Chapter 51 Which wire got crossed in your head?

Chapter 51: Which Nerve in His Brain Got Twisted?

After the incident involving Ye Wanwan, the residents of the inner palace came one after another to pay their visits. Though reluctant, they dared not offend her given her exalted status. Even the Empress made a symbolic bestowment of gifts merely to maintain appearances.

Claiming to be too weak to receive visitors, Ye Wanwan kept her doors closed, leaving all affairs to the management of Nanny Lin.

As for Jiang Feixue, she was far too shaken by recent events to come looking for free meals. In fact, it took a full two days after that fateful night before she dared to face Ye Wanwan again. Though she kept her mouth shut, a clear sense of dread hung about her.

Under the absolute authority of the imperial crown, death was a common occurrence, and one frequently heard of lives being snuffed out somewhere within the palace walls. Though well-protected by her parents, Jiang Feixue had witnessed death before.

Yet, to watch a vibrant, living human being brutally beaten to death right before her eyes was a first. What was more, the one who ordered the execution was her own seemingly gentle and easygoing cousin. This realization dealt a formidable shock to Jiang Feixue's system.

Ye Wanwan cared very little about what Jiang Feixue was thinking. If this fear could keep the girl in check, Ye Wanwan would actually be rather pleased, as it meant a significant reduction in her daily troubles. After all, watching Jiang Feixue put on an act of naive innocence while acting with unbridled audacity was quite grating on the nerves.

Aside from the imperial concubines, the most frequent visitor turned out to be none other than Zhao Yi—a truly unexpected development.

For four consecutive days, he came to see Ye Wanwan every single day. Even though Ye Wanwan was not in a condition to attend to him in bed and he would only sit for half an hour before leaving, it was more than enough to twist the faces of the other consorts with jealousy.

Day in and day out, they racked their brains trying to win the Emperor's favor, yet they were lucky to share his bed once or twice every few months, only to be cast aside right back into the coldness of the harem. When had any of them ever witnessed the Emperor taking the initiative to visit someone, let alone every single day? How could they not be furious?

Alas, there was nothing they could do about their frustration. Who could blame them when the woman in question was a Noble Consort, and the Empress Dowager's own flesh and blood to boot? They had even watched the Empress retreat a step; what power did they have to contest this?

While the crowd of onlookers outside harbored bitter, sour feelings filled with envy, jealousy, and hatred, little did they know that Ye Wanwan barely cared for any of it.

If not for Zhao Yi’s imperial status and the absolute power that she could not yet escape, would she have ever willingly stayed here?

This was a man full of scheming malice who never truly regarded her as a human being. If she still failed to wake up to reality after all this, she might as well just drop dead.

Yet, Ye Wanwan ignored Zhao Yi, treating him with an indifference that bordered on coldness. Every time Zhao Yi came, he spoke far more than she did—inquiring after her health and personally feeding her medicine. Even when Ye Wanwan offered little to no response, he showed not a shred of anger, growing increasingly tender instead.

Indeed, though the expression on his face remained faint, genuine smiles flickered in his eyes. When he looked at Ye Wanwan, his gaze carried a lingering trace of pity and affection.

"...?"

So, after all that intense hatred he once held for her, what was this supposed to mean now? Which nerve in his brain had suddenly gotten twisted?

When things go against the natural order of things, there must be a demon at play—especially when the person involved was Zhao Yi. Ye Wanwan would sooner believe that gold was falling from the sky than believe Zhao Yi had a change of heart.

Though she could not fathom why Zhao Yi was suddenly showing her such inexplicable patience, one thing was certain: Zhao Yi had set his sights on her.

Every time he came, he would take her hand and refuse to let go. Even while reading a book with one hand, he would use the other to toy with hers. Whenever he occasionally raised his head to look at her, the warmth in his eyes burned so fiercely it seemed capable of melting anything in its path.

Having already died once and experienced the harshest trials, she understood the ways of the world. Zhao Yi might not harbor any deep romantic love for her, but he undoubtedly wanted her to share his bed.

Looking back, it was all rather laughable. In her past life, she had been just as unwilling to accept her fate, exhausting every possible means to win his bed, to prevent Jiang Feixue from entering the palace, and to suppress the other women who gained his favor. In her desperate bid to bear a child, she had gulped down bowl after bowl of the medicinal brews sent by the Empress Dowager.

She had relentlessly tormented her own body until she finally coaxed her health back into shape. Yet, no matter how eagerly she pined for him, Zhao Yi refused to even touch her.

The women of the harem became pregnant one after another, while she remained a virgin throughout. Others only knew her as overbearing, tyrannical, and arrogant, never realizing the utter desolation within her heart—that all her aggressive posturing was merely an attempt to mask a deeply insecure and aggrieved version of herself.

Zhao Yi was even willing to bestow his favor upon a low-ranking palace maid blessed with good looks, yet he adamantly refused to touch her. How could she not hate him?

When it came to humiliating people, Zhao Yi could truly be considered a master among masters.

Therefore, why was it that when she once begged for his favor through unspeakable agony and received nothing, he was now clinging to her of his own accord when she had done absolutely nothing?

What had once been completely out of reach was now readily available at her fingertips—the irony of it was utterly staggering. Unfortunately, instead of feeling flattered or honored, she felt only a deep, penetrating chill in her bones.

Catching a glimpse of a familiar hem of fabric out of the corner of her eye, she whispered, "Little Chen."

Yan Chen turned and stepped inside, bowing, "My Lady."

Nearby, Qingsha and Muxiang were busy tidying up the palace hall alongside several other maids. Ye Wanwan beckoned to Yan Chen, saying, "Lean closer."

Yan Chen stepped forward, and Ye Wanwan leaned close to his ear to whisper a few instructions. Regardless of Zhao Yi's current attitude, the plans she needed to set in motion could not be delayed, and the arrangements regarding the Imperial Household Department should be nearly ready by now.

Consumed entirely by her thoughts, Ye Wanwan failed to notice that she might have leaned a bit too close, nor did she realize that the tips of the young eunuch's ears had turned slightly crimson.

"This servant will see to it immediately."

"Go."

Ye Wanwan still felt confident in Yan Chen's efficiency.