When Yu Jingfeng entered carrying the medicine, Zhan Qingcheng was sitting cross-legged on the bed, circulating his inner energy alone.

Yet his complexion had deteriorated to its absolute worst — not a trace of color to be found.

Leng Yue had earlier pushed the Old Sovereign’s wheelchair into the room; the Old Sovereign was now positioned at the bedside, closely watching Zhan Qingcheng’s face.

Seeing the Old Sovereign here, Yu Jingfeng felt an inexplicable twinge of unease, though he could not have said exactly why.

“Old… Old Master, Your Highness — the medicine has arrived.”

Feng Jiu’er had said this old man was not someone easy to get along with; in truth, he wasn’t entirely unapproachable, just that he simply did not associate with those who were not “his own people.”

In particular, after the Old Sovereign had heard from Leng Yue of the tangled history between His Highness and Miss Jiu’er, he had — while once praising Miss Jiu’er’s exceptional cunning and courage — made his feelings clear enough. Yu Jingfeng knew: the Old Sovereign did not wish for Miss Jiu’er to remain by His Highness’s side.

The conclusion was obvious enough. After all, it was precisely because of Miss Jiu’er that His Highness had ended up this gravely wounded.

“Your Highness, please drink the medicine first.” Yu Jingfeng collected himself and stepped forward, holding out the medicine bowl with both hands.

Leng Yue immediately moved to help. “Let me attend to Young Master.”

Zhan Qingcheng paid her no mind and took the bowl himself. He drank a mouthful — and his brow furrowed.

He looked at Yu Jingfeng. Beads of cold sweat immediately broke out at Yu Jingfeng’s temples; he quickly lowered his head and said, “I am told a new medicinal catalyst was added — Your Highness, please… try a little more.”

Zhan Qingcheng kept his brow knit but made no move.

Yu Jingfeng was in a panic. His Highness was, in truth, an exceedingly particular man — in ordinary times, what he ate and drank, he was genuinely selective about.

These past several days, due to a poor appetite, he had not been willing to eat more than a couple of spoonfuls of congee. Each day he survived on nothing but this medicine and the true qi the Old Sovereign transferred to him.

If he now refused even the medicine… yet this medicine was what Miss Jiu’er had gone to such trouble to prepare. If he would not drink it, how terribly it would let her down.

“Your Highness, if the medicine’s flavor does not suit Your Highness’s palate, this subordinate… could have someone bring some candied fruits afterward, perhaps?”

Zhan Qingcheng gave him a look. Yu Jingfeng immediately clamped his mouth shut.

Candied fruits were for ladies who had just taken medicine. Was he treating His Highness like a young woman? That His Highness hadn’t kicked him across the room already was testament to extraordinary self-restraint.

Of course, His Highness at the moment likely lacked the strength to kick him anywhere.

Emperor Ji looked at Zhan Qingcheng’s pallid face, frowning. “How is it? Shall we have them brew a fresh bowl?”

His beloved adopted son was truly particular — even reduced to this state of grievous injury, what he disliked was what he disliked, and no one could compel him otherwise.

The Old Sovereign was stern and demanding with everyone else, but with Zhan Qingcheng, he was utterly, thoroughly indulgent.

The moment he saw him frown, the Old Sovereign grew tense — and everyone else followed suit.

Zhan Qingcheng only lowered his gaze and looked at the medicine bowl in his hands, his mood inexplicably and faintly complex.

In the end, under the expectant eyes of everyone present, he drank another mouthful — then another.

And then, in one unbroken stretch, he drained every last drop of medicine that remained.

Furthermore, when Yu Jingfeng reached out to take back the bowl, he fixed his eyes upon the empty vessel in Yu Jingfeng’s hands with a look of lingering reluctance.

It was as though… like a greedy child who wanted another bowl.

“He cannot have more!” Yu Jingfeng’s heart jolted with alarm and he refused at once.

The gazes of Emperor Ji and Leng Yue snapped toward his face in an instant. Their revered sovereign — their noble Old Master — had wanted another bowl, and he had dared to refuse?

