Moxun was in the side hall of Yongning Palace.
Ever since Shen Wei fell seriously ill, Li Yuanjing had ordered Moxun to remain stationed in Yongning Palace without leaving for even a moment.
Moxun cursed inwardly.
The grueling days of working around the clock were simply unbearable!
"Coming, coming," Moxun suppressed a bellyful of curses and carried his medicine chest into the inner chamber.
Moxun took Shen Wei's pulse.
Li Yuanjing had someone take Le You away. Le You was still young and shouldn’t suffer such a heavy blow.
Le You turned back every few steps, his little head drooping as he left the chamber in low spirits.
After Le You left, Moxun finally informed Li Yuanjing, "Your Majesty, the poison in the Noble Consort's body has spread to her vital organs. Her pulse is naturally weak, and she may lose her life at any moment. She might not even last until General Sun delivers the antidote."
Li Yuanjing's face turned icy.
Moxun administered two more acupuncture needles to Shen Wei, replaced the herbs in the incense burner, and prepared to leave with his medicine chest.
The chamber was silent, the medicinal fragrance from the incense burner slowly dispersing. Li Yuanjing leaned against the bedside, gazing at Shen Wei's lifeless face, the pain in his eyes almost tangible.
"Weiwei..." Li Yuanjing murmured.
Please wake up.
...
...
The next day, a light spring rain fell, drenching the flowers and trees in the rear palace, their leaves glistening emerald.
Amid the misty rain, Liu Qiao'er held an oil-paper umbrella, dressed in a deep green silk skirt, walking slowly along the long palace path.
"This is the route His Majesty takes daily to and from court, correct?" Liu Qiao'er confirmed again with her personal maid.
The maid nodded. "Yes. At this hour, His Majesty should have just finished morning court."
Liu Qiao'er smiled faintly.
Today, she had taken rare care with her appearance, wearing the green silk skirt and the jade hairpin Li Yuanjing had gifted her years ago. Years of plain meals and neglect had robbed her of her former beauty, but she remained convinced that the Emperor still held affection for her.
The bond of childhood sweethearts always carried a nostalgic glow.
"My lady, His Majesty's procession is approaching," the sharp-eyed maid whispered, spotting the grand imperial entourage at the far end of the path.
Liu Qiao'er curved her red lips and stopped by the flowerbed beside the path, eagerly awaiting the Emperor's arrival.
The rustling of footsteps drew nearer.
As the imperial palanquin approached, Liu Qiao'er called out clearly, "This humble one greets Your Majesty. May Your Majesty be at peace."
The fine drizzle pattered against the oil-paper umbrella, obscuring Liu Qiao'er's still-charming face.
If Li Yuanjing addressed her, she would gracefully lower the umbrella and reveal herself.
The scene—spring rain, an elegant Jiangnan-style umbrella, a beautiful palace consort in a green silk skirt—ought to have been captivating enough to seize Li Yuanjing's heart.
Yet, the imperial procession did not stop.
It passed Liu Qiao'er by without hesitation.
Stunned, Liu Qiao'er assumed her voice had been too soft. She hurried after the procession in her embroidered slippers, hoping to speak to Li Yuanjing again. A eunuch from the entourage blocked her path, his tone polite but firm.
"Consort Qiao, if His Majesty wishes to see you, he will send word. His Majesty has been in low spirits lately. It would be best to seek an audience another time."
Liu Qiao'er halted.
She watched as the Emperor's figure grew distant, heading toward Yongning Palace.
Her maid approached and whispered, "My lady, let us wait a little longer. Noble Consort Shen has fallen gravely ill. Once she passes, you may rekindle your bond with His Majesty."
The news of Noble Consort Shen's sudden illness could no longer be concealed.
The entire rear palace knew.
Some rejoiced, others grieved.
Those who had received Shen Wei's kindness burned incense and prayed for her recovery.
Others saw an opportunity—Liu Qiao'er was not the only consort making moves.
Liu Qiao'er pressed her fingers to her brow. "I only fear Noble Consort Shen's luck holds, and she survives."
The maid reassured her, "This servant inquired at the imperial pharmacy. Noble Consort Shen's condition is beyond cure."
Liu Qiao'er tightened her grip on the umbrella, her eyes glinting. "Very well. This consort will wait a little longer."
She had endured years of obscurity—a few more days would make no difference.
...
...
Two more days passed.
That night, Li Yuanjing reviewed memorials in the study of Yongning Palace. The spring floods in the south had grown severe, with several aging dams collapsing and unleashing devastation.
Li Yuanjing frowned as he read the report from the Nanzhou prefect, his vermilion brush swiftly drafting responses.
Once the stack of memorials was dealt with, Li Yuanjing's mood darkened. He gazed out the window at the ink-black sky, his heart heavy.
He sighed, as if accusing heaven itself. "I have wronged neither the people nor the realm. Though I am no Yao or Shun, I have ruled with compassion. Heaven, if you have eyes, why must you take the one who shares my bed?"
The night wind rattled the window. Heaven gave no reply.
Li Yuanjing lowered his cold eyes and murmured, "Or is this the retribution for my jealousy and suspicion?"
Had he been more rational, had he not wounded Shen Wei's heart, perhaps she would not be suffering now.
Regret gnawed at him.
Just then, Eunuch Deshun burst into the study with joyous news. "Your Majesty! The Noble Consort has awakened!"
Li Yuanjing's vermilion brush clattered onto the desk, staining a memorial crimson.
He strode toward the adjacent bedchamber, the beaded curtain clattering in his wake.
Behind the pale green bed curtains, Shen Wei had opened her eyes, her gaze wandering as if restored to life.
"Weiwei!" Li Yuanjing called out.
Shen Wei turned to him, dazed, then smiled brightly. "Your Majesty."
In the warm candlelight, her features were vivid and beautiful.
The anguish that had weighed on Li Yuanjing for days vanished in an instant.
He was like a drowning man finally granted breath.
In his haste, Li Yuanjing stumbled over a chair. He barely caught himself, staggering to the bedside. "You're awake... finally awake."
Shen Wei's eyes were clear, her speech as articulate as ever, her once-pale cheeks regaining color. She frowned. "Your Majesty, has something happened?"
She seemed unaware of the poison coursing through her.
Li Yuanjing smiled in relief. "Nothing, nothing. It’s enough that you’re awake."
He clasped her hand—then froze.
His expression twisted in disbelief as he squeezed her fingers again.
Shen Wei had awakened.
But her fingers were still cold.
Colder than before.
Shen Wei noticed nothing. She shook her dizzy head, complaining of a stiff neck. Playfully feigning anger, she tried to pull her hand free. "Your Majesty ignored me for a month, and now you cling to me? What sort of behavior is this?"
Li Yuanjing's lips parted, but no words came.
He realized—Shen Wei had not recovered.
Her current state...
Was the fleeting clarity before death.
Sometimes, the dying would briefly regain strength, speaking and acting as if healed.
But it was only the last flicker of a fading flame.
Shen Wei called out habitually toward the door, "Cai Lian, what time is it? Have the imperial kitchen prepare some sweet rice soup—I feel a bit hungry."
Cai Lian was still in the small kitchen, personally brewing medicine, and didn’t hear Shen Wei’s voice.
After calling twice with no response, Shen Wei could only shake her head helplessly. She was about to get out of bed when her strength suddenly drained away, leaving her weak. Her vision darkened, and she collapsed without warning.
Li Yuanjing cried out in alarm, "Weiwei!"
In mere moments, he watched as the vibrant Shen Wei withered before his eyes.
She fell into Li Yuanjing’s arms.
The last flicker of life within her was rapidly fading.
