The moment Imperial Physician Gu saw Prince Yao collapsed unconscious on the heated couch, he was alarmed. “Your Highness, what is—”

The poison master, standing to the side, saw it at a glance. “Your Highness, there was poison in that tea, wasn’t there!”

Imperial Physician Gu, even more alarmed, immediately checked the prince’s pulse, only to find it was merely a poison meant to induce unconsciousness. What exactly was the Princess Consort trying to do, poisoning the prince himself?

Could it be that she meant to—

Imperial Physician Gu quickly stepped between the poison master and his assistant, urgently trying to reason with her. “Your Highness, His Highness truly means well for you. Your condition really cannot… this is far too dangerous!”

With the poison master and his assistant present, Imperial Physician Gu didn’t say too much—the Princess Consort’s constitution needed to remain secret, and he kept quiet wherever possible. The two of them only knew that the Princess Consort had taken many antidotes to suppress the poison’s effects; this time was purely about curing it, and their skill wasn’t enough to discern her true condition.

The poison master and his assistant tried to persuade her too, but to their surprise, Ziqing said flatly, “Cure it. Imperial Physician Gu, look after Beiyue.”

As she spoke, she lay down on the heated couch not far from Jun Beiyue. For a moment, all three of them froze—so this was what the Princess Consort had meant all along!

But why did it require knocking Prince Yao unconscious?

Curing the poison would require a hundred silver needles, but for people trained in the martial arts as they were, though brutal, it wasn’t truly unbearable.

Ziqing lay gazing up at the beam overhead, pressing her lips together. Though her face looked composed, beads of cold sweat had already formed at her temples. She laced her fingers together, took a deep breath, and waited for the cure to begin.

The poison master glanced at Imperial Physician Gu, and seeing him nod, stepped forward, laying out a hundred silver needles on one side, and setting out dozens of jars of medicine, large and small, on the other.

Ziqing kept her gaze fixed straight ahead at the ceiling beam, until the poison master finished laying everything out and stood beside her, watching. Only then did Ziqing finally have no choice but to look directly at him.

She couldn’t help a shudder, her lips trembling before she pressed them tightly together, clearly anything but composed. The poison master found this puzzling—the Prince Yao’s consort he knew wasn’t someone afraid of pain.

So why was she afraid now?

Seeing this, the poison master instinctively glanced back at Jun Beiyue, only to find him lying perfectly still, sleeping peacefully beside them, utterly unaware of everything around him.

The poison master truly didn’t understand. Weren’t women meant to rely on men, to submit to them, to please them?

Especially women of the imperial family, especially before a man as outstanding as Prince Yao—countless women lined up to win his favor, to earn his affection.

And yet here was this Princess Consort, given such a golden opportunity, and she’d gone and knocked Prince Yao unconscious, leaving him set aside.

Helpless, the poison master picked up the needles and said seriously, “Your Highness, all one hundred needles will be used, drawing the poison from your blood through a hundred acupoints on your body. Planting the poison was the pain of one needle—curing it is the pain of a hundred. Your Highness must… be strong.”

In acupuncture, needles inserted into acupoints didn’t always hurt—some points caused no pain at all, and others hurt, but within a range any ordinary person could bear.

But once those needles carried poison, everything changed.

Every single needle, every single point, would hurt.

Ziqing’s heart pounded wildly. She wasn’t afraid of pain—she was afraid of the moment the needles pierced her skin and drew the poison out. That was the moment the addiction would strike.

She unconsciously wanted to turn and look at Jun Beiyue, but in the end she didn’t. Her nails dug into her palms as she said only, flatly, “Mm. I understand.”

“Your Highness, let’s begin with the arm,” the poison master said, laying the needles he’d need one by one in his palm until he held a small pile.

Ziqing silently rolled up her sleeves and immediately closed her eyes.

Imperial Physician Gu and the poison master’s assistant sat off to the side watching. They knew a hundred needles would take a long time, and the process would be excruciating, but gritting one’s teeth, it would pass.

Suddenly, pain shot through Ziqing’s wrist as the first needle went in. Her eyes flew open, and in that instant, the look in them was startlingly fierce. The poison master realized something was wrong and immediately stepped back—the second needle hadn’t even had time to go in yet.

Ziqing sat bolt upright, her expression suddenly and inexplicably savage, glaring viciously at everyone in the room. Imperial Physician Gu couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath. “Poison master, what’s going on!”

The poison master was flustered, at a complete loss—he didn’t know either!

It hurt, yes, but not enough to hurt like this. His instincts told him the Princess Consort had just wanted to kill him.

With only a single needle, Ziqing could clearly feel something being drawn out from inside her. She couldn’t control herself—one hand pressed against the needle. Just as she had, so many times before during her addiction, tried to resist taking the poison, even taking a knife to the flesh of her leg, unable to stop herself.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be cured. It was that she couldn’t be cured—she couldn’t control it.

But rather than let Jun Beiyue witness her at her most wretched, her uncontrollable, ugly greed—rather than let a man who loved and cherished her so deeply be the one to restrain her with his own hands—

She would rather be cruel to herself instead.

Her hand, unconsciously, pressed near the needle, nearly pulling it straight out—but in the end, she held back, clenching her jaw so tight her features twisted together.

A voice screamed in the depths of her mind, urging her on. “Pull it out! Pull it out and take the poison, and you won’t have to suffer like this anymore!”

Ziqing stared fixedly at her own hand, willpower and instinct locked in a tug-of-war. The moment her willpower slackened even slightly, instinct would swallow her whole.

Her hand moved, gripping the needle, about to pull it free—no, she couldn’t, she had to hold on, she screamed at herself internally. But her hand simply wouldn’t obey her, about to yank the needle out, so close, just a little more—

“Imperial Physician Gu!”

Suddenly, Ziqing cried out. “Imperial Physician Gu, come here!”

Imperial Physician Gu jolted and rushed to her side at once, not understanding what was happening—it was only pain, wasn’t it? Why did it look like it was killing her?

And in that very moment, Ziqing’s hand truly slipped beyond her control, wrenching the needle out. The poison master gasped in alarm. “Your Highness, you mustn’t!”

With the needle removed, the poison stopped being drawn from her body, and Ziqing finally managed to steady herself somewhat, gasping for breath, staring blankly at Imperial Physician Gu.

Flustered, he glanced back instinctively toward Prince Yao, only to find his lord sleeping deeply, so peacefully, utterly unaware of everything unfolding before him.

“Your Highness, please, tell me… what exactly is going on with you!” Imperial Physician Gu’s voice trembled with urgency—if something went wrong, how would he ever explain it to his lord?

Ziqing sat up, lifted her right leg, and abruptly tore open the hem of her trouser leg. There, on her jade-smooth thigh, less than three inches below the knee, was a wound. The moment Imperial Physician Gu, an expert, laid eyes on it, he sucked in a sharp breath of cold air. Though the wound had scabbed over with a thin layer of skin, it wasn’t shallow at all, and it clearly hadn’t been inflicted just once—it had been reopened again and again in the very same spot.

This… what on earth was this?

“Addiction. It’s a drug addiction, Physician Gu. You have to help me. I want to be cured—I want it so badly!” Ziqing panted, her voice low. Yes, she wanted the cure—she wanted it more than anything.

As she spoke, she pulled out Liuguang and handed it to Imperial Physician Gu, saying seriously, “Tie me down. If I can’t hold back, stab me here.”