The palm strike landed on that petal of cheek flesh already rendered soft and mushy by the Red Sandalwood Ruler, adding several fresh, vivid red welts. A few strands of inky hair drifted silently down, brushing past the youth’s bruised purple lips, making him look utterly pitiable.
It was the first time Zhou Jinglin had ever seen Xue Qingzhi truly angry. Terrified of being implicated, he hurriedly dropped to his knees, head bowed low, not daring to utter a word.
The hall fell quiet for a moment, the only sound the youth’s faint gasps for breath. Wu Lang furrowed his brow slightly before quickly turning his face forward again. His clear, dark eyes betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
“Please, Princess, punish me.”
What good would telling her do? Would she kindly let him off, mercifully allowing him to return and rest?
As if that would ever happen.
To Xue Qingzhi, his fever-ravaged body was nothing but an even more entertaining toy—so fragile, so scorching hot, perfect for her to toy with and torment at her leisure.
Seeing Wu Lang’s numb, resigned expression as he accepted his punishment, Xue Qingzhi’s eyes reddened with fury. The more she thought about it, the more terrified she became. If Wu Lang had truly died on her bed that day, she feared she would be haunted by nightmares for the rest of her life.
Her face darkened as she ordered Zhou Jinglin to prescribe a fever-reducing remedy. She then commanded Qingdai to accompany him personally to fetch the medicine.
Drenched in cold sweat, Zhou Jinglin withdrew.
Jie An entered carrying a tray of tea and snacks. Catching sight of Wu Lang kneeling there from afar, he paused mid-step. Xue Qingzhi’s expression was thunderous; he had no idea what she was venting her anger on Wu Lang for this time. Hesitating, he still mustered his courage and approached, hoping to plead a few words on Wu Lang’s behalf.
“Princess, Jie An knows he’s upset you. It’s only right that you punish him. But… but you have to consider his life, too. You won’t give him medicine and only allow him spoiled rice— even the strongest body couldn’t endure that.”
Jie An kept his head lowered, murmuring softly, “Jie An begs you boldly, Princess. For the sake of his illness, let him rest a few days until he’s better, then he can serve you again.”
Jie An had always been timid. Normally, aside from reading storybooks to her on command, he scarcely dared exchange more than a few private words with her. This was the first time Xue Qingzhi had heard him speak so much in one go. She couldn’t help frowning, her tone laced with displeasure. “What nonsense are you spouting?”
She had punished Wu Lang severely, true, but when had she ever skimped on his medicine or food? To prevent scars on his body, the healing ointments she sent were the most precious ones from her own collection. As for meals, a bowl of plain congee each day was enough to fill his belly while keeping that slender waist of his—perfect for her prolonged amusement. How had it turned into abuse in Jie An’s mouth?
“How could This Palace ever…”
Halfway through her words, Xue Qingzhi paused abruptly. She vaguely recalled that the task of delivering Wu Lang’s medicine and food had been eagerly taken on by Ah Xiao. It was a minor matter—who handled it didn’t make a difference—so she’d let Ah Xiao manage it without following up.
Xue Qingzhi shot Ah Xiao a suspicious glance.
Ah Xiao averted his eyes, mumbling an explanation. “Perhaps… perhaps the weather’s hot, and the congee sat too long, so it spoiled…”
“And the medicine?”
“The medicine…” Ah Xiao hesitated, forcing a smile onto his face. “Ah Xiao accidentally lost it. But he’s just a base slave—why waste such precious medicine on him?”
Xue Qingzhi’s rage exploded in an instant.
“You’ve got some nerve, slacking off on a task This Palace entrusted to you!”
Ah Xiao pressed his lips together, his expression turning forlorn. “Princess, one servant like Ah Xiao is enough for you. Ah Xiao doesn’t want you thinking about anyone else…”
Before he could finish, a sharp slap rang out across his face. Ah Xiao clutched his cheek, stunned for a long moment before recovering, his eyes brimming with disbelief.
The Princess had actually struck him!
“How This Palace treats him is This Palace’s business. What are you?” Xue Qingzhi sneered coldly. “This Palace despises two-faced hypocrites the most. You and the other palace servants are nothing but slaves serving This Palace. Don’t think a few smiles from me mean you can run wild!”
