BLPSG Chapter 48: Burning Heart

In the Ninghe Hall, eunuchs and palace maids knelt and fretted, turning the place into chaos.

 

Xian Gonggong, out of habit, glanced at Wen Qingci and immediately vacated the spot next to the emperor.

 

Wen Qingci approached with a medicine box, feeding the emperor life-saving pills.

 

After a while, the emperor’s incessant coughing finally subsided.

 

Yet his hand, at some point, had tightly grasped Wen Qingci’s sleeve—a desperate grip on his last lifeline.

 

“How serious is my illness?” Emperor Xie Zhaolin raised his eyes abruptly, staring deeply at Wen Qingci. His trembling fingers betrayed his anxiety.

 

Chronic mercury poisoning often manifests as anxiety, emotional instability, headaches, dizziness, and muscle spasms.

 

Neither the emperor nor the imperial physicians would admit to any mental issues.

 

Wen Qingci had already resolved the muscle spasms when he entered the palace.

 

Thus, the most noticeable symptoms in Emperor Xie Zhaolin were dizziness and headaches.

 

With the completion of the Fuxuan Flower Pill, everything seemed to be improving.

 

But now, the muscle spasms have returned.

 

Today, the emperor’s deeply buried fear finally erupted with a mouthful of fresh blood.

 

After the southern expedition, Emperor Xie Zhaolin appeared considerably aged.

 

Decades of accumulated fatigue surged within him overnight.

 

Wen Qingci had prepared for this moment. He bowed slightly and offered soothing words to calm the emperor.

 

Upon realizing that Emperor Xie Zhaolin suffered from heavy metal poisoning, Wen Qingci initially planned to trace the source and address it directly.

 

But now… he had changed his mind.

 

“Please rest assured, Your Majesty. I will do my utmost.”

 

Wen Qingci’s words hung in the air for a while before the emperor smiled and slowly released his grip on Wen Qingci’s sleeve.

 

“Very well, I trust you.” The emperor’s voice, hoarse as if scraped by sandpaper, conveyed his gratitude.

 

Unbeknownst to Wen Qingci, at that moment, Emperor Xie Zhaolin’s mind was already calculating.

 

He wouldn’t die.

 

He couldn’t.

 

Even if medicine failed, Wen Qingci’s blood remained an option.

 

Since learning of Wen Qingci’s true identity, the emperor had treated him with utmost respect, concealing his intentions to keep him close—until the final moment.

 

An autumn rain soaked Yongdu, plunging the city into cold.

 

The ancient phoenix trees shed their leaves, carried away by the autumn breeze.

 

Amidst the beauty, Taishu Palace bore a hint of desolation.

 

The decay and passage of life intensified the emperor’s anxiety.

 

Lately, whenever he felt unwell, he summoned Wen Qingci to his side.

 

As the imperial physician, Wen Qingci had unlocked many previously unvisited chambers.

 

One such place was the Baiqiao TowerTranslator's Note:House of Many Delicacies where he is now.

 

Before Wen Qing left, he felt that the name of this place sounded familiar. After thinking about it for a while, he finally remembered that the palace maid who fell into the well and whom he met shortly after he entered the book was the one who was responsible for cleaning this place.

 

The incense burned and the emperor slowly closed his eyes.

 

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Wen Qingci couldn’t help but look around and observe carefully.

 

Although this building is called “Baiqiao Tower”, it looks no different from an ordinary study at first glance.

 

…Perhaps the tables were slightly larger.

 

The tower’s unique feature lay in its corners, where intricate architectural models or joinery components were displayed.

 

Wen Qingci hadn’t known that the emperor had such an interest.

 

“Enough…” As the spasms gradually subsided, the emperor slowly opened his eyes and addressed Wen Qingci, “You may withdraw, my loyal minister.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

Wen Qingci returned the silver needle to the medicine box and prepared to leave.

