Chapter 2: Wear

Delivering pastries was a task devoid of any technical skill.  

Wei Tingchun played the part of a simple, honest fool, easily swayed by the words of the maid Noble Consort Gao had originally intended to sacrifice. Unable to refuse, she feigned hesitation.  

Moreover, the young eunuch’s body Wei Tingchun now inhabited was indeed that of a newcomer who had recently entered the palace from outside—and just happened to be from the Catering Division. It was practically fate providing the perfect scapegoat.  

Wei Tingchun pretended to be timid and indecisive, seemingly on the verge of agreeing but still wavering.  

As expected, the maid, who had been meant to die today, had finally found a replacement. She exerted every ounce of charm she had, her naturally sharp features forcibly softened into a warm, ingratiating smile.  

“Your name is Tingchun, isn’t it? Such a lovely name, such a handsome face.” The maid was older, nearing the age where she could leave the palace. If she failed to persuade this little eunuch today, she would be the one to die!  

“Tingchun, you don’t like working in the Catering Division, do you? If you help me with this errand, I’ll arrange for you to serve in the consort’s courtyard. There’s plenty of extra reward money during festivals.” The maid grabbed Wei Tingchun’s hand, gripping it tightly, then yanked the bracelet off her own wrist and forced it onto Wei Tingchun’s.  

Wei Tingchun winced in pain. No matter how delicate this body appeared, it was still unmistakably a man’s frame, far broader than a young girl’s slender wrist.  

But she endured silently, letting the maid slide the bracelet on. After all, items obtained during missions could be taken into the system space to exchange for points or used as currency in other worlds.  

A bracelet like this, worn by a mere maid, could fetch a decent sum in the modern world.  

The two stood too close. Wei Tingchun glanced up at her, unnerved by the stiffness of her smile.  

“Alright then… My godfather doesn’t like me wandering around, but I’ll help you just this once.”  

“Good!” The maid exclaimed loudly, then immediately realized she’d lost control of her excitement and pressed a hand to her chest to steady herself.  

Lowering her voice, she said, “Thank you, Tingchun.”  

This was the first time she had ever harmed someone, and her hands trembled. Yet, she was resolute—and cunning.  

She had pried into every detail of Wei Tingchun’s background but revealed nothing about herself, even obscuring which palace the pastries for Consort Jia had come from.  

Her target was Wei Tingchun, a newly arrived eunuch who knew nothing of the palace’s schemes.  

“Go on, hurry!” The maid gave Wei Tingchun a push, smiling as she sent her off to her doom.  

Once Wei Tingchun was out of sight, the maid turned and ran back, eager to report everything in detail to Noble Consort Gao.  

This maid, named Cailian, was a lowly sweeper from Noble Consort Gao’s outer courtyard, recently assigned to her palace. Noble Consort Gao had chosen her as the sacrificial pawn because she had previously worked in Consort Chen’s courtyard but was dismissed for being too dull.  

Noble Consort Gao’s plan was to have Cailian deliver the fatal pastries, killing the child in Consort Jia’s womb, then pin the blame on the Internal Affairs Department for assigning the maid without her knowledge.  

This way, she would kill two birds with one stone—neither of those little vipers would escape unscathed.  

But Cailian, who had barely been sent out, rushed back in a panic. She dared not lie or flee, knowing that either would mean certain death.

In this palace, the noble ladies could crush a servant more easily than an ant.

But she wasn’t foolish either. She knew she had completely broken this deadlock. Even if Noble Consort Gao was displeased, she wouldn’t actually have her killed.

Sure enough, after she finished speaking, Noble Consort Gao—who had been hidden behind the screen, filling the room with the rich fragrance of flowers without showing herself—shifted slightly and sat up.

Her voice was as melodious as a nightingale’s, sweet and clear.

“That little eunuch—is he truly new to the palace and without a master?”

“Yes, Your Highness!” Cailian kowtowed, sweat beading down her spine.

