Xue Qingzhi had ground Wu Lang down into this wretched state and then abandoned him in the horse stables without a care. There was no way she would kindly provide him with medicine to ease his wounds and pain. Injuries of this severity, when they flared up, were probably more unbearable than any formal punishment.
Xue Yunyi could have ordered someone to fetch medicine from the Imperial Hospital and give it to him, but Wu Lang belonged to Xue Qingzhi, after all. She knew her younger sister’s temperament all too well. Spoiled from childhood as the little princess, Xue Qingzhi harbored an almost obsessive possessiveness toward everything she owned. She hated most of all when others touched her things. If Xue Yunyi helped Wu Lang too much, it would only make his situation in Ninghua Palace even more precarious down the line.
Xue Yunyi’s delicate brows furrowed slightly, a faint trace of worry in her eyes.
“This Base Slave… doesn’t hurt,” Wu Lang replied in a low voice.
No one had ever asked him if he was in pain.
It was as if he had been born lowly, destined to suffer, everything a punishment he deserved without complaint. He simply had to endure it in silence. So he never dared say it hurt, for that would only bring even harsher punishment.
The air fell silent for a moment. Wu Lang felt that soft, gentle hand leave his face, marred as it was with ugly scars, and a twinge of loss stirred in his heart.
“This Palace cannot stay here long. Keep this medicine. If your fever hasn’t broken by tomorrow, take another dose.” Xue Yunyi placed the white jade vial in his hand.
Wu Lang accepted it in stunned gratitude, praying she hadn’t noticed his palm, beaten raw by the iron rod, the purple-black bruises oozing blood that had smeared the flawless, icy white jade. He quickly clenched his fist, not daring to look at Xue Yunyi again. He kowtowed properly and expressed his thanks.
“This Base Slave respectfully sees off the Eldest Princess.”
The wheelchair receded into the distance, and the faint herbal fragrance faded away with it.
Wu Lang rubbed his swollen knees, supported himself against the bed to stand, then slowly sat back down. He carefully wiped the exquisite white jade vial clean with his sleeve before tucking it under his pillow, right next to the silk flower. Once he had regained a bit of strength, he picked up the chipped bowl from the small bedside table with an expressionless face, closed his eyes, and gulped down the rancid porridge inside.
Perhaps not wanting him to starve to death, Xue Qingzhi had someone deliver a bowl of spoiled porridge every day. Over the past two days, lost in feverish sleep, he had vaguely contemplated ending it all and hadn’t touched a drop. But now, he suddenly had an urgent desire to live—a compulsion so fierce that the sour, pungent rice gruel didn’t seem so hard to swallow.
The Eldest Princess had given him medicine.
The Eldest Princess wanted him to live.
Even if it was just a casual act of charity on her part, to Wu Lang, it was all the light in his cold, hopeless life.
He could not disappoint her.
After leaving the stables, Jie An led Flowing Snow the whole way, escorting Xue Yunyi to the palace gates.
“This Palace cannot interfere in Ninghua Palace’s affairs,” Xue Yunyi said after a moment’s thought. “But if you get the chance, young master Jie, I hope you can look after him a little.”
She had given Wu Lang fever-reducing medicine, but he still bore so many injuries. It would be best if someone kept an eye on him.
Jie An readily agreed.
On the way back to Azure Cypress Palace, Mo Ying finally couldn’t hold back. “Your Highness, why… are you helping that second young master of the Wu family?” The boy was pitiable, it was true, but he belonged to Xue Qingzhi’s household. If she wouldn’t take proper care of her own people, why should Your Highness step in to do it for her? The thought made Mo Ying uncomfortable.
Xue Yunyi lowered her gaze to her fingertips. After a long pause, she said softly, “All beings suffer. Saving one life can’t be a bad thing. Consider it… accumulating merit for myself.”
She fell silent, her eyes drifting to her numb, unresponsive legs. When her mother the Empress had been alive, she had often taught her that as the Eldest Princess, she ought to harbor the world in her heart and show compassion to all its people. But now, she couldn’t even save Wu Lang—how could she speak of saving the world?
The Emperor’s favoritism was known throughout the palace. Because of Consort Jiang, Xue Qingzhi had been doted on in the palm of his hand since birth. Anything she wanted, no one else could touch. Xue Yunyi had always been too lazy to compete with her, but all these years of yielding and restraint had gained her what, exactly?
