In just an instant, Wu Lang quickly lowered his head, not daring to meet Xue Yunyi’s gaze.
She held the step-shake hairpin in her hand, its pearl tassels draping over the frost-white satin on her knee and swaying gently before Wu Lang’s eyes. Amid the glistening snowy luster, there was faintly a dark red bloodstain.
Wu Lang’s heart lurched in panic. The blood seeping from his knees had dirtied those beautiful pearls.
If Xue Qingzhi saw it, she would surely fly into a rage. She might even order someone to dig out his kneecaps, just to teach him a harsh lesson.
The mere thought made Wu Lang tremble all over.
Xue Yunyi also noticed the blood on the pearls. A flicker of reluctance passed through her eyes. She let out a faint, almost imperceptible sigh and gently wiped away the stain with her fingertip until no trace remained.
Wu Lang’s eyes widened in disbelief. She… she didn’t find him filthy?
He was often punished, and bleeding was a common occurrence. Whenever Xue Qingzhi saw it, she would grimace in disgust, calling him utterly repulsive before ordering the palace servants to bring cold water and roughly rinse him off.
He stared at that fingertip, white as jade, his heart pounding wildly. But Xue Yunyi had already withdrawn her hand and passed the pair of step-shake hairpins to a serving maid at her side.
She was leaving.
A sudden sense of loss washed over Wu Lang.
“Thank you, little sister,” Xue Yunyi said, turning her face slightly and speaking flatly to Xue Qingzhi. “You’ve been sitting here for so long; you must be tired. No need to see me out.”
Xue Qingzhi gritted her teeth, forcing a smile onto her face. “Take care, Imperial Sister.”
The wheelchair rolled away into the distance.
Qingdai glanced at her mistress’s darkening expression and wisely stepped forward to shut the hall doors tight.
The moment Xue Yunyi departed, Xue Qingzhi’s face turned stormy.
“Is she doing this on purpose? She has plenty of jewelry in my palace, yet she fixates on that pair of step-shake hairpins—treasures I went to great lengths to beg from Father Emperor. And now she takes them just like that!”
Xue Qingzhi was furious. She clutched her chest with one hand while sweeping the yellow-glazed purple sand vase from the side table with the other. It shattered with a piercing crash, porcelain shards scattering across the floor and a few nicking Wu Lang. The youth flinched but didn’t dare evade them. He simply knelt there in silence, head bowed.
Catching sight of Wu Lang kneeling nearby, Xue Qingzhi found an outlet for her rage. She yanked the iron chain around his neck, dragging him several steps forward before raining slaps down on him.
“You filthy wretch, always seducing people! Don’t think This Palace didn’t notice—Imperial Sister only took those hairpins because she pitied you. She has always been proud and aloof; when has she ever asked anyone for anything? Today, she actually…”
The more Xue Qingzhi said, the angrier she grew, her strikes landing harder.
The sharp sounds of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the bedchamber.
Wu Lang’s vision blackened from the blows. He dug his nails into his palms to stay conscious. The sharp porcelain shards pierced his knees like needles. His mind grew hazy, and he mumbled apologies on autopilot. Yet in his thoughts, Xue Yunyi’s clear eyes surfaced.
When she had looked at him, her gaze had been so gentle—no disgust, no revulsion, only pity and reluctance.
Wu Lang almost wondered if it was all an illusion.
Born lowly, he had only ever received cold stares and mockery from others. No one had ever bestowed upon him such a soft expression. Never.
Fearing her mistress might harm herself in her anger, Qingdai cautiously stepped forward. “Princess, please calm down. Beating him will only make your hands hurt too.”
Only then did Xue Qingzhi stop. Still fuming, she kicked Wu Lang a few times and coldly commanded, “Slap yourself. Don’t stop until This Palace is satisfied.”
“Yes.”
The youth kept his head lowered, utterly submissive. He raised his hand and struck his own face.
Xue Qingzhi had expected some excuse from him, but Wu Lang simply endured her wrath in silence. The fire in her chest burned hotter. She opened her mouth, struggling for more words of rebuke, then spat through clenched teeth, “Remember this: Imperial Sister is the reason you’re being punished today.”
At those words, a spark of life flickered in Wu Lang’s indifferent, icy eyes. His movements paused briefly as he softly replied, “This Base Slave remembers.” Then he numbly raised his arm again and brought it down hard.
He didn’t resent that Eldest Princess.
Without her pity today, just the dirtied pearls on the hairpins would have earned him a punishment a hundred times harsher than this.
His face burned fiercely. His pale cheeks soon swelled red and soft, like they had been brushed with alluring rouge—pitifully so.
With no order from Xue Qingzhi to stop, Wu Lang dared not slacken.
His starved body was already frail; it couldn’t withstand such treatment. Black spots danced before his eyes, his consciousness fading. A sudden dizzy spell gripped his mind before clarity slowly returned.
Wu Lang suddenly thought of that pearl again—the one touched by Xue Yunyi’s fingertip.
He wished he were that pearl, so she could gently wipe away all his filth and wretchedness.
“Have you not eaten? Trying to fool This Palace with that weak effort?” Xue Qingzhi’s angry voice yanked him back to reality.
Wu Lang paused, then silently struck harder. Purple bruises soon bloomed across his already swollen cheeks.
The slapping sounds continued without end.
The youth remained as docile as ever.
