In the western wing, in the largest chamber.

Qiao Mu had just soothed little Xiaojiang and come out, while Zhao Yusheng and Duan Liuyang stood in the main hall, inside which sat Feng Jiang and an elderly man.

“Physician, how is Mister Jiang’s condition?” Duan Liuyang asked anxiously.

The physician released Feng Jiang’s wrist and shook his head.

He came before Feng Jiang and bowed deeply. “Mister Jiang, I’m terribly sorry! This humble one…”

Before the physician could finish speaking, Feng Jiu’er and Di Wu Ya strode in.

Feng Jiu’er’s steps weren’t entirely steady, yet she was clearly anxious.

Di Wu Ya’s gaze stayed fixed on her, barely leaving her for a moment.

“What’s the situation?” Feng Jiu’er’s voice had already carried over before she herself arrived.

“Jiu’er.” Duan Liuyang turned back, looking anxious. “Come quickly and take a look — Mister Jiang has been poisoned.”

“Brother Zhao brought a physician, but he couldn’t figure out the cause either.”

Feng Jiu’er glanced at the unfamiliar physician’s face and waved a hand. “Have someone send the physician back.”

“Alright!” Zhao Yusheng nodded, turning his gaze back to the physician. “This way, please.”

The physician cupped his hands toward the two commanding figures who had just entered, lowered his head, and followed Zhao Yusheng out.

“What exactly happened?” Feng Jiu’er came to Feng Jiang’s side and sat down.

“This morning, I came over early to help look after little Xiaojiang.” Duan Liuyang stepped back a few paces, her brow tightly knit.

“Everything was fine at first, but then little Xiaojiang started crying, and Mister Jiang went in to check on him. Soon after, he realized something was wrong with himself.”

Feng Jiang glanced at the bowl on the table and said in a low voice, “I ate a mouthful of the porridge.”

Feng Jiu’er’s gaze shifted slightly, looking at the bowl in front of her and Feng Jiang.

“Fortunately I only ate one mouthful. I heard little Jiang crying, so I put down the bowl and went into the inner room.”

“It was little Jiang who saved you.” Qiao Mu went over and took hold of Feng Jiang’s other arm.

“Jiu’er, we’ve checked — the porridge was heavily poisoned.”

Feng Jiu’er let go of Feng Jiang’s hand, stood, walked over, drew close to him, and lifted his eyelid.

Di Wu Ya glanced back, and Yu Jingfeng cupped his hands and turned to leave.

“Fortunately, only one mouthful.” Feng Jiu’er let out a small breath of relief. “Liuyang, prepare paper and ink, I’ll write out a prescription.”

“We have all the herbs we need, quickly!”

“Alright!” Duan Liuyang nodded and turned, heading toward another room.

“Jiu’er, are you really alright?” Qiao Mu looked up, her tightly knit brow easing slightly.

“A few days of medicine and it’ll be cleared out.” Feng Jiu’er’s gaze landed on the bowl of clear porridge.

Before she could say more, Yu Jingfeng led a group of people inside.

“Your Highness, everyone’s been brought here.”

“Miss Jiu’er, what happened?” asked the woman beside Yu Jingfeng.

Feng Jiu’er looked up at the people Yu Jingfeng had brought in.

The woman waved her hand, and everyone knelt down together.

“Long life to His Highness, long life to the Princess Consort!” they said in unison.

“Rise.” Feng Jiu’er raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Thank you, Your Highness, thank you, Princess Consort.” Everyone stood and bowed.

“Hongmei, was it your group preparing breakfast today?” Feng Jiu’er asked, looking at the woman.

“Yes, Princess Consort.” Hongmei curtsied. “What exactly happened?”

“Mister Jiang has been poisoned.” Feng Jiu’er swept a glance over everyone and took the brush Duan Liuyang handed her.

She didn’t rush to write the prescription, but instead picked up the bowl of porridge and brought it close to her nose to smell it.

Feng Jiu’er set down the porridge, undid her needle case, spread it open, picked up a silver needle, and inserted it into the porridge.

“The poison is extremely potent! No need to finish it — even half a bowl would be beyond the help of the gods!”