Ah Xiao stood frozen, tears of grievance instantly welling up in his eyes. “Princess…”
“Someone come—go to the small kitchen and fetch a bowl of overnight spoiled congee. Let him have a taste!” Xue Qingzhi commanded furiously.
The guards entered promptly. One held the bowl of congee while the other pried open Ah Xiao’s jaws, forcing the foul slop down his throat with rough brutality. Ah Xiao struggled in agony, retching uncontrollably. The stench was so overpowering that even Jie An discreetly pinched his nose.
Wu Lang knelt silently to the side. The Eldest Princess’s medicine had worked wonders; his fever had broken last night. But the night air had been chilly, and it had flared up again this morning. He still felt weak all over, every inch of him aching fiercely. He could only dig his nails into his bruised, rotting palm to steady himself and keep kneeling upright. As for Ah Xiao’s deeds, he lacked the energy to dwell on them, much less care.
In his mind, there was only one thought—
To survive.
Not for himself, but for the Eldest Princess who had saved his life.
Wu Lang kept his head bowed, her gentle face and those divine, compassionate eyes drifting unbidden into his thoughts. Her fragrant fingertips, like healing balm, had brushed his wounded cheek, leaving him too timid to even breathe, lest he profane her.
Would he see the Eldest Princess again?
Wu Lang wondered hesitantly. He looked hideous now, his body even more unsightly. Perhaps… it was best not to sully her eyes.
Though he desperately longed to feel her gentle touch once more—on his forehead, his cheek… anywhere. Just for a moment. He dared not ask for more.
Suddenly, urgent footsteps laced with anger shattered Wu Lang’s reverie.
“Xue Qingzhi, have you lost your mind?” Consort Jiang stormed into the hall and nearly fainted at the scene before her. “Do you even know he’s the son of Minister Xiao? How dare you treat him like a slave, beating and berating him!”
Caiqiu hurried forward, signaling the two guards holding Ah Xiao to release him. Ah Xiao’s face was ashen; he couldn’t even manage a bow, only clutching the floor and vomiting up the filth from his mouth in great heaves.
Xue Qingzhi shot to her feet, her expression uneasy. “Mother Consort, why have you come?”
Aside from her birthday, Consort Jiang rarely set foot in Ninghua Palace. Only during festivals did she reluctantly accompany the Emperor for a brief visit.
“If This Palace hadn’t come today, how would I know what depraved things you’re doing in the palace day after day?”
Glancing at Wu Lang and Jie An kneeling nearby, and recalling the handsome young men she’d encountered on the way, Consort Jiang felt a wave of dizziness. She’d thought Xue Qingzhi was merely playful at worst. She never imagined her daughter had sunk so deep into such lascivious debauchery.
Xue Qingzhi stammered, “Mother Consort, you’ve misunderstood. This palace feels so empty and lonely. I just wanted some company to liven things up.”
Consort Jiang suppressed a heavy breath. “This Palace wants no part in your palace’s filthy affairs. But one thing—you must go apologize to the Eldest Princess. You harmed her so gravely, yet feel no guilt, spending your days in idle pleasure. Where’s the justice in that? What happened to your conscience? What about the books Master Lin taught you to read?”
At first, Consort Jiang managed to stay calm, but the more she spoke, the angrier she grew. Gritting her teeth, her voice rose sharply. “How did This Palace give birth to such a vicious, viper-hearted daughter!”
Xue Qingzhi froze, tears unbidden welling in her eyes. Consort Jiang rarely visited her palace; she hadn’t even had time to be happy before enduring this tirade.
Why should she apologize to Xue Yunyi? Xue Yunyi had only herself to blame for falling into her trap. Victors wrote the rules—Consort Jiang ought to praise her instead.
Moreover, the Father Emperor hadn’t reprimanded her for it. He’d merely said she was candid by nature, merely mischievous for a moment, and there was no need for excessive blame.
She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Consort Jiang seemed unwilling to spare her another glance. Shaking her head in frustrated disappointment, she turned and strode out. Caiqiu hastened after her, murmuring words of comfort.