Xue Qingzhi knew Wu Lang wasn’t slacking, but she hated seeing him silently endure. Even in punishment, those beautiful black eyes stayed cold and emotionless.
She didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
The hall fell abruptly silent. Xue Qingzhi frowned, about to berate him for stopping without permission. Turning, she saw the youth had collapsed to the floor, his long raven lashes resting still like butterfly wings, his lips a frightening pallid white.
Xue Qingzhi froze for a moment, truly flustered for the first time.
At noon, with the sun blazing high, brilliant golden light bathed the crystalline pearls in a soft, radiant glow.
“Truly a priceless treasure,” Mo Ying remarked, eyeing the step-shake hairpin in Xue Yunyi’s hand. She pursed her lips and whispered, “Even when the Empress was around, His Majesty never bestowed such exquisite jewelry on her.”
Xue Yunyi smiled faintly and held the hairpin higher, squinting to inspect the pearls’ quality.
“Don’t say such things in the future. Others might overhear and start unwanted rumors.”
“Yes, this servant understands.”
Mo Ying responded glumly and pushed the wheelchair onward, stopping by a lotus pond where the blooms had yet to open. “By the way, this servant had someone keep watch. After Young Master Wu of the Wu Family left Ninghua Palace, he returned straight to the Wu Mansion. He should be having lunch there now. Shall this servant invite him over, Your Highness?”
Xue Yunyi considered it. “Very well. Say that This Palace has some medical questions I don’t understand and wish to consult him on. Invite him into the palace.”
Mo Ying chirped happily, “This servant will see to it right away.”
Xue Yunyi smiled. For her crippled legs, this girl Mo Ying cared even more than she did herself.
After basking in the courtyard sun for a while, Xue Yunyi had the maids wheel her back to the bedchamber. She reclined in the chair with eyes closed, dozing lightly. Soon, Mo Ying announced from outside that Wu Hanyu had arrived.
“Show him in,” Xue Yunyi said, sitting up straight.
Wu Hanyu followed Mo Ying into the hall, head lowered, and bowed to Xue Yunyi.
“Greetings, Eldest Princess.”
Xue Yunyi nodded faintly. “Have a seat.”
Wu Hanyu clenched his fingers, sitting uneasily on the low stool a servant brought. When Mo Ying offered tea, he held the cup like a hot potato, blowing futilely at the steam without daring to drink.
Xue Yunyi glanced at him unhurriedly. “Young Master Wu needn’t be nervous. This Palace has heard of your mastery of medicine, so I invited you here to examine my leg ailment.”
Wu Hanyu tugged at his lips in a strained smile. “Don’t laugh, Your Highness, but as a child I was playful and only picked up a few superficial tricks from my mother—nothing but foolery. When it comes to true medical skill, the Imperial Physicians are miracle healers who snatch life from the jaws of death, far superior to me. If even they are helpless…”
Wu Hanyu trailed off.
“That’s too modest, Young Master Wu. Though This Palace resides deep in the palace, I’ve often heard how you’ve opened clinics across the Capital City these years, curing many bizarre ailments. The common folk praise you endlessly, and Father Emperor himself has commended you. Years ago, Madam Wu used the Cheng Chun treatment to bring the Late Emperor back from the brink when his body was failing. Since you inherited her mantle, your skills must be exceptional. Moreover, the palace physicians rely mostly on outdated methods from ancient texts, while folk remedies often prove surprisingly effective.”
Xue Yunyi took a sip of tea, her voice calm. “Does Young Master Wu think This Palace is right?”
Wu Hanyu was speechless. He awkwardly wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve, thinking to himself that this Eldest Princess seemed quiet and refined, but she was far harder to deal with than the Second Princess. It was his own fault—today at Ninghua Palace, in his haste over the marquisate, he’d let something slip to Xue Yunyi and landed himself in this mess.
In truth, his earlier words were half modesty, half honesty.
As Madam Wu’s only son, she had placed great hopes on him. The moment he could recognize characters, she had him studying medicinal herbs, learning acupuncture techniques, and memorizing medical texts. Wu Hanyu had no interest in those dry, incomprehensible tomes. He would always sneak away from his books and drag the household servants off to excitedly play backgammon and pai gow. Every time Madam Wu caught him, he inevitably earned himself a sound beating.
The stricter Madam Wu became, the more resistant he grew to studying medicine. In a fit of pique, he even burned several precious rare editions of medical classics. By contrast, his lowly-born younger brother, Wu Lang, would always slip into Madam Wu’s study unnoticed by the servants to read books on the sly.
At first, Madam Wu was furious at Wu Hanyu’s laziness. But gradually, she realized he simply had no talent for it—forcing the issue would be pointless. In the end, she gave up.
Madam Wu might have resigned herself to it, but the Wu family name could not afford to fall. The position of Marquis of Pingkang had been earned through her miraculous healing arts. If word got out that she had raised a son who knew nothing of medicine, people would laugh them into the dust.
Wu Hanyu had grown up amid endless praise. Friends of the Wu family often remarked that as Madam Wu’s son, he was bound to outdo his mother one day. Buoyed by such acclaim, he had earned a fine reputation at a young age and had no desire to be looked down upon. After Madam Wu’s death, he sent people far and wide across the provinces to recruit skilled old physicians, lavishing gold on them to work at the Wu Family Medical Clinic. The common folk knew nothing of the truth behind it all and assumed their cures were Wu Hanyu’s doing. Their gratitude toward him only grew.