To understand why: these past several days, Zhan Qingcheng had shown not the slightest interest in anything. Even when awake, he had rejected everything outright.

This medicine was the first thing he had shown any interest in at all.

“I… I… this subordinate… that is…”

Yu Jingfeng was becoming incoherent, crumbling under the weight of several pairs of eyes fixed upon him. The pressure was immense.

It was not that he didn’t want His Highness to drink the medicine — it was that this medicine… contained at least one-third of Miss Jiu’er’s blood.

She had only just finished bandaging her wound with great effort; asking her to make another cut so soon — he did not know whether this small person of hers could endure it.

“That… Your Highness, the medicine — could we wait until tomorrow?”

Yu Jingfeng was treading on eggshells, choosing his words with care. “The… the physician said this medicine — this medicine may only be taken once a day.”

True, it was medicine, not some kind of porridge — one could not simply drink it whenever one pleased.

“Your Highness, I… this subordinate… shall go and prepare some dinner for Your Highness, shall I?”

His Highness had only managed to eat a little tonight before it had all come back up with the coughing of blood. Essentially, His Highness had not consumed anything of substance all day.

Emperor Ji waved a hand; Yu Jingfeng hastily withdrew.

Even as he was leaving, he could not help glancing back at the man on the bed. Why did it feel as though His Highness truly had perked up?

Emperor Ji looked at Zhan Qingcheng’s complexion, which had inexplicably taken on a faint flush of color, and drew a deep breath before saying: “Wuya, shall your adoptive father circulate his energy for you?”

Zhan Qingcheng shook his head. “I am… quite well right now.”

Quite well? He had coughed up so much blood just tonight, and could restart at any moment — how could that possibly be well?

Emperor Ji was not reassured. He still took hold of his hand, and true qi flowed into Zhan Qingcheng’s body in an instant.

But very quickly, Emperor Ji’s expression shifted — and he released his hand.

“Adoptive Father!” Leng Yue was startled and quickly moved to help, though she stopped herself short.

She knew well enough — the Old Sovereign disliked women drawing near. Though he was adoptive father to them both, making their relationship appear intimate — close enough to be called brother and sister — they had in fact never been truly close at all.

“Adoptive Father, why did you…” Leng Yue looked at the hand he had withdrawn, her face full of surprise.

For Adoptive Father to withdraw his energy when channeling it to the Young Master — that had never happened before. Could it mean that even Adoptive Father had… given up?

Emperor Ji did not look at her; he looked only at Zhan Qingcheng, his expression shifting through something strange and unreadable.

After a long moment, he suddenly called out toward the door: “Yu Jingfeng!”

Yu Jingfeng came rushing back from wherever he had been, and when he arrived, there was flour dusted across him.

“Old… Old Master, what did you wish to speak with this subordinate about?” He had been in the kitchen just now, right in the middle of kneading dough.

“What is all this?” Emperor Ji glanced at him, letting out a low sound of displeasure.

Covered in flour — had this Lord Yu now taken on the role of cook as well?

“That is… this subordinate… was struck with a sudden urge to make steamed buns for His Highness to eat.”

“You making steamed buns…” Leng Yue furrowed her brow, looking deeply skeptical. “Would it even be edible?”

A man who had spent so many years on military campaigns — the steamed buns he produced would be… disgusting. Absolutely inedible.

A flash of embarrassment crossed Yu Jingfeng’s eyes. After hearing that His Highness had barely eaten anything for several days, Miss Jiu’er had insisted on personally preparing something for His Highness herself.

But he could not let anyone know that Miss Jiu’er was here, so he had no choice but to go in and help her himself.

Hence the current state of his clothing.

Emperor Ji paid no heed to these trivial details and asked: “Just now you said the physician had added a new medicinal catalyst. What catalyst?”

“That… this subordinate is… not entirely certain either.” Yu Jingfeng was momentarily at a loss, uncertain how to answer. “That… perhaps Your Highness…” Emperor Ji did not answer his deflection but said simply: “Have the physician come here.”