After waiting for nearly an hour, her knees nearly numb from kneeling, an elderly eunuch entered from outside the hall—the chief eunuch serving Noble Consort Gao.

The eunuch whispered something to Noble Consort Gao, who suddenly burst into laughter. Though her voice was charming, upon closer listening, it carried a hint of shrillness due to its thinness.

“How splendid that he’s dead,” she said lightly.

“You’re Cailian, aren’t you? You’ve done well. From now on, serve in the inner courtyard.”

Cailian had braced herself to lose half her life, as long as she could leave the palace with a breath left.

But she never expected Noble Consort Gao would promote her to the inner courtyard! A maid serving in the consort’s inner courtyard held a rank equivalent to a low-level palace official—she wouldn’t have to leave the palace!

Cailian jerked her head up, her eyes trembling beneath her thin eyelids.

Not daring to delay, she immediately kowtowed repeatedly. “Thank you for your grace, Your Highness! Thank you for your grace!”

As Cailian withdrew, Noble Consort Gao remained behind the screen, her graceful figure faintly visible through the intricate carvings. Her fingers, painted with the brightest rouge, resembled the tenderest petals on a branch—both delicate and sinful.

Meanwhile, Wei Tingchun—who had been nearly tricked to death (or more accurately, was about to finish the plot)—had just delivered the pastries and stepped out as dusk approached.

The palace was darkest at two times: before dawn, when the palace lanterns had burned out, and during this twilight hour, when they had yet to be lit.

This stretch of the palace path wasn’t a main thoroughfare, so even when lit, it remained dim and shadowy.

Wei Tingchun walked briskly along the path. According to the system’s timeline, she had less than three hours left before she would be exposed, arrested, and strangled to death at the Criminals Tribunal.

She planned to return to her quarters first and scavenge some food from her nominal godfather’s room.

If nothing else in this world, the pastries were truly delicious and exquisitely made.

As servants, they could only eat the leftovers from the nobles or the crudely made ones.

But they were made with real ingredients, mostly steamed, lightly flavored without being overly sweet, and melted in the mouth.

Just thinking about it made Wei Tingchun’s stomach growl.

The plot was nearly complete; all that was left was to wait for her death.

Still, she hadn’t returned empty-handed. She carried a food box given to her by one of Consort Jia’s maids to return to the Catering Division.

The maid’s exact words were: “Our lady is terribly frail—even His Majesty has personally instructed that her meals must be carefully prepared. Have the people in the Catering Division lost their minds, or are they deliberately insulting us?”

“This ginseng tea is so bland, as if boiled from tree roots—how can it be drunk? Must we wait for His Majesty himself to order them to brew proper ginseng tea for our lady?!”

The implication was that the ginseng tea had become so weak it was practically tasteless. Consort Jia, the esteemed lady carrying the Dragon Child, refused to drink it—it had to be brewed anew!

Wei Tingchun carried the food box out, initially planning to return to her own courtyard and drink it herself. Although this system-generated body of hers would soon perish beyond saving, she had never tasted ginseng tea before and wanted to try it.  

However, as she passed by the side hall of Full Moon Palace again, she instinctively glanced into the courtyard. In the dim light, she saw a dark figure still kneeling at the center.  

Wei Tingchun had already walked past—she needed to hurry back and await her capture.  

But as she walked, her steps gradually slowed.  

Wei Tingchun had always feared the cold the most. In her past life, all her padded clothes had been hand-me-downs from family members, altered to fit her. Forget style—they barely provided warmth.  

Her memory was sharp. She still remembered when she was just a few years old, venturing into the mountains with friends in winter to hunt pheasants—though they rarely caught anything. Even stumbling upon a dead field mouse would have counted as meat.  

But that winter was too harsh. She nearly didn’t make it back. In the end, an old man setting animal traps in the mountains found her, saving her from freezing to death in the snow.  