Xue Qingzhi collapsed back onto the couch, fat tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t understand why Consort Jiang disliked her so, unwilling even to raise her personally. She was the Emperor’s most beloved princess, yet her mother treated her like a stranger. So she threw tantrums and acted spoiled and willful, deceiving herself time and again that it was all because her mother doted on her too much to discipline her properly.
She hated Xue Yunyi—not just because Xue Yunyi excelled at everything, but because Xue Yunyi had a mother who adored her so. Empress Jiang would take Xue Yunyi riding, pluck plums in the Imperial Garden to brew wine, race with her down the long palace paths, flying the paper kites they’d made together.
That was something she could never have.
Xue Qingzhi sat dazed, tears flowing as jealousy and resentment burned in her chest, boiling and raging until she finally screamed, sweeping the teacup from beside her hand to shatter on the floor.
Scalding tea splashed across Wu Lang. His body trembled, instinctively recoiling, but Xue Qingzhi whipped around, her eyes bloodshot as she seized his jaw, her grip nearly cracking bone.
“It’s all because of you wretched spawn! If you hadn’t gotten sick and injured, This Palace wouldn’t have punished Ah Xiao today, and Mother Consort wouldn’t have lost her temper with me like this… Such delicate, worthless hide!”
She ranted incoherently, raising her hand to slap his face—but those two pitiful cheeks were already a mess of welts from the ruler, and his body bore wounds too horrific to behold.
“Princess, the medicine…” Qingdai hesitated at the doorway, bowl of freshly decocted medicine in hand, unsure whether to enter or retreat.
“Dump it.”
Xue Qingzhi’s voice trembled as her nails dug viciously into the youth’s swollen cheek. Wu Lang let out a pained whimper, tears pooling in his dark eyes, his sockets rimming red.
“It’s because This Palace has been too kind to you.” Xue Qingzhi’s expression softened, but her tone grew even colder. “Since you’re so delicate, from now on, as punishment, you’ll walk a full lap along the pebble path in Ninghua Palace every morning upon rising. Only when your body grows strong will you serve This Palace again.”
Wu Lang’s eyes widened in disbelief. The “walk” Xue Qingzhi meant was naturally not ordinary walking. He had long been stripped of the right to stand and could only crawl on his knees wherever he went.
That pebble path was uneven and winding, stretching endlessly out of sight. Even walking on it with shoes was painful enough; if he crawled the whole way on his knees, they would surely be ground to pulp.
Jie An, listening from the side, drew in a sharp breath. He knew full well that Wu Lang was innocent, merely unlucky enough to become Xue Qingzhi’s punching bag. But with her in such a rage, he didn’t dare utter a word.
Wu Lang’s crow-feather lashes trembled. Thin threads of blood trickled from the corner of his lips, staining his pale jaw with a gorgeous smear of red. In the end, he lowered his gaze and submissively accepted Xue Qingzhi’s unreasonable demand.
“Base Slave accepts the punishment.”
He had to live on.
No matter how bitter or painful it became.
This lowly life had been saved by the Eldest Princess. Without her permission to die, he could not entertain thoughts of ending it.
Around nine in the morning, Mo Ying led several palace maids in a line, carrying copper basins and other washing items. They served Xue Yunyi as she washed and changed clothes.
Last night, Xue Yunyi had stumbled upon a good book and read greedily until midnight, so she had risen late. She yawned lazily. Mo Ying paused in her movements, glanced up into the copper mirror, and smiled. “Your Highness looks so sleepy. Why not sleep a bit more and skip Ninghua Palace today?”
Xue Yunyi shook her head. “The sooner I finish the painting, the sooner I can put this worry behind me.”
Xue Qingzhi’s birthday was just four days away. The painting needed only a few finishing touches before it would be complete. But once it was done, she probably wouldn’t set foot in Ninghua Palace again. Thinking of the youth who had knelt before her yesterday, trembling as he gave thanks, Xue Yunyi felt some concern. She wondered if Wu Lang’s fever had broken and whether he had obediently taken his medicine.
After breakfast, Xue Yunyi instructed Mo Ying to push her wheelchair toward Ninghua Palace.
From afar, they spotted Qingdai waiting at the main gate to greet them. Mo Ying halted abruptly, her face paling as if she had seen a ghost.
