Cui Cheng hesitated. How was he supposed to conceal such a long treasure sword?
Cui Cheng tossed it to Feng Rang next. “Take it quickly to Yanying Hall!”
Once the order was given, Cui Cheng noticed that the Emperor’s face had gone pale. He was pressing his temple as he walked with large strides.
His headache had flared up again!
Cui Cheng grabbed a nearby eunuch at random. “Go fetch the imperial physician at once.”
The Emperor made his way with great strides toward Zichen Hall.
The palace servants trailed behind him, their breathing so soft it was barely audible.
“Have the imperial physician wait in Zichen Hall,” he said, supporting his forehead. His steps had grown unsteady.
Cui Cheng replied, “This slave has already given the order, Your Majesty. Your headache needs prompt treatment.”
“Check the Empress’s pulse first. Zhen is fine.”
Cui Cheng said nothing, but he thought to himself that the lady was surely unharmed—His Majesty, however, might not be.
The headache had improved some days ago. Why had it suddenly returned today?
Could it be those words from the Empress Dowager that provoked it?
Cui Cheng suspected it was more likely the shock from what happened to the lady.
His Majesty had been ruthless and decisive in recent years, sparing no one. Yet today, the moment he heard she’d been forced to drink something, he’d panicked like this. He must truly care for her.
Thank goodness it had only been jujube tea. Otherwise, who knew how far things might have escalated.
They soon reached Zichen Hall. The Emperor took the steps two at a time and hurried inside, but the lady was nowhere to be seen.
Cui Cheng felt uneasy and seized a little palace maid nearby. “Where is the lady?”
“She rushed out in a hurry, as if she was going to Yanying Hall to find His Majesty.”
“Rushed out? To find His Majesty?”
Cui Cheng’s face drained of color, turning even paler than His Majesty’s pain-stricken one.
He pressed the maid urgently. “Was the lady feeling well when she left?”
Could it be that she was unwell…
Surely the Empress Dowager hadn’t forced her to take something else!
Before he could finish, the Emperor had already strode off.
He ran straight into the Empress just outside Zichen Hall.
Yun Jichu had dashed to Yanying Hall, only to hear from the eunuchs that His Majesty had left in haste. Guessing he must have come here, she turned around and ran back just as quickly.
The back-and-forth had left her breathless, beads of sweat on her forehead and a faint flush on her cheeks.
The moment she spotted Helian Jin, she halted to catch her breath. But before she could recover, he swept her up into his arms and carried her into Zichen Hall.
He set her down on the bed. She opened her mouth to speak, but upon seeing his ghastly complexion, she changed tack. “What’s wrong with you?”
Helian Jin merely brushed aside the stray hairs at her cheek before turning to the imperial physician. “Come take her pulse at once.”
The imperial physician took his time with the pulse.
Helian Jin sat at the bedside, clasping Yun Jichu’s hand. He seemed terribly tense.
Yun Jichu lay there. From her angle, she could see his jaw clenched tight, his handsome brows furrowed as he watched the physician closely.
She gave the center of his palm a squeeze.
“You still haven’t answered me. What’s wrong?”
Helian Jin finally replied, his tone earnest yet gentle. “Ah Chu, from now on, if anyone gives you something, you must never touch it.”
Yun Jichu thought for a moment before realizing he was referring to that bowl of contraceptive soup from Shouning Palace earlier that day.
“Su Qiu tested it. There’s no poison.”
“But what if she was prepared to die for it?”
“Besides, she tricked you. It was just a cup of jujube tea.”
Yun Jichu’s words left her speechless. She truly hadn’t considered it—one life for another was far too steep a price. In her own era, such things almost never happened without deep-seated hatred.
“I didn’t think too much of it at the time. And besides… the Empress Dowager is your mother…”
Helian Jin let out a soft sigh, his tone flat. “When I was young, we once shared a bowl of poisoned porridge.”
“Xuluo secretly passed the gu poison to her and ordered her to trick the late Emperor and me into drinking it.”
“She herself was afflicted with the gu poison and couldn’t disobey Xuluo, yet she couldn’t bear to harm me either, so she drank it alongside me.”
“Back then, I was just like you—wary, yet I still believed her.”
Yun Jichu had never heard this story. She took his hand. “And you now? Can the gu poison be cured?”
“After I destroyed Xuluo, I found the antidote. Don’t worry, Ah Chu.”
