“I’d forgotten you’re skilled in medicine too.” Ning Yi extended his hand, smiling faintly. “I’m just feeling a bit dizzy.”

He raised his face to look at her, his eyes gleaming with a deep light. Feng Zhiwei wore a gentle smile as she focused on taking his pulse. After a moment, she released his wrist and smiled. “Indeed, Your Highness has an excellent constitution.”

She then presented the sobering soup. Ning Yi looked at it but didn’t take it.

“Perhaps Your Highness doesn’t dare drink soup I’ve made.” Feng Zhiwei smiled as she set the soup down. “I should take it away then.”

Just as she turned, a hand reached out and took the bowl.

“Poisoned wine may taste sweet, but good medicine is always bitter.” Ning Yi drained it in one gulp. “No matter the flavor, one must taste it personally to know.” He rose lazily. “It’s getting late, and I still have matters to attend to. I must go.”

Behind him, Feng Zhiwei bowed. “This subject respectfully sees Your Highness off.”

But Ning Yi suddenly stopped and turned back. His steps seemed unsteady as his body tilted to one side. Feng Zhiwei had no choice but to reach out to support him.

Ning Yi took advantage of the situation, bracing his elbow horizontally on her shoulder and placing half his body weight on her. Feng Zhiwei frowned, but before the frown fully formed, she immediately resumed her habitual smile.

Ning Yi found this somewhat amusing. This young woman seemed to have grown accustomed to constantly wearing a face full of smiles—smiling without disturbing the mortal world, smiling without alarming wind or rain, smiling until finally, even she no longer knew what her true expression was.

Would she live her entire life behind such a false mask?

He suddenly reached out, removed her mask, and rubbed his fingers against her brow. “Furrow it, furrow it.”

Feng Zhiwei looked at him with mixed amusement and exasperation—what a madman. Others smoothed away the wrinkles between one’s brows, but he wanted her to furrow hers.

“Didn’t you say you had matters to attend to? Go on, go on.” His Highness didn’t like seeing her false smile, and she also found pretending tiresome. She put her mask back on and simply pushed him. “I won’t see you off any further.”

Ning Yi leaned down, a strand of black hair falling across his brow, making his skin appear snow-white and his eyes hazy, adding several degrees of bewitching charm. He laughed softly near her ear. “I know—you can’t wait to send me off early.”

“Your Highness jests.” Feng Zhiwei brushed the hair at her temples to avoid his lips that were mere inches away, struggling to keep her expression natural. “This subject wishes nothing more than for Your Highness to grace this humble residence daily, so as to add more worry lines to this subject’s brow.”

Ning Yi gazed at her steadily, smiled without speaking, and walked ahead. The two returned to the pavilion, where Feng Zhiwei was surprised to see that the Tenth Prince Ning Ji, who claimed to be “drunk and going to sleep,” was still in the pavilion with a flushed face, continuing to drink.

“Old Ten got drunk first today and didn’t block drinks for Old Six.” The Second Prince pointed at him with a laugh. “In the past, whenever Old Ten was present, Old Six could never get drunk. This time, no one’s blocking for you.”

“Perhaps the wine at the Wei residence tastes better.” The Seventh Prince smiled with refined elegance.

“Come, everyone, see what birthday gift I’ve prepared for Mother Consort!” The Fifth Prince, already half-drunk, suddenly produced an exquisite brush holder from his sleeve. “The Provincial Administration Commissioner of Minnan sent people to search the Ten Thousand Mile Mountains for half a year before finding this unique treasure in the world. It just arrived today—perfect timing to open your eyes.”

“What’s so rare about a brush holder? Noble Consort loves calligraphy—what brush holder hasn’t she seen?” The Second Prince was about to shake his head when he suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

In the hollow bamboo brush holder, through a gap, a pair of eyes suddenly appeared, darting around.

“A rat!” The Tenth Prince cried out and fell backward. The Fifth Prince caught him and laughed. “Old Ten, how can you still be so timid? You have no imperial dignity at all.”

The Tenth Prince flushed with embarrassment. By then, the small creature in the brush holder had emerged—a pair of extremely small monkeys, no larger than a finger, with fluffy round heads, black round eyes, and short tails. Remarkably, they had golden fur all over, as if cast from gold itself, extremely clever and adorable.

“These are the legendary brush monkeys, aren’t they?” The Seventh Prince exclaimed in amazement. “Aren’t these creatures said to be extinct? Where did you find them? And they’re completely golden! Legend says brush monkeys have brown-gray or orange-yellow fur—how could they have such rare coloring?”