The child kneeling in that courtyard couldn’t have been more than five or six—about the same age she had been back then.  

An entire day.  

No—several days now.  

What kind of mother would torment her own child like this?  

Wei Tingchun’s steps came to a halt.  

Standing in the dim palace corridor, her slender shoulders bore no capacity for unexpected burdens. She was just an extra in this novel’s world, not even a proper side character.  

She was waiting for her own death—how could she afford to care about others?  

Yet she couldn’t move forward.  

After a long moment, Wei Tingchun felt her feet go numb, a stinging pain from the cold and numbness creeping up through her soles.  

She lifted the lid of the food box and touched the large teacup inside.  

It had cooled considerably. When she first received it, it had been steaming hot—now it was merely lukewarm.  

Wei Tingchun turned her head, glancing once more at the system’s timer.  

Then, silently, she turned around.  

Her usually unresponsive system suddenly flashed a warning in her mind.  

It reminded her that she had only two hours and fifteen minutes left before she would be caught and strangled. She needed to hurry to her designated spot, avoid unnecessary actions, and not break character.  

Wei Tingchun paused mid-step.  

She raised a hand, rubbing her forehead.  

But soon, she ignored the warning and quickly headed toward the small gate of that side courtyard—  

Once there, her heart pounded like thunder.  

She noticed that two lanterns in the courtyard had been lit at some point. Though the yard was still dim, she could now make out the small figure, rigid as a stone stele.  

A robe had been draped over his shoulders, but in the depths of winter, such flimsy covering was likely useless.  

After observing for a while, Wei Tingchun saw no maids in the courtyard. This must be the Eleventh Prince’s residence, and it seemed none of his attendants cared enough to tend to him properly.  

Summoning her courage, Wei Tingchun hunched over and darted inside, looking every bit like a thief sneaking in to steal a dog.  

She didn’t plan to do much—she couldn’t take the child away, nor could she give him extra clothing.

She couldn’t even speak more than a few words to him, nor could she alter the fate of any character in this world. In fact, she couldn’t even change her own fate—otherwise, she wouldn’t have died young and ended up here.  

But now, she had a bowl of hot tea—ginseng tea, no less.  

It was the ginseng tea that the pampered and favored Consort Jia had discarded. She could give some of it to the little boy.  

Wei Tingchun had already thrown caution to the wind. She had considered the consequences of being discovered—at worst, she’d be beaten, at worst, the death of Consort Jia’s Dragon Child would be blamed on Full Moon Palace.  

What else could happen? What could be worse than a five- or six-year-old child freezing to death?  

Wei Tingchun rushed boldly to the Eleventh Prince’s side. To make it easier, she dropped to her knees on the snowy ground, sliding forward from the momentum until her knees bumped against his.  

He didn’t react, but soon after, he fell backward with a dull thud onto the thin layer of snow covering the stone pavement.  

His face was deathly pale—as if he really had died!  

Wei Tingchun frantically checked for his breath, but in her panic, she couldn’t detect any.  

She quickly pressed her ear to the child’s chest to listen for his heartbeat.  

Thank goodness—it was still there.  

As she leaned over him, the bun on her head brushed against the side of his face.  

After being in the snow for so long, the warmth radiating from another living being—and being so close—should have drawn him in. But instead of seeking the heat, he recoiled.  

In his experience, those who approached him either wanted to humiliate him or to beat him.  

His eyes, which had been too weak to open, struggled to do so now, but he was too frozen to see clearly.  

Instinctively, he tried to raise his arms to shield his vital spots, but as soon as he did, his hands were seized in a pair of scorching palms.  

“Goddamn it, killing someone is one thing, but this…” Wei Tingchun had trained herself to stop cursing after entering the system space, but seeing this half-dead child, she couldn’t help but let it slip.  

She glanced around quickly, then without hesitation, pulled the boy into her arms and opened the food box, retrieving the now-lukewarm bowl of ginseng tea.  

