Quick Transmigration: The Supporting Female Lead is Too Arrogant - Chapter 4

When Yan Qing saw the large hand coming, her pupils contracted, and her heart almost stopped. Instinctively, she tried to dodge, but he was too quick. His hand gripped her neck, cutting off her breath instantly. The pain in her throat was intense, and hearing his words, she wanted to laugh. If not for her current state, she might have.

Her body twitched twice before going limp due to lack of oxygen.

Ji Yecheng was not a man of good temper. He tolerated the woman’s insolence for two reasons: Song Yu, and because she was different from other women he had met.

Daring and audacious, yet charming.

Such a character was interesting occasionally, but now, as his imperial dignity was challenged, Ji Yecheng was naturally angered.

As his anger flared, the surrounding servants knelt, shouting in unison, “Your Majesty, calm your anger!”

Only Yan Qing, gripped by the throat, clenched her teeth and remained silent. The pain in her throat was severe, and Ji Yecheng’s grip was indeed harsh. She could barely breathe, and soon her vision began to blur from lack of oxygen.

Yet, she did not beg for mercy. Her hands hung limply at her sides, clenched tightly, suppressing her survival instinct, waiting quietly for death.

She even prayed silently for him to use more force so she could complete her mission.

Just as she was about to lose consciousness, the grip on her neck suddenly loosened, and she was thrown to the ground. Ji Yecheng looked down at her from above, his expression fierce and terrifying. “Do you want to die so badly?”

Not resisting at all and having no will to live, this woman piqued his interest.

He had thought she was merely a lovesick woman acting on impulse, but she genuinely wanted to die.

Was Song Yu truly that fortunate to have a woman so devoted to him?

As the air rushed back into her lungs, the pain in her throat intensified, draining her face of color. The pain made her cough uncontrollably, leaving her unable to speak. “Cough… cough…”

“Your Grace.” Qing Shan quickly supported her.

The stone slabs were hard and uncomfortable. Yan Qing, with Qing Shan’s help, managed to sit up slightly, but she was too weak to stand. Her head was spinning, and a buzzing noise in her ears prevented her from understanding her surroundings or hearing Ji Yecheng’s words.

Yet, despite being ignored, Ji Yecheng did not get angry. He glanced at Jiang Wende and said, “Summon the imperial physician.”

“Yes.” Jiang Wende immediately ran off.

Soon, a strong palace maid carried Yan Qing to the Shenxiang Pavilion and laid her on a chaise lounge, surrounded by a crowd, with Ji Yecheng sitting on a stone bench nearby.

The imperial physician hurried over, nearly dragged there by Jiang Wende. Just as he was about to catch his breath, he saw Ji Yecheng and immediately held his breath, kneeling, “Your Majesty.”

“Examine her,” Ji Yecheng ordered, pointing at Yan Qing.

The imperial physician quickly got up and began his examination.

One glance and he saw the bruised neck, marked with clear fingerprints. The physician didn’t need to ask to know it was the emperor who had caused it. After checking her pulse and other symptoms, he reported, “Your Majesty, the Noble Consort is not seriously injured, but her throat will need time to heal. She won’t be able to speak for a while. I’ll prescribe some medicine for internal and external use to help her recover faster.”

“Mm.” The young, ruthless emperor narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly, seeming indifferent, although his fingers lightly drummed on his knee.

The imperial physician wrote the prescription, and Qing Shan took it immediately.

After giving some additional instructions, the physician took his leave.

The pavilion fell silent once more.

…

Despite the number of people around, no one dared to make a sound, except for the occasional soft groan from Yan Qing, who lay on the chaise lounge, frowning in discomfort.

Hearing the sound, Ji Yecheng slowly opened his eyes, observing the woman on the chaise. Her pale face contrasted starkly with the bruises on her neck. Her light pink palace attire revealed her slender neck and beautiful collarbones, making her look delicate, as if she might break with a touch.