The Fifth Prince couldn’t hide his pride. “Minnan Provincial Administration Commissioner Gao Shan is quite resourceful. This pair of brush monkeys was obtained from the Yuewu Tribe in the Ten Thousand Mile Mountains of Minnan, who are most skilled at training beasts. There’s only this one pair in the world. Mother Consort excels at literature—if she has these little creatures to grind ink and pass paper, to amuse and entertain her, surely it will relieve her deep palace loneliness.”

Everyone found the brush monkeys adorable and reached out to play with them.

“Fifth Brother truly has a filial heart.” Ning Yi clasped his hands behind his back and bent down to look at the pair of creatures, smiling. “Now beside Noble Consort Mother, furry claws will add fragrance, short tails will attend the ink—truly a great elegant and beautiful affair.”

Everyone laughed. The Fifth Prince said, “Old Six, don’t be glib. Let me ask you—have you prepared Mother Consort’s birthday gift?”

“I grew up at Noble Consort’s knee. She is also my mother consort. Naturally, I prepared it long ago, though it cannot compare with Fifth Brother’s clever heart.”

“That’s good then.” The Fifth Prince pulled out a faint smile. “Then Mother Consort’s meticulous care in raising you won’t have been in vain.”

Ning Yi smiled without speaking. From Feng Zhiwei’s angle, she could only see a flash of dark light in his downcast eyes.

After chatting for a while, they dispersed. Feng Zhiwei saw them out of the courtyard and was just breathing a sigh of relief, glad that Shaoning hadn’t caused any trouble, when she suddenly heard clamor rising from the front courtyard. Someone shouted “Assassins!” followed immediately by the sound of clashing swords.

Feng Zhiwei’s heart tightened. The princes exchanged glances and flew toward the commotion even faster than she did.

In the front courtyard, a group of people were engaged in heated combat. Guards from various residences, dressed in different colored brocade robes, were surrounding two gray-clothed masked men. The two men moved like ghosts, charging left and breaking right, their long swords pointing east and striking west, cold light flashing. Blood continuously splashed as people staggered back in retreat.

After watching for a while, Feng Zhiwei noticed something odd.

One of the assassins had completely no target and didn’t even seem intent on killing anyone. His long sword was aimed at each guard’s left shoulder without exception.

Just as the assassins were about to break through the encirclement, a figure suddenly flew over, still holding something enormous in his left hand while flying unsteadily. Looking closely, he was actually holding the large blue-and-white porcelain vat Feng Zhiwei used for planting water lilies in her front courtyard.

Carrying the splashing vat, the person wobbled and darted above the fighting crowd, then raised his hands and smashed it down. Water lilies flew everywhere, water splashed in all directions. The assassins, suddenly drenched, instinctively covered their eyes and swung their swords backward. But the vat-smasher had already broken through the vat and emerged, raising his sword—cold light pierced through!

“Crack!”

Two swords met, sword light penetrating like sunlight. Each deflected and blocked, and blood burst forth!

All three had pierced a hole in each other’s left shoulder.

The assassins’ bodies swayed and they disappeared into the dust and smoke, fleeing in two different directions.

The vat-smasher remained in place, clutching his shoulder and hissing in pain. After examining him for a moment, Feng Zhiwei recognized him as Ning Yi’s personal guard, apparently named Ning Cheng.

She heard him gaze toward the direction the assassins had fled and say viciously, “Sima Guang smashed the vat, Sima Vat smashed Guang!”

Feng Zhiwei remained silent, thinking to herself that the story of Sima Guang smashing the vat was a legend passed down from the Da Cheng Dynasty, but no one had ever known who Sima Guang actually was. Only six hundred years ago, Empress Shenying had said he was someone who engaged in demolition.

After this chaos, the princes were all somewhat uneasy. While arranging for guards to give chase, they hastily bid farewell to Feng Zhiwei. She saw each of them out the mansion gates, then looked toward the direction of the Imperial Palace, her eyes revealing a heavy darkness.

That night, urgent galloping hoofbeats shattered the silence of the Celestial Street.

As dawn was about to break but had not yet broken, Crown Prince Huzhuo beat the court drum outside the palace gates. The deep, heavy drumbeats broke through the thick clouds and split open the deep azure of the breaking dawn.

The rumbling drum sounds alarmed half the Imperial Capital. This drum had been placed outside the palace gates by Emperor Tiansheng at the founding of the nation, for ministers and commoners bearing extraordinary grievances to petition at the gate, demonstrating that people’s matters were as important as heaven, and all under heaven was supremely just.

However, the threshold was too high—ordinary cases could never qualify as “extraordinary grievances.” Gradually, this drum became mere decoration. Now, with this sudden thunderous sound, it shook the capital.