Though not as bitterly cold as the northern regions, Yongdu had cooled considerably after weeks of rain around the Qingming Festival. The stone floors exuded a pervasive chill.
Wen Qingci had just arrived at the Taishu Palace and was promptly led to the Ninghe Hall.
The air here was thick with smoke, as suffocating as ever.
After paying his respects, Wen Qingci remained kneeling, but the emperor, seated at the highest position, didn’t acknowledge him. It was as if he hadn’t heard Wen Qingci’s words at all.
The cold crept up his knees, gradually seeping into his bones, creating an undeniable ache that spread throughout his body.
His left hand had gone numb again.
From the corner of his eye, Wen Qingci noticed the emperor still engrossed in reviewing memorials, occasionally pursing his lips. His mood seemed far from pleasant.
The emperor furrowed his brow or muttered something under his breath, seemingly lost in thought, completely forgetting that someone knelt before him in the Ninghe Hall.
Having worked by the emperor’s side for so long, Wen Qingci was familiar with this routine—
The emperor was asserting his authority, waiting for Wen Qingci to plead for mercy.
Perhaps due to vague knowledge of the enmity between him and the original host, Wen Qingci understood the emperor’s intent. Yet he remained motionless, as if willing to endure this standoff indefinitely.
Seeing Wen Qingci’s unyielding demeanor, the emperor’s frown deepened.
“…The situation in Changyuan remains unresolved, and now the southern regions are also in turmoil!” The emperor’s anger escalated as he spoke, eventually sweeping everything off the desk with a grand gesture.
The Ninghe Hall echoed with a jarring noise.
The palace maids and eunuchs nearby all dropped to their knees, afraid to breathe.
As the emperor’s actions sent tea cups crashing to the floor, hot liquid and shards sprayed in all directions.
One drop landed precisely on Wen Qingci’s hand, leaving a red mark.
His body swayed.
The open doors and windows allowed the biting wind to assail Wen Qingci from all sides, erasing any lingering warmth.
Within moments, the chill had replaced the remnants of heat.
A familiar itch spread across Wen Qingci’s chest and back, quickly escalating into pain. Even maintaining his posture while kneeling became a struggle.
He rarely found himself in such a disheveled state.
His intermittent cough disrupted the tranquility of the Ninghe Hall.
The emperor, who had been meticulously reviewing memorials, finally looked up at him.
Wen Qingci’s lips were stained with dark red blood, like a meandering snake slithering into his collar.
His face had paled to an extreme, resembling someone recovering from a serious illness.
Was Wen Qingci coughing up blood?
The emperor thought this, but his expression remained inscrutable.
As if reminded by the coughing, the emperor finally noticed Wen Qingci’s presence and smiled faintly.
“My dear, you are here.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The emperor nodded, then added with a wry smile, “I heard that Minister Wen recently suffered from poisoning… As a rare medicinal expert, you must have plenty of remedies. It seems I can only keep you temporarily in the palace for care and recuperation.”
Wen Qingci bowed in gratitude, feigning ignorance of the emperor’s true intentions. “I am grateful for Your Majesty’s benevolence.”
Nearly an hour had passed since he arrived at the Ninghe Hall.
Yet Wen Qingci hadn’t seen Xian Gonggong by the emperor’s side.
Instead, the guard who had brought him here stood confidently in the foreground.
Clearly, Xian Gonggong hadn’t brought him along during previous visits, arousing the emperor’s suspicion or displeasure.
But witnessing this scene, Wen Qingci felt a sense of relief.
Unlike himself, who had spent only a short year in the Taishu Palace, Xian Gonggong had been by the emperor’s side for many years, closely observing him. Xian Gonggong understood the emperor better than Wen Qingci did and was more realistic.
If Xian Gonggong wanted, he could easily extricate himself from this situation.
Xian Gonggong’s direct admission… was a form of surrender.
He realized that the emperor’s position was untenable, and he had fully aligned himself with Wen Qingci—or rather, with the eldest prince.
The guard who had brought Wen Qingci forward bowed and said, “Your Majesty, Minister Wen’s health is indeed poor. To be cautious, we should assign several guards to accompany him.”
“Indeed,” the emperor agreed, “select four or five guards to accompany him. We can also increase the number of guards from the Imperial Medical Bureau.”
The guard glanced casually at Wen Qingci before turning away. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The cold wind wrapped the gray smoke from the incense burner and brought it to Wen Qingci.
