~PROLOGUE~

"Shouldn't you be changing behind the partition?" Yang Ning asked, her voice laced with awkwardness and surprise as Zheng Liang casually began undoing his robe in front of her.

Zheng Liang gave her a lazy smile, his voice dripping with nonchalance. "Too much of a hassle."

"Too much of a hassle?" she repeated, incredulous. "It's literally right there!" She pointed toward the partition, feeling her cheeks flush as she realized where this was heading.

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers. "Why don't you help me?" His voice held an unmistakable edge, commanding and deliberate.

Yang Ning's eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. "Help you... with what exactly?" Her voice faltered as she tried to mask her sudden fluster. "There are plenty of maids and servants to do this. Why do you need me?"

Zheng Liang's face darkened, his eyes narrowing. "Do you think I'd let anyone else touch me? Only you, Yang Ning. You're my wife."

Her heart raced as the weight of his words settled over her. She bit her lip, her cheeks burning. "But... I'm not exactly skilled at this kind of thing," she muttered, her voice trailing off.

Zheng Liang's gaze didn't waver, his tone growing more firm. "You'll learn." His eyes gleamed with intent. "Now, help me out of this."

Flustered and unable to refuse, Yang Ning stepped closer, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the ties of his robe. "So many maids around, but it has to be me," she mumbled under her breath, her face flushed a deep shade of red. As she tugged at the knot, the robe loosened, slipping open slightly to reveal his bare chest beneath.

Her breath caught as her eyes fell on the scars etched across his muscular torso. Her teasing tone evaporated, replaced with concern. "These... don't they hurt?" she asked softly, her fingertips hovering over the marks, unsure whether to touch them.

Zheng Liang's expression softened, though a glint of playfulness lingered in his eyes. He reached for her hand, guiding it to his chest. "They don't hurt anymore," he murmured, his voice low and inviting, "but if you touch me like that... it might."

Yang Ning's pulse quickened, her fingers still resting against his warm skin. The proximity, the heat radiating between them—it was overwhelming. She tried to keep her composure, but her voice came out shakier than she intended. "You're impossible," she muttered, though her hands lingered on his chest as if they had a will of their own.

Without warning, Zheng Liang cupped her face, his lips crashing against hers in a sudden, intense kiss. Her eyes flew open in shock before slowly closing, her resistance melting away as she leaned into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. His kiss was possessive, and electrifying, leaving her breathless as he pulled back just enough to let their lips part.

"Still think I'm impossible?" he teased, his breath warm against her lips, his forehead resting gently against hers.

Yang Ning's chest rose and fell quickly, trying to catch her breath, her face burning from the intensity. She bit her lip, fighting the smile tugging at her mouth. "No," she whispered, leaning in closer, her lips brushing against his. "But you're definitely trouble."

****

"What's happening? Why hasn't she woken up yet?" The senior maid burst into the chamber, her voice sharp, causing the young maid beside the lady to jump in fright.

The young maid, Xiaowei, had been carefully tending to her lady, wiping her burning body with a cloth soaked in cold water. She quickly set the cloth aside and scrambled to her feet to greet the senior maid. "Senior Maid, Miss... her fever is still too high. I've been using the cold towel, but she still hasn't opened her eyes," Xiaowei stammered, her voice trembling.

For two days now, her lady had been consumed by a high fever, unconscious. The household forbade them from calling a physician, claiming it would be a waste of money. Xiaowei's worry had only deepened as the hours stretched on without any signs of improvement.

Nervously, Xiaowei glanced up at the senior maid, searching for any flicker of compassion on her cold face. But there was none. The senior maid served the Mistress of the household, the second wife of the lord, and held more power than any of the other maids.

The Mistress, young and beautiful, had captured the lord's heart with her beauty and, more importantly, had birthed a son—the heir to the household. The previous Mistress had not been as fortunate. And because of that, Xiaowei's lady, the eldest daughter of the household, was treated like an afterthought.

"Senior Maid, I think we should call the physician. Her condition is worsening, and she might not recover in time for the banquet tomorrow," Xiaowei dared to speak, her voice small and uncertain.

The senior maid scoffed, her lips curling in disdain. "You think? Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" she snapped, stepping forward and grabbing a fistful of Xiaowei's hair.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Just because you serve the eldest daughter doesn't mean you have a say in this house. She may be engaged to the Crown Prince, but that doesn't change anything here."

Xiaowei winced, tears springing to her eyes as the senior maid tugged harder on her hair. "You're nothing more than a maid, serving a master who means nothing in this household. Now, stop talking back and do your job," the senior maid hissed, finally releasing her grip.

Xiaowei fell to the floor, gasping as the pain subsided. The senior maid looked down at her coldly. "Tomorrow is the Crown Prince's birthday banquet. If she doesn't wake up by then, throw a bucket of cold water on her and get her dressed. She must attend. That's an order from the Mistress," she said, her tone icy.

Xiaowei, still kneeling, nodded rapidly, her heart pounding in fear.

"This banquet is important for the household. If anything goes wrong, your lady will suffer the consequences. Understood?" With that, the senior maid kicked Xiaowei in the ribs, one last reminder of her authority, before storming out of the chamber.

...

In the dimly lit room, the young lady lay still on the bed, her delicate frame covered in dull, white garments, matching her pale complexion. Her cheeks were flushed from the fever, but her lips were dry and cracked, making her look fragile and weak.

Yang Ning had always been frail. After her mother's passing, her health had only worsened due to neglect and lack of care. As the eldest daughter of the household, she should have been cherished, yet all she received were harsh words from her stepmother and indifference from her father.

Her father, the household lord, had no time for her. His attention was solely on his son, the heir. For Yang Ning, he offered nothing but a cold shoulder, treating her like a burden except when it came to advancing his political standing.

Yang Ning had once dreamed of escaping this house through marriage. But her hopes were dashed when her father arranged her engagement to the Crown Prince. She had no choice in the matter. Her marriage was a political move for her father to secure favor with the Emperor.

In her father's eyes, she was only valuable as the Crown Prince's future wife. But in the day-to-day life of the household, she was nothing—an afterthought, a piece of furniture gathering dust.

How could someone like her, constantly burdened by hatred and disdain, remain healthy? Even a plant withers when neglected. And Yang Ning was no different. The lack of love and constant judgment had worn her down.

Xiaowei sighed deeply, watching her lady lie motionless on the bed. She couldn't do much to help, but she would do what little she could. She picked up the basin to change the water, hoping to bring some relief with the cold towel.

As Xiaowei left the room, the girl on the bed stirred. After two days of lying still, her fingers twitched ever so slightly.