“Alright. The doctor said my face is related to the poison in my body, and I don’t know if it will ever heal. Maybe it’ll stay like this forever. Brother…”
Realizing his deep, probing gaze fixed on her, Wanqing felt a pang of unease but obediently nodded, extending her hand for Physician Xu to perform the bloodletting. When speaking of her face, she blinked her watery, delicate eyes and murmured dejectedly.
When she sensed his large hand caressing her shoulder and remembered the silver needle hidden in her hair at the nape of her neck, Wanqing tensed involuntarily and looked up at him with a startled gasp.
“Physician Xu will surely cure you. He’s the head imperial physician—there’s hardly any ailment he can’t treat. Silly girl, are you afraid?”
Noticing her despondency, Leng Mingye instinctively soothed her. But as he stroked her shoulder and even the strands of hair behind her, her nervousness grew. His lips curled slightly as his deep eyes bore into her. “No, I’m just scared of the bloodletting. *Sigh*… Brother, is there… something on my head?”
Though Wanqing didn’t turn, she could feel his gaze lingering. Thinking of the needle hidden in her hair, she forced a sheepish smile. As Physician Xu finally released her hand, she exhaled in relief—only to tense again when the man behind her suddenly lifted her hair. Her hands, now resting on her lap, clenched instinctively. “Silly girl, would you lie to me?”
Her reaction didn’t escape him. Without a word, he released her shoulder and stepped in front of her, bending down until his sharp, well-defined nose nearly touched her forehead. “I—Brother is the kindest to Qing’er. Why would Qing’er ever lie to you? Brother, you…”
His gaze sent an inexplicable wave of panic through her. Though confident, his earlier reaction made her suspect he’d discovered the needle. Forcing another awkward smile, she faltered when his eyes narrowed, and his slender, almost feminine fingers reached for her hair. Trembling inside, she turned her head. “Then tell me, what’s this silver needle doing in your hair?”
As if confirming her fears, his fingers pulled a needle from the back of her head. His icy eyes bore into her. “I—how would there be a needle in my hair? No wonder I’ve had headaches lately. Brother, you…”
Staring at the needle in his hand and the reproachful scrutiny in his dark eyes, Wanqing’s heart sank. *Damn, he found it.* Yet she feigned confusion, watching as his other hand moved to her neck. Remembering his ruthlessness, her fists clenched at her sides. When his fingers settled on her throat, her pulse stuttered, but she kept up the act. “Really? Brother despises liars most in this world—including you. I hope you’re telling the truth. Otherwise, one squeeze of my hand, and—*crack*.”
His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he mimed the sound. “No, no! Qing’er would never lie to you. Brother is so good to Qing’er—why would I? Brother…”
Despite her internal despair, her smile widened as she spoke, her voice tinged with feigned distress. Just then, he leaned closer, his familiar yet foreign scent of herbs enveloping her. Faced with his dangerously handsome features, she fought to keep her composure, though panic and helplessness churned inside. “Oh? So you had no idea about the needle?”
His cold, mocking eyes studied her as he spoke, clearly aware of her fear yet taunting her lightly. “Heh. Of course not. How would Qing’er know? Brother may be harsh with others, but you’re always kindest to me.”
His expression remained skeptical. “Really? Then tell me—when did your face start showing symptoms?”
“My face? It was just a couple of days ago. I was fine, then suddenly… this happened. Brother, is there something wrong with my face?”
His question confirmed her suspicions, but she played dumb, tilting her head in feigned confusion. “Physician Xu, is this little fool truly poisoned?”
After a long, scrutinizing silence, Leng Mingye’s narrowed eyes betrayed his frustration. Clearly doubting her but unable to pry the truth loose, he turned abruptly to Physician Xu.
Though relieved at the shift in focus, Wanqing’s stomach twisted. *The poison’s from a Tang Clan secret formula. Would he even recognize it?* Her chest still ached faintly, but *Miraculous Mist* wasn’t common knowledge. If he declared her unharmed, she’d have no choice but to fight—even if her chances were slim. Death was preferable to surrender.
As she debated striking, Physician Xu’s voice cut through her turmoil like salvation. “Your Grace, I’ve confirmed it. Lady Mu is indeed poisoned—by *Miraculous Mist*. Though undetectable by pulse, the toxin is present. Typically, symptoms emerge after a decade, but her blood shows it’s already active.”
“You’re certain?”
Leng Mingye’s voice was dangerously calm, his eyes simmering with suppressed anger. “Yes, Your Grace. Though rare, the toxin is identifiable in her blood. Lady Mu, have you experienced chest pains, night sweats, or frequent nightmares lately?”
“Yes! Exactly that. Brother, you saw me wake up startled that one night,” Wanqing quickly affirmed, seizing the lifeline and glancing meaningfully at Leng Mingye.
“Then it’s true. But what of her face? Does the poison affect appearance? And this needle—is it connected? Honestly, without those red marks, I’d be curious to see what her face truly looks like.”
His grip on her neck loosened slightly as he recalled the night he’d found her distressed. Though doubts lingered, he turned back to Physician Xu.
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