Chapter Eighteen: Turned Away at the Door

Feng Jinye followed Qingxia all the way to Wanlai Xue, where he heard Dongnuan’s voice drifting down from upstairs. He carefully surveyed the place and noticed that the third floor of Wanlai Xue was an attic. He surmised that Weishao Qianyu was most likely hidden in that attic.

Feng Jinye’s mastery of lightness skill was impeccable. Back then, he had leapt from the second floor of Mingkezhu, using a few leverage points to descend with ease. Now, he found it just as effortless to ascend to Wanlai Xue’s attic.

Xuechun and Qingxia stood guard outside the attic door. Xuechun, doggedly loyal, would obey Weishao Qianyu’s every command. Unless Feng Jinye stepped over her corpse, she would not let him pass.

Qingxia admired Xuechun’s courage—she dared to block even the Prince of War. But she also worried that Feng Jinye might truly resort to violence, and so she pleaded, “Your Highness, my lady will not see you. Please, go back.”

Feng Jinye could not understand. Why did they bar his way? Why did everyone claim “she does not wish to see him”? Why would she not see him?

“Move!” Feng Jinye’s face was fierce, like an asura from the depths of hell. At this moment, he had lost all reason, consumed by madness. He just wanted to see her, to know if she was in pain, to know if she was well.

Xuechun stood her ground. “I know I am no match for you, Your Highness, but my lady’s orders are clear—no one is to disturb her. If you must enter, you’ll have to step over my dead body.”

Dongnuan returned, carrying ice, and saw Xuechun standing firm against Feng Jinye. She shot Feng Jinye a glance—once, she would have stood with the Prince of War, but now she had only a look of cold contempt for him, as if to say, “You’ve brought all this upon yourself.”

“Hold him back, the Princess will not see him!” Dongnuan understood better than anyone that Weishao Qianyu would never let Feng Jinye see her. What woman would wish her beloved to witness her most wretched, disfigured state?

Inside the room, Weishao Qianyu was curled on the floor, writhing in agony. The moment Dongnuan entered, her tears fell uncontrollably. She wanted to carry Weishao Qianyu back to bed but could not find a place to touch—the girl’s body was covered in wounds, and any attempt to hold her would only make her pain unbearable.

“Dong... wine... cleanse... wounds.” With the last of her strength, Weishao Qianyu reminded her that she had rolled about the floor for quite some time; the wounds must not be infected. Ice wine could reduce the fever—perhaps offer some relief.

Once she finished speaking, Weishao Qianyu’s consciousness faded. Dongnuan watched as the angry red scars on her body deepened in color, growing ever more terrifying...

Feng Jinye’s hearing was sharp. Listening to Weishao Qianyu’s faint murmurings, his eyes blazed with uncontrollable fury. If Chujiu were here, he would have seen that his lord was on the verge of murderous rage...

“Qingxia, come in!” Dongnuan’s voice came from inside. Qingxia hurried to go in, but with Feng Jinye standing between her and Xuechun, she suddenly remembered Weishao Qianyu from two years ago...

Qingxia knew that the moment she entered, Feng Jinye would likely force his way in as well. So she turned and said, “Your Highness, I know you wish to see my lady, but Xuechun is stubborn to the core. If you barge in, the consequences may be dire.”

Though Qingxia harbored some resentment towards Feng Jinye, she knew her lady cared for him most of all. “Please, Your Highness, think twice. If the Princess were to kill Chujiu, what would you do?”

In the end, Qingxia advised softly, “I beg you, wait here. I will go in and ask my lady if she will see you.”

With that, Qingxia quickly pushed open the door and closed it behind her. Through the crack, Feng Jinye caught a glimpse of Weishao Qianyu curled up on the floor. That single glance felt as if thousands of insects were gnawing at his heart...

“Qingxia, take out all the blankets and furs from the cabinet and spread them on the floor. The mistress cannot lie on the bed—she might fall off again!” Dongnuan instructed as she tended to Weishao Qianyu’s wounds.

Dongnuan could not fathom the agony Weishao Qianyu endured. Even as she wiped the wounds with strong liquor, the girl barely furrowed her brow, never uttering a sound of pain...

Qingxia’s eyes reddened as she fought back tears, fetching quilts and blankets from the wardrobe. She could not help but murmur, “Why isn’t Lord Huangfu here!”

She meant nothing else—only that Huangfu Chen was skilled in medicine. It was he who had once subdued Weishao Qianyu’s poison, and even when she nearly stabbed Feng Jinye to death, it was Huangfu Chen who saved him!

Qingxia watched as the countless wounds on Weishao Qianyu’s body slowly turned black, and she finally let out a breath of relief. “When your face was injured, it was the same. Once the wounds all turn black, the pain will stop.”

But Dongnuan was still uneasy. “If it were that simple, I’d be relieved. When her face was wounded, the poison was only drawn out. Now, though the poison is coming out, it hasn’t yet been neutralized!”

Half-conscious, Weishao Qianyu let out muffled, pained sobs, each one clear to Feng Jinye outside the door, his heart as if sliced by knives.

