Li Yuanjing grasped Shen Wei's pale hand.
Willing to humble himself for her sake, he spoke in a gentle tone: "Weiwei, from now on, I—"
Before he could finish, his dark eyes suddenly locked onto Shen Wei's face with an intense gaze.
He noticed something unsettling—a faint, eerie black-purple hue tinging Shen Wei's pallid lips.
Li Yuanjing touched the discolored corner of her mouth, realization dawning. Frantic, he tore open the white bandage wrapped around Shen Wei's right arm.
With a rustle—
The bloodstained cloth fell away.
Beneath it lay a shallow wound.
The cut was small, no longer than a pinky finger, and barely deep enough to break the skin. Yet, the wound showed no signs of healing, instead festering with the same ominous black-purple hue.
Shen Wei, still unaware of the severity, furrowed her delicate brows in irritation. "Your Majesty, why did you remove the bandage—"
Then, dizziness struck her.
Her throat burned with agony as she coughed up a mouthful of dark blood.
She collapsed, unconscious, into Li Yuanjing's arms.
His limbs turned ice-cold in an instant. A murderous fury surged within him as he cradled the poisoned Shen Wei, his voice sharp with command: "Summon the imperial physicians! Where are they? Why haven’t they arrived yet?"
Chaos erupted in Yongning Palace.
The most seasoned imperial physicians rushed in, panic written across their aged faces. A suffocating gloom hung over the palace, thick as storm clouds.
Inside the bedchamber,
Shen Wei lay motionless, her once-vibrant face now deathly pale. The elderly physician trembled as he checked her pulse, then used a silver needle to test the blackened blood from her wound.
After a long silence, he stammered, "Y-Your Majesty, the Noble Consort appears to have been afflicted by a potent, lethal poison. This humble servant’s knowledge is insufficient to identify it... We can only administer medicine to slow its spread..."
None of the other physicians could determine the poison either.
Li Yuanjing’s expression turned glacial. "If the Noble Consort dies, the entire imperial medical bureau will join her in the grave."
The physicians prostrated themselves in terror, not daring to make a sound.
Li Yuanjing clasped Shen Wei’s icy hand, his voice like steel. "Where is Moxun?"
Cai Lian, her eyes red, replied, "Your Majesty, this servant inquired at the medical bureau. Physician Moxun is on a fortnight’s farming leave—she purchased land by Luoyue Lake to cultivate herbs."
Li Yuanjing barked, "Send someone to bring Moxun back at once!"
The imperial guards vanished like shadows.
Shen Wei remained unconscious, her face growing increasingly discolored by the spreading poison. Her pulse weakened with each passing moment. Li Yuanjing kept vigil by her bedside, his heart crushed beneath an unbearable weight.
Just moments ago, Shen Wei had stood before him, alive and speaking.
Now, she teetered on the brink of death.
It had been years since Li Yuanjing last felt such torment. The last time his heart ached like this was when his elder brother, the crown prince, had succumbed to illness. The memory of his brother’s frail, dying form now overlapped with Shen Wei’s fading breaths—
A blade twisting in his chest.
The beaded curtains rustled as a guard reported from beyond them: "Your Majesty, we investigated the nunnery. The assassin, Xie Fanghua, lived there in seclusion. This morning, she ambushed the procession on the official road."
"In her quarters, we found traces of poison powder—but no antidote."
Xie Fanghua had already taken her own life.
No one knew where she had obtained the poison, nor where the antidote might be.
Li Yuanjing closed his eyes briefly.
Regret flooded him—if only he hadn’t been estranged from Shen Wei, perhaps this tragedy could have been avoided.
Outside, night had fallen. The spring air hummed with insects, and the moonlight gleamed like funeral silk. Soon, Moxun—the famed physician who had been leisurely farming—was escorted back by the guards.
Clad in peasant garb, her hair wrapped in a gray scarf and her hands still muddy, Moxun strode into the chamber without bothering to tidy herself. "Let me see her!"
Shen Wei’s condition was dire.
Her pulse flickered weakly.
Her breaths were faint.
Moxun’s expression darkened as she checked Shen Wei’s vitals. Swiftly, she retrieved a pouch of silver needles and inserted them into key meridians to stem the poison’s advance.
She scribbled a prescription and handed it to Cai Lian and Cai Ping. "Sisters, hurry and prepare this decoction. Whether your mistress survives the night depends on it."
The two maids scurried out.
Moxun withdrew the needles.
Li Yuanjing demanded, "How is she?"
Moxun shot him a sidelong glance, her tone laced with sarcasm. "For the past month, Your Majesty has ignored and neglected the Noble Consort. This humble servant assumed you no longer cared."
Li Yuanjing’s voice was frosty. "Focus on the matter at hand."
Moxun rolled her shoulders, flexing her stiff wrists. "The blade was coated with a rare poison called Zhenyu Qianye—'Nightshade Plume.' It spreads through the bloodstream, killing within twelve hours. It hasn’t been seen in the jianghu for fifty years. Terrible luck for the Noble Consort to encounter it now."
Li Yuanjing’s lips paled. "You’re the best physician in the land. Can you save her?"
Moxun smirked. "Of course. I am the jianghu’s top healer. A mere poison? One antidote pill, and she’d be cured. But—" Her smile faded. "Crafting such a pill takes at least six months. The Noble Consort doesn’t have that long."
Li Yuanjing’s gaze turned murderous.
Moxun stiffened—his aura was terrifying.
She had no doubt that if she failed, Li Yuanjing would tear her apart on the spot.
Hastily, she added, "Years ago, I traveled the land and gathered rare herbs to make three antidote pills. I had no use for them, so I gave them all to a young girl named Sun Qingmei—poor thing, orphaned and alone. She’s a general in Liangzhou City now. With the border wars raging, she surely carries them. Summon her back to Yanjing, and the pills can be retrieved."
Li Yuanjing had heard of this.
Years prior, during a royal hunt, Sun Qingmei had gifted one pill to Zhao Yang Princess, who later used it to save the disguised emperor of Yue Kingdom—sparking their legendary romance.
Calculating the distance—nearly four thousand li between Yanjing and Liangzhou—Li Yuanjing clenched his fists. Even with the fastest horses and relay stations, it would take half a month.
"Send for Sun Qingmei immediately," he ordered. "In the meantime, delay the poison’s effects."
Moxun sighed, her voice somber. "I’ll do my best. But... the odds are slim. Best prepare for the worst."
Outside, Cai Lian and Cai Ping returned with the herbs. Moxun rose to oversee the decoction’s preparation.
As she lifted the beaded curtain, her gaze flickered briefly to Shen Wei’s "unconscious" form, then to Li Yuanjing’s broad, anxious back. The once-untouchable emperor of Qing State now stood like any ordinary man facing the loss of his beloved.
Moxun clicked her tongue.
Then, unhurried, she walked away.
