Chapter Sixteen: No Medicine Allowed

On the first day of the New Year, the atmosphere in the Prince of War’s residence was steeped in a warmth rarely felt before. Under the red-leafed maple tree outside the Listening Wind Pavilion, Feng Jinye stood tall, his sharply defined features softened by a smile as he gazed up at the crimson envelopes hanging from the branches.

It was clear to Feng Jinye that all the envelopes were crafted by the same hand. Each dainty envelope bore a delicate drawing—maple leaves, plum blossoms, courtyards, the intoxicating breeze, the hidden abyss, and one particularly special: a circle fringed with small lines. Feng Jinye recognized it as the sun.

Last night, the red envelope Weishao Qianyu gave him was adorned with the sun.

The envelopes on the maple tree, however, were different from the one she gave him. Feng Jinye withdrew the envelope from his sleeve and examined it carefully once more. Beneath the sun on his envelope was a string of peculiar characters.

The longer he stared, the more familiar they seemed—these characters were remarkably similar to the tattoo on his own hand.

The warmth around Feng Jinye dissipated instantly, replaced by a chilling aura. For a moment, he nearly forgot that she once tried to assassinate him, that she claimed to hate him. Feng Jinye had no idea what these characters meant or where they came from.

He had investigated before, but to no avail. Perhaps it was time to begin his search anew, starting with her.

In the Pavilion of Words, Weishao Qianyu thought to herself that since she had given Feng Jinye a red envelope last night, surely he would return the favor today.

She waited, perhaps a little too obviously, but as noon approached and there was still no sign of Feng Jinye, she knew in her heart he would not come. Disappointment settled in, and she began to doubt whether Feng Jinye understood the custom of reciprocation.

She gathered her thoughts. She and he ought not be entangled in matters of sentiment any longer.

Recalling the matter of the antidote, she turned her attention to the scar on her face. “Qingxia, has Imperial Physician Leng arrived?”

Qingxia, hearing her mistress ask after the physician, realized the issue of the antidote could no longer be concealed and answered truthfully, “He has, miss. He’s at the Listening Wind Pavilion. I believe after tending to Young Lord Yun, he’ll pay his respects to the prince.”

“Very well. Go wait for him—he should come out soon after paying his respects.” There was a trace of anxiety but also hope in Weishao Qianyu’s voice.

Qingxia obeyed, but instead of waiting outside the pavilion, she went straight to Chujio and asked her to fetch the physician.

Imperial Physician Leng was discussing Yun Ming’s condition with Feng Jinye and Yun Ming when Chujio entered and announced, “My lord, the princess has asked Qingxia to summon Imperial Physician Leng for a consultation.”

Feng Jinye couldn’t help but ask, “Is she unwell?”

“I do not know, my lord. Qingxia simply said to request the physician’s presence,” Chujio replied with utmost respect.

Feng Jinye was accustomed to the peculiar feelings he harbored for Weishao Qianyu, which he attributed to the fact that she had saved him as a child, and over the years, he had tried everything to find her and keep her by his side. That was why he felt differently toward her. His expression remained cold as he told Leng, “Go ahead.”

Yun Ming’s lazy voice drifted over, “You’re not going to check on her yourself?”

It wasn’t just Weishao Qianyu who found Feng Jinye’s current demeanor unsettling—Yun Ming did as well. Despite his seven years of lost memories, Feng Jinye’s attitude toward Yun Ming had scarcely changed, but when it came to Weishao Qianyu, he was always uneasy.

Yun Ming smiled faintly, thinking that this kind of guarded distance would surely bring its consequences in the future.

Feng Jinye didn’t respond, instead instructing Chujio, “Follow along and keep an eye out.”

His words were calm, but he was clearly restless.

In the Pavilion of Words, Imperial Physician Leng bowed to Weishao Qianyu and had just set down his medicine box to take her pulse when she said, “Master Leng, I am well. I summoned you to ask about the vial of medicine I entrusted to you a few days ago. Is it usable?”

She had some confidence in that antidote, as the physician from the Duke’s Mansion had already tested it.

Imperial Physician Leng was somewhat surprised, for he had already spoken to the princess’s maid about this matter after her consultation in the palace the previous day.

He answered honestly, “Your Highness, that medicine is indeed an antidote, but it cannot be used.”

Weishao Qianyu’s face lit up when she heard it was an antidote, but her expression stiffened at his next words. “Why not?”

Her veil concealed the disappointment on her face as Imperial Physician Leng explained, “The poison that afflicted you was most unusual. A master forced the poison to the surface of your skin. If your skin had remained unbroken, you could have taken the antidote and been cured.”

He continued regretfully, “But now your skin is wounded. If you take the antidote, every inch of your flesh will rot—just as your face did—inch by inch. The pain would be like knives, boiling water, or fire. You must not take it, Your Highness!”

Weishao Qianyu gave a cold laugh in her heart. Perhaps fate had spent all its kindness on her youth, letting her meet Feng Jinye and using up all her good fortune, so that it had no gentleness left for her.

