“Taking this medicine for extended periods causes severe uterine coldness that cannot be cured, making pregnancy impossible!”

Yuanxi listened quietly, each word like a sharp blade stabbing viciously into her heart, shattering everything she had once believed. Her lips trembled, then she suddenly laughed. With a tearful smile, she tilted her head: “Imperial Physician Zuo, you must be joking. How could such things exist in this world?”

Zuo Qiao’s hands clenched into tight fists, unable to bear responding for a moment. In over thirty years at the Imperial Medical Academy, he had witnessed countless despicable schemes, but never had he felt such heartache for someone. What kind of heart could strike such a vicious blow against one’s own daughter? What kind of malicious plotting would use a woman’s entire life as sacrifice?

Yuanxi stared at him intently, unwilling to miss any expression on his face. But she was quickly disappointed—Zuo Qiao only hung his head, kneeling there with a heavy expression, refusing to say he had made an error.

She slowly blinked, feeling something shatter before her eyes. Then a black hole suddenly appeared behind Zuo Qiao, swallowing him entirely. The hole grew larger and larger until it devoured everything in the room… She gazed at the void before her and finally breathed a long sigh of relief: “Of course it isn’t real. Of course it’s just a dream. How wonderful.”

When Yuanxi regained consciousness, she opened her eyes to see Xiao Du’s bloodshot gaze. She grasped his hand urgently: “A’Du, I just had a terrible nightmare!”

Xiao Du clasped her hand in return, but the sorrow in his eyes only intensified. Yuanxi’s entire body stiffened, fear floating in her pupils as she asked with difficulty: “It’s true, isn’t it? Imperial Physician Zuo… those medicines… and my inability to conceive… it’s all true, isn’t it?”

Xiao Du could no longer bear to look at her expression, only turning his head away and nodding heavily. All light drained from Yuanxi’s eyes, then she began trembling like a helpless child newly entered into the world. Sensing her distress, Xiao Du immediately held her tightly: “Xi’er, it’s alright. We’re still so young, we can find a way. Perhaps it can still be cured!”

But Yuanxi seemed to hear nothing, only staring with vacant eyes, her entire body cold as if immersed in ice water. No warm embrace could bring her the slightest warmth. Suddenly, her gaze caught a corner of bright red brocade beneath the pillow. She struggled free from Xiao Du’s arms and pulled out the nearly finished baby quilt, beginning to tear at it viciously until she had ripped apart all the stitches sewn through countless days and nights, turning all hopes and dreams into a mass of unrecognizable torn cloth.

Xiao Du was frightened by her behavior, quickly gripping her hands tightly: “Xi’er, don’t do this!”

But Yuanxi looked up at him, her eyes like those of an uncontrolled wild beast. She clawed at his arm like grasping driftwood to keep from falling into an abyss. Then tears finally fell drop by drop, each one carving bloody holes in her heart. Xiao Du felt a dull pain in his chest, letting her cry his sleeves completely wet while stroking her head and gently comforting: “It’s alright, don’t be afraid. I’ll stay with you, don’t be afraid.”

Yuanxi cried herself hoarse, trembling all over. When she finally had no more tears to shed, she screamed with heart-rending anguish: “Gone, everything’s gone! A’Du, do you understand? The snowball fights in the plum grove are gone, the writing on the boat is gone, no Xiao Mu, no Xiao Yao—we’ll never have children!”

The despair in that voice nearly destroyed Xiao Du completely. He held Yuanxi even tighter, choking: “I don’t care, I don’t care about children. I only care about you! Do you understand!”

But Yuanxi could no longer hear anything. Many voices seemed to be screaming in her head, the noise making her entire body ache. So she buried her head deeply in his embrace, constantly telling herself: sleep quickly, when you’re asleep nothing will happen, when you’re asleep it won’t hurt anymore.

For the next several days, Yuanxi barely ate anything, either staring blankly or sleeping fitfully all day. Xiao Du stayed by her side constantly, forcing her to swallow some rice porridge. On the third day, Yuanxi finally emerged from that state. She called for Nanny Li and An’he to help her wash and dress, then made a request: she wanted to return to the chancellor’s residence.

Xiao Du didn’t want to let her go, fearing she would suddenly disappear from his side again like last time. But Yuanxi only smiled and told him she had some very important matters to ask Xia Mingyuan about. She promised to definitely return—after all, she had no possessions and knew nothing useful, where else could she go besides the marquis residence and chancellor’s residence?

Seeing her mind was made up, Xiao Du feared that if she suffered another shock she might return to her previous condition. He could only allow her to go and return quickly, secretly dispatching two guards to follow her with instructions to definitely bring the madam back.

When the black-curtained carriage stopped before the Chancellor’s residence, Yuanxi stepped down holding her skirt with one hand and a small box with the other. She looked up at the gold-leafed plaque on the vermillion door, a cold smile playing at her lips.

She glanced at the box in her hand—the only thing she had brought when leaving the marquis residence. Then she instructed the driver to wait outside and raised her voice: “I’ll be back very soon, don’t worry.” Two black shadows flashed behind the carriage, taking position on either side of the residence gates.