 

His fingertips grazed the box, but before he could grasp the handle, his strength waned.

 

Then, his left arm throbbed with intense pain.

 

Wen Qingci instinctively lowered his head, examining his left hand.

 

The exposed back of his hand appeared unnaturally pale, almost like snow, devoid of any color even on the fingernails.

 

Only the veins stood out, a stark purple against the pallor.

 

Wen Qingci gently pressed his right hand against his left wrist, warmth seeping through, yet the numbness persisted.

 

He hesitated, then switched hands to lift the medicine box, walking out of Baiqiao Tower.

 

Throughout, Wen Qingci maintained a calm demeanor, concealing any panic.

 

No one noticed that, at that moment, he clenched his teeth to endure the pain.

 

…Ever since he had donated blood, his left hand had grown weaker.

 

Initially, he hadn’t paid much attention.

 

Until that day on the canal, when the damp cold seeped into his bones and lungs, exacerbating the numbness.

 

Despite the passage of time, Wen Qingci still coughed intermittently.

 

Recently, as the temperature dropped, the numbness in his left hand worsened, occasionally flaring into sharp pain.

 

Even lifting a medicine box has become difficult now.

 

As Wen Qingci stepped out of Baiqiao Tower, he couldn’t help but glance at the overcast sky.

 

…Unbeknownst to him, it seemed time to retrieve the thick winter clothes stored at the bottom of the chest.

 

He wondered how Xie Bufeng was faring in the northern lands.

 

*

 

The cotton-padded coat from last time was only suitable for autumn wear.

 

The weather in Yongdu grew colder by the day, and the borderlands were even harsher.

 

Back in the Wangtan Courtyard outside the palace, Wen Qingci organized the newly purchased winter attire and added Tianci’s antidote to the box.

 

In theory, Xie Bufeng should have ample supply of the antidote.

 

Yet recently, Wen Qingci, under the guise of Consort Lan, had replenished his medicine several times.

 

As a mother, Consort Lan remained unaware that Xie Bufeng might not be poisoned at all. It was only natural to keep supplying him with the antidote.

 

After thoroughly inspecting the box to ensure everything was in order, Wen Qingci sealed it and sent it to Xian Gonggong.

 

It would be dispatched to the borderlands as well.

 

The general stationed at Changyuan Town dared not defy the emperor’s orders or intentions.

 

But Xie Bufeng’s military achievements were undeniable.

 

In the end, he reluctantly rewarded the youth according to the lowest standards.

 

Even so, after several battles, Xie Bufeng had risen to the rank of Zhaowu commander, leading three hundred soldiers.

 

Military law clearly defines rewards and punishments, and has never been stingy with rewards for those who have made contributions.

 

As a commander, Xie Bufeng personally selected every soldier under his command.

 

——In Xie Bufeng’s eyes, the level of martial arts skills is not important, obedience and following orders are the most important.

 

Equally important was his hatred for the northern barbarians and the bloodlust within him.

 

This formidable force had been feared by the northern tribes since its inception.

 

“Forward, forward!”

 

The massive siege engine, pushed by soldiers, rammed into the city gate, shaking the earthen walls.

 

The Northland soldiers guarding the wall trembled with fear.

 

With a resounding crash, the wooden gate collapsed.

 

Under the leadership of Xie Bufeng, the soldiers of the Wei Dynasty surged through the breach, unstoppable.

 

Originally, They hadn’t expected to win.

 

Xie Bufeng’s arrival changed everything.

 

“Since we’re here, with our heads hanging from our belts, why not give our all? Carve out a place in history, build a legacy!”

 

Moments later, the yellow earth turned crimson with blood.

 

The Northland morale shattered instantly.

 

“Quick, quick! Escape through the other gate—”

 

“Get me a change of clothes!”

 

Inside a mansion, a Northern Di noble who had feasted and rested there for days donned the rough linen garb of a commoner, fleeing in panic.