“It can cure you, but no one could survive the process. You would likely die from the pain,” Imperial Physician Leng concluded.

She nodded, her mind already made up. “I understand. You may go, Master Leng.”

“Miss, let’s look for another way to detoxify you,” Qingxia suggested, not realizing the true danger of the antidote. She was terrified her mistress would try it anyway.

Dongnuan, on the other hand, seemed unsurprised, as if she had anticipated her mistress’s resolve to take the risk.

“Qingxia, go prepare what we need. We’ll return to the Duke’s mansion first, and then head to Wanlai Xue,” said Weishao Qianyu decisively. She needed to inform her grandfather, lest something go wrong; with Feng Jinye at the Prince’s residence, there was nothing to fear.

“Miss, are you trying to get yourself killed?” Qingxia protested, her tone sharp with worry.

Dongnuan patted her on the shoulder, leading her out to help prepare the New Year’s gifts for the Duke’s mansion, leaving Weishao Qianyu to gather herself.

Chujio returned to the Listening Wind Pavilion to report to Feng Jinye, “The princess is well, she only asked the physician about the antidote. It seems the medicine cannot be used.”

A frown creased Feng Jinye’s brow and he sighed. “Did the physician mention whether the poison is harmful if left untreated?”

“He did not say, my lord,” Chujio regretted not asking more.

Feng Jinye was visibly displeased, his fingers drumming harder on the table. Before Eleven could appear, the prince’s icy command came: “Bring Leng here.”

After lunch, Weishao Qianyu set out for the Duke’s mansion.

On the road, she felt dispirited. It was the first day of the year, yet she had eaten breakfast alone, summoned the physician alone, dined alone, and would return home to pay her respects by herself.

How many newlywed brides were so solitary?

She exhaled, chastising herself for nearly becoming a resentful woman confined to her quarters.

The greatest peril, she mused, was to have expectations—expectations that would only end in disappointment.

Qingxia had more than once suggested she simply tell Feng Jinye the truth: that he had lost his memory, and she was the bride he had chosen for himself.

She had hesitated at first, doubting he would believe her.

Now, with Yun Ming present in the prince’s residence, if she wished to say it, he could serve as proof.

Yet, just as she had prepared everything for their home yesterday and seen that she had moved Feng Jinye, she had allowed herself to hope—only to be disappointed today.

If she were to lay bare their past, perhaps it would lessen the distance between them, but also breed more expectations—and more disappointments.

If Feng Jinye were to remember everything, she feared she would keep hoping, but their memories no longer aligned, ensuring disappointment time and again.

Besides, she did not wish to reopen old wounds.

If Feng Jinye eventually remembered, she would endure the pain with him once more; if not, she would gather her scars and hurts, believing that as long as he was there, she would heal.

Feng Jinye was the light capable of drying all her sorrows and pains.

Outside the carriage, Qingxia’s voice called, “Miss, we’ve arrived at the Duke’s mansion.”

Weishao Qianyu alighted slowly, noticing the odd looks from those around her. She instructed Dongnuan, “Find out what’s happened.”

Inside, it was already past noon, so she bypassed the main hall and went straight to Grand Duke Lu’s courtyard, paid her New Year’s respects, and informed him of the antidote and her need to travel for medicine.

Not wishing to tarry, she stayed only half an hour before returning to the Prince’s residence, leaving Qingxia behind to handle matters, changing into men’s attire, and slipping away with Dongnuan to Wanlai Xue, evading all eyes.

Upon arrival, she went straight to the loft, took out the antidote, and swallowed it at once.

Dongnuan was stunned, hurrying to pour her water. “Mistress, what was the rush?”

Weishao Qianyu forced a bitter smile. “If I thought about it any longer, I’d never do it.”

She was not fearless—she too feared pain, injury, and disfigurement.

“It’s done now. There’s no sense worrying,” she said, affecting nonchalance. “Did you learn anything?”

“Yes. Since this morning, rumors have spread through every street and alley of Yue City that the Prince of War’s consort is an ugly woman,” Dongnuan reported after a trip to Winter Moon House.

Weishao Qianyu smiled, “Isn’t that exactly what we wanted?”

“I’m confused, mistress. The Prince of War’s consort isn’t someone people can gossip about so freely. Even if the noblewomen at the palace banquet talk at home, they wouldn’t dare to discuss you so openly in the streets,” Dongnuan said, clearly irritated by the slander.

Her words reminded Weishao Qianyu, “I wonder if this has anything to do with Luo Yanqing?”

“It’s unlikely to end here. There must be more to come,” Weishao Qianyu surmised. Otherwise, the prince marrying an ugly woman would amount to nothing more than a joke for idle gossip.

“Dongnuan, keep an ear out for any rumors these next few days,” she said, knowing that if the effects of the antidote set in, she might not be able to handle anything else.

Back at the Prince of War’s residence, Imperial Physician Leng had barely finished lunch when he was hurriedly summoned back by Eleven. He could only explain helplessly, to which Feng Jinye coldly replied, “From now on, if she seeks your medical attention, report to me at once.”