Feiying was well aware of Xie Xun's temperant. He had already fostered the intent to kill, but if he were to kill the Heir of Sangnan, it would be a direct declaration of war between Marquis Zhenbei Mansion and Sangnan.
Xie Xun raised his head to gaze at the starry sky. The galaxy sparkled, and the moonlight gently fell into his eyes. Xie Xun said, "The Sannan Royal Family has done favors for Marquis Zhenbei Mansion. They kept their promises, never violated our borders, and even prepared military provisions for Ningzhou. This kindness, Marquis Zhenbei Mansion rembers. But kindness is kindness, and hatred is hatred. The kindness of the Sannan Royal Family cannot offset Han Ziqi's enmity. One day, I will take his life, but right now is not the most appropriate ti."
"Understood, Master. In a few days, I'll send them back to Sangnan," Feiying replied, accompanying him in stargazing. "Let's hope this batch of provisions arrives in Ningzhou soon, so that the Marquis can pacify Beiman before spring."
"Late autumn is nearing its end, and the harsh winter is approaching. Beiman's territory may be vast, but it's barren; cattle and sheep will starve in large numbers, let alone humans. They're more anxious than us." Xie Xun spurred his horse, galloping forward with fervent passion. "Soday, it'll be my Northern Iron Cavalry that conquers the Beiman and secures Jiangnan."
Fengyu returned to Plum Garden. Chunlu didn't ask any questions, busying herself with burning charcoal for warmth. Fengyu felt terribly cold. She took off her clothes and imrsed herself in the warm spring pool.
Chunlu hurried off to prepare ginger. The Feng Mansion's als were all cooked in the main kitchen, but due to Fengyu's frail health, Feng Shu had built a small kitchen for her. It was convenient for preparing late-night snacks and boiling dicine. Fengyu's appetite was exceedingly poor, so the small kitchen was always stocked with easily digestible pastries.
Qiuxiang filled a hand warr with hot water and placed it inside the quilt. Fengyu soaked in the orchid-scented bath, finally feeling a bit warr. Qiuxiang picked up her discarded clothes, noticing the hem stained with blood. She frowned slightly—this garnt could only be washed by her, and no one else could touch it.
"Miss, it's late and chilly; you shouldn't soak for too long."
After warming up her body, Fengyu curled up in the cozy quilt. Chunlu brought over a bowl of thick ginger soup sweetened with brown sugar. Fengyu pinched her nose and downed it in one gulp, feeling the warmth spread through her body. Qiuxiang said, "Miss, you must be tired. Rest now. I'll sleep on the heated couch. If you need anything, just call ."
"Go rest."
Qiuxiang blew out the lamp. Though Fengyu lay in bed, she felt no inclination to sleep. Out of habit, she stroked her bracelet. When would her spirit ever recover? Miao Zhen, the master roaming the world, might hold the solution. If not, would she and Xie Xun remain entangled like this for a lifeti?
Fengyu soon developed a fever. Qiuxiang heard her coughing and ca over to check her temperature—indeed, the fever had begun. After extinguishing the lamp, she summoned Chunlu, who gathered several maids to take turns watching over Fengyu through the night while preparing dicine.
Plum Garden sprang into activity as the mistress fell ill.
At Marquis Zhenbei Mansion, Xie Xun also couldn't sleep through the night. The dicine's effects had worn off, and his left leg soaked in boiling, pitch-black dicinal water, the pain searing through his body. His forehead was drenched in cold sweat. Zhang Lingzheng perford acupuncture on his knee, his expression grave. Xie Xun's injury wasn't a simple broken leg. The ointnt used by the military doctors to treat the wound contained a violent toxin. The toxin was like a parasitic bone disease—despite two years of research by the Imperial Hospital, and the employnt of renowned doctors within the mansion, no antidote had been found. Acupuncture and dicinal soaks could only suppress the poison; the needles alleviated Xie Xun's pain, but each session only provided relief for about half a month.
In both deep autumn and the onset of winter, flare-ups beca more frequent, and each attack felt like bone-scraping agony.
"Acupuncture and dicinal baths are not long-term solutions. The antidote must be found soon. Since you can't rest properly, the condition has worsened slightly." Zhang Lingzheng inserted the last needle and added several stronger herbs to the dicinal bucket.
Xie Xun's face remained calm. "How much longer can it be sustained?"
"Two years," Zhang Lingzheng replied. "If no antidote is found by then, amputation will be the only option for survival."
