Chapter 3: The Mad, Passionate Prince x The Spoiled, Pampered Princess (3)

"Jianing, this is the last time I will advise you: those who commit many injustices are bound to bring about their own destruction."

"Such violent and absurd behavior will one day bear bitter fruit."

As expected of someone destined to be the female lead, even after the villainess had turned this dark, she still harbored the delusion of persuading her to turn back.

Shu Yao sighed softly, picked up a piece of pastry, took a small nibble, and said languidly, "Imperial Sister, if you have the time for this, you would be better off trying to curry favor with the Emperor; he might actually spare you a second glance."

It was common knowledge that the daughter Emperor Chu’an disliked the most was Princess Zhaoyang, for her birth mother had been a maid serving the Empress who had climbed into the imperial bed and used underhanded means to conceive. Because of her low-born mother, Zhaoyang herself was held in low regard.

Her knuckles digging into her palms, Zhaoyang gritted her teeth and turned to leave in a fit of rage. As she departed, Shu Yao noticed a large, jarring scar covering the area beneath her right ear. It was a vivid crimson, the skin rugged and uneven.

"Drag him up."

She gestured with a snow-white chin toward the young man. The eunuchs obeyed, pinching the boy’s shoulders and dragging him forward until he reached the screen. Shu Yao rose and slowly stepped out from behind the screen. She stared with disgust at the path they had taken, where a straight trail of blood—all from the boy—stained the velvet rug. For a normal person, such blood loss would have caused them to faint long ago; it was impossible to remain conscious.

"You’ve dirtied my floor."

The eunuchs were so terrified they knelt in unison. Without their support, the boy slumped to the ground, his breathing as thin as a thread.

"Princess, please spare us."

Shu Yao covered her nose; the thick scent of blood in the hall gave her a headache. "Get out."

The men scrambled away, closing the hall doors behind them. Seeing that Shen Jingmu looked as if he had passed out from the pain, Shu Yao leaned over him.

"Princess, you must not," Wantao said. "This lowly dog is beneath you; do not dirty your hands."

Before she finished speaking, Shu Yao had already gripped the boy’s jaw, squeezing hard.

"Ugh..."

Shen Jingmu was forced to look up at her. The palace lamps were blinding, and from this angle, the woman’s skin appeared dazzlingly pale.

"You’re quite good-looking, but your bones are far too stubborn." Shu Yao clicked her tongue twice, then suddenly raised her hand.

*Slap!*

A fierce, fragrant-scented blow landed on the boy’s face. Shen Jingmu’s head whipped to the side. He flicked his tongue to taste the metallic, salty tang at the corner of his lips.

As she gripped his jaw again, Shu Yao used her other hand to gently brush aside his hair, revealing his delicate, blood-stained features. Shu Yao froze.

They were green eyes.

The boy’s eyes were like glazed glass—clear and pristine, suppressing a palpable sense of humiliation and rage, his thin lips pale with sickness.

"You like being beaten so much? You won't beg for mercy even with your bones shattered?"

Shu Yao spoke slowly. Seeing the boy remained unmoved, as if he hadn't heard a word, the smile faded from her face.

"Base cur."

She flung him to the ground with malice and looked at Wantao. "Bring the whip."

Soon, a long, pitch-black whip embedded with sharp spikes was presented. It was slender, with a pure gold hook at the tip. Up close, Shu Yao could still smell the blood lingering on the whip; it was somewhat pungent.

Even as he saw her pick up the whip, the stubbornness in the boy’s eyes did not waver into fear. Instead, he stared straight at her, a gaze so intense it made Shu Yao’s skin crawl. The boy quickly looked away, and when he looked back, that chilling feeling had vanished so quickly that Shu Yao thought it might have been an illusion.

"You wretched dog, looking for death."

She curled her lips, pressing the hard tip of the whip against the boy’s chest until it stained with fresh blood, her red lips parting. "Kneel."

The boy remained still, exhausting the last of Shu Yao’s patience. She blinked, smiling innocently as she increased the pressure, grinding the tip of the whip into his chest.

"Ugh..."

A groan of pain escaped his throat. Shu Yao seemed to have discovered something amusing; her eyes brightened, and the curve of her smile widened. "So, you do know pain after all."

Shen Jingmu endured the excruciating agony of the hard object grinding into his flesh. His vision blurred, and his pale lips moved slightly.

"What did you say?" Shu Yao saw he had something to say and leaned in curiously.

Suddenly, the boy lunged at her like a madman. A shadow loomed over her, and the scent of blood surged into her nose. Shu Yao fell backward, but before Shen Jingmu could touch her, Wantao kicked him flying.

"Princess!" Wantao scrambled to help Shu Yao up, kneeling before her to check her over carefully. Fortunately, she was unhurt. Wantao exhaled in relief and said coldly, "This dog has very hard bones; he won't submit without some force."

"Then beat him until he submits." Shu Yao patted her dress and retrieved the dropped whip.

*Snap!*

The tip of the whip tore through the air, striking the boy’s back with precision, leaving a petal-shaped bloodstain on his plain undergarment. Shen Jingmu let out a muffled grunt as he collapsed forward. Before he could crawl up, another sharp crack sounded; the second lash struck the center of his spine.

Shu Yao whipped him a dozen times until he coughed up blood and passed out. Only then did she stop. She lazily wound the whip around her fingers and nodded. "Throw him out."

The eunuchs waiting outside the hall rushed in immediately and dragged him away. At the same time, a transparent panel appeared before her eyes.

[Ding! The first plot point, 'Punishment by Whip,' has been completed.]

-

"You blind, wretched slave!"

"You've offended Princess Jianing; you're in for a world of hurt!"

"Serves you right, bah!"

The young eunuch cursed as he tossed the body to the ground and slammed the hall door shut. Once they were gone, the boy slowly opened his green eyes. His gaze was cold and murderous; there was not a trace of weakness left.

Two black-clad figures jumped down from the rafters, light as swallows, landing without a sound.

"Master." Cen Mo looked at the deep, bone-exposing wounds on Shen Jingmu’s body, his teeth clenched. "I’ll go kill that bitch!"

"Stand down." Cen Yan reached out to stop him, his eyes cold and equally suppressing rage. "The Master has his own considerations for what he does. Is it your place to meddle?"

Both looked at the boy, waiting for his orders. Shen Jingmu lowered his eyes, glancing listlessly at his blood-stained body, the wounds as grotesque as blooming mandalas.

"The time has not yet come. Let her live a few more days."

His tone was slow and languid, dripping with a sense of condescension, the cruelty and malice in his green eyes fully exposed. Cen Yan knew his methods; falling into the Master’s hands made death the most fortunate outcome. He pulled a porcelain bottle from his waist and handed it to Shen Jingmu.

"Princess Zhaoyang sent this just now. It was left at the door. Please take a look."

Cen Mo narrowed his eyes and sneered, "The younger sister is arrogant and tyrannical, whipping anyone she sees, yet the older sister comes running to deliver medicine. What exactly are these two sisters plotting?"

In the depths of the palace, one wrong step meant total ruin. They would not be foolish enough to trust a woman who had no connection to them.

Shen Jingmu opened the bottle, which contained high-quality golden sore medicine. Princess Zhaoyang was not favored; it would not have been easy for her to obtain such things. He chuckled, raised his hand, and tossed it into Cen Yan’s arms.

"Master, your wounds..."

"Clean them up."