Dawn light shone through the window.

Having drunk a bowl of medicine, from the corner of her eye she glimpsed Ruo Chan’s complicated expression.

Qun Qing set down the bowl. The medicine in her hand had actually been re-brewed by the martial maids, but Ruo Chan didn’t know this.

Ruo Chan walked over to help Qun Qing change into her official robes. Behind them suddenly came Li Zhang’s weak crying. The wet nurse hurriedly patted and soothed the infant. Qun Qing adjusted her sleeves: “Ruo Chan, do you still remember that wet nurse who tried to assassinate the Grand Imperial Grandson? You’ve always been timid—how did you dare throw yourself at a blade?”

Ruo Chan paused for a moment, touching the knife scar at her neck: “At that time, that Nan Chu spy showed a vicious face, drawing the blade to strike… It was too fast. This servant couldn’t react in time. I only thought that if something happened to the Grand Imperial Grandson, this servant would also find it difficult to escape responsibility.”

She kept her head lowered, fingers clenched tight.

Qun Qing stared at that powdered knife scar on her neck.

At the time, she’d been frightened by the blood and hadn’t examined it carefully. Now, judging from the wound’s position and depth, this injury could have been inflicted by another person, but if one said it was self-inflicted by drawing the sword, that wasn’t impossible either.

At the time, only Ruo Chan and the wet nurse had been guarding Li Zhang’s side. She already harbored suspicions—if Ruo Chan was that Nan Chu spy, sacrificing the chariot to save the general, sacrificing the wet nurse to stage a ruse of self-harm, she could regain trust.

For “Heaven,” this wouldn’t be difficult to accomplish.

Qun Qing brought Ruo Chan out the door.

During the day, she brought Ruo Chan along on duty because she wanted her to have no time alone remaining at the residence. Compared to the tension of the previous few days, Ruo Chan today seemed calm and relaxed, tilting her head up to smile: “Elder sister, the weather is truly fine today. Look, it’s blooming.”

Qun Qing also looked toward the front courtyard. Today’s sunlight was excellent, light falling on her lashes. The wintersweet in the front courtyard bathed in the light, like a tree full of translucent amber jewels.

“I still remember in the deposed Crown Princess’s palace, elder sister led us to save flowers on that rainy night.” Ruo Chan smiled. “I so wish to return to that time.”

Of course Qun Qing remembered. She said calmly: “My mother told me—gatherings and partings, meetings and separations cannot be held onto.”

“Last time elder sister said you would recommend me to the Bureau of Apparel—was that true?” After a pause, Ruo Chan asked.

Qun Qing said: “When I said you have talent and being a maid would be a waste, those were my sincere words. I’ve already submitted the letter of recommendation. Once you become a female official, you’ll have much more monthly stipend.”

“Growing up this big, this is the first time anyone has appreciated this servant.” Ruo Chan plucked a leaf from a tree and held it in her hand, smiling faintly. “Elder sister, Nan Chu truly harms people, making the palace constantly full of alarm. Last time that wet nurse fell into Lord Lu’s hands and died. Fortunately the Grand Imperial Grandson is young and doesn’t recognize people. What do you say—if adults discovered that someone they’re familiar with is actually a spy and must die, wouldn’t that break their hearts?”

Qun Qing listened quietly to her words. It was like a person grasping a ghost’s hand—the icy sensation transmitted from fingertips to heart. Both understood perfectly well, yet neither dared break through the pretense.

“Falling into Lord Lu’s hands, one will not only die but suffer torture before death.” Qun Qing said. “Falling into my hands would be different.”

“Would elder sister not kill her?” Ruo Chan turned her face to look at her.

“I distinguish clearly between gratitude and grudges.” Qun Qing said. “This person saved my life at Qingjing Temple that year. I’m willing to help preserve her life. It depends on her choice.”

Ruo Chan’s expression changed slightly.

“Why did you bring it out today?” At these words, Ruo Chan followed Qun Qing’s gaze toward her own skirts. There was now a horsetail whisk there.

Ruo Chan hastily removed the diagonally slung whisk, smiling at Qun Qing: “Elder sister has such good eyes. This morning I prayed for elder sister’s blessings and forgot to remove it. Wait for me a moment, elder sister. I’ll put it back.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the side hall.

Qun Qing watched her retreating figure, silently looking toward the heights. A dark-colored hem showed at the eaves—martial maids lay in ambush there. As soon as Ruo Chan entered, she would be seized. From then on, she would never need to come out again.

Wind stirred the silk scarves of both women. Ruo Chan walked very slowly, as if understanding something, raising her sleeve to wipe tears, both shoulders trembling slightly. Tears soaked her sleeve. She silently mouthed: “I’m sorry…”

One step, two steps. Qun Qing stood in the wind, listening to the surrounding wintersweet rustling and swaying. The congested feeling in her chest suddenly returned with a vengeance, like a tree extending branches and leaves, reaching straight to her throat. She pressed her chest, but that sensation didn’t subside. Something urgently churned, wanting to come out.

She opened her mouth. A gush of blood spewed onto the ground without warning.

“Madam!”

