A Vicious Female Supporting Character Is Meant to Become The Female Lead’s Wife (Futa) - Chapter 3

The method of drugging the wine was crude and shamelessly blatant.

But that blatant display was precisely what Jiang Yan wanted. She intended to place the drugged wine right in front of the Song family and force them to drink it. If they died, then their lives had simply been too short. If they disgraced themselves under its effects, then the Song family had willingly debased themselves.

Within this imperial city, Jiang Yan was the law.

Even if Song Qingwu were ruined tomorrow, who would dare step forward and accuse the Grand Princess of doing it? The old emperor would be delighted to see it happen, while the court officials cared only about protecting themselves.

This was an extreme abuse of power from the very beginning.

Song Qingji lifted the cup of crystal-clear Autumn Dew White wine to her lips.

There was a faintly astringent herbal scent.

Since she had entered this game to uncover what lay beneath it, she had to let the person who set the trap believe it had worked.

Without hesitating, she tilted her head back and drained the cup.

As the wine flowed down her throat, the palace maid saw that she had swallowed every drop. A dark gleam of triumph flashed through her eyes.

“Young Master Song certainly can hold his liquor. Sobering tea has been prepared in the side hall. This servant will accompany you there to change your clothes and rest.”

Song Qingji played along and rose, following the palace maid through the covered corridor.

The lively sounds of strings and woodwinds continued at the waterside pavilion.

Jiang Yan sat in the seat of honor, idly turning the golden goblet in her hand. From the corner of her eye, she saw the palace maid return alone and give an almost imperceptible nod. A mocking smile immediately curved her lips.

That worthless son of the Song family must already have been locked away like a rutting dog.

Jiang Yan beckoned, and her personal maid, Cui Wei, quietly stepped forward.

“Go to the side hall,” Jiang Yan ordered in a low, vicious voice. “The drug is potent, and Young Master Song may not be able to endure it. Go inside and ‘serve’ him. Make certain that the Song family’s legitimate son cannot walk out that door tomorrow. Remember, leaving him neither man nor ghost would be ideal. Make as much noise as possible.”

Cui Wei immediately understood and withdrew to carry out the order.

Jiang Yan raised her cup and finished the remaining wine.

By tomorrow, the Song family’s reputation as an upright scholarly clan would become the greatest joke in the capital, all because of Song Qingwu’s disgraceful behavior.

Song Qingji always wore that insufferably compassionate expression in the imperial court. Jiang Yan wondered how that lofty face would twist when she learned her older brother had been reduced to a useless wreck.

The thought greatly improved Jiang Yan’s mood, and she made an exception by drinking several more cups.

The alcohol soon went to her head. The cloying scent of cosmetics in the waterside pavilion mixed with the sweltering breeze, making her increasingly irritable.

Halfway through the banquet, Jiang Yan rubbed between her brows. A sudden spark of interest made her want to see for herself what pathetic state Song Qingwu had been tortured into.

She dismissed her attendants and walked alone through the covered corridor toward the secluded courtyard.

Everything around her was silent.

Considering the potency of the drug, obscene noises should have been coming from the room by now. Instead, the side hall’s doors and windows were tightly shut, and there was nothing but deathly silence inside.

Jiang Yan frowned.

Cui Wei had always handled matters efficiently. Could something have gone wrong?

She reached out and pushed open the door.

The hall was dim, illuminated only by a narrow sliver of light passing through the gaps in the lattice windows. The air carried an astringent herbal scent mixed with the faint smell of blood.

There was no filthy scene of two people coupling as she had imagined.

Cui Wei was nowhere to be seen.

Only one person lay slumped over the red sandalwood table in the middle of the room.

Song Qingwu.

At the creak of the door hinge, the person sprawled across the table went still.

Then “he” slowly raised his head in the darkness and looked at Jiang Yan, who stood in the doorway.

Those eyes had been reddened by the drug, but the instant their gazes met, Jiang Yan’s breath caught and her heart gave a violent thump.

That look…

It was far too familiar.

The person before her was supposed to be a frivolous, incompetent fool. Yet the look he had just given her was remarkably similar to that of Song Qingji—the eternally upright and untouchable woman at court who irritated her so much that she wanted to grind her teeth.

No.

Someone like Song Qingji would never impersonate another person and sneak into a banquet.

Jiang Yan suppressed the strange flutter in her chest and swept her gaze around the hall.

“Where is Cui Wei?” she demanded coldly.

A bloodstained shard of porcelain slipped from Song Qingji’s palm and struck the green bricks with a crisp clatter.

“Is Your Highness looking for her?”

Song Qingji’s voice was hoarse. She raised her chin, gesturing toward the redwood folding screen in the inner chamber.

Jiang Yan followed her gaze.

A section of a pink palace maid’s skirt protruded from the shadows beneath the screen. Cui Wei lay motionless on the floor.

