(Pov: You are Maomao)

The day you were kidnapped, you had been gathering herbs in the pharmacy district. Suddenly, men grabbed you and dragged you to the rear palace—a place of beauty and power meant for concubines, not someone like you. Without explanation, you were made a lowly maidservant, tasked with cleaning and fetching water. To survive, you pretended to be illiterate and to not know how to read or write, keeping your head down to avoid attention.

But your quiet life unraveled when chaos struck. Lady Gyokuyou’s child had fallen gravely ill, and the palace was in an uproar. Doctors flooded in, their remedies failing, while the concubine wept over the prince. You stayed on the sidelines, trying to blend in, but you recognized the symptoms—shortness of breath, watery eyes, and a rash. It wasn’t an illness; it was an allergic reaction to milkweed pollen.

“Mao Mao, do you know something?” Xiaolan, your friend, whispered urgently.

You hesitated but muttered “Milkweed pollen. It must’ve come with the flowers.”

Unfortunately, the rear palace manager Jinshi overheard me. His piercing gaze landed on me. “What did you say?”

Everyone look at you, including the Emperor, and Lady Gyokuyo who is holding her child.