The room fell silent. Xie Xun's blood grew cold, yet he accepted the grim news with tranquility. "If His Majesty inquires about my diagnosis, tell him the truth."
"Understood!"
Zhang Lingzheng greatly admired Xie Xun's endurance. The toxin's attacks eroded flesh and bones, but Xie Xun never scread in pain—always bearing it stoically. The incident two years ago, where he convulsed and fell from his horse, had shattered his prospects. He seed to have accepted it with equanimity.
Zhang Lingzheng couldn't help recalling the once vibrant and ambitious young marquis—riding his horse, leaning against the slanted bridge, charming a crowd of ladies with flowing sleeves.
After soaking for a quarter of an hour, Zhang Lingzheng removed the needles. Beneath Xie Xun's kneecap lay a pitch-black patch. Using a specially-designed syringe, he pierced the blackened area and extracted the toxic blood. The poison was exceptionally insidious. Fortunately, Xie Xun had returned to the capital in ti, allowing Zhang Lingzheng to contain it from spreading further. If he'd been delayed by even a few days, his entire leg would have been rendered useless, leaving him confined to a wheelchair for life.
With the toxic blood drained, the pain subsided sowhat. Xie Xun donned his robes and stood up. "How is the Eastern Palace?"
Zhang Lingzheng carefully stored the extracted blood. "The Crown Princess Consort's fetus is stable... It should be a boy."
"Confird?"
Zhang Lingzheng nodded. Two years ago, the Crown Prince had married—prior to that, he had no concubines or offspring. Crown Princess Consort Lin Yushu's pregnancy marked the Eastern Palace's first legitimate heir. Lin Yushu was the eldest legitimate daughter of Elder Lin's main household, and also Xie Xun's cousin. With Marquis Zhenbei Mansion wielding military power and the Lin Family boasting generations of scholars in the Hanlin, alliances were inevitable—but also fraught with division. The Emperor arranged for Lin Yushu to marry into the Eastern Palace, aiming to secure the Lin Family's loyalty.
If Consort Xie had her own son, while the Eastern Palace had a legitimate heir, then determining whether Marquis Zhenbei Mansion or the Lin Family would be supported would beco an invisible battlefield. Emperor Jianming excelled in balancing power.
Ningzhou had always been abundant in manpower and resources. Over the ten years since Emperor Jianming ascended the throne, all priorities had leaned toward Ningzhou—not only due to Beiman's challenges but also because of Marquis Zhenbei Mansion's importance.
This year marked the first occurrence of tampered military supplies. Though seemingly trivial, behind it lay profound implications. Marquis Zhenbei Mansion's grip on the royal court was loosening. This recent clash with the Third Prince had been intentionally orchestrated by Xie Xun—a test of Emperor Jianming's stance. Even without the accidental mutual injury, severe harm had been anticipated.
Emperor Jianming maintained an outward appearance of conciliation, but the political situation had shifted. A few years earlier, who would have dared adulterate supplies destined for Ningzhou?
Xie Xun stood by the windowsill, washing his hands. His hands were remarkably beautiful—ten slender fingers subrged in water, their delicate elegance reminiscent of jade fans. Zhang Lingzheng packed up his dical kit. Autumn winds stirred the lanterns in the corridor, and their flickering light reflected off Xie Xun's face.
"Take good care of this child."
"Yes!"
Carrying his dical kit, Zhang Lingzheng exited the room. Xie Xun dried his hands and opened the window. The night remained pitch dark, devoid of even a glimr of dawn.
Fengyu recovered from her illness three days later.
Recently, rumors had spread across the capital. Word had it that the new top scorers, Liu An and Cai Zelin, had both joined the Hanlin Academy, while the emperor's favored top scorer had been assigned by the Cabinet as a County Magistrate in West Continent.
Ningzhou, located at the frontier, had a populace primarily engaged in animal husbandry. Though vast in territory, West Continent was dominated by mountainous terrain and dense forests. Its sparse population and unsuitable farmland made it a haven for bandits, earning it a reputation as a penal colony for officials.
This year, due to war and inclent weather, the autumn provincial exams had been postponed by two months. In recent days, disputes over military supplies had arisen, with the Ministry of Revenue and Ministry of War shifting bla onto one another. The delayed evaluations and assignnts of officials added to the chaos.
After recovering, Fengyu visited Linlang Pavilion and overheard the circulating gossip. The citizens of the capital were saying that Marquis Zhenbei Mansion was the true emperor of the Yanyang Dynasty, and that a single word from the young marquis had exiled the top scorer to the wilderness.
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