“You… he poisoned you?”
Hearing the voice and its tone, Wan Qing furrowed her brows and looked over. When she saw the strange red spots on Nangong Fang’s face and considered her words, she couldn’t help but laugh. She recognized the substance on Nangong Fang’s face at a glance—besides the red spots, there were also scratch marks nearby.
Though inwardly delighted by her husband’s mischief, she pretended ignorance and glanced at Chunlan, who was also struggling to suppress a laugh, before asking, “Who else could it be? He came to confront me, saying he wanted to reason with me, but instead, he flicked powder in my face. And now my face is like this! Mu Wanqing, how dare you laugh? You—”
Nangong Fang was already in a foul mood after being scolded by her father and ordered to return to her family in disgrace. The thought of her mediocre and incompetent husband only fueled her frustration. But before she could even pack her things, her younger brother had come to confront her, demanding justice for his wife.
He had even physically restrained her and flicked powder onto her face, causing the red spots and unbearable itching.
Now, suffering and humiliated, unable to leave or stay, she was further enraged to see Wan Qing and her maid laughing at her. Nangong Fang was seething with murderous intent. Gritting her teeth against the pain and itching, she glared coldly at Wan Qing before finally giving in and scratching her face.
“I didn’t tell him to do this. I was resting in my room the whole time—ask my maid if you don’t believe me. If you want revenge, go find him. Oh, and sister, you’d better not scratch. It’ll only get worse and might even scar.”
Watching Nangong Fang’s ridiculous struggle between anger and agony, Wan Qing felt an indescribable satisfaction. She delivered her words with effortless ease, even offering a well-meaning warning.
“You have the antidote, don’t you? Give it to me. I can’t stand this—if my face is ruined, I—”
Despite her resentment toward Wan Qing, Nangong Fang was desperate. The unbearable itching forced her to swallow her pride and plead, though she resisted scratching, instead rubbing her face to ease the discomfort.
“I don’t have the antidote, but your face isn’t beyond saving. If you start treating me, my family, and Mingye with respect, I’ll prepare the antidote for you. Oh, and one more thing—you can rest assured, we have no interest in the Nangong family’s possessions, including the heir’s title. Go back now, wash your face with cool water and flower petals—it’ll help. I’ll send the antidote once it’s ready.”
Seeing Nangong Fang humbled by her suffering, Wan Qing felt a flicker of satisfaction. Though she had been furious at Nangong Fang’s earlier provocations, her husband had already avenged her, and Nangong Fang had paid the price.
She spoke calmly, watching as Nangong Fang’s expression shifted from shock to despair. With a faint smile, she turned away with Wan Chun, heading toward her mother’s quarters.
“I…”
Nangong Fang was left speechless, guilt creeping in as she reflected on her own prejudices and the schemes she and her family had harbored since Wan Qing’s return. Though still in discomfort and stunned by Wan Qing’s words, she turned and hurried off with her maid to follow the suggested remedy.
“Miss, you could have easily neutralized the powder with a wave of your hand. Why did you say all that?”
Wan Chun, puzzled by Wan Qing’s deliberate choice to prolong Nangong Fang’s suffering, couldn’t help but ask as they walked.
“Even though the young master already avenged me, letting her off so easily isn’t my style as a princess, is it?” Wan Qing replied with a cold smile. Seeing Wan Chun’s dawning understanding, she chuckled lightly and continued forward.
That night, as Feng Moli and Leng Mingye prepared to infiltrate the palace, Wan Qing and her mother waited anxiously in her mother’s room.
It wasn’t until nearly midnight that the two men returned, dust-covered and weary.
“What happened?”
Hearing her husband’s voice at the door, Wan Qing rushed to open it, her face alight with relief.
“Let’s talk inside. Be careful.”
Leng Mingye glanced warily outside before stepping in, motioning for the others to follow quietly.
“Who is—? This young lady, what happened to her face?”
Only then did Wan Qing notice the unconscious young woman being supported by her uncle. The woman’s black scarf had slipped, revealing old scars that marred her face, giving her a fearsome appearance. A throwing dagger was embedded in her shoulder, and she leaned heavily against Feng Moli.
“We were discovered. This young lady saved us and helped us escape. Quickly, Qing’er, lend a hand. Her injuries are your responsibility now—I can’t tend to her.”
Feng Moli’s expression was uncharacteristically grave as he and Leng Mingye sat down. Seeing the mother and daughter’s shock, he explained briefly before instructing Wan Qing.
“Of course. Leave it to me. Mother, let’s take her inside to treat her wounds and neutralize the poison. Both of you have minor injuries too—you should still tend to them.”
Noticing her uncle’s rare concern for the woman, Wan Qing complied without hesitation. She and her mother carefully carried the injured woman inside. While her mother examined the wound, Wan Qing retrieved a medicine bottle and set it on the table.
“We’ve already taken antidotes. The woman has too—just tend to her wounds.”
Feng Moli’s words reassured them. His gaze remained fixed on Leng Mingye, his expression tense.
With the immediate danger averted, Wan Qing and Feng Liusu cleaned and dressed the woman’s shoulder wound. Once she was stable but still unconscious, they returned to question the men.
“Who is she? Why was she in the palace, and why did she help you? And who managed to injure you both?”
Given their formidable skills, it was shocking that they had needed a woman’s help to escape—and that she had been injured in the process. Wan Qing’s voice was laced with concern as she pressed for answers.
“The emperor of Bo Kingdom is indeed an imposter. This woman is none other than the real emperor’s younger sister. She told us everything. As for who injured us—who else but the emperor’s men?”
Leng Mingye sighed, his displeasure evident.
“The emperor? Then who is the current emperor?”
Nangong Haotian, recalling their earlier suspicions, tensed as he asked.
“We don’t know. The woman didn’t say. She collapsed from her injuries before we could ask further. We’ll have to wait until she wakes. But before losing consciousness, she begged us to expose the emperor’s true identity—she insisted he wasn’t her brother.”
Feng Moli’s brows knitted together, his interest piqued by the mystery of Bo Kingdom’s false ruler. Few in the world could best him—and this imposter had done just that.
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