Yun Jichu pressed on. “What about the Empress Dowager…”
No need to finish the thought. The Empress Dowager was still alive and well, so she must have gotten the antidote too.
Helian Jin didn’t answer the question.
Just then, the imperial physician spoke up from the side. “Your Ladyship is unharmed, with no signs of poisoning.”
Yun Jichu looked at Helian Jin earnestly. “From now on, I’ll be much more careful.”
She had assumed he would nod in satisfaction.
But quite the opposite—he looked guilty. He took both her hands in his, pressing one palm to his forehead.
It was as if he had survived a catastrophe and felt overwhelming relief, mingled with profound shame that left him unable to face himself—two complex emotions tangled together.
In the end, it all distilled into a deep, intense gaze, followed by his words: “It was my fault.”
He should have cleared away the obstacles and protected her fully, not left her to tread carefully everywhere.
The imperial physician retreated to the hall’s entrance. “Eunuch Cui, since Her Ladyship is fine and there’s nothing else—”
Cui Cheng grabbed him. “Don’t go! Don’t go! His Majesty still needs you to check his headache!”
He peered anxiously into the grand hall. Why were they still talking?
Stop talking! Hurry and examine him before it gets worse!
Yun Jichu sat up from the bed. The thin sweat from her earlier dash had dried. She faced Helian Jin directly.
Only then did she notice the veins bulging at his temple and the many red threads in the whites of his eyes. If his expression weren’t so gentle right now but fierce instead, he would look utterly terrifying, like a vengeful ghost.
“You don’t look well,” she said.
Helian Jin replied, “It’s nothing.” Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head in the soft warmth of her abdomen.
“You’re exhausted.”
Helian Jin shook his head against her.
“Helian Jin…”
For a moment, Yun Jichu wasn’t sure if she should press him about his wound.
At that point, Cui Cheng called from outside the hall. “Your Ladyship, should we summon the imperial physician to treat His Majesty’s headache?”
Only then did Yun Jichu realize he had a headache.
Before Helian Jin could speak, she took charge and called out to Cui Cheng. “Hurry and bring the imperial physician in.”
Under her firm insistence, Helian Jin finally relented and lay obediently on the bed.
The imperial physician stepped forward to take his pulse.
Yun Jichu watched as Helian Jin drank the medicine, staying by his side for a long while until he finally fell asleep before she left.
Dusk had fallen outside the hall.
“What can be done about His Majesty’s headaches?” she asked.
The imperial physician replied, “If he avoids worries and frustrations, the headaches won’t flare up. If His Majesty can remain calm and at peace, they will fade entirely.”
But with the burdens of state affairs, how could he not be troubled?
Yun Jichu suddenly felt the problem was unsolvable.
Cui Cheng chimed in from the side. “With Your Ladyship by His Majesty’s side, his headaches are sure to ease over time.”
Yun Jichu dismissed it as flattery.
She wasn’t a doctor—how could she cure headaches?
The imperial physician withdrew, leaving Cui Cheng alone.
Yun Jichu gave him a few piercing looks.
Cui Cheng took a step back, unnerved by her gaze.
“If Your Ladyship has no further instructions, this servant will—”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Cui Cheng broke out in a cold sweat.
“What does Your Ladyship require of this servant?”
Yun Jichu crossed her arms and circled him once.
“If I remember correctly, back at the Prince’s Mansion, you took quite a bit of ‘goodwill’ from me.”
Cui Cheng wanted to cry but had no tears. True, he had accepted it—but he had passed it on too.
What came in went right back out; nothing was left.
But he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t tell Her Ladyship to her face that His Majesty had confiscated his gains.
That would ruin His Majesty’s upright image.
Cui Cheng swallowed his bitterness and tears in silence.
“This servant deserves death.”
Yun Jichu waved it off. “I’m not holding it against you.”
“I just want to say that my feelings for His Majesty over these years—you know them well.”
Of course he did.
In that first year, the Consort had poured her entire heart into His Majesty.
“If His Majesty falls ill, neither of us can rest easy.”
Cui Cheng nodded repeatedly.
Yun Jichu continued, “If it concerns His Majesty’s safety, you’ll help me, won’t you?”
Cui Cheng declared resolutely, “This servant will spare no effort to assist.”
“Good.” Yun Jichu asked, “Why does His Majesty take blood from his chest?”