In her peripheral vision, she saw servants on duty at the residence and secret guards, their livers and galls shattered, running toward her.

At her ears came the clash of weapons. Ruo Chan swung the whisk horizontally—silver needles hidden in the whisk shot forth, repelling several secret guards. Martial maids leaped down from the eaves, wielding blades to strike directly at Ruo Chan’s face. Ruo Chan’s figure, however, became extremely cunning, sharply changing direction and sweeping toward the main hall.

Qun Qing wanted to speak, but her body had already been soaked through with cold sweat. Her soul seemed to be grabbed by an inescapable force and dragged into water. All manner of illusory sounds filled her ears—male and female, old and young, like countless bubbles surging up and bursting, sweeping past her ears.

Just like that, continuously sinking down, sinking down. The surroundings grew quieter and quieter, her body also more and more comfortable, as if borne up by gentle waves, then covered with a soft brocade quilt.

From the moment Qun Qing emerged from the womb, she had never experienced such a relaxed feeling, so she hesitated for quite a while before sitting up from the brocade quilt.

The inner hall was quiet, songs soft. Wind chimes and colorful embroidered sachets hanging above the bed curtains rotated gently. Everything was as serene as in her memories. Zhu Ying sat at her bedside, embroidering a handkerchief while humming a tune.

“Mother.” Qun Qing called out. Before she could rise, she was already embraced by Zhu Ying, cool hands touching her forehead, extraordinarily comfortable. “This child burned with fever for three days. Mother was worried to death. Drink some water.”

From childhood to now, Zhu Ying rarely held her like this. In this luxurious embrace, Qun Qing almost didn’t want to let go. The water her mother gave her soaked into her mouth, even more like immortal nectar and sweet spring.

“I want to sleep a bit more.” Qun Qing said.

“Then rest well. Just now you were having some kind of nightmare, constantly calling out. You must be exhausted. Sleep well, then get up to practice embroidery.” Zhu Ying gently laid her down on the bed and arranged her hair.

The young girl watched her mother’s inconvenienced figure depart, tilting her head back. Outside the window was a gentle tawny hue, so beautiful one couldn’t bear to look away. The tightly closed doors and windows sealed her childhood years within this small residence, extraordinarily lonely and quiet.

Naturally, there was also no danger, no betrayal, no flashing blades and swords.

Qun Qing walked back and forth in the quiet boudoir, finally sitting before the dressing table to comb her long hair from the side, gazing at the tender face in the mirror, eyes black as lacquer. Fragments of heart-stirring scenes from dreams suddenly flashed through her mind.

But concentrating to think carefully, she couldn’t connect them into a line, couldn’t remember anything. After combing her hanging hair, she picked up embroidery from under the pillow, stitch by stitch.

She would stay here forever. Her day was still very long—

At midday the weather changed. Thunder and rain densely covered, shrouding the entire Chancellor’s residence in gloom.

Stepping past the guards kneeling in unison at the doorway, Lu Huating entered the side chamber. His official robes and black hair were dampened, vivid as blood-drinking flowers. Old Lady Xue, helped down from her horse by secret guards, followed behind holding an umbrella.

Maidservants surrounded the low couch following Physician Li’s directions—some holding trays, some holding medicine. Seeing him enter, they all made way: “Madam suddenly collapsed beneath the flowering tree. At that time, we couldn’t feel a pulse.”

Qun Qing lay with eyes closed on the low couch, as if asleep. Her hanging fingers were pale and slender. Lu Huating touched her hand so lightly as to use almost no force, then clasped this wrist between his fingers, fingertips pressing various points, fingers trembling slightly.

Physician Li said: “Just breath stoppage. Young man, stop touching. This position won’t work—move to somewhere warmer.”

Before the words finished, Lu Huating had already lifted Qun Qing by the waist, looked down at her face, and carried her through pools of blood to the bed in the side chamber, also ordering people to light charcoal fires.

Physician Li hurried over, but Old Lady Xue had already seized his position, taking Qun Qing’s pulse first, pondering for a long time: “Poisoned.”

Physician Li said: “Young man, you explain to me—how could she be poisoned when everything was fine?”

Juan Su then recounted the matter of Ruo Chan poisoning the clay pot. The maidservants turned pale with fear: “But Madam clearly discovered it early. These past days she instructed us to re-brew the medicine.”

Physician Li said to Old Lady Xue: “Liu Niang suffered a grave injury. Her weakness can’t take supplements. I don’t even dare prescribe strong medicines for her. What qualifications do you have to dare give her tonics?”

Old Lady Xue didn’t speak. After a long while, she frowned: “That’s not right. Did you switch my prescription?”

Juan Su’s face immediately turned the color of vegetables.

Lu Huating said: “Please, both of you, examine whether she’s with child.”

Old Lady Xue was astonished. After a moment of silence, she said: “Though the pulse is similar, having taken turtle breath grass, it’s only a woman’s ‘false pregnancy.'”

Physician Li pondered for a moment: “She switched the safflower for angelica root?”

Juan Su hurriedly confirmed yes.

“Replacing safflower with angelica root is the most common substitution method for pregnant women among medical practitioners. This poisoner also deeply understands medical principles and is intimately familiar with her physical condition, just as a physician is familiar with their own patient.”

