Of course, none of this could be said outright to Xue Yunyi. Wu Hanyu fell silent for a long moment before steeling himself and saying, “When I first returned to the capital, my father mentioned Your Highness’s leg ailment. I was truly saddened to hear of it. If my mother were still alive, she might have been able to treat you. But with my own limited skills… I’m afraid it’s beyond me.”
Xue Yunyi did not grow angry at his words. She merely chuckled lightly. “It seems Young Master Wu is willing to help the Second Princess but not This Palace.”
Wu Hanyu’s heart skipped a beat. Knowing he could hide it no longer, he hastily set down his teacup and dropped to his knees with a thud. “Your Highness, forgive me! I… I had no choice…”
Though the Emperor did not favor Xue Yunyi, she was still the Eldest Princess, born to the Empress. The Wu family might be cozying up to Xue Qingzhi for now, but the candidate for Crown Princess had yet to be decided. He could not afford to thoroughly offend Xue Yunyi—he needed to leave himself a way out.
“You managed to concoct such a rare poison. That alone proves Young Master Wu was merely being modest earlier.”
Xue Yunyi idly swirled the teacup in her hand, too lazy to bandy words with him any further. “Hand over the antidote, and This Palace will overlook the Wu family’s transgressions.”
Wu Hanyu bowed his head in terror, cold sweat already beading on his forehead. “I wouldn’t dare deceive Your Highness. I found that poison by chance in my mother’s storeroom and offered it to the Second Princess. As for the antidote, my mother left behind only a single pill before her death, and… and it was handed over to the Second Princess as well.”
Xue Yunyi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No formula?”
“N-No.” Terrified that Xue Yunyi wouldn’t believe him, Wu Hanyu hurriedly raised three fingers. “If I’m lying, may I be struck down by lightning!”
“And what about the formula for the poison itself?”
Wu Hanyu blinked in surprise. “What does Your Highness want with the poison formula?”
Xue Yunyi replied, “Rest assured, This Palace has no vile intentions of harming anyone. I’m merely bored and wish to study its medicinal principles.”
Wu Hanyu’s expression turned awkward. He murmured, “Your Highness is the most reasonable person. You know as well as I do—few in the capital dare offend the Second Princess. When she asks for something, how could the Wu family refuse? I’ll return home at once to fetch the formula Your Highness wants. I beg you, please don’t hold it against the Wu family.”
Xue Yunyi sneered inwardly. This eldest young master of the Wu family was no benevolent healer—he was a weathervane, blowing whichever way the wind took him. He wanted benefits from Xue Qingzhi but also hated to offend her.
In truth, Wu Hanyu had no real need to worry—
The Emperor indulged Xue Qingzhi to such a degree that even if he knew she had deliberately tried to harm her, he would do no more than mildly reprimand her. He wouldn’t even confine her to her quarters. Clearly, the Emperor cared nothing for this daughter of his. Why would he punish the Wu family?
Wu Hanyu was a fool, and fools couldn’t withstand a little pressure.
Xue Yunyi said nothing more. She simply instructed her palace servants to see him out politely. Less than half a shichen later, Wu Hanyu personally delivered the formula she had requested.
She glanced at the scrawled handwriting on the paper and summoned Mo Ying. “Copy this carefully and send it to Meng Jiang at the Imperial Hospital. See if she can make sense of it.”
“Yes.” Mo Ying took the paper with care and hurried off to carry out the task.
It was time for her medicinal bath again.
The palace maids attending Xue Yunyi had grown adept at preparing it. Even without Meng Jiang there, they could blend the herbal decoction with hot water to perfection.
The familiar scent of medicinal herbs filled the air. Xue Yunyi had meant to idly pick up a book to pass the tedious time, but her peripheral gaze caught the pair of jade butterfly step-shake hairpins on the small table beside her. Her eyes lingered on them for a moment before she reached out and picked them up.
The pearls were perfectly round and lustrous—true treasures from Lang Province, hailed as “moon fallen to earth.”
Xue Yunyi had meticulously wiped away the speck of blood. As her fingertip caressed the flawless surface of the pearls, the image of a certain youth’s pitch-black eyes, frantic as they gazed at her, floated unbidden into her mind.
A sudden tightness gripped her chest. Xue Yunyi frowned and closed her eyes, exhaling deeply to force the thought away—of how much pain he must have been in at that moment.
When Wu Lang awoke, he found himself lying on a soft, warm bed.
Red gauze draped languidly around him, and the air was thick with cloying incense.
He lay there stunned for a moment before realizing this was Xue Qingzhi’s bed. His breath caught sharply.
He was never permitted to stay here except when serving her. Xue Qingzhi had declared that the Shu brocade bedding on her bed was worth more than his wretched life—even a single thread pulled from it outshone him. If he dirtied it, she would never let him off lightly.
Wu Lang hurriedly threw back the covers. The bedding was pristine, unstained by the blood on his body. He breathed a sigh of relief, but only then did he register the excruciating pain wracking him. It felt as though nails had been driven into his bones—any slight movement brought agony that made him grit his teeth to stifle any sound. Lifting his gaze, he saw Xue Qingzhi seated at the red sandalwood round table, being waited on by Ah Xiao and Jie An as she dined.