Her mother had died harboring resentment, her own body left crippled, condemned to spend the rest of her days reliant on the wheelchair beneath her.
Xue Yunyi clenched her fingers, crumpling the smooth satin on her lap. She remained silent for a long time, a long-buried thought suddenly surfacing in her mind.
She didn’t want to be a princess confined to the depths of the palace, passing her days in quiet obscurity, her world bounded by towering walls that had trapped her mother for a lifetime and would trap her as well.
She wanted to become the Crown Princess, to ascend to that paramount throne above all. Just as her mother had hoped, she would save herself—and save the people of the realm.
So what if her legs were useless? She would prove her worth through her own abilities and make the Emperor see that she was the most suitable heir.
Surely her mother, watching from the heavens, wouldn’t want to see her wasting away like this, day after day.
The palace path stretched wide before her, the road ahead bright and clear.
She lifted her head, gazing at the distant mountain peaks and clouds vanishing beyond the walls. Sunlight fell into her eyes, illuminating those serene depths with a clarity and resolve that shone bright.
The moment she returned to her bedchamber, Xue Yunyi instructed Mo Ying to fetch that set of Lang Prefecture Records from the study—the one she had pored over last year.
Mo Ying blinked in surprise before joyfully agreeing.
Xue Yunyi had once loved delving into local gazetteers, often shutting herself in the study late into the night. But ever since her legs were injured, she seemed to have lost interest in everything. She stopped going to the study and even ordered her maids to pack away all the books she had read and her handwritten notes, locking them in boxes.
It was rare for her to take the initiative like this. Mo Ying couldn’t hide her smile; she threw herself into the task with renewed energy and soon brought the items to the bedchamber.
The Lang Prefecture Records comprised three volumes and over three thousand pages, every one of which Xue Yunyi had read meticulously. As a child studying under Prime Minister Lin, she had often heard him mention how Lang Province had suffered droughts for years, with a major one striking every few years. Keeping it in mind, she had asked Prime Minister Lin to find this set for her, hoping to discover some method for managing the disasters and do a good deed for Lang Province’s people.
Tucked between the yellowed pages was a map of Lang Province that Xue Yunyi had drawn by hand. Such maps were state secrets; she had glimpsed one only once in the Imperial Study. Thanks to her early training in painting, she could memorize those irregular lines after one look and reproduce them almost perfectly afterward.
Back then, still young and innocent, she had proudly shown the finished map to Prime Minister Lin. He had been astonished, first praising her prodigious talent as unparalleled in the world, then quietly warning her never to let the Emperor know.
For a princess to meddle in state affairs was no small matter.
Thinking back on it now felt like ancient history. Xue Yunyi gathered her thoughts and carefully smoothed out the creased map on the long table, reviewing her old handwritten notes as she delved back into the Lang Prefecture Records.
Seeing how absorbed she was, Mo Ying beamed with delight. She quietly ordered the attending maids to withdraw so as not to disturb her, then tiptoed to the small kitchen to instruct the cooks to simmer some rib soup for Xue Yunyi to nourish her body.
The hall was utterly still. Xue Yunyi was so focused that she didn’t hear the footsteps in the courtyard until a warm, gentle voice sounded by the desk.
“I didn’t see any of your palace servants, so This Palace came in without sending word first,” Consort Jiang said hesitantly, an apologetic note in her tone. “This Palace was too abrupt.”
Xue Yunyi paused for a breath before calmly tucking away the map. She looked up to meet Consort Jiang’s gaze.
“How could that be? You are a rare guest, my lady. I should receive you properly.”
Mo Ying entered carrying freshly brewed tea and widened her eyes in shock at the sight of Consort Jiang in the hall. Xue Yunyi turned to her. “Mo Ying, bring some tea and pastries that the Noble Consort favors.”
“No need. This Palace… merely had some free time today and came to see you.” Consort Jiang pressed her lips together, her gaze falling to Xue Yunyi’s legs.
Xue Yunyi smiled faintly. “I’m doing well. Thank you for your concern, Noble Consort.”
Consort Jiang wore a simple Suzhou-embroidered floral skirt today, in an elegant moon-white shade, with orchids worked in silver thread at the cuffs. She stood there, slender and soft.
