the Prime Minister’s daughter.

Prime Minister Ye was the brother of the Empress Dowager and the uncle of the current Emperor; the prestige of the Ye family was self-evident. As for the legitimate daughter of the Ye family, Ye Wanwan, she was truly a golden-spoon-born young lady. Born into a wealthy and influential household, the apple of her parents’ eyes, and favored by the Empress Dowager, she possessed all the affection in the world. Her prominence was unrivaled; no noble lady in the capital could compare to her.

A well-bred lady of a prominent family, she was virtuous, talented, and beautiful. She was proficient in the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—things that already made people marvel. And that was without mentioning her face, which was as exquisite as a precious pearl or fine jade. At thirteen, she had performed the role of a deity, stunning the entire city. Countless talented scholars had taken up their brushes, only to lament their lack of literary talent, unable to capture her peerless, heaven-sent beauty.

At the time, people had sighed, wondering what kind of extraordinary man would be worthy of such a noble lady from the Ye family. Yet, only two years later, she was taken into the palace as a consort. While people felt a sense of regret, they also felt it was only natural. Such a breathtaking beauty deserved the most immense wealth and supreme power. Although she was only a Noble Consort and not the Empress of the Middle Palace, the grandeur of her wedding procession far outshone that of the Empress herself.

The Ye family’s dowry alone consisted of one hundred and eighty chests, supplemented by one hundred chests from the Empress Dowager and nineteen more from Lady Ye’s maternal family. A total of two hundred and ninety-nine chests—far exceeding the dowry the cold Empress had brought when she entered the palace. On the day of the wedding, the ten-mile-long procession of red silk circled the city, an infinite display of splendor. Along the way, the wedding coins scattered were gold beans; the sheer luxury left everyone wide-eyed. How could they not talk about it? Even two months later, people could not forget it, and whenever they encountered a stranger who hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, they couldn’t help but vividly describe the grandeur of that day.

In their imaginations, Lady Ye entering the palace, cherished by her aunt the Empress Dowager and loved by her husband, the Emperor Yang, must be incredibly happy—a beautiful lady hidden in a golden house, showered with infinite love and supreme honor. Who wouldn't be envious?

The Imperial Palace, Guanju Palace.

The magnificent palace was built with white jade walls, decorated with gold-painted carvings, and featured towering, ornate pillars. The floors were covered with soft cashmere, the curtains were made of golden silk, and the screens were beaded with East Sea pearls. The cups were gold, the vessels were jade—it was the height of luxury.

The only thing that did not fit this setting was the stench of medicine, so thick it was nauseating, a mixture of various herbs interlaced with the foul, bloody odor of open wounds.

"Clatter!"

A jade cup was knocked to the floor, shattering into pieces, the medicinal broth spilling everywhere.

An old nursemaid stood by the daybed, pleading earnestly, "Your Ladyship, this is a prescription the Empress Dowager went to great lengths to obtain. This old servant knows you are angry, but why hurt your own body? You are still young. With proper care, everything will get better."

The woman in white leaned against a pillow, her dark hair cascading like silk. Her frame was frail, her skin like fine white porcelain, though it was unnaturally pale due to illness. Her face was deathly white, her lips devoid of color, as if she were about to depart this world. Yet even in this lifeless state, one could see her extraordinary beauty—a perfect oval face, delicate features, and a nose like carved jade. She looked like a fairy crafted by a god who had forgotten to add color. Even in this sickly state, she was strikingly beautiful, enough to make one ache with pity.

The nursemaid nearby directed others to clean up the mess and ordered a fresh bowl to be brewed, failing to notice that the impatience in the eyes of the delicate beauty had been replaced by a chilling, murderous aura. Her ink-black eyes were like bottomless abysses, churning with boundless resentment and malevolence, with a hint of bloodthirsty crimson.

***

Having issued her orders, the nursemaid turned to offer a few more words of persuasion, but before she could speak, the Noble Consort swept a cold gaze toward her: "Get out!"

The icy command, sharp as an iron nail, sent a chill through the nursemaid’s heart, and she fell silent immediately.

"This old servant will go supervise the medicine personally."

The annoying fly was finally gone. Ye Wanwan looked at her hands—slender, jade-like fingers. Aside from being a bit thin, they were flawless. How wonderful.

She stood up and walked into the inner chamber, her clothes falling away one by one. By the time she reached the large bronze mirror, she was completely bare. She examined every inch of her skin. It was wonderful—no knife wounds, no brands, none of those hideous, indelible scars. Even her face was perfect.

Tears fell from her eyes without warning. Was this a dream? Why was it so real? She was a person, a living, breathing human being, no longer the half-human, half-ghost creature she had once been. Even though she hadn't died then, she had been more ghost than human.

"Your Ladyship!" A palace maid suddenly saw this and let out a cry of alarm, hurriedly grabbing clothes to drape over Ye Wanwan. "What are you doing? Your Ladyship is already weak; if you catch a chill, it could be fatal!"