Outside the small window, dusk had fallen, the sky awash in lingering sunset hues.
He had slept clean through to evening.
Wu Lang’s heart lurched. Ignoring his injuries, he stumbled off the bed and crawled on his knees to Xue Qingzhi’s feet. Just as he had been taught countless times, he kowtowed and begged forgiveness.
“This Base Slave knows his wrong. I beg the Princess’s mercy.”
Xue Qingzhi glanced at the youth prostrated at her feet but pretended not to see him. She turned her head and continued eating the shrimp Ah Xiao had peeled for her, unhurried.
When Wu Lang had fainted, she had truly panicked for a moment.
She had only meant to punish him in a fit of anger—she hadn’t intended to kill him. Ninghua Palace was filled with so many pretty faces, but Wu Lang’s was the one that pleased her most. She truly couldn’t bear to lose it.
If there was anyone to blame, it was Wu Lang for being so infuriatingly resilient. No matter how harshly she treated him, he would only clench his jaw and endure in silence. Only when the pain grew truly unbearable would he rasp out a plea or two.
The imperial physician had said Wu Lang collapsed from prolonged starvation combined with extreme physical exhaustion.
Hearing that he was in no grave danger eased Xue Qingzhi’s mind. In fact, ever since she had sent him to the dark chamber for reflection, he hadn’t eaten a thing. Thinking of it now filled her with fresh anger. Was he made of wood? Starved to skin and bones, and still he refused to open his mouth and beg her! All he had to do was soften a little, plead nicely—what could he not obtain?
But Wu Lang simply wouldn’t.
He was like a lifeless puppet, numbly obeying her every excessive demand and punishment, expressing nothing more.
The more Xue Qingzhi thought about it, the angrier she grew. The shrimp in her mouth lost all flavor. She slammed down her silver chopsticks with a clack and demanded coldly, “Where did you go wrong?”
Wu Lang hesitated for an instant before replying, “This Base Slave’s error was fainting without permission during his punishment.”
Xue Qingzhi shot him a sidelong glance, waiting for him to say more—to beg for leniency, or perhaps ask for food.
But the youth simply remained prostrated at her feet, utterly silent save for his faint, shallow breaths.
Xue Qingzhi’s lips trembled with fury. She couldn’t pinpoint the source of this rage—it simply vexed her. Then came a gurgle. Wu Lang’s stomach had betrayed him with a loud rumble.
His body went rigid, and he bit his lip in mortification.
He had gone two full days without food; he could endure no longer. And there before Xue Qingzhi sat a table laden with the finest fish, shrimp, meats, and vegetables—masterpieces from the Imperial Kitchen, their aromas wafting ceaselessly and tormenting his empty stomach.
He could only hold his breath desperately, praying she wouldn’t punish him for it.
Seeing Wu Lang still silent, Xue Qingzhi’s chest heaved with barely contained rage. Ah Xiao, clueless to the reason, set down his shrimp and stepped forward to soothe her. “What’s troubling you, Princess?”
Xue Qingzhi shoved his hand away and barked at Qingdai nearby, “Fetch a bowl of plain congee—the freshest, still boiling hot.”
Even Qingdai, accustomed as she was to her mistress’s capricious tempers, jumped at the sharp command. She scurried off and soon returned with a bowl of steaming-hot porridge.
“Princess, be careful—it’s scalding…”
Qingdai’s words weren’t even finished when Xue Qingzhi bent down and slammed the bowl of porridge in front of Wu Lang with a thud. “Drink every last drop,” she said impatiently. “Don’t you dare die in front of This Palace.”
The faint, fragrant aroma of the plain congee drifted into his nose. Wu Lang couldn’t help but sniff. He knew the porridge was scalding hot—Xue Qingzhi was just finding new ways to torment him—but something to eat was better than an empty stomach. Besides, he had never had the right to refuse.
“Base Slave thanks the Princess for the reward.”
Wu Lang lifted his face slightly and extended the tip of his tongue, lapping it up in tiny mouthfuls.
Fresh from the pot, the rice grains were blisteringly hot, searing across his tongue like sparks and sending shudders through his body in waves. But he didn’t dare stop. Instead, he forced himself to swallow the burning mouthfuls, letting them scorch his empty stomach.
Xue Qingzhi glanced down at the youth at her feet. He was meekly doing exactly as she wished—his tongue visibly trembling from the burns, yet he acted as if he felt nothing, his movements never faltering for a moment.
For an instant, she felt dazed. She could hardly believe that the pitiful, emaciated boy before her was the same aloof young lord who had captured her heart at first sight in that bookshop on the long street.
A thin gauze robe draped over Wu Lang’s frame. The youth’s shoulder blades—gaunt and protruding—rose and fell gently with each breath, as if a mere breeze might carry him away.
Xue Qingzhi stared at Wu Lang, irritation prickling everywhere. Gritting her teeth, she kicked over the bowl of porridge in front of him. The scalding liquid splashed across the back of his hand, reddening the skin in an instant.
Wu Lang’s body arched sharply from the burn. His hands trembled as he stared blankly at the spilled congee on the floor, unable to comprehend what he had done wrong this time.
Xue Qingzhi’s icy voice rang out from above.
“Did This Palace tell you to stop? Not a single drop of what This Palace bestows upon you is to be wasted.”