Feng Jiu stepped forward and smiled. “Duke, please allow this one to give you a routine pulse examination.”

Nanmeng Ye had genuinely wanted to ask Tianji Sect’s Feng Jiu to examine him—rumor had it she had even cured an old man who had been paralyzed for years.

After consulting so many renowned physicians without success, he had nearly given up hope.

But tonight, Feng Jiu had come along with the Chief Eunuch, and that made him wary of her.

Feng Jiu continued, “Duke, this one truly did offend you before, so I’ve come personally to ask the Duke not to be angry. Please, in light of this one’s sincerity, grant me the chance to take your pulse.”

“Tianji Hall has only just begun establishing itself in the imperial city, and in the future, we hope the Duke will continue to look favorably upon us, so that Tianji Hall might develop well.”

Nanmeng Ye stared at the smile on her lips, his thoughts turning over and over.

The Chief Eunuch also put on a smile and said, “Sir Feng Jiu is now the physician all the consorts in the harem compete to invite for their routine pulse checks. With His Majesty’s special permission, she can move freely within the palace. Her medical skill truly is exceptional. Why not let her take your pulse, Duke?”

Nanmeng Ye finally waved his sleeve and extended his hand.

His wide robe sleeve covered most of his arm, so Feng Jiu could only sit beside him, her long fingers settling on his pulse point.

In this position, it was indeed difficult to see whether there was any injury on Nanmeng Ye’s arm. The Chief Eunuch grew somewhat anxious and stepped forward to try to see more clearly, only to be met with Nanmeng Ye’s displeased glare, which sent him back.

What exactly was he trying to see? Nanmeng Ye wanted to know too. Coming this late to give him a routine pulse check, with no other motive—who would believe that?

Could it be they wanted to see whether his body could still hold up, to see when he might collapse?

But could his Nanmeng clan’s decades of foundation really crumble just because he fell?

Emperor Qiwen’s ambitions were boundless—let’s see if he truly had the ability to make it happen!

“Duke, this condition of yours—a stroke affliction.” Feng Jiu finished taking his pulse and spoke gently.

“Stroke affliction?” This illness—how had he never even heard of it?

In truth, Feng Jiu didn’t know how “stroke” should properly be described in ancient terms; she simply didn’t know how to say it otherwise, so she used the modern term.

“Does General Nanmeng occasionally feel that one side of his body suddenly can’t move properly, that his hands and feet won’t obey him, and even his face sometimes feels out of control?”

“You—” Nanmeng Ye’s expression changed, and he nearly leapt up from his chair.

Yes, he had such feelings, but previously he had only told his physicians about his hands and feet not obeying him, about one side of his body occasionally being unable to move—he had never mentioned his face having issues!

Even those closest to him, he had never brought it up, since compared to his hands and body, a problem with his face seemed trivial.

And as for those who came to treat him and managed to get him to honestly disclose his condition, they were always the physicians from his own household whom he trusted most. Those who came uninvited, Nanmeng Ye naturally wouldn’t tell his symptoms to—let them diagnose it themselves.

If they couldn’t even diagnose this much, then they certainly wouldn’t have the ability to cure him.

After all, as Duke and the head of the Nanmeng clan, news that his health was failing couldn’t be allowed to spread carelessly.

So now that Feng Jiu had spoken it aloud, Nanmeng Ye’s feelings were complicated—on one hand, he hoped she could truly save him; on the other, he feared she might be in league with Emperor Qiwen, secretly working against him.

Nanmeng Ye kept his composure and said coldly, “This Duke’s symptoms aren’t entirely as you describe. This Duke is doing quite well these days!”

Feng Jiu, of course, knew that his condition had only been severe during his episodes; right now, not being in the midst of one, he appeared somewhat normal.

In truth, even just now, while sitting and talking for this long, his face had twitched at least a dozen times—ordinary people simply wouldn’t have noticed.

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“Duke, you must have already had an episode once. The issues this one mentioned earlier would have been quite severe at the time. Now that it’s passed, this is only temporary.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nanmeng Ye was startled. What did “temporary” mean? Could it be that this would happen again in the future, just like before?

Thinking back to how he’d looked during his episode, Nanmeng Ye felt a chill of fear—at the time, he had truly believed he was about to die paralyzed.

“Duke, you’re not in a particularly severe state right now, but if you have another episode, I’m afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

Feng Jiu merely looked at him, neither warm nor cold, in the manner habitual to physicians. “Duke, please let this one examine the meridians at your elbow.”

Nanmeng Ye hesitated, but since she had been able to name those symptoms so precisely, a flicker of fear had indeed taken root in his heart.

Finally, Nanmeng Ye rolled up his sleeve.

There, above his wrist, was indeed a bandaged wound!

Making sure the Chief Eunuch could see clearly, Feng Jiu let her long fingers settle at Nanmeng Ye’s elbow. “Duke, I’m going to examine your meridians now. It might hurt a little…”

…

The Chief Eunuch was covered in a cold sweat, and even after returning to the palace, his mood still hadn’t settled.

Could the assassin truly be Nanmeng Ye? Has the Nanmeng clan grown so intolerant of His Majesty that they must remove him entirely?

“Your Majesty, the Duke’s hand does indeed have an injury, but it’s already been bandaged, so the wound itself couldn’t be clearly seen.”

After the Chief Eunuch finished, Feng Jiu added a few words. “Your Majesty, I didn’t see the wound clearly, so I cannot determine for certain whether the Duke was that day’s assassin.”

An emperor’s heart is, in truth, very small; an emperor’s eyes cannot tolerate even the smallest speck of doubt. Once a seed of suspicion is planted, it is very difficult to root out.

Feng Jiu naturally understood this mindset of Emperor Qiwen’s, so many things didn’t need to be said by her directly—saying too much would only make him suspect she had ulterior motives.

Imagination is a terrifying thing, because its scope is infinite.

Letting him imagine on his own was far more effective than anything Feng Jiu could say.

“Your Majesty, since we cannot yet confirm whether the Duke is the assassin, please continue the investigation.”

Feng Jiu bowed slightly, her manner as if the matter had nothing to do with her. “It’s already late, Your Majesty. This one will take leave now.”

Emperor Qiwen, his mind heavy with concern, waved his hand and did not try to keep her.

The Chief Eunuch was about to see Feng Jiu out when, unexpectedly, a young eunuch hurried in from outside, standing at the door, not daring to act rashly, only saying anxiously, “Chief Eunuch, there’s trouble at Li Courtyard.”

…

Trouble at Li Courtyard—how could Feng Jiu possibly leave the palace now?

Emperor Qiwen himself rushed over as well, clearly deeply worried.

Feng Jiu followed behind the Chief Eunuch, leaving Yuxiao Hall at the fastest possible pace, rushing toward Li Courtyard.

The moment she entered, she felt a sharp, cold, menacing aura sweep over her.

Qing Ye, normally calm and composed, now had eyes filled with killing intent. “Sir, what exactly is wrong with my mistress’s legs?”