Qingdai smiled warmly and curtsied to Xue Yunyi. “Peace to the Eldest Princess. This slave was sent by the Princess to specially remind Your Highness: some of the pebbles on the path had worn out, so yesterday the Princess had the palace craftsmen add some new ones. Your Highness, please take care not to jolt yourself.”
Xue Yunyi looked down and saw that many bluish-gray stones had indeed been added to the path. The already rough little road was now even bumpier, the wooden wheels jolting with every inch.
“Thank you for the reminder, little sister.” Xue Yunyi’s expression remained calm as she said to Mo Ying, “Be careful not to twist your ankle.”
Mo Ying grudgingly assented, though inwardly she cursed the mistress and her servant bloody. To keep Xue Yunyi comfortable, she had no choice but to slow her pace as much as possible. What should have been a quarter-hour walk now dragged on interminably.
Xue Yunyi gazed idly at the path beneath her. Suddenly, she noticed two mottled bloodstains on the bluish-white stones—twisting trails, now faint, now deep—that followed her line of sight all the way to the door of Xue Qingzhi’s bedchamber.
Xue Yunyi’s brow furrowed slightly. She wanted to ask Qingdai about the blood, but two young eunuchs had already stepped forward with practiced ease. They laid sturdy planks over the stone steps and then respectfully stepped aside, waiting for Mo Ying to push her inside.
From the inner hall came the faint sound of Xue Qingzhi’s lazy voice.
“Why are you so clumsy? Hurry up. If you don’t fetch it, This Palace will have to punish you.” With a casual toss of her hand, a plump red cherry rolled gently away.
The slender, pretty youth knelt on the ground, dragging his festering knees as he crawled laboriously toward the elusive cherry. Everywhere his knees passed left thin red streaks like cinnabar stains—shocking to behold. Wu Lang strained to lower his body, carefully taking the precious fruit between his teeth. Enduring the excruciating pain, he crawled back to Xue Qingzhi’s feet.
“Good boy.” Xue Qingzhi seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the game. Lazily, she tossed another cherry for Wu Lang to fetch. “See how well This Palace treats you? Knowing how frail and sickly you are, This Palace specially came up with this wonderful way for you to exercise. You must thank This Palace properly for it, understand?”
The cherry rolled quite far this time, coming to a stop just at the threshold.
Wu Lang hoarsely murmured his assent. He didn’t dare pause for a moment, pretending his knees were nothing but a pair of rotten tree stumps in a bid to numb the agony. Sweat pouring down, he crawled toward the threshold. Just as he was about to lower his head and take the dust-covered cherry in his mouth, he heard the faint creak of the wheelchair.
Wu Lang’s heart pounded like war drums.
The wheelchair came to a stop at the threshold. The snow-white cloud satin gleamed in his dark eyes. He panic-strickenly averted his gaze and stared helplessly at the cherry inches away. His chest filled with a surging wave of humiliation and despair—heavy, almost suffocating.
It was already around ten o’clock. He had thought Xue Yunyi wouldn’t come today.
Look at the state he was in now.
Filthy. Lowly. Like a dog trampled underfoot and toyed with at whim.
To appear like this in the Eldest Princess’s sight—he was despicable, utterly despicable.
Wu Lang didn’t dare look up. He feared seeing disgust or disdain in those serene eyes. Even a fleeting glimpse would leave him trembling in panic.
The Eldest Princess must surely regret giving him that medicine.
A wretch like him—how could he deserve her pity, her grace?
Xue Yunyi watched the youth before her, head bowed in terror, lost in who knew what wild thoughts. Her brow knitted tightly. He looked even thinner than before, his delicate white collarbones gaunt enough to alarm anyone, his complexion unhealthy.
Hadn’t she instructed him to rest properly after taking the medicine?
Xue Yunyi sighed and bent down. Before the youth’s lips could touch the filthy cherry, she picked it up first.
Stunned for an instant, Wu Lang dazedly raised his head.
The vibrant red fruit rolled a few times in the snow-white handkerchief and emerged clean once more. Xue Yunyi leaned forward slightly and held out the handkerchief before his eyes. In a soft voice, she asked, “Is your illness fully recovered?”