She cradled the Eleventh Prince—or rather, propped him up from behind—his small body like a block of ice pressed against her.  

Wei Tingchun held the teacup to his lips, but he was clearly too far gone to respond, his jaw clenched tight.  

With no other choice, she pinched his icy cheeks lightly until, after several attempts, his mouth finally opened.  

She tilted the cup, letting a small amount of tea trickle into his mouth.  

Unbeknownst to her, what was merely cool tea to her felt like scalding oil to the child in her arms.  

He thought this was yet another new method of torture someone had devised for him, so he clamped his mouth shut and struggled weakly.  

But his body reflexively swallowed some of it, and his resistance was negligible.  

Soon, he realized it wasn’t boiling oil—it was ginseng tea.  

Had today’s torment ended?  

Usually, when the torment ended, someone would roll him up and throw him back.  

Why wasn’t he being rolled up today? In his daze, he even felt like he was being held gently in someone’s arms.  

This realization didn’t bring him comfort—only terror, as if he had been plunged into boiling oil or scalding water.

The only memory he had of being held in someone’s arms—rather than being dragged or carried—was when that old eunuch serving Consort Qing threw him into the water.

He wanted to struggle, but his body had already stiffened, leaving him with no strength at all.

Wei Tingchun brought the teacup to his lips again, and this time, driven by the instinct to survive, he parted his lips and took a small sip.

Then, unable to control himself, he reached out and clutched Wei Tingchun’s arm, the one holding the teacup.

His fingers were as cold as icicles.

Enduring the chill, Wei Tingchun watched as he resembled a stray puppy rescued from a blizzard. Having survived the initial numbness, he finally began to drink eagerly when the bottle was brought to his mouth.

At first, he only took small sips, but soon he was gulping down the liquid in large mouthfuls.

A large bowl of Ginseng Tea was quickly drained.

His little mouth continued to suckle noisily, and Wei Tingchun even felt a pang of guilt.

She should have at least brought more hot water—it wasn’t enough for him.

He clung to the teacup, unwilling to let go, but Wei Tingchun couldn’t stay any longer.

Yet she didn’t dare use too much force. She had heard that people frozen to the brink could easily suffer fractures or even broken bones from rough handling.

Of course, these were just warnings from the elders in the place she once lived.

Wei Tingchun carefully retrieved the teacup with extreme caution. Palace lanterns gradually lit up within the palace grounds as night fully descended.

But just as she prepared to withdraw her hand and stand, the little one seized her right thumb.

The palace lantern swayed in the cold wind as Wei Tingchun released the small ice block in her arms. From start to finish, she had only cursed once and said nothing more.

She didn’t dare speak.

Because stray cats on the roadside could only be fed once. But once you learned their names, remembered their markings, or touched them, emotions would inevitably form.

Wei Tingchun was avoiding developing any feelings of pity for the Eleventh Prince, the kind one might feel for a kitten or puppy. That was why she had fed him the Ginseng Tea with her back turned—she had deliberately avoided looking at his face.

But when she tried to pull her finger free and failed, she inevitably locked eyes with the little prince, who had just drunk a bowl of Ginseng Tea and finally opened his eyes.

A child of five or six, frozen nearly to death, wasn’t much to look at—frightening, even.

Yet Wei Tingchun found herself staring at the spot between his brows, momentarily stunned.

Even in the dim, flickering light of the palace lantern, she could clearly see the small mole there.

But her daze lasted only a moment, for she suddenly heard the crunch of footsteps on snow approaching from the direction of the moon gate! The sound grew louder—someone was clearly heading straight this way!

Wei Tingchun quickly stood, pulling her hand free, then swiftly lifted the Eleventh Prince’s small body to restore him to his previous kneeling position. She even picked up the scattered garment that had once been draped over him and wrapped it around him again.

Once everything was back in place, Wei Tingchun grabbed the food box and hurried away.