Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

Shen Qiongju's heart skipped a beat.

The seal on Qionghua Pavilion is still unopened. This message coming at this time is definitely not some trivial matter.

She glanced back at Pei Zhihui.

The man had his eyes half-closed, seemingly exhausted, and was unaware of the commotion.

"Okay, I'll go right away."

Shen Qiongju grabbed a thick cloak and wrapped it around herself, closed the door, and quickly walked out.

The cold wind was biting, making the lanterns under the eaves sway wildly.

As soon as he stepped through the hanging flower gate, Shen Song knelt down in the snow with a "thump".

Shen Song's face was covered in tears, his clothes were torn in several places, and there were bloody marks on his forehead.

"Sister Qiongju...it's all over, completely over!"

Shen Qiongju's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to remain calm: "Why are you crying? I'll hold up the sky if it falls. Stand up and talk."

Shen Song shakily got up and wiped the blood off his face.

"Early this morning, a group of masked men stormed into the distillery in Shenjia Village. They didn't rob anyone or hurt anyone; they just smashed everything in sight with iron bars!"

"Our newly acquired stills were all smashed to scrap metal. And the fermentation tanks... they poured black dog blood and lime into them!"

Shen Qiongju swayed, her nails digging tightly into her palms.

That was the brewery she had painstakingly built, the foundation of Qionghua Pavilion.

"And..." Shen Song said indignantly, "those dozens of jars of 'Drunken Beauty' that we sealed in the cellar were also smashed to pieces."

Although it's called "Drunken Beauty," it's actually a Jingbian Spring tea that's over twenty years old, named for its rich and mellow aroma.

boom--

A thunderbolt struck Shen Qiongju's mind.

Other things aside, "Drunken Beauty" was the shield that Pei Zhihui used in public yesterday. It was the tribute wine that Young Marquis Zhao specifically requested to be sent to the palace to celebrate the birthday of the Imperial Concubine!

The destruction of the tribute wine was a crime of deceiving the emperor, punishable by death.

"Are they Wen Xiujie's men?" Shen Qiongju gritted her teeth, tasting the metallic, metallic flavor of blood in her mouth.

"They didn't show their face, but their skills suggest they're trained in martial arts." Shen Song said with a mournful face, "Miss, there aren't many days left until the Emperor's birthday celebration, and we don't have any wine. What are we going to do?"

What should I do?

Shen Qiongju looked at the snow falling all around her and felt a chill run through her body.

If Pei Zhihui knew, given his current physical condition, he would probably be extremely anxious. The poison had just been neutralized yesterday, and the doctor had advised him not to get angry or overwork.

This trouble is aimed at the Shen family, and it's also aimed at her.

We can't drag him down with us anymore.

"Block the news."

Shen Qiongju closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, only a resolute coldness remained in them.

"Not a single word about the distillery's affairs is to be uttered to anyone else, especially not Father or the Pei family. Anyone who disobeys will be beaten to death."

Shen Song was taken aback: "But sister, this is a huge matter, you can't handle it all by yourself..."

"I said, keep quiet."

Shen Qiongju interrupted him, her voice cold and hard as iron, "Clean up the cellar thoroughly, and I'll figure out the rest."

After dismissing Shen Song, Shen Qiongju stood in the wind for a long time.

Only when her facial expression returned to its calm state and the chill emanating from her body had mostly dissipated did she turn and walk back.

When he returned to the bedroom, the old doctor was taking Pei Zhihui's pulse.

The old doctor was furious. "You managed to reopen your wound in just one night! Do you even know how serious your injury is?