Chapter 2 — Beauty Carries No Guilt

Once inside the grand estate of the prince, attending maids immediately stripped Khuong La of her travel-worn garments and dressed her in layers of lavish, resplendent silk, painting her delicate features with a peach-blossom makeup that highlighted her natural allure. Her countenance, inherently striking and captivating, blossomed into something dazzling and breathtaking under the brush. With an air of effortless grace and swaying steps, she entered the vast, candle-lit main hall. There, she sank into a deep, elegant bow to pay her respects to Prince Wei Zhao. The strategist standing just below the raised dais cupped his hands respectfully and announced to his lord:

This is the peerless beauty that this humble servant has managed to discover for Your Highness.

The jade wine cup hovering near Wei Zhao s lips froze mid-motion. A faint, knowing smile touched the corners of his mouth.

Oh?

Lift your face.

Obeying the command, Khuong La slowly raised her head, revealing a visage of breathtaking, peerless loveliness. A flash of genuine astonishment crossed Wei Zhao s eyes as he took in her radiant beauty. His gaze lingered involuntarily upon her form, hesitating for a brief, contemplative second. Then, snapping out of his brief reverie, he clapped his hands and laughed aloud, casting an approving glance toward the strategist.

Your eye for beauty is exceptionally keen.

He turned his gaze back to Khuong La, his tone softening considerably.

Your name is Khuong La?

A face such as yours rightfully belongs within the imperial palace, destined to enjoy boundless wealth and supreme glory. To let you languish in some impoverished village would be a tragic waste indeed.

For now, remain here within the prince s manor. You shall be instructed in the arts of dance, music, and courtly etiquette.

When the time is ripe, this prince will personally dispatch men to escort you into the palace.

He leaned slightly forward, fixing his intense gaze directly into her eyes from across the room, making no effort to conceal his profound satisfaction. Khuong La offered a charming, practiced smile and lowered her head in submissive acknowledgment. Standing quietly off to the side, I observed the scene unfold with absolute detachment. Having spent ten wretched years as his wife in our previous life, I understood him intimately. At the exact moment Wei Zhao had hesitated just now, he was weighing two competing desires: whether to keep her for himself or to offer her as bait to the sovereign to execute a fatal beauty trap. In the end, his consuming ambition easily overpowered that fleeting spark of attraction. After all, Khuong La was undeniably gorgeous, yet her fierce pride, arrogant spirit, and the defiant glint in her eyes revealed a woman who would never willingly bow her head. That was never the sort of temperament Wei Zhao truly favored. His lifelong preference was for frail, timid, and submissive women—much like the version of myself I had been in my past life. This outcome was for the best; Khuong La would not step into the same tragic pitfall I had endured. She would not mirror my past existence, where, despite remaining utterly innocent of any wrongdoing, I was forced to shoulder the infamous reputation of a seductive siren whose charms bring down a dynasty, only to have my life extinguished by a single cup of poisoned wine.

Inside the hall, the atmosphere remained festive and harmonious. The torches blazed brightly, and the mesmerizing sounds of zithers and flutes echoed endlessly against the carved pillars. Resting his chin lazily in his palm, Wei Zhao watched the dancers with a detached, indifferent air. As he watched, his eyes abruptly drifted away from the dancers and landed squarely upon me. He paused, his gaze narrowing slightly.

A newly arrived maid?

Why do you keep your face concealed behind a veil?

Khuong La lifted her eyes, casting a swift, sideways glance in my direction before replying smoothly:

She is an old acquaintance of mine from the village. I brought her along to serve by my side as a maid.

She suffers from a severe allergy to willow catkins; any contact causes violent red rashes to erupt across her skin, which is the sole reason she wears the veil.

Ah.

