After Sima Qing painstakingly cut through the ropes binding Qiu Dongfang, the sounds of fighting outside had already ceased.
"...There were ten in total. Tell her not to let a single one escape," Sima Qing's voice was gritted through clenched teeth.
Qiu Dongfang shakily withdrew his hand from the prince's grip and hurried outside, only to see Jiu Yue gripping her twin blades, expressionlessly driving one into the chest of the man beneath her feet.
It was terrifyingly brutal.
Clicking his tongue, Qiu Dongfang rushed over to help tally the bodies. "His Highness said there were ten in total."
Jiu Yue froze. After counting repeatedly, there were only nine. She frowned—until she accidentally kicked a severed hand on the ground.
"Oh, the tenth one's here," Jiu Yue sighed in relief, stepping back. Only then did she take a deep, heavy breath and begin wiping her beloved blades and the bloodstains from her body.
Qiu Dongfang grew anxious again. "What do we do? The prince's... condition has taken effect, but there's no antidote for that kind of poison... What if he suffers from the buildup?"
Jiu Yue was baffled. "What poison?"
Qiu Dongfang smacked his forehead and quickly summarized the black-clad assailants' words, then groaned in despair. "What now? Earlier, His Highness was holding my hand, and his eyes were already glazed over!"
Jiu Yue: "..."
Jiu Yue sucked in a sharp breath.
Since when were aphrodisiacs this popular? Nowadays, poisoning someone means slipping them an aphrodisiac???
Qiu Dongfang flailed like a headless fly, while Jiu Yue calmly patted his shoulder.
"Don't panic. Just knock him out first," Jiu Yue exhaled roughly, hefting her blade as she strode ahead.
"Got it!" Qiu Dongfang immediately complied.
Better to pass out than endure the torment of an aphrodisiac.
Jiu Yue didn’t forget to retrieve the dog on their way back. The dog hadn’t run off and was still sitting obediently under the tree, earning a doting look from her.
The trio—plus the dog—returned to the courtyard in a wholly new state.
"What now?" Qiu Dongfang pressed urgently.
Jiu Yue studied Sima Qing for a moment before declaring with grave solemnity, "The effects won’t fade easily. Even after waking, His Highness will likely still feel... uncomfortable. Right now, I have two solutions."
Qiu Dongfang: "What are they?"
Jiu Yue: "First, make His Highness gag to vomit out the poison he ingested."
Even if the effects had already taken hold, there had to be remnants in his stomach... Besides, who could still think about that while retching?!
Qiu Dongfang stiffened. "...And the second?"
Jiu Yue stroked her chin. "Then we feed him laxatives. In a way, it’ll flush out the poison—expel everything from his system!"
Qiu Dongfang: "..."
Qiu Dongfang hesitated. "Must we resort to such... undignified methods?"
"You're a man too—have some sympathy!" Jiu Yue frowned disapprovingly, speaking with grave earnestness. "His Highness is already twenty-five. At his age, if this drags on and damages his health, what if he can’t father children in the future?!"
Qiu Dongfang’s eyes widened instantly, his expression hardening with resolve. Rolling up his sleeves, he marched toward Sima Qing. "Then what are we waiting for? I’ll make him gag right now!"
Jiu Yue didn’t stop him.
After all, Sima Qing didn’t seem to have the strength for diarrhea anyway.
Sigh. Being a prince really was a high-risk occupation.
Jiu Yue shook her head, rubbed her nose, and headed into the kitchen.
...
By the time the aphrodisiac was mostly vomited out, Sima Qing was half-dead.
Qiu Dongfang, mindful of propriety, hadn’t dared to shove his fingers directly into his prince’s mouth—how uncouth! In the end, he’d settled for using chopsticks instead.
Now, Sima Qing sat slumped in a chair, barely alive. After the ordeal, it was already afternoon.
Sunlight spilled over them, even making the moss on the ground seem charming.
Sima Qing rinsed his mouth with tea for a long time before turning to see Jiu Yue cautiously approaching with a bowl.
She set it down gently on the small bamboo table, exhaling in relief, then flashed him a bright, solicitous grin. "Your Highness, have some congee. It’ll soothe your stomach."
Sima Qing glanced down at the bowl’s murky yellow contents: "..."
He said nothing, only drank more water.
"Your Highness?" Jiu Yue tilted her head, expectant. "Try it! It’s my first time making this!"
Sima Qing studied her expression, catching the unspoken threat—if you refuse, I’ll dump it on your head—and resigned himself with a sigh.
There was no escape.
He picked up the bowl and took a spoonful without flinching... only for his already-pale face to turn even ghastlier.
"Well?" Jiu Yue blinked. "Is it cooked?"
Sima Qing felt like sand was scraping his throat. Her question nearly petrified him. "...Did you not taste it before serving?"
Jiu Yue scratched her head. "I was afraid of poisoning myself."
Sima Qing: "..."
He set the bowl down and pointed calmly at the frolicking dog. "If you’ve nothing else to do, go play with the dog. You’re banned from the kitchen."
Jiu Yue: "..."
The blatant dismissal stung. She stood there, bowl in hand.
Seeing her expression, Sima Qing’s heart skipped a beat.
The night she’d kicked the study door to splinters had left him with lasting trauma.
Now, faced with that same look, he silently prayed she wouldn’t upend the congee onto his head.
But after a pause, he heard her mutter, "Sorry."
Sima Qing turned in surprise to find Jiu Yue hanging her head, uncharacteristically subdued.
"Your Highness, this was my failure. It’s only right you dock my pay..." The words pained her, but rewards and punishments went hand in hand—especially when the fault was hers.
She sighed, then looked up at him with a hint of ingratiation. "So... how much are you deducting?"
Sima Qing found this novel. He glanced at the sun—still in the east.
So she could be reasonable.
"Since you asked so politely..." Sima Qing arched a brow, magnanimous. "I’ll only take sixty taels."
Jiu Yue: "..."
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
From that day forth, Mount Mingzhi housed one more heartbroken soul.
Aside from the initial ambush, the following days in the courtyard were unexpectedly peaceful.
Jiu Yue’s routine involved feeding the horse, teasing the dog, and occasionally scouting the area for threats.
Qiu Dongfang handled meals, awaited messenger pigeons, and took the horse to the foothills for exercise while Jiu Yue guarded the prince.
Sima Qing had it easiest of all—reading, writing, basking in the sun. Sometimes, he’d spend hours watching the two train the dog outside his window.
A stolen moment of leisure.
When Mo Jin’s missive arrived, Sima Qing’s mood brightened further.
The forces in Yunjiang had been rounded up by the Court of Judicial Review.
He wondered what sort of triumphant return awaited Prince Ping in the capital.
A faint smile played on Sima Qing’s lips, but his eyes gleamed with cold ruthlessness.
How thrilling.