At this moment, his deep gaze was obscured.
On the fifth day after Wen Qingci returned to Yongdu, the battle report from the north finally arrived.
He happened to be taking the emperor’s pulse at that time.
After reading the battle report, the emperor was furious.
His muscles kept twitching that night, and even acupuncture couldn’t calm him down.
But this is just the beginning.
In the days that followed, reports of great victories in the North flew here like snowflakes without stopping.
The emperor finally realized how bad of a move he had made previously, and that Xie Bufeng was definitely not as simple as he had originally thought.
The military merit policy has not been abolished yet, but Xie Bufeng has already reached the highest point where no one can be more honored thanks to his victory after victory.
Superficially, Wen Qingci could move freely within the Taishu Palace, seemingly no different from usual.
However, in just one day, his surroundings suddenly sprouted numerous watchful eyes.
The palace guards scrutinized his every move, observing him as if he were a criminal.
Wen Qingci had lost almost all his freedom.
To avoid trouble, he spent most of his days in the Imperial Medical Bureau, venturing out only when summoned by the emperor for pulse diagnosis.
At first glance, his life appeared tranquil.
But those within knew that the air around him simmered like water about to boil.
It may seem calm on the surface, but in fact it has the power to burn people.
For days on end, Wen Qingci rarely uttered a word, except for occasional chats with Yu Guanlin.
“…It’s almost May,” Yu Guanlin, after discussing prescriptions with Wen Qingci, stroked his beard and glanced at the distant willow trees. “After this birthday, I’ll be seventy-five.”
Wen Qingci put down his scroll and looked at Yu Guanlin.
The old imperial physician sipped his tea, anticipation in his eyes. “They say ‘seventy is the age of retirement.’ I’ve served enough years in the Imperial Medical Bureau. After this birthday, I’ll consider going before His Majesty to request retirement.”
In the court, officials retiring adhered to a process called , which involved a gradual transition. From submitting resignation to returning home with family, it usually took two or three years.
Wen Qingci remembered Yu Guanlin mentioning this when he first arrived. Now, it seemed the time had come.
“Congratulations, Physician Yu,” Wen Qingci smiled. “You can enjoy the mountains and waters in your retirement.”
Yu Guanlin chuckled. “Indeed. After so many years as an imperial physician, I’ve never visited the medicinal gardens at Songxiu Mansion. If there’s time, perhaps you can take me there.”
Wen Qingci knew that the other party was being polite to him, so he quickly agreed.
As they spoke, footsteps echoed outside the Medical Bureau.
Wen Qingci instinctively turned to look.
——Ming Liu, who had not been seen for more than a month, appeared in the small courtyard of the Imperial Medical Bureau with a few people.
She appeared anxious. “The little princess fell earlier and won’t stop crying. We don’t know where she hurt herself. Physician Yu, please come quickly!”
“Of course!” Yu Guanlin hurriedly packed up. Normally, he was directly summoned for injuries or illnesses suffered by princes or princesses.
Unexpectedly, as Yu Guanlin rose from his chair, he winced and sat back down, supporting his waist. “Ah… Miss Mingliu, please wait.”
Apparently, he had risen too hastily and strained his back. Understandable, given Yu Guanlin’s age—over seventy.
Mingliu’s gaze shifted to Wen Qingci. “Wen Xiansheng, are you available to come?”
News of Wen Qingci’s “recuperating” in the Taishu Palace had spread throughout the capital.
Although his daily activities in the palace remained unrestricted, Consort Lan had avoided contact with him recently, fearing any trouble.
Realizing her abruptness, Mingliu hesitated. But in the next moment, Wen Qingci picked up his medicine box and stood up. “Certainly, I’ll accompany you.”
The guards exchanged glances, neither speaking nor obstructing. They followed Wen Qingci toward their destination.
Huixin Palace remained unchanged, except the nearby willow trees had grown taller.
“…It’s okay, Your Highness. Look in the mirror. The bump on your forehead has disappeared.” As he said that, Wen Qingci handed over the bronze mirror in his hand.
Xie Fuyin, nestled in her mother’s arms, reluctantly accepted the mirror. Her amber eyes studied her reflection.
Satisfied that the swelling had subsided, she finally ceased crying and settled down.
Earlier, Xie Fuyin had taken a tumble, resulting in a small bump on her forehead.
The palace attendants had tried to soothe her, but Wen Qingci discerned the real reason behind her tears: vanity.
