Shen Xihe couldn’t help but shake her head and laugh at the letter.

Only then did he mention serious matters – he’d discovered this year’s military funds across regions had been tampered with. This likely wasn’t His Majesty’s doing but related to the stolen autumn grain. Now, except for the Northwest, military guards everywhere were discussing whether to jointly submit a secret memorial exposing the military funding issue.

They were hesitating, uncertain how many people were involved and whether His Majesty had tacitly approved. No one dared to take the lead, fearing becoming the first target.

Shen Yun’an wrote just a few sentences about such important matters, mentioning it briefly. If Shen Xihe weren’t so intelligent, she might have missed the deeper meaning.

His writing style wasn’t due to fears of the letter being intercepted, but because in his heart, the most important thing was ensuring his sister wouldn’t worry. Thus he first reported his safety, then devoted most of the letter – seven or eight-tenths – to his jealousy, which he felt his sister must fully appreciate and reflect upon.

Just as she finished Shen Yun’an’s letter, there was one from Shen Yueshan. He expressed his longing for her, his joy at her gifts, and urged her not to overwork herself or fear anything in the capital – she shouldn’t let anyone mistreat her.

Regarding marriage, he would support whoever she chose, as long as she was happy.

These scattered thoughts occupied half the content. The other half was devoted to criticizing and belittling his son. Shen Yueshan often took pleasure in disparaging his son before his daughter, as if this could diminish Shen Yun’an’s place in Shen Xihe’s heart.

About her marrying Xiao Huayong, Shen Yueshan barely mentioned it, showing no jealousy – meaning he didn’t consider Xiao Huayong worthy of notice.

He had likely learned from Shen Yun’an why Shen Xihe was marrying Xiao Huayong. In his eyes, Xiao Huayong was merely a pawn for Shen Xihe to use, nothing to displease him.

However, at the letter’s end, Shen Yueshan shamelessly mentioned: “At New Year’s, your father might also visit the capital.”

This was because Shen Yun’an had accompanied her during the Dragon Boat and Double Ninth Festivals, telling her to remember her father next time such good occasions arose.

Shen Xihe’s heart warmed reading the letter, smiling unconsciously throughout.

Shen Yueshan was simply jealous of his son. She could almost imagine the coming days – this father and son would fight again, with her brother cleaning horse manure for at least half a month.

At that moment in the Northwestern Prince’s mansion, Shen Yueshan caressed the cup his daughter had sent, deliberately pouring Western wine before his son. He loudly smacked his lips, ignoring his son’s heavy stare while swinging his crossed leg: “Long heard that drinking from a rattan cup makes wine more fragrant and lasting, one can drink a thousand cups without getting drunk. Youyou are so thoughtful.”

Shen Yun’an swallowed: “Father, let me have a sip.”

“This is Father’s cup, how could we share?” Shen Yueshan declared righteously.

What fussiness between two rough men? In military camps, they’d shared not just water skins and cups, but even bedding.

“Father, do you know? Youyou have grown taller, her complexion rosier. She held my arm through the capital’s streets, and when she saw candied hawthorn sellers, she tugged my arm, begging me to buy some, her voice so sweet and soft…”

Shen Yueshan suddenly found the wine tasteless, his gaze towards his smugly proud son changing – no longer looking at a son, but an enemy!

Shen Yun’an remained fearless. Just being punished? His thick skin was used to it. He had to stab his father’s heart first: “In the capital, she made me breakfast daily, even made me a Pingzhong leaf pillow. Each day lying on it, I didn’t want to get up…”

The intolerable Shen Yueshan slammed the table, leaping up with a strike toward Shen Yun’an: “You wretch! Your sister is frail, yet you only know how to burden her, not cherish her…”

While quickly dodging and countering, Shen Yun’an shot a contemptuous look: What about not cherishing? Isn’t it just because these weren’t done for you?

The Prince and Young Master were fighting again, but the mansion servants remained utterly calm, going about their business as if nothing was happening.

In the end, the Young Master was beaten by the Prince, who then punished him by cleaning horse manure at the stables, claiming his martial arts had deteriorated…

Shen Xihe’s gaze seemed to pierce through thousands of miles to the Northwest. The scene of her father and brother transformed into images in her mind, making her laugh unconsciously as she imagined it.

Biyu and the others were also happy – in this world, only the Prince and Young Master could make the Princess laugh so charmingly and radiantly.

Meanwhile, Xiao Huayong had been transported to Luoyang. After taking his pulse, Master Healer Linghu Zheng’s expression remained grave.

Holding back his anger while treating the other injuries, he finally said: “Your Highness, this old man is a doctor, not a deity. If you care so little for yourself, let this old man prepare you poison instead – one drink and you’ll never wake, passing peacefully rather than enduring such torment.”

Knowing he was at fault, Xiao Huayong remained courteous: “Thank you for your trouble, Master Linghu.”

“Don’t mention it. This old man is but a nameless runner for Your Highness, unworthy of such thanks,” Linghu Zheng’s white beard quivered as he spoke sarcastically. “This old man has but a few years left anyway. If I offend Your Highness’s eyes, why not grant me poisoned wine for a clean death, sparing me from being angered to death by Your Highness?”

“It’s my fault for wasting Master’s years of effort. Please forgive me,” Xiao Huayong humbled himself.

Being the Crown Prince and a talented junior he’d watched grow up, Linghu Zheng stopped needling him: “Your Highness’s poison attack this time was dangerous, the toxins now hard to control. This old man can only release some poison to suppress it.”

“How to release it?” Xiao Huayong asked.

“Among the seven meridians, eight vessels, five organs, and six viscera, one must be damaged. Your Highness may choose,” Linghu Zheng said coldly.

After a long silence and discussion with Linghu Zheng, Xiao Huayong chose the least damaging method to force out some poison.

To maintain his freedom of movement in the future, Xiao Huayong sacrificed his eyes. He wasn’t blind, but after releasing the poison, he could no longer see colors.

“This is already the best outcome,” Linghu Zheng was deeply grateful for this much. “If Your Highness cannot find an antidote, not just sight but smell, hearing, feeling… all six senses will gradually decline, followed by organ failure.”

“How much time remains?” Xiao Huayong’s expression was calm.

“Without another dangerous episode like this, with this old man’s delays, you might last three to five years. But if it flares up again like this time, don’t seek this old man – I won’t see Your Highness again,” Linghu Zheng warned implicitly.

Xiao Huayong listened. After Linghu Zheng left, he opened the jade box containing the Snow Lotus, touching what appeared to him as gray petals, and ordered: “Rush this to the capital.”