 

Once he confirmed his flawless disguise, he and his attendants slipped out the back door, heading toward another city gate.

 

Little did he know that before reaching his destination, the distant sound of galloping hooves echoed down the street. A black-clad figure in silver armor appeared at the other end.

 

The young man lowered his gaze, a disdainful smile playing on his lips.

 

“You…” The Northern Di noble’s body trembled.

 

Though they’d never met, the imposing aura emanating from the youth made it clear—he is Xie Bufeng.

 

The same Xie Bufeng who had become a killing machine in the Wei Dynasty.

 

But then the noble remembered—he was dressed as a commoner. He straightened his spine, attempting to brazenly escape right under Xie Bufeng’s nose.

 

“Esteemed sir…” The noble began, but before he could finish, the shadowy figure closed in, soundless and swift.

 

Like a ghost.

 

Suddenly, Xie Bufeng leaned in, smiling as he voiced the noble’s innermost thoughts.

 

“This… this can’t be possible…”

 

“How could Xie Bufeng know what I’m thinking?”

 

“Surely, it was just a coincidence.”

 

The noble instinctively tried to turn and flee, but his legs had already turned to jelly.

 

Don’t even mention running, now, even standing feels difficult. 

 

Fear crept up from the depths of his heart. 

 

Xie Bufeng didn’t give him a final chance to fight back. 

 

Accompanied by a flash of cold light, the Northern Di noble suddenly felt a chill around his neck. 

 

Before he could react, his body was separated from his head. Countless soldiers surged forward from behind Xie Bufeng. Cheers and the frenzied neighing of warhorses echoed through the entire town in an instant.

 

——Nearly half a year after its fall, Changyuan Town returned to the hands of Wei Dynasty.

 

“Your Highness!”

 

“Long live His Highness! Long live His Highness!”

 

The soldiers’ cheers reverberated across the vast grasslands and deserts. 

 

They had forgotten all about generals and emperors, their admiration was reserved for this one person before them.

 

Unlike the capital, where politics reigned, the battlefield spoke only the language of strength. Under absolute power, the once-maligned temperament of the young Xie Bufeng was now revered by the soldiers.

 

Xie Bufeng took the wine jug, drank heartily, and then splashed the remaining wine toward the sky. 

 

Military life had made him taller, his muscles more robust, as if harboring boundless strength. 

 

His jet-black, curly hair was damp from the wine, and his honey-colored skin bore new scars. But these imperfections only accentuated his unbridled spirit.

 

Xie Bufeng was like a soaring eagle, no longer under anyone’s control. When the emperor sent him to the battlefield, it was akin to releasing a tiger into the wild.

 

As others in the army witnessed this scene, they too began to harbor their own ambitions.

 

That night, supplies arrived from the capital once again. Now a captain, Xie Bufeng had his own tent. When he entered, a box was already placed in the center.

 

Despite having consumed quite a bit of wine, his mind remained clear. 

 

He walked over, slowly opened the box, and retrieved the antidote from Tianci. 

 

Although he knew it was a gift from his mother, through the cold porcelain bottle, Xie Bufeng felt an illusion. 

 

In that moment, he seemed to touch the cold, delicate fingers of Wen Qingci.

 

A fleeting thought disrupted his breath.

 

That night, the Northern Barbarians fled in panic. The soldiers of the Wei Dynasty reveled in drunken celebration until the early hours, releasing their pent-up desires. 

 

Xie Bufeng, having taken the antidote, still clung to the porcelain bottle. The cool, delicate touch evoked memories of his beloved…

 

In his hand, it was no longer Wen Qingci’s vial; it was his own wrist.

 

Amidst the silent night, Xie Bufeng’s tent suddenly lit up. 

 

At this time, frost had begun to form in the north, but Xie Bufeng was only wearing a single layer of clothing.

 

As if oblivious to the cold, he walked to the stream, slowly immersing his body, to extinguish the burning fire within the heart.