Losing interest instantly, Wei Zhao withdrew his gaze and pursued the matter no further. From that day onward, Khuong La and I shared the restricted quarters of the grand estate, both of us bound to grueling routines. Her days were consumed by relentless lessons in courtly etiquette and intricate dance styles. She would rise at the earliest hour of dawn and return to her chambers only deep into the night. And as for me, whenever she practiced her complex choreography, I was required to stand perpetually by the sidelines, rushing forward whenever she demanded tea or water. Through the long nights, I washed her garments, tended to her weary feet, and massaged her aching shoulders and limbs. Only during a single designated hour each evening was I granted a brief reprieve from my endless servitude. During this specific hour, Wei Zhao would intentionally invite a private tutor to instruct Khuong La in specialized, covert arts. I was strictly forbidden from remaining within earshot, nor did I harbor any desire to listen. Even without eavesdropping, it required no imagination to deduce that the lessons centered entirely upon mastering the ways to intoxicate a monarch, throw the imperial court into utter chaos, and pave the path for Wei Zhao to usurp the throne. During that precious hour of freedom, I would sometimes spend the time reading a few worn pages of a book, or wander quietly into the sprawling gardens to admire the quiet flora. My social standing within the luxurious manor was profoundly awkward—neither an official servant nor an honored guest. Everyone tacitly assumed I belonged entirely to Khuong La s household, meaning that even when I wandered alone through the distant gardens, no guard ever stepped forward to block my path. This oversight afforded me the rare opportunity to make clandestine contact with the estate s old gardener. In my past life, the formidable Prince Zhao had successfully unified the realm not merely due to his massive, battle-hardened armies, but largely because he had successfully planted deep-rooted spies within the palaces of every rival prince. The gardener tending the grounds of the Wei manor happened to be one of these hidden agents. Leveraging the vast reservoir of secret intelligence I retained from my previous existence, I subtly signaled my allegiance to Prince Zhao. Swiftly and decisively, Prince Zhao acted upon my precise counsel: he secretly recruited private guards, stockpiled high-grade crossbows and suits of armor, established secret mineral mines, seized fertile agricultural lands, and aggressively courted influential scholars and noble clans. Day by day, his sphere of influence expanded into an unstoppable force.

Meanwhile, Wei Zhao appeared to remain utterly fixated on his grand strategy of offering an absolute peerless beauty to the emperor to confound the court. He frequently visited Khuong La s quarters, showering her with iridescent gowns, rare silks, and priceless treasures worth a king s ransom, all in a desperate bid to win a single genuine smile from her lips. Beneath the pale glow of the moon, the two would wander hand in hand through the winding corridors, while he listened with infinite patience and gentleness to her trivial stories, even smiling as he chased glowing fireflies to amuse her. The depth of favor he lavished upon her bore an uncanny resemblance to the affection he had once bestowed upon me in our former life.

On one particular evening, the estate kitchens simmered a specialized nourishing broth, and fearing it would grow cold before consumption, they tasked me with delivering the ceramic container directly to Khuong La. Just as Khuong La stepped forward to receive the carved food box, Wei Zhao happened to be seated close beside her, his eyes brimming with unrestrained doting affection. By pure coincidence, my gaze met his for a brief, suspended second. Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of caution, I hurriedly averted my eyes, bowed deeply, and retreated into the shadows.

Yet that very night, Khuong La flew into an uncontrollable rage, subjecting me to a brutal punishment that forced me to kneel upon the freezing stone floor beneath the open window until the first light of dawn broke the horizon.

I had foolishly imagined you possessed some lofty, unblemished character, she sneered, staring down at me from above with a gaze dripping in absolute contempt.

To think you were simply plotting to secretly seduce the Prince all along. It is no wonder you tried so hard in the past to prevent me from coming to this manor—your true intention was to usurp my place all along.

A harsh, humorless laugh escaped her lips.

I daresay this mysterious veil you wear is merely another calculated trick designed to catch a man s eye.

She refused to entertain a single word of my explanations, and I saw no purpose in wasting breath on her deafening paranoia. Three grueling months passed in this fashion. Nourished by the finest delicacies and draped in luxurious silks, Khuong La blossomed into a creature of breathtaking, voluptuous beauty, her slender waist and graceful carriage capable of turning any man s head. Her proficiency in both dance and the zither had advanced by leaps and bounds; though she could never rival noble maidens trained from the cradle, she possessed more than enough talent to serve as a stunning, accomplished favorite in the imperial harem. The private tutor instructing her estimated that merely three or four more days of refinement would suffice.

As for myself, the palms of my hands had become hardened by thick, agonizing calluses, and the smooth skin of my youth had grown coarse and weathered under relentless labor. Dark, purple welts crisscrossed my arms—physical mementos left behind whenever Khuong La s paranoid suspicions flared and she took out her blinding rage upon my flesh. Lately, her temper had deteriorated into something monstrous, and the imaginative methods she employed to torment me grew increasingly cruel with each passing day. A desperate urge to flee the manor consumed me, yet the opportunity remained forever out of reach. Everyone within the estate regarded her word as law, and without her explicit permission, no soul was permitted to cross the threshold.

Fortunately, the faction loyal to Prince Zhao had grown to completely trust my loyalty. The old gardener passed me a coded message through the rustling hedges, whispering that in three days time, a dedicated team of rescuers would finally arrive to spirit me away into the night.