Cen Zhao was born with the face of a femme fatale. Because of her unusual identity, she was hidden away in a neglected palace from the time she was little.
She had had enough of sour, cold leftovers and the same dull days repeating themselves. She was always thinking about the red walls and green tiles outside.
At last, an assassin slipped into the neglected palace, and Cen Zhao took advantage of the chaos to sneak out of her room.
By chance, she saw the man leading the group, dressed in white as pristine as snow, with the ethereal grace of a celestial being. He must have held a high rank and considerable power.
She accidentally caught her foot on the threshold and tumbled right in front of him.
The guards around them looked at her as if she were already dead, but she weakly reached out a delicate hand, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.
"Sir, that fall really hurt. Could you help me up?"
Song Ling wielded immense influence at court and crushed his rivals outside it. He was ruthlessly indifferent to life and death, and no one dared get close to him.
Yet at some point, a girl as lovely as a celestial maiden appeared at his side.
Whenever Song Ling lifted a cup, she knocked over her stool and splashed tea all over the person beside her.
Whenever Song Ling picked up his brush, she got sleepy and knocked over priceless ink treasures.
Whenever Song Ling drew his blade, she ran off, afraid of getting stained by anything unpleasant.
Every time she met Song Ling's cold gaze, Cen Zhao would say weakly, "I was trying to win you over at first, you know. Do you believe me...?"
[Little Extra]
Cen Zhao had never thought of herself as a good person. She had attached herself to Song Ling because circumstances left her no choice. If the right opportunity came along, she would go find a better place for herself.
Fortunately, it was not long before the Crown Prince ascended the throne and began selecting virtuous women from among the common people.
Song Ling controlled the young emperor. On the surface, he was selecting consorts for the new ruler, but in truth, he was arranging for his own trusted men to enter the palace. By chance, he saw a portrait that looked so familiar he finally realized what Cen Zhao had been planning.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Knowing her scheme had been exposed, Cen Zhao quickly packed her belongings, ready to run away from home.
Song Ling blocked her path and looked up. "I mean, where do you want to be? On the table? In the carriage? In the bath?"
"Or right here?"
[Reading Guide]
SC/HE/1v1
Archived on May 10, 2023.
***Coming Soon: Concubine, I Will Not Accept Your Favor***
As the eldest legitimate son of the century-old Song clan, Song Qin was upright and refined, with the noble bearing of a lofty mountain. He seemed like a flawless piece of white jade, carefully carved to perfection.
His only blemish was that he doted on a beautiful concubine so openly that the whole city knew.
But Ning Yuan knew her lowly status. She had to depend on another to survive, so she was careful in everything and never dared overstep. All she wanted was a safe place where she could live a quiet, ordinary life.
Until the day she accidentally offended a commandery princess who had come to visit the estate. The princess's maid slapped her hard three times, while Song Qin stood a few feet away with his hands behind his back, soothing the princess. "Since you and I are betrothed, you may do as you please with all the maids in this household."
Ning Yuan saw the truth of life behind the gates of a great household and began quietly making plans for herself.
Unexpectedly, on the night before the princess was to enter the household, she turned over restlessly in her sleep and knocked the candleholder beside her bed to the floor.
Song Qin did not think he liked Ning Yuan. She was merely an excuse to avoid a marriage alliance.
But as time passed, whenever he saw the dazed look in her tearful eyes, she became an outlet for all his pent-up frustrations.
And when she meekly endured everything, then called him "Brother Qin" in her soft, sweet voice, he could not help but grow even more demanding.
So Song Qin thought that since the marriage had caused Ning Yuan to suffer, he could indulge her a little more from then on.
But when a sea of flames swallowed her graceful figure, something inside Song Qin's chest suddenly went missing.
Song Qin had never believed in ghosts or gods, yet he truly saw Ning Yuan, who should have perished, with his own eyes.
She was holding someone else's arm, smiling and laughing as she called him "Brother Qing," in the same voice she had once used when she could not bear to call Song Qin that way.
Winter snow rustled softly, concealing the clank of metal.
In the dim light, Song Qin smiled faintly, but his eyes were dark. His five fingers tightened around her neck.
Ning Yuan had taken the medicine, and her consciousness was hazy. Song Qin lowered his voice, as if coaxing her:
"A Yuan, tell me again. Who am I?"
Theme: Stay away from turmoil.
