“Alright.” Qingyun’s words only strengthened Wanqing’s conviction in her heart. A direct confrontation was out of the question—she was no match for this person. Though she worried that the medicine here might clash with the toxins from the drugs already in her system, potentially worsening the effects of the rosemary poison, Wanqing remained composed as she looked at Qingyun. She picked up the bowl of medicinal soup, held her breath, and gulped it down in large mouthfuls.
“Miss, here, eat this. It won’t taste as bitter afterward.”
As soon as Wanqing set down the bowl, Chunhong promptly handed her a large piece of candy.
“I’ll take my leave now. Hongyan will ensure your safety. If you need anything, just give her your orders.”
Seeing that Wanqing had drunk the medicine, Qingyun clasped his hands respectfully, turned, and left. As he walked away, a woman dressed in red robes, adorned in fine brocade, entered the room. Her striking beauty carried an air of cold elegance.
“You…”
Chunhong, who had picked up Wanqing’s bowl to leave, paused at the sight of the red-clad woman at the door and glanced at Wanqing.
The woman in red paid her no mind, stepping inside with a frosty gaze, her brows slightly furrowed as she studied Wanqing.
“Hongyan greets the young lady. From now on, if you have any requests, feel free to command me.”
Wanqing merely smiled faintly, allowing the woman to scrutinize her. Only after noticing the fleeting disdain in the woman’s eyes did she respond coolly.
“No need for formalities, Sister Hongyan. Qing’er is already indebted to Brother Shizi for troubling you to protect me. Since you’ve said so, I won’t stand on ceremony. You may stay here under one condition: unless I give an order, you are not to act or make decisions on your own. If that’s unacceptable, you may leave.”
Unfazed by the contempt in Hongyan’s gaze, Wanqing remained seated, unmoving, as she delivered her terms. She didn’t even glance at Hongyan’s shifting expression before adding magnanimously, “Spare me the formalities. Just let Hongyan stay and protect you.”
Hongyan had assumed her master sent her to guard the esteemed Miss Mu—someone who, though unworthy of him, at least possessed some beauty. Instead, she found a frail, underdeveloped girl whose living quarters were worse than those of the Mu family’s lowliest servants. The sight of Wanqing’s face, dotted with red marks, filled Hongyan with disdain. She couldn’t fathom why her master would assign her to protect such a girl—unless this was his peculiar preference.
But Wanqing’s words struck Hongyan like a bolt of lightning. Returning now would imply incompetence, and the punishment for failure in her master’s service was unthinkable. The earlier scorn vanished, replaced by fear as she dropped to her knees and pleaded, “Miss, spare me! Allow Hongyan to stay and protect you!”
“No need for alarm, Sister Hongyan. I’m merely stating my rules. After all, I reside in the Mu household, which has its own customs. If you can’t abide by these conditions, I’ll have to ask Brother to send someone else. It’s better than us clashing and causing unnecessary trouble, don’t you agree?”
Wanqing observed the shift in Hongyan’s expression. She had half-expected the woman to storm off in anger, which would’ve solved her dilemma—whether to take the medicine or not would’ve been her own choice. But Hongyan’s reaction dashed that hope. Suppressing a sigh, Wanqing met her gaze directly and posed the question.
“I—I can comply. Hongyan won’t cause you any trouble,” Hongyan replied reluctantly, nodding.
“Good. Then please rise, Sister Hongyan. I’ve just taken medicine and feel drowsy. If Chunhong needs help in the kitchen, assist her. Otherwise, do as you please—just don’t disturb my rest. *Yawn*… I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Feigning relief, Wanqing helped Hongyan up. As the drug’s effects began to take hold, she yawned, stretched, and shuffled toward her room, closing the door behind her.
“*Sigh*…” Only after the door shut did Hongyan release a quiet breath, her cold eyes lingering on it for a moment before she turned and left. Instead of heading to the kitchen, she leaped onto the roof and settled there, gazing at the scenery.
“*Huff… Ugh…*” Wanqing had feared the conflicting toxins—the new medicine and the rosemary poison—would wreak havoc. No sooner had she entered her inner chamber than a sharp pain stabbed her chest, forcing a gasp from her lips. Staggering, she collapsed onto the bed.
Checking her pulse, she found it erratic and frantic.
“Damn it.” The possible outcomes raced through her mind: either the new toxins would neutralize the rosemary poison or amplify it, accelerating its spread. Gritting her teeth, Wanqing gripped the bedsheets, enduring the escalating agony while straining to hear any movement outside.
She caught no sound from Chunhong—only the faint click of Hongyan closing the outer door. The near-silent footsteps confirmed Hongyan’s formidable skills. Listening intently, Wanqing detected nothing from above either. Though anxiety gnawed at her, she clenched her jaw, weathering wave after wave of pain.
With trembling hands, she retrieved a packet of silver needles from beneath her pillow. Sitting cross-legged, she began inserting them into major acupoints across her body. What would’ve been routine now drained her, leaving her drenched in sweat, trembling and breathless. Aware that Hongyan might be nearby, Wanqing muffled her panting with a hand until her breathing steadied enough to continue.
Her only recourse was to guide the poison out through her fingertips. Piercing them, she let the toxins trickle down, forming a thin line along the wall. Only when the pain subsided slightly did she exhale in relief.
“*Haa…* Finally, the chest pain’s eased. This poison is vicious. But my face… I’ll have to redirect the remaining toxins there. Hopefully, it’ll buy me time before that man notices.”
After tending to her fingers, Wanqing noticed a trail of dead ants near the poisoned blood she’d expelled. Swallowing hard, she focused on channeling the toxins toward her face.
Nearly half an hour later, Chunhong’s knock and call for dinner startled her out of her trance.
Flustered, Wanqing removed the needles from her body and hair, wiped the sweat from her face and forehead, and took deep breaths to steady herself. “Alright, I’m coming,” she called, forcing calm into her voice.
By the time she emerged, another quarter-hour had passed.
“Miss, what’s wrong? You’re drenched in sweat, and your face is so pale. Are you unwell?” Chunhong set down the dishes, her brow furrowing at Wanqing’s haggard appearance.
“Young lady, are you alright? And this… Why is there blood on this cloth?” Hongyan, who had followed Chunhong in, ignored Wanqing’s reaction. She brushed past, picked up the bloodstained cloth Wanqing had used to clean the poisoned floor, and held it up, her eyes icy. “Explain this.”
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