Yuanxi had herself announced and was led to see Xia Mingyuan. He was currently in his study writing something on spread paper. Upon seeing her enter, he raised his eyebrows slightly, put away the paper, and wiped ink stains from his hands: “Why have you come again today? I told you your Seventh Concubine’s condition can’t handle too many visitors.”

Yuanxi coldly surveyed the man before her. Those features and form were so familiar to her, yet now felt so distant and cold. She sighed deeply: “I’m not here to see Seventh Concubine. I have some words I want to speak privately with Father.”

Xia Mingyuan grew increasingly surprised, then waved his hand to dismiss the servants in the room. He sat down and casually played with a paperweight on the desk: “Whatever you have to say, speak quickly.”

Yuanxi curved her lips, though her eyes seemed to harbor ice: “I want to ask Father, why was it me?”

Xia Mingyuan’s hand trembled, the paperweight dropping onto the desk with a “thud.” He looked at her with a strange expression, then guiltily turned away: “What are you talking about? What do you mean why was it you?”

Yuanxi’s expression grew increasingly mocking as she spoke with ringing clarity: “You know what I mean. But when exactly did it begin? When I was born, or after I turned eight? Why did you choose me? Was it because… I was a motherless child from birth?”

Xia Mingyuan could no longer maintain his composure. He looked at Yuanxi in terror, seeing the intense confusion and accusation in her eyes, his body suddenly growing weak: she truly knew everything. Why so quickly? Who had told her?

Countless thoughts raced through his mind. Before he could decide how to respond, Yuanxi had already walked before him, softening her voice: “Father, for the sake that I still call you Father, can you tell me one truth? Why exactly was it me? Why did you do this?”

Meeting those water-like eyes, Xia Mingyuan suddenly remembered how when she first learned to walk, she had gazed at him with just such eyes, smiling as she ran toward him, hugging his legs and calling “Father” in her baby voice. A barrier in his heart cracked, and the guilt he had deliberately suppressed all these years finally burst forth. He closed his eyes and sighed: “You can only blame being born a daughter of the Xia family. Since you bear the Xia surname, one person was destined to be sacrificed. Father… Father didn’t want this either.”

He still remembered how that woman wearing a magnificent phoenix crown had arrogantly told him: “Elder Brother, the rise and fall of the Xia clan rests entirely on our shoulders. Just find some low-born concubine’s daughter—such a small sacrifice is worthwhile.” So he had done it, thinking he could face all consequences calmly, until this moment of her questioning.

Yuanxi took a long time to understand these words. She suddenly found it somewhat laughable: “So from childhood you were unwilling to be close to me because I was destined to be the one sacrificed, so you couldn’t spare even a bit of warmth for me?”

Xia Mingyuan was stung by her cold words, quickly protesting: “No, Father wasn’t unwilling, but didn’t dare…” He feared that getting too close, watching her grow up laughing happily, would make him unable to bear pushing his own flesh and blood into the abyss with his own hands.

Yuanxi finally understood everything. She stepped back and suddenly opened the box in her hands, saying to Xia Mingyuan: “Do you remember this box? It contains all my childhood memories of Father. Every bit inside, even the casual kindness you showed, I carefully preserved like treasures. This way I could feel that perhaps Father still cared about me a little.”

The pain in Xia Mingyuan’s heart intensified: “Xi’er, I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

But a mysterious smile appeared on Yuanxi’s face. Then she raised her hand and violently smashed the box to the ground. Spoiled sugar figurines, ordinary pearl flowers, and the box of rose balm from her wedding scattered across the floor like carelessly trampled sincerity. Looking at the chaos on the ground, she showed an expression of incomparable relief, speaking word by word: “From today forward I have no connection with the Xia family. I wish Chancellor Xia gets his heart’s desire, that his power remains forever secure, and that he be cut off from sons and grandsons!”

Xia Mingyuan stood frozen in place until Yuanxi left without looking back. Only then did he realize she hadn’t cried once from beginning to end.

He supported himself against the desk and staggered a few steps before collapsing softly into his chair. Before making that decision, he had imagined countless times that he might regret it, but never thought the remorse would be so intense.

It turned out that this daughter he had never dared pay extra attention to was the most like him among all his children. No matter how fragile and timid her exterior appeared, once she made a decision, she was so resolute and determined. So he understood all too clearly: she wasn’t without sorrow, she simply disdained to shed tears before him.

Yuanxi strode into the courtyard, biting her lip hard and telling herself she absolutely could not shed another tear. Just then, the sound of children’s laughter reached her ears. She stopped somewhat dazedly and walked toward the sound.

By the lotus pond, her five-year-old niece and nephew were playing happily. Upon seeing her, they bounced over calling: “Seventh Aunt, you’ve come back!” They were Yuanxi’s third brother’s children, raised from childhood to be extremely clever and well-mannered. Looking at these two innocent, tender faces before her, Yuanxi suddenly felt an inconsolable sorrow. She swept her niece into her arms, reluctant to let go for a long time. The little girl felt her shoulder grow wet and asked in surprise: “Aunt, why are you crying?”

Yuanxi wiped the tears from her eyes and forced a smile: “It’s nothing. Can you tell Aunt where that little hole is that you sneak out to play through?”