Old Lady Xue slowly stroked Qun Qing’s hair. “Do you still remember what I said before—that this lady has residual poison circulating in her body? Angelica root is warm in nature. For ordinary people, it’s an excellent tonic, but for her, it’s the key that opens the floodgate.”

Having said this, she glanced at Physician Li: “What qualifications do you have? Taking on a disciple like this—aren’t you afraid of harming your student?”

Physician Li’s expression was grave: “Angelica root is merely an ordinary supplement. It was used before without issue. Liu Niang’s mother was acquainted with me. She herself is skilled in medicine. She never said Liu Niang feared angelica root.”

Old Lady Xue said: “I was also too eager to succeed and used strong medicine. Medicine is three parts poison. When medicine is used incorrectly, it becomes poison. That’s why I say this person’s medical skill may not be below yours or mine. Having altered my prescription, it became a death warrant.”

“May I ask Old Lady Xue, how can this be cured?” Lu Huating lowered his gaze, slowly asking.

Having reached this point, what didn’t he understand? Ruo Chan used the clay pot to administer turtle breath grass, suggesting to Qun Qing the appearance of false pregnancy, precisely to lure her into the trap, betting she would be soft-hearted and have her switch it to angelica root herself.

“Right now the residual poison circulates. The person naturally finds dreams sweet, but if she can’t be awakened, how can she eat? How can she drink water? There’s nothing wrong now, but within seven days I fear it will endanger her life. Right now I must apply needles to prevent poison from entering heart and lungs. Old man, hold down both her arms.”

Physician Li hurriedly helped hold down Qun Qing’s sleeves.

That day at Qingjing Temple, when Qun Qing received her sword wound, it was Old Lady Xue’s needle treatment that suspended her life.

Seeing her apply needles, only then did Lu Huating breathe slightly easier. His dark eyes hidden beneath long lashes, after a long while, he asked: “Where did the residual poison in her body come from? Does Old Lady Xue think it could be Nan Chu’s method of controlling people’s hearts?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. Setting aside that good poison is as expensive as the finest medicinal materials, if one wanted to control spies, one could choose ready-made poisons like linked-heart parasites. Why painstakingly and chaotically test bit by bit on her body over years and months? Who would have such long-lasting patience?”

Lu Huating’s finger bones clenched tight, clenching until it hurt somewhat.

Just at this moment, secret guards broke through the window: “My lord, our people planted in the Eastern Market captured Nan Chu’s contact person, but didn’t ambush the Grand Imperial Grandson! It seems Ruo Chan didn’t act according to plan. After leaving the residence, she turned into the alleyways and fled southward.”

Juan Su and Zhu Su’s expressions changed as they exchanged glances: “Right when rebel forces are causing chaos, the Grand Imperial Grandson is lost from Madam’s hands. Setting aside that Madam is poisoned and in mortal danger, even if Madam awakens, how can she bear this grave crime?”

“Perhaps we should first report to the palace.” Zhu Su said. “Clearly this was aimed at Madam—a plan to kill two birds with one stone. First discuss with His Majesty to avoid creating discord between His Majesty and my lord.”

“Suppress the news first.” Lu Huating raised his eyes to look at them. “If any leaks out, only you two will be questioned.”

“My lord, my lord…”

Despite the calls from behind, Lu Huating had already turned, stepping through pools of blood into the main hall, examining the empty cradle and the candlestick knocked to the floor. This place had clearly experienced combat. Wind and rain poured in from the broken window—Ruo Chan had escaped through the broken window.

Both martial maids were injured. One was severely wounded and unconscious, the other leaned against the wall barely alive. The abdominal wound that had just been wrapped still faintly seeped blood. Gritting her teeth, she said: “Ruo Chan’s whisk contained poisoned needles. This subordinate failed in protection… couldn’t preserve the Grand Imperial Grandson. But she won’t live long either!”

Only then did Lu Huating turn his head: “Truly?”

“True! This subordinate dealt a fatal wound. When she escaped, her ribs had already caved in!”

Lu Huating nodded, stopping her difficult speech.

He looked indifferently toward the window. Lightning that suddenly flared illuminated this pale, handsome face in minute detail, yet the cold smile at his lips didn’t reach his eyes.

At some unknown moment, the silhouettes of a group appeared outside the window.

This group emerged soundlessly, like spectral soldiers passing through formations. Each wore a ghost mask, silently confronting Lu Huating. Raindrops wound down from iron-blue ghost masks and rust-green swords. Without their master’s command, they dared not act rashly.

“Did you hear? Ruo Chan can’t run far.” Lu Huating held a jade tablet, turning toward them, his eyes extremely dark, saying as if joking: “Find the nearest mountain peak with a temple and force her up there.”

The leader paused for a moment. That ghost mask nodded. Immediately after, these crimson figures vanished soundlessly in all directions like clouds and smoke.

Lu Huating clenched the jade tablet tight, the smile on his face also receding.

These were the death warriors Meng Guangshen had fought for all his life, repeatedly forcing him into life-and-death situations.

Now that Meng Guangshen was dead, naturally these people belonged to him.