Despite being just over a year old, Xie Fuyin already cared about her appearance.
Having lived with her mother since she was a child, she unconsciously became a bit spoiled and willful.
Seeing this, Wen Qingci smiled and turned to organize his medicine box.
He didn’t mind such a temperament, in fact, he found it refreshingly natural.
…What was Xie Bufeng like when he was a child?
The sudden thought startled Wen Qingci.
In an instant, countless suppressed memories flooded back.
His fingers twitched, hastening his movements.
Children tend to forget quickly, but despite Wen Qingci’s recent absence from Huixin Palace, Xie Fuyin didn’t find him unfamiliar.
After she stopped crying, Xie Fuyin approached, eager to chat.
The scene before him seemed heartwarming—ignoring the guards who kept a close eye on him.
As Wen Qingci smoothed out the clothes rumpled by Xie Fuyin, Consort Lan approached, smiling and casually moving the incense burner aside.
At that moment, Wen Qingci glimpsed a hint of anxiety in her eyes.
…Calculating, those incense pellets should have expired by now.
Consort Lan’s gaze followed her actions, resting on the incense burner nearby. “Recently… it’s time to replenish the incense. I wonder if the usual scents used in the palace are prepared.”
Her tone was light, as if engaging in casual conversation.
Though they hadn’t explicitly discussed it, both knew who was behind the incense pellets.
With the pellets running low, Consort Lan had no choice but to address the matter directly in front of Wen Qingci.
The guards behind Wen Qingci tensed as Consort Lan spoke to him.
Wen Qingci’s hands paused involuntarily.
He understood Consort Lan’s urgency for revenge, but he felt she was too impatient.
In this era, poisoning the emperor would implicate entire families once exposed.
Wen Qingci wondered… Besides revenge, perhaps Consort Lan had another urgent reason to poison the emperor or drive him to madness.
Listening to Consort Lan, Wen Qingci smiled calmly and said, “One missing scent shouldn’t be a problem.”
Consort Lan frowned slightly, studying him.
What did he mean?
Dressed in moon-white robes, Wen Qingci picked up his neatly packed medicine box and stood.
Smiling at the little princess, he turned to Consort Lan and spoke in his usual gentle tone, “The effects of these incense pellets are merely to calm the mind or soothe the spirit. While they have their uses, they can’t compare to medicinal herbs. Now that I’m here, direct treatment with medicine is available.”
He paused and added, “Besides, after using them for so long, they’ve likely served their purpose.”
With that, he nodded to Consort Lan and said, “Princess’s injury has been treated. I’ll take my leave now, Consort Lan.”
Consort Lan’s heart skipped a beat. “Very well…”
The emperor’s guards, who had been watching Wen Qingci closely, couldn’t discern anything from his words.
As Wen Qingci prepared to leave, they hesitated briefly before following his footsteps out of the room.
After Wen Qingci departed, Consort Lan stood there for a while, then sat down slowly, clutching her handkerchief.
The so-called “incense pellets” were actually poison—both she and Wen Qingci knew that.
So, Wen Qingci’s implication was that he intended to act directly, bypassing the incense?
Cold sweat formed in Consort Lan’s palms.
Perhaps Wen Qingci’s consistently gentle demeanor had momentarily made her forget his notorious reputation as the “Immortal-Faced Demon.”
…
Wen Qingci maintained his composure, but his heart raced.
He glanced discreetly at the guards trailing him, then considered:
The original host must have harbored murderous intent early on, secretly contacting Consort Lan and providing her with the incense pellets.
The emperor’s body was irreversibly affected by the use of incense pills for a long time.
As a man who loves life, he will naturally try his best to find someone who can heal him…
From this perspective, it was almost inevitable that the original owner would enter the palace.
Wen Qingci clenched his palms little by little… Although he knew that the emperor and the original owner had a blood feud, as a modern man, he had no way to really poison and kill the emperor as the original owner had planned.
But just like he said – it has been so long, the effect has been achieved.
After prolonged use, the emperor’s body had irreversibly suffered from heavy metal poisoning. Even if they stopped the incense now, it wouldn’t reverse his deteriorating health.
Inside and outside the palace, countless people wished for his demise.
It is only a matter of time.
Dewy on BLPSG Chapter 86: The Emperor’s old illness: “I want QingCi to give this little wolf a big slap after healing him -__-” Oct 23, 13:18