He stood unmoving, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched, his stiff body leaning against the door. His chest heaved, hatred boiling inside with nowhere to go, threatening to burst free. He hated—hated beyond words—whoever had poisoned her.

In her fevered dreams, Weishao Qianyu felt as if she were being steamed alive, heat rising all around, the rack beneath her feet growing scalding. She hopped in agony, but it was useless. The water beneath was coming to a boil, yet no matter how she struggled, she could not escape...

Qingxia and Dongnuan watched as she tossed and turned, her feet kicking out, her wounded legs scraping open again and again. Silently, tears streamed down their cheeks.

“Qingxia, maybe we should let His Highness in—perhaps he could do something.” Dongnuan wavered, unable to bear the sight...

“No...” In her sleep, Weishao Qianyu seemed to hear Dongnuan’s words...

In her dreams, she heard talk of letting Feng Jinye in to save her. She refused—no, she did not want him to be boiled alive with her. She would not let Feng Jinye die!

She had already killed him once with her own hands. Never again would she let him die. No one could harm him!

Outside, Feng Jinye heard every fragmented word from inside. She truly refused to see him!

He could not care about his shattered heart—remorse overwhelmed him. Why had he not gone to see her today? Had he gone with Leng Ling, he would have retrieved her antidote...

Inside, sweat was once again beading on Weishao Qianyu’s brow. Qingxia knelt by her side, constantly wiping it away.

The cloth covering Weishao Qianyu’s face was soaked through. Qingxia removed it to wipe her face.

As she gently wiped, the dark, crusted scab on Weishao Qianyu’s cheek suddenly came away. Qingxia’s hand trembled, her voice shaking as well. “Dongnuan, look!”

Dongnuan was incredulous, but steadier. “It must be the beginning of the detoxification.”

Yet as she watched Weishao Qianyu grow quieter and quieter, Dongnuan felt something was amiss. “Something’s not right.”

Weishao Qianyu’s burning body was growing cold—frighteningly cold—and there was no response from her.

Dongnuan remembered what the court physician had said: “blunt blades, boiling, fire.” If her lady’s guess was correct, this should be the burning phase—why was she cold as ice?

With trembling hands, Dongnuan placed her fingers beneath Weishao Qianyu’s nose. Her breathing was faint to the point of vanishing. Dongnuan could not help but call out, “Mistress, can you hear me? Mistress!”

In her dream, Weishao Qianyu was boiled alive, her soul hovering above, watching her own body...

Was she truly dead? Did someone truly cook her alive?

At this thought, her soul jolted awake. She was in Wanlai Xue, purging poison—there was no pot large enough to cook her here!

Weishao Qianyu had an indomitable will to live. Otherwise, had she believed she died in the dream, it might have become true!

As soon as she realized this, flames erupted around her in the dream, encircling her. She heard a woman’s voice: “Qianyu, don’t speak, don’t move! No matter how much mother calls you, you must not move or speak. Understand? Wait for father to come rescue you!”

It was the Mid-Autumn Festival when she was six. Her mother had said father would return that day. Weishao Qianyu had wanted to float on the little lake in the courtyard and admire the moon. Her mother had made her a lotus-shaped dress, and sitting in the little boat, she looked just like a living lotus lantern.

The six-year-old Weishao Qianyu nodded obediently, watching as her mother, with a few light steps, left the lake and rushed desperately toward her daughter’s room, only to be held back by the servants, screaming her soul out, “Qianyu! My daughter, Qianyu...”

Suddenly, a group of men in black appeared, killing everyone in sight. In the firelight, Weishao Qianyu saw clearly: their leader was a woman, her face covered with red gauze, a long sword in her hand.

Floating above, Weishao Qianyu stared wide-eyed, her gaze locked on the sword. It was... Cangyuan! Feng Jinye’s sword—Cangyuan!

Little Weishao Qianyu, sitting in her boat, watched this scene, tears streaming down her face...

This was the memory of the original soul; her mother had not died of illness, after all!

This was why, after the age of six, she never spoke again. Her mother had told her not to speak, and so she never opened her mouth from that moment on...

Or perhaps what she witnessed left her unable to speak...

“Ah!” Weishao Qianyu clutched her head and screamed, writhing in agony once more...

She wanted to cry—her heart ached, teetering on the edge of collapse. She did not want to see these things...

She knew she was in a dream. Desperately, she wanted someone to shake her awake, but no sound would come out—dreams were silent.

She struggled, longing to wake up. She knew Dongnuan and Qingxia were right beside her. She tried to reach out to them, to have them pull her up, but whether it was her own weakness or some other force, she could not grasp them...

She wept in her dream, unable to bear it any longer, wishing she could close her eyes. Yet the images would not fade. One after another, each life, each death—the Cangyuan sword drank its fill of blood, and finally, it pointed at her mother’s throat...

Why did fate delight in playing such cruel jokes on her? Why must she always be at odds with Feng Jinye?

“Feng Jinye...” His name echoed in her mind, as if he were her last lifeline.

The moment she called his name, the taut string in Feng Jinye’s heart snapped. He could no longer restrain himself. He heard her call for him—he went mad with the need to see her.