Just a Wet Nurse, Just a Plaything? Everyone Wept After My Death - Chapter 76

Chapter 76

The crimson walls of the Forbidden City towered so high they seemed capable of piercing the heavens.

An inconspicuous little sedan chair draped in plain blue cloth creaked along the deep, narrow palace passageways toward the innermost reaches of the imperial palace.

There was no ceremonial procession to welcome her, no grand display or noisy fanfare. Seated inside the cramped sedan, Shen Yingyue peered through a shifting gap in the curtain at the two vermilion walls that seemed to stretch on forever. She felt like a tiny insect being swallowed bit by bit by a monstrous beast called imperial power.

After traveling for a full two hours, the sedan finally came to a stop.

“We’re here. Get out.”

A eunuch’s shrill, indifferent voice came from outside.

Shen Yingyue lifted the curtain and stepped down.

A bitter wind, even colder than those in Yanzhou, struck her face, carrying the stench of rotting leaves.

Before her stood a dilapidated, desolate palace. Most of the gilded paint had peeled from the plaque, leaving only the faintly discernible words “Northern Compound.” Withered ivy covered the courtyard walls, and even the stone lion at the entrance was missing an ear. An oppressive air of death hung over the place.

This was where the Ninth Prince lived.

It was also the infamous “Hall of the King of Hell,” where countless palace maids and eunuchs were rumored to have entered, never to return.

“So this is the hard-fated Lady Shen?”

An elderly matron in a dark purple palace gown emerged. Her cheekbones jutted sharply from her face. She looked Shen Yingyue up and down, her triangular eyes filled with criticism and contempt, as though appraising livestock for sale.

The young eunuch who had escorted Shen Yingyue gave her a placating smile. “Matron Gui, this is indeed the woman. The General’s Manor recommended her. They say her fate is exceptionally strong, making her just right to serve His Highness the Ninth Prince.”

“Hmph. Someone from the General’s Manor.”

Matron Gui snorted, disdain spreading across her deeply wrinkled face.

“Now that you’ve entered these palace gates, forget whatever status you had before. Even if you were the general’s most cherished favorite out there, in here, you’re nothing more than a servant.”

She walked up to Shen Yingyue, raised her chin, and sternly laid down the rules.

“Lady Shen, I am Matron Gui, the head matron of the Northern Compound.

“Since you’re here, you must learn the palace rules.

“First, don’t look at what you shouldn’t see or listen to what you shouldn’t hear. Keep your mouth shut.

“Second, His Highness the Ninth Prince is precious. If he suffers the slightest bump or bruise, or if your ill fortune affects him in any way, even ten heads wouldn’t be enough for you to lose!

“Third, the Northern Compound may be remote, but it remains forbidden palace grounds. If you refuse to behave and start entertaining improper ideas, I won’t need the Emperor to condemn you. I can make you disappear without anyone ever knowing!”

Shen Yingyue listened with lowered eyes, appearing perfectly obedient, yet her back remained straight.

She was no longer the timid wet nurse who had once cowered before everyone in the General’s Manor.

“Yes. I will remember,” she replied calmly, neither servile nor defiant.

Seeing that Shen Yingyue had neither burst into frightened tears nor attempted to ingratiate herself, Matron Gui frowned and inwardly cursed her for being so stubborn.

“Enough. What’s-her-name… Cui’er, take her to the servants’ quarters.”

Matron Gui waved impatiently, as though shooing away a fly.

“Have her wash off all that bad luck before she comes to serve.”

…

The servants’ quarters stood in the farthest corner of the Northern Compound, right beside the storeroom for miscellaneous goods.

The palace maid named Cui’er was a shameless snob. Seeing that Shen Yingyue had arrived in a shabby sedan chair, she treated her with undisguised disdain and casually pointed toward the most rundown room.

“You’ll stay here.”

Shen Yingyue pushed open the door.

A wave of mildew struck her nose. The room was tiny, containing nothing but a plank bed with a broken leg and a cabinet with one corner missing. Worst of all was the window. Several large holes had been torn through the paper, allowing the bitter wind to howl inside. The room was barely any warmer than outdoors.

“The window is broken. Could I have some paper to patch it?” Shen Yingyue asked.

“Window paper?”

Cui’er sneered. Leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded, she rolled her eyes.

“Do you think you came here to be a mistress? And now you want window paper?

“The Northern Compound only receives so many provisions each year. His Highness the Ninth Prince and the matrons get priority. There’s nothing left to waste on you.

“Besides, who knows whether you’ll even survive three days? Why bother? Make do with what you’ve got!”

With that, Cui’er slammed the door and walked away.

Shen Yingyue stood in the dim, frigid room, listening to the wind howl outside as the unhealed lashes across her back throbbed faintly.

So it had already begun?

The snobbery, the contempt, the mistreatment.

At the General’s Manor, people had openly called for her beating and death. Here, deep within the palace, the knives were soft and slow, meant to wear away a person’s will.

The old Shen Yingyue might have hidden beneath the covers and cried.

But now, everything felt exactly as she had expected.

She set down her pitifully meager luggage and walked to the window.

Without any window paper, she found a few bundles of dried straw in the corner and slowly wove them together. The result was crude, but it blocked most of the wind and snow.

Dinner arrived.

Two cold, rock-hard steamed buns and a bowl of watery broth containing a few rotten vegetable leaves. A film of unidentifiable grease even floated on the surface.

“Eat up, you husband-killing harbinger of doom. This is all someone like you deserves.”

The eunuch delivering the meal spat the insult with obvious spite. He had clearly heard about her “glorious deeds” at the General’s Manor and believed that merely sharing a courtyard with someone like her would bring bad luck. He refused even to hand her the food box, setting the bowl on the ground outside her door as though feeding a dog.

Shen Yingyue looked down at the cold scraps.

Her stomach had long since begun growling, cramping painfully with hunger.

She bent down and calmly picked up the bowl of soup and the two buns, which were as hard as stones.

She showed neither disgust nor self-pity.

Sitting on the broken bed as the cold wind blew around her, she chewed the nearly inedible buns one mouthful at a time and forced them down.

Only with a full stomach would she have the strength to survive.

Only by surviving would she have a chance to rise.

She touched the charred black bellyband tucked inside her clothes, still warm from her body. In the darkness of the Cold Palace, her eyes gleamed like two icy blades drawn from their sheaths.

“Endure it,” she told herself.

“This is only the first step.”