After Drugging the Female Lead with an Aphrodisiac (Ancient-Style Lily Futa) - Chapter 8

For several consecutive days Jiang Xiyue’s face remained dark and gloomy. The entire courtyard of maids turned into quails; not one dared even breathe loudly.

Jian Jia and Guan Ju were especially full of unspoken bitterness. Their young miss wouldn’t let them touch her at all—not only refusing help with changing clothes, but even when they tried to comb her hair, before the comb could get close she would screech at them to get lost.

What were they supposed to do? For several days now their miss had only done the simplest bun hairstyle, and even the Madam had started questioning whether they were slacking in their duties. Oh heavens, how could they be slacking? They simply weren’t allowed to serve her at all!

Yet their miss had already issued a strict order to keep their mouths shut. Everyone knew her temper—if she said she would do something, she would do it. If they really angered her, she could sell them off to the dirtiest brothels in the blink of an eye.

What else could they do? Every day they racked their brains to prepare the most suitable outfits and accessories, so that even if their miss refused their help dressing, she could at least make herself presentable enough to go out and be seen.

Then, on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month (Lantern Festival), the Madam could no longer stand seeing her daughter cooped up in the inner courtyard all day. She forced the maids to dress her up beautifully and send her out to view the lanterns.

Under her mother’s pressure, Jiang Xiyue had no choice but to let the maids pin her hair into a graceful “falling-cloud” bun adorned with a full head of pearl hairpins and ornaments. While strolling the streets, she “coincidentally” ran into Lu Qian.

Five days had passed, yet Lu Qian still wore that same indifferent, heartless expression—as though nothing in the world could touch her heart. Jiang Xiyue, who had been made to eat poorly and sleep badly all these days because of her, now saw the woman completely unaffected. How could she not be furious?

Did this person even know that every time she had to piss now, she carried that ugly, grotesque cock like a thief? The slightest sound of a maid walking in the courtyard could make her jump in fright.

Did she know that having this extra thing between her legs made her walk with extreme caution, terrified it would slip out of place and show through her skirt? For five straight nights her dreams had been filled with the terror of someone discovering her secret.

How could this person be so vicious? Not only had she taken her virginity, she had somehow infected her with this monstrous affliction. After committing such heinous, conscience-shattering deeds, she could still eat well and sleep soundly—truly black-hearted, rotten to the core, shameless and despicable!

Who knew how many other women she had already harmed? If heaven had eyes, it should strike this monster dead with a thunderbolt. As Jiang Xiyue paced away in furious escape, she inwardly cursed Lu Qian to a miserable death—completely unaware that the person she was cursing had already seen every bit of her panicked retreat.

Whether Lu Qian could sleep peacefully or not was unknown to Jiang Xiyue. All she knew was that when she returned home she tossed and turned all night on her pillow. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Lu Qian’s calm, unruffled face, infuriating her so much that the next morning she greeted her mother with a pair of dark, bruised eye circles that startled the Madam.

The Duchess Fang Wanhua was not someone easily fooled. After sending her daughter off, she immediately summoned Guan Ju for questioning. Remembering her miss’s murderous glare, Guan Ju could only stammer awkwardly that last night they had encountered the Heir of Ninghai Marquis—and under further pressing, admitted that Lu Qian had been accompanying Pan Jingyuan.

Fang Wanhua understood immediately. She had long known her daughter was infatuated with Pan Jingyuan and had always allowed Jiang Xiyue to pursue him, precisely because of the Duke’s prestigious family status. A legitimate young miss openly favoring a certain young man—who in the capital would dare touch that “proud flower” without eyes? Yet someone actually had the audacity to pluck it.

Fang Wanhua sneered coldly in her heart. Her Xiyue was simply too kind-hearted. When encountering such reckless, suicidal moths, one slap to kill them would suffice—why waste energy vomiting blood over it? Thus Fang Wanhua summoned her trusted maid and gave detailed instructions.

The very next day, the legitimate daughters of third-rank officials’ families in the capital received invitations: on the second day of the second lunar month—the Flower God Festival—the Duke’s mansion would host a lively “Thank the Flowers” banquet. All the young ladies were invited to admire the red blossoms, tread the green fields, and taste the exclusive hundred-flower cakes specially ordered by the Jiang household.

Of course, a group of high-born young gentlemen—including Pan Jingyuan—also received invitations. These were issued in the name of the Duke’s heir, stating that on that day wine would be set out in the garden for poetry composition in joint worship of the Flower God.

The Flower God Festival traditionally allowed young men and women to roam and enjoy themselves together, so the Duke’s mansion’s thinly veiled matchmaking banquet caused no controversy. On the contrary, it sparked admiration among many talented ladies and gentlemen; poems were already being composed in anticipation even before the banquet began.

Naturally, few people knew that Lu Qian—who was not born into wealth—had also received an invitation. It was addressed to the proprietress of Dao Fang Zhai, the shop that had undertaken the production of the hundred-flower cakes, inviting her to personally attend the Jiang mansion and join the flower banquet.

A-Yao stood behind the chair, craning her neck to read the invitation, her face full of disbelief: “Miss, this can’t be that Jiang Xiyue plotting some evil scheme again, can it?”

Although A-Yao had once boasted that her own miss would sooner or later step over the Duke’s mansion threshold, now that it seemed about to come true, she was full of suspicion. She couldn’t be blamed for thinking the worst—that second young miss of the Jiang family was full of black bile. Who knew what kind of demonic trick she was planning this time?

Lu Qian lifted her eyelids slightly and casually tossed the invitation onto the tea table: “Nothing more than the usual inner-residence catfights and female rivalry tricks—falling into water, framing, tripping, drugging.”

At the word “drugging,” her lips pressed together almost imperceptibly before she gave a cold laugh: “This person really never learns her lesson.”

“Then we’re not going?” A-Yao asked tentatively, only to see her miss’s half-smiling, half-mocking eyes drift toward the invitation.

“Go. Of course we go,” Lu Qian’s pale lips curved into a thin, chilly arc. “She’s gone to such trouble to prepare a grand show—how could we not go watch?”

And so, on the second day of the second lunar month, A-Yao watched wide-eyed as her own miss and the second young miss of the Duke’s mansion were pulled together and both fell into the lake.

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Author’s Note:

Lu Qian is a transmigrator—dear readers have already noticed, right?