As the clothes were layered on, followed by a thick fox-fur cloak, the maid felt the chill in Ye Wanwan’s hands and quickly pressed a hand warmer into them. It was already May, and the other palace maids were wearing only thin layers, yet Ye Wanwan was bundled up as if it were the dead of winter.

She had once possessed a healthy body, but two months ago, the Empress Dowager herself had bestowed a bowl of "sterility soup." It was cold and poisonous, nearly taking her life. Even on her wedding day, she had to drink three full bowls of ginseng broth just to stay conscious; otherwise, the rituals alone would have sent her straight to the coffin.

Heaven had sent her back, but it was two months too late. The wedding, the sterility soup—the origins of all her suffering. The Empress Dowager, her father, Zhao Yi, Leng Yunqing.

"Hahahaha..."

Ye Wanwan wanted to laugh, and she did. She looked up and laughed aloud, though her tears fell even more violently. She covered her face, but she could not hide the overflowing resentment, the grievances, and the endless murderous intent.

If she had been reborn before the wedding, before everything had begun, when she was still that naive girl of the Ye family, perhaps she would have felt a flicker of mercy. But unfortunately... Heaven did not give her that chance.

Since it had come to this, and they were the ones who had been cruel to her first, then she would not blame herself for sending them to hell one by one. Death was too easy. To be unable to live yet unable to die, to watch everything they cherished vanish, to have their pride broken bit by bit, to have their hopes turned to ash—that was far more painful than death. It was a living hell on earth.

—

"Your Ladyship, what is wrong?"

"Your Ladyship?"

Ye Wanwan was pulled back to reality, realizing she had been lost in a trance—these memories had become her inner demons. She looked at the palace maid before her, taking a moment to recall her name.

"Qingsha." Her personal maid who had served her since childhood. Five years after entering the palace, she had died in a conspiracy, beaten to death right before her eyes.

Qingsha said, "Your Ladyship, your voice is hoarse. This servant has brewed some ginseng tea for you."

Ye Wanwan took the tea and sipped it. The taste of the century-old ginseng did indeed lift her spirits. She set the cup down. "Dress me."

Qingsha was surprised, then immediately replied, "As you command, Your Ladyship." She was delighted that the Noble Consort was willing to dress up; it proved that she was finally no longer despondent. This was a good sign.

Another personal maid, Hongshang, came over to help. "This servant will comb your hair, Your Ladyship."

One combed her hair, the other applied her makeup. In a daze, Ye Wanwan remembered—Hongshang was the daughter of the Empress Dowager’s trusted Nursemaid Li. Because the Empress Dowager doted on her, she had sent her own confidante’s daughter to serve as Ye Wanwan’s maid. She remembered that when she was falsely accused of harming the Crown Prince, the Empress Dowager hadn't saved her, but had pulled Hongshang to safety. Hongshang had suffered almost nothing, lived a life of luxury, and had even been betrothed to a good match. A mere maid had been more important than her own life.

Ye Wanwan looked at the hairpin in front of her. Resentment and murderous intent surged in her heart. The tip was sharp and fine; if she were to pierce Hongshang’s throat, it would surely look beautiful...

Qingsha’s hands were skillful. Soon, the makeup was finished—neither too heavy nor too light, making her look radiant and spirited. Ye Wanwan was naturally beautiful, and with this touch of color, she looked instantly vibrant, like a flower in full bloom, inviting to be plucked.

Unfortunately, this was not what Ye Wanwan wanted.

Her gaze swept over and landed on the brightest red lip stain. She picked it up, pressed her lips firmly, and they turned as red as blood. This light makeup paired with the blood-red lips looked rather abrupt, and since Ye Wanwan was only fifteen, she was too young to carry off such a vivid color.

Qingsha was about to advise against it, but Ye Wanwan raised the corners of her eyes and curled her lips into a slow, seductive, and eerie smile that could bewitch the masses.

Qingsha knew Ye Wanwan’s beauty well; her youthful, delicate features were not suited for such a mature look, but now... this makeup seemed to be suppressed by her aura.

Suddenly noticing something, Qingsha brought over some nail polish and carefully painted Ye Wanwan’s nails. Her slender fingers were the perfect canvas for the vivid color. Ye Wanwan looked at her hands. They were beautiful, but she felt something was missing.

"Didn't my brother send a fan? Bring it to me."

Qingsha said, "This servant will get it at once."

Hongshang finally finished pinning up her hair and adorned it with gold pins. "Your Ladyship, it is done. Are you going to see the Empress Dowager? It is the start of the month, and the Empress is hosting a gathering for the consorts at Lanyue Pavilion to listen to operas. If you do not wish to see them, you can take the path from Feixian Terrace."

Ye Wanwan’s eyes narrowed, and she sneered. "In this harem, there is no place I cannot go. It is they who should avoid me; how could I be the one to avoid them?"

Qingsha brought the fan. Ye Wanwan took it and flicked it open. A dark blue phoenix leapt before her eyes. The color was stunning.

Empress Leng Yunqing, being able to see you again... I am truly... overjoyed!

So 'happy' that her hands were trembling!