A few moments later.
Song Yu looked at the sweat-drenched Song Yanchao before him, his expression darkening. Just as Liuxi had said, Song Yanchao seemed to be trapped in a nightmare.
"Ah Huan..."
"Ah Huan... it wasn't me..."
The name Song Shihuan reached Song Yu's ears. He commanded the physicians and guards to stand at a distance while he leaned over the bed, bending down until his ear was mere inches from Song Yanchao's lips.
Clearer words spilled from Song Yanchao's mouth, one after another.
"Ah Huan... I didn’t kill you. Don’t haunt me. Go haunt Song Xiyan—she was the one who ordered your limbs severed, then had you... thrown into the lake in the imperial garden... and forbade anyone from saving you, letting you drown alive."
"Besides... Song Yu... Song Yu fished you out. At least he didn’t leave your body to rot in the water."
In an instant, something deep within Song Yu’s eyes shattered.
"You were a curse, clinging stubbornly to the Eastern Palace. That’s why... why we despised you."
"Your eyes weren’t gouged out by my order either. I just... just joined in tormenting you a few times. If you want vengeance, don’t come for me."
Terror twisted Song Yanchao’s fever-flushed face as he babbled relentlessly, begging Song Shihuan to haunt someone else.
Song Yanchao muttered deliriously all night, and Song Yu remained frozen in that position, listening.
Numbness swallowed Song Yu whole, leaving him unaware of time or place.
Until a crisp voice rang outside:
"Father!"
When no one answered, Song Shihuan grew frantic, trying to rush past the railing—only for Baoxia to stop her. "My lady, you cannot enter."
"My father is inside!" Song Shihuan’s eyes reddened with urgency.
Finally snapping back to reality, Song Yu withdrew his stiff, numb hands and staggered out.
"Ah Huan, I’m fine."
"The physicians said Song Yanchao was gravely ill last night. I had to see for myself."
Song Yu’s gaze locked onto the living, breathing Song Shihuan before him, as if terrified she might vanish the next second.
"Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay here with Song Yanchao for the next few days."
"Father..."
Seeing Song Yu’s masked face, Song Shihuan ached with unspoken sorrow.
"Be good, Ah Huan. I’ll need you and Gu Zheng to oversee Laijin Prefecture while I’m here."
Song Yu almost reached to tousle her hair but recoiled, fearing contagion. "Go back now. I’ll be alright."
He retreated into the room like a fugitive, only collapsing to his knees once certain she couldn’t see him.
Thud—
Song Yu knelt on the floor.
Ah Huan... is dead?
......
At the same time, far in the capital, Emperor Yuanyou suddenly clutched his chest, collapsing onto the imperial desk in agony, drenched in sweat.
"Your Majesty!"
Wu Qi panicked, bellowing, "Fetch Physician Mei! Now!"
After an incense stick’s time, Emperor Yuanyou lay pale on the dragon bed while Mei Zhilin took his pulse, brow furrowed.
"Eunuch Wu, did His Majesty receive devastating news earlier?"
Wu Qi shook his head. "His Majesty was reviewing memorials. No one disturbed him."
"Strange."
Mei Zhilin was baffled. The Emperor’s pulse showed heartbreak severe enough to damage his meridians. If nothing had happened, why such sudden, near-fainting grief?
"I’ll prepare medicine immediately."
With the Emperor’s health at stake, Mei Zhilin wasted no time. Soon, the scent of brewing herbs wafted from the Purple Dawn Hall.
An hour later, Emperor Yuanyou regained some composure.
"Wu Qi, any news from Laijin Prefecture?" he rasped.
"Your Majesty, aside from the Second Imperial Grandson contracting plague, there’s nothing. Prince Qin and Princess Fu'an are surely unharmed."
Emperor Yuanyou exhaled slightly.
That heart-wrenching pain—he’d only felt it once before, when Fen'er died. It terrified him.
"Send more men to Laijin Prefecture. Quickly."
As Wu Qi hurried out, the Emperor pressed a wrinkled hand to his chest, breathing deeply.
How are Yu’er and Ah Huan faring?
......
For three days, Song Yu never left Song Yanchao’s side, as if the risk of infection no longer mattered.
"I had a dream too. In it, I pulled a limbless girl from a lake. By the time I got her out... she was already dead."
Song Yu’s eyes burned crimson, brimming with murderous intent.
"I couldn’t fathom who she was. Now I know—it was Ah Huan."
His precious little princess, cherished beyond measure.
He’d plunged into floodwaters to save countless refugees, yet fate claimed he couldn’t save his own daughter?
Song Yu’s trembling right hand closed around Song Yanchao’s throat.
Had anyone been present, they’d have seen a man utterly transformed from days prior—
A blade unsheathed to draw blood.
"So... was it truly just a dream?"
Song Yu’s smile was uglier than tears.
Song Yanchao had revealed how they’d abused Ah Huan in the Eastern Palace, letting servants humiliate her.
Every detail was too vivid to be fantasy.
Yet the Ah Huan in Song Yanchao’s ravings lived a life unrecognizable to reality.
"She was kidnapped so young, suffering ten years of torment, yet still treasured you all more than herself. Why? Why?"
His grip tightened.
"The Ping Prince’s Mansion... deserves annihilation."
Madness flickered in Song Yu’s gaze. Whether dream or truth, these grotesque visions demanded one thing—
Sending every last one of them to hell.
His daughter was born to be cherished.
A single tear from her pained him. How could he endure hearing of her tortured demise?
That ending was unacceptable.
Song Yu chuckled, the sound colder than mountain ice.
His fingers tightened further.
Song Yanchao’s face purpled.
And Song Yu showed no mercy.