Jiang Yan’s expression instantly darkened.

Cui Wei was not merely a maid who served tea and poured water. She was one of the finest covert guards in the Grand Princess’s residence. Song Qingwu was a worthless fool who knew nothing beyond cockfighting and racing dogs. His hands were not even steady enough to wield a knife.

How could he have silently taken her down?

“You killed her?” Jiang Yan’s voice was glacial.

With a turn of her wrist, a poisoned needle concealed inside her sleeve was already clasped between her fingers.

“She isn’t dead. I compressed her carotid artery and temporarily deprived her brain of blood. She will remain unconscious for around four hours.”

But taking Cui Wei down had already required everything Song Qingji had. She had no strength left and could only brace herself against the edge of the table as she stood upright.

Jiang Yan did not understand what a “carotid artery” was, but the way this person stubbornly maintained that upright composure struck her as both absurd and offensive.

Song Qingji stepped back twice, deliberately putting some distance between them.

“If Your Highness wishes to destroy the Song family’s reputation, then this subject will allow Your Highness to succeed. This subject drank the wine and is enduring the drug. The person Your Highness wishes to humiliate is standing before you now.”

She endured the scorching heat churning deep in her lower abdomen and forced herself not to inhale the cool fragrance emanating from Jiang Yan.

“But this subject asks Your Highness to consider what comes next. What happens after the Song family falls? The Song family holds no real authority in the imperial court and has never formed a political faction. For three generations, we have done only one thing—study. Your Highness has gone to tremendous lengths to destroy an upright scholarly family uninvolved in the struggle between factions. What benefit does that bring to Your Highness’s great ambitions, apart from disheartening every scholar beneath heaven and forcing the Censorate into an irreconcilable feud with you?”

Jiang Yan stared blankly for a moment before laughing in anger.

The Song breed truly was all the same.

He had already been drugged and locked inside a secluded hall, yet he was still maintaining that insufferable air of concern for the country and its people while lecturing her about affairs of state.

The way this fool pretended to be calm and filled his mouth with talk of benevolence and morality was exactly like Song Qingji’s infuriating behavior in the imperial court.

Originally, Jiang Yan had merely planned for Cui Wei to ruin him and humiliate him however she pleased. Afterward, he would have no choice but to marry into the Grand Princess’s residence, where he would be reduced to a captive and servant.

But as Jiang Yan looked at this face, which bore an eighty-percent resemblance to her nemesis Song Qingji, she suddenly changed her mind.

If she could not break Song Qingji’s backbone in the imperial court, then what if she pinned Song Qingji’s own older brother beneath her and fucked him like a dog?

Once Song Qingwu had become her obedient plaything, Song Qingji would be forced to lower that noble head in humiliation whenever they met and address Jiang Yan as Sister-in-law.

This double psychological humiliation excited Jiang Yan.

“Young Master Song’s lofty opinions are remarkably similar to your younger sister’s.”

Smiling, Jiang Yan stepped forward.

Song Qingji’s brows knitted slightly. She immediately stepped back again, continuing until her spine pressed against the cold wall and there was nowhere left to retreat.

“Your Highness, do not come any closer.”

Song Qingji was afraid that she would lose control and hurt Jiang Yan.

Jiang Yan laughed aloud.

“Young Master Song is certainly chaste. Unfortunately for you, you encountered this princess.”

She closed the remaining distance between them, raised her hand, and teasingly pulled open Song Qingji’s sweat-soaked collar.

Although Song Qingji had been drugged, her reaction had not been especially intense. This body had remained free from lust for many years, and she had never felt any desire to touch herself.

But as Jiang Yan drew closer and that intoxicating fragrance enveloped her, Song Qingji was startled by an unfamiliar surge of pleasure rising through her lower abdomen.

The cock that had lain dormant for more than twenty years began to stiffen.

Song Qingji froze.

Across both her previous and current lives, she had never experienced such an embarrassing physical reaction.

“Your Highness…”

She tried to reach out and push Jiang Yan away, but Jiang Yan shoved her backward onto the bed.

Song Qingji struggled to sit up, but Jiang Yan had already climbed over and straddled her.

Her flustered cry of “Your Highness” delighted Jiang Yan.

The stubborn composure of the person beneath her had finally cracked. The pleasure of trampling an untouchable flower from a lofty mountain into the mud was far more intense than mere physical torture.

“Stop pretending to be a righteous gentleman.”

Jiang Yan sneered and pressed one knee against Song Qingji’s leg as she tried to rise, pinning her firmly to the bed.

With one hand, Jiang Yan tore open the elaborate ties of her gold-embroidered palace gown. Her outer robe slipped halfway down, revealing the thin, close-fitting red silk garment beneath and outlining her breathtakingly seductive figure.

From above, she gazed down at Song Qingji with malicious triumph, as though admiring prey that had fallen into her trap.