“…” Cui Cheng wanted to bolt. “This servant doesn’t know.”
“Good.” Yun Jichu pressed on, “Then tell me, what does His Majesty like to write with his blood?”
“…” This servant doesn’t know.”
Yun Jichu nodded and continued, “Did Wei Shan deceive His Majesty into drawing blood to mourn his late wife?”
Cui Cheng paled in shock. How did the Empress know everything!
He still held firm. “This servant doesn’t know.”
“Since you don’t know, then withdraw. I’ll go to Fengluan Palace myself.”
Cui Cheng hurriedly dissuaded her. “Your Ladyship… you mustn’t go!”
“Then tell me.”
“…”
After struggling for a long while, Cui Cheng wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “His Majesty learned of a method: by using blood from his heart to depict the memorial tablet of the deceased, one can summon that person into his dreams.”
“His Majesty has no faith in ghosts or gods, but… he truly hadn’t dreamed of her for so long… so he tried it a few times.”
“It actually proved somewhat effective, and gradually, His Majesty grew dependent on the practice. Over the years, he’s drawn blood countless times.”
“Every night before sleep, he would…”
He dared not go on, for the Empress before him had turned ghastly pale.
In the end, Cui Cheng could only manage one sentence: “His Majesty misses the late Empress.”
“Your Ladyship?”
Yun Jichu’s thoughts churned more wildly than her breath.
Dreams were governed by countless factors and came at random—how could he put stock in such nonsense?
How much blood had he shed over these years?
How many dreams had it bought him?
The most heartbreaking truth was that they were nothing more than dreams.
“You may withdraw.” Yun Jichu’s voice drifted away like mist into the night.
So the Hibiscus Jade Dish had been stained with blood, and the Full Moon Brush had traced her name.
Even just her screen name, Chu Chu.
Stepping back into the hall, Yun Jichu gazed into the distance. There was the moon outside the window—last night a broken arc, tonight a perfect ring.
She approached the bed and gently parted the gauze curtains. Helian Jin slept lightly, his eyelashes fluttering, his brows tightly furrowed in whatever dream troubled him.
Yun Jichu sat at his side, her fingers smoothing the furrow from his brow.
Then, with careful gentleness, she loosened the front of his robes. The crisscrossing wounds across his chest had scabbed over, leaving behind hideous blood-crusted scars of varying depths.
Suddenly, Helian Jin’s eyes snapped open. He reached into the empty air. “Ah Chu!”
That elegant hand, once so deft with sword and brush, was now ghostly pale and feeble.
Yun Jichu clasped his palm and pressed it to her cheek.
“I’m right here.”
Only then, hearing her voice, did Helian Jin regain his senses. He let out a slow breath, masking the raw panic of his rude awakening from the dream.
“Ah Chu.”
But Yun Jichu had glimpsed the near-madness flickering in his eyes, gone as quickly as it had come.
She soothed him again. “I’m right here.”
Helian Jin sat up, noting the enveloping darkness.
“Today I promised Ah Huan I’d take you to see her, but I’ll have to break my word.”
Yun Jichu replied, “I’ll visit Ah Huan tomorrow. These days, you mustn’t overexert yourself. The imperial physician said that as long as you avoid worry and anxiety, the headaches won’t return.”
Without waiting for his assent, Yun Jichu rose.
Helian Jin seized her arm and tilted his head up. His pallid face made his lips seem an even deeper crimson, while his eyes—lighter than amber yet richer in depth—held a voice still thick with the disquiet of half-wakefulness.
He was a far cry from the savage emperor who had stormed into Shouning Palace sword in hand that very afternoon.
“Where are you going?” Urgency laced his tone.
“Fetching water to wipe you down. Until your wounds heal, you’re not to touch water.”
Only then did Helian Jin realize his robes gaped open in front, the wound fully bared.
He yanked the fabric closed at once.
“I’ll do it myself.”
Ah Chu disliked this wound. If she saw it too often, she might grow to loathe it.
Yun Jichu noted his evasion and suddenly recalled her own ordeal a few days prior—burning with fever and half-delirious, she had instructed him to summon Shuxiu to wipe her down. Yet somehow, it had been Helian Jin himself who tended to her.
The memory had left her blushing for days.
Now she meant to settle the score.
“Lie back. Let me do it.”
~~~