Ji Yecheng recalled the sensation from earlier, where he had nearly snapped her fragile neck. Why had he stopped?

Perhaps it was because she had been utterly defenseless in his grip, as fragile as a clay doll, making him subconsciously hesitate to use his full strength.

His gaze shifted slightly, noticing the two peonies she still held in her hands. The stems were crushed, green sap staining her fair fingers.

Ji Yecheng bent down slightly, taking the peonies from her hand and playing with them.

“She has good taste,” he murmured.

These two were the most splendid blooms in the garden.

“Bring a vase.”

“Yes.”

Jiang Wende quickly fetched a white vase with blue patterns. The slender, elegant vase had a lovely sheen, and he ran breathlessly to get it, knowing that only the best would do for the emperor.

Ji Yecheng casually placed the flowers in the vase, his actions seemingly random, but Jiang Wende held it steadily, not daring to let go.

At this moment, Yan Qing had recovered somewhat. She propped herself up, scanning her surroundings. When her eyes landed on Ji Yecheng, she glared at him before attempting to leave.

But the palace servants, loyal to Ji Yecheng, did not move without his command.

Once again blocked, Yan Qing grew even angrier. Instinctively, she tried to speak, but the pain in her throat was excruciating. The single word she managed to utter was hoarse and strained.

Damn it, she was furious.

Not only had she failed to die, but she had also suffered greatly.

Yan Qing was torn between laughing and crying. She had survived yet another encounter with this emperor who killed as easily as drinking water.

But this man, who had attacked her several times, each time causing significant pain, made her both fearful and vengeful. She needed to find a way to avenge herself, even if she couldn’t kill him.

Her round eyes, now more pronounced with anger, glared at him fiercely, though her small, angry pout undermined her intimidating look.

Ji Yecheng waved his hand. “Let the Noble Consort leave.”

“Yes.” The eunuchs responded and immediately stepped aside.

Seeing him issue orders so imperiously only made Yan Qing angrier. She angrily swept the fruit platter off the table before storming away.

With a crash, the fruit platter hit the ground, spilling the emperor’s favorite purple grapes and ice cubes, several rolling to Ji Yecheng’s feet.

Jiang Wende’s heart skipped a beat, his face twitching with nervousness.

Even though he had seen the Noble Consort’s behavior towards the emperor before, he still couldn’t get used to it.

If the court officials saw this, they would have her beheaded, regardless of her being the Prime Minister’s daughter.

Yet… the emperor…

Ji Yecheng’s eyes moved slightly as he looked at the vibrant garden. “Have some peonies transplanted. The best ones.”

Transplanted to where? There was no need for him to specify.

Jiang Wende quickly nodded in agreement, carefully asking, “And the vase?”

“Leave it in Taiji Palace.”

“Yes!”

Silence returned once more.

After a long pause, a slightly puzzled and uncertain voice came from the pavilion, “Am I… very fond of her?”

As a loyal supporter, Jiang Wende immediately nodded, “Of course! Very fond.”

So far, no one else in the palace had been treated this way by the emperor. It was unique, indeed a sign of favor.

Ji Yecheng, satisfied, continued to half-close his eyes, enjoying the moment.

What would it be like when Song Yu returned?

The old man always thought the Song family would threaten his throne. He would test it and see what a heartbroken Song family scion looked like.

***

What happened in the imperial garden did not go unnoticed by the palace maids and eunuchs. When the Noble Consort returned with obvious bruises on her neck, the previously quiet harem began to stir secretly.

In Consort Xian’s Yongxiang Palace

“Did the emperor really almost strangle her to death?” Consort Xian asked in disbelief as a palace servant reported the news. “But she’s the Prime Minister’s daughter.”

“Your Grace,” the servant replied, “Even if she’s the Prime Minister’s daughter, such an offense against the emperor… it’s already showing face to the Prime Minister that she wasn’t killed outright.”

Consort Xian bit her lip, a look of regret crossing her delicate features. She muttered softly, “Why couldn’t she have just died?”