She was the complete opposite of Empress Jiang. One was a warm, delicate jade lotus; the other, a red plum blooming proudly in the cold. The Emperor loathed Empress Jiang as much as he adored Consort Jiang. Now he had ordered the Empress’s death kept secret, forbidding mourning or sacrifices in the palace, yet only Consort Jiang could wear plain white. When the Emperor saw her, not only did he refrain from anger—he would smile and coax her, saying she looked exceedingly beautiful in white, lovelier than the moon in the sky.
Xue Yunyi lowered her eyes, avoiding the piercing white of Consort Jiang’s attire. A maid brought a low stool, but Consort Jiang didn’t sit. Instead, she gazed anxiously at Xue Yunyi before finally speaking in a low voice. “This Palace has wronged you.”
It was she who had sown discord between Emperor and Empress, she who had borne a vicious-hearted daughter bold enough to drug her own elder sister.
Since Empress Jiang’s passing, she hadn’t had the face to visit Xue Yunyi. Only yesterday had she heard from the Emperor that Xue Qingzhi had begged him for a step-shake hairpin, prompting him to berate Xue Yunyi harshly—and even scold her for unfiliality in front of several ministers reporting on affairs.
After much deliberation, Consort Jiang had mustered her courage, bringing gifts prepared that morning, and come to Azure Cypress Palace.
“Keep these medicines. I don’t know if… they will be of any use to you.” She paused, her voice softening further. “Qingzhi has a willful temperament and did such a thing—all because This Palace failed in her upbringing. If you must resent someone, resent This Palace.”
“What’s the use of resentment?” Xue Yunyi’s tone was calm. “She did the deed herself, and she shows no sign of remorse. Why should you apologize on her behalf, Your Ladyship?”
Consort Jiang’s face paled and flushed by turns. She opened her mouth several times but ultimately swallowed her feeble words. In the end, she only said softly, “If there’s anything This Palace can do to help, feel free to ask.”
Xue Yunyi smiled faintly. “Take care on your way, Your Ladyship. My health doesn’t permit me to see you out.”
This was clearly an order to leave.
Consort Jiang’s eyes darkened. She said nothing more and turned silently, leaning on her maid Caiqiu’s hand as she headed out of the hall.
Mo Ying hurried after her, followed by two young eunuchs carrying a chest. “Your Ladyship, these medicinal ingredients are far too precious. Your Highness cannot accept them. Please take them back.”
Consort Jiang sighed. “Very well.”
She climbed into her palanquin and closed her eyes wearily, rubbing her brow. Caiqiu walked alongside, soothing her in a low voice. “Your Ladyship need not blame yourself. This is not your fault.”
Consort Jiang gave a self-mocking smile. “How could it not be This Palace’s fault? This Palace never should have given birth to her in the first place.”
Mindful of the guards carrying the palanquin nearby, she lowered her voice to a whisper meant only for Caiqiu’s ears and spat bitterly, “The very thought of her being the Emperor’s flesh and blood makes This Palace sick to her stomach.”
That was why, all these years, she had ignored Xue Qingzhi completely. She had never even nursed the child herself but handed her off to a wet nurse the moment she was born.
She admitted she had failed in her duties as a mother, but she never imagined the Emperor would spoil Xue Qingzhi into such a state—enough to commit the outrageous act of poisoning her own sister!
It must be the Emperor’s rotten nature coming through.
People like him had to have everything their way. The slightest dissatisfaction, and they would scheme to torment others until they got what they wanted.
Consort Jiang irritably furrowed her brow.
Caiqiu hurried to persuade her. “Your Ladyship, you must never say such things again. If outsiders heard and reported it to His Majesty, it could cost your head!”
Consort Jiang merely kept her eyes closed. “That would be This Palace’s fondest wish.”
Caiqiu choked, at a loss for words. After a long pause, Consort Jiang suddenly opened her eyes and instructed the bearers, “To Ninghua Palace.”
She was determined to see for herself what this daughter, raised by the Emperor, did all day in the palace—what she learned, what depravities she indulged in—that her heart had rotted through.
Xue Qingzhi straddled a pale, naked body, her hand gripping a firm, eager waist as she idly toyed with it. Her expression, however, was far from pleased.
Ah Xiao had a well-proportioned build, his back muscles sharply defined and solid with power. She stroked the patch of wheat-colored muscle beneath her palm, but her mind kept drifting to Wu Lang’s skin, white as jade, and that excessively slender, fragile waist that barely filled her grasp.
Wu Lang was slim to begin with, and when she deliberately starved him at times, his waist grew even more delicate—such a delight to handle. Of course, there were drawbacks: when he was starved too harshly, his bones poked uncomfortably, and the frequent welts and wounds on his body made him less pleasing than Ah Xiao’s carefully tended flesh.
The one serving her now was putting in his best effort, letting out muffled grunts of endurance from time to time.
“Ah Xiao loves the Princess so much…”
Xue Qingzhi’s gaze turned icy. She released her hand listlessly. Ah Xiao faltered in his movements and quickly sat up, asking cautiously, “Did Ah Xiao fail to serve you properly somewhere?”
Xue Qingzhi picked up a handkerchief and wiped her hand, asking idly, “Where is Wu Lang? He’s rested for several days now; his body should be better. Why hasn’t he come to serve?”
Ah Xiao swallowed. “Perhaps… perhaps he’s just being lazy.”
He seized Xue Qingzhi’s wrist and leaned toward her shoulder with obsessive devotion. “Let Ah Xiao serve the Princess instead…”
Xue Qingzhi slapped his hand away and snapped coldly, “Get down.”
Ah Xiao licked his lips and could only murmur assent. He picked up his clothes from beside the pillow and dressed slowly.
“Qingdai,” Xue Qingzhi said, already turning away as she called out, “go fetch Wu Lang.”
“Yes.”
Soon, the familiar clink of iron chains echoed from outside. Wu Lang crawled forward on his knees and kowtowed. “Base Slave greets the Princess.”
The young man’s voice was terribly hoarse. Xue Qingzhi frowned at the festering wounds on his back, visible even through the gauze dressings. Dissatisfied, she said, “Didn’t This Palace give you medicine? Why are you still such a mess?”
The medicine was extremely effective. Though it couldn’t numb the pain, it restored flesh to perfection, leaving no scars no matter how severe the injury. It would be a pity to mar such a beautiful body.
Wu Lang froze. Aside from the Eldest Princess, no one had ever given him medicine. He fell silent, offering no defense, and merely thudded his forehead numbly against the hard floor. “Base Slave knows his wrong.”
“Never mind. Qingdai, summon an imperial physician to look at his wounds.” Xue Qingzhi’s face twisted in disgust. The injuries were still oozing pus—utterly repulsive. They had thoroughly ruined her mood.
Imperial Physician Zhou Jinglin arrived promptly. At the sight of Wu Lang’s wounds, his beard quivered with shock. He glanced at Xue Qingzhi, who sat nearby with obvious impatience, and dared not ask questions. He bent to his task at once. As he inadvertently noticed Wu Lang’s faintly flushed cheeks, he hesitated, then tentatively took the young man’s pulse.
“What’s wrong?” Xue Qingzhi glanced over.
Zhou Jinglin frowned deeply. After a moment, he withdrew his hand and reported honestly, “This… young master has a severe high fever. By the pulse, he’s been burning for two days, causing stagnant qi and blazing internal heat. It’s eased somewhat now, but he still needs medicine and rest, or his body won’t hold out.”
Xue Qingzhi found it absurd. “Imperial Physician Zhou, are you sure you read the pulse right? He’s been in This Palace’s sight every day. If he had a fever, how could This Palace not know?”
Her face darkened as she prepared to berate him for nonsense, but the words caught in her throat. She suddenly recalled that day in bed, the startling heat of the young man’s body.
Xue Qingzhi paused.
No wonder Wu Lang had felt so… comfortable to touch then. She’d thought it was the aphrodisiac, but now she realized he must already have been delirious with fever.
In disbelief, Xue Qingzhi looked down at the youth kneeling at her feet. A chill of aftershock broke out over her skin as she realized she had nearly killed him.
A nameless rage surged in her chest. Her lips trembled as she raised her hand and delivered a resounding slap across Wu Lang’s face.
“Are you mute? You were burning up like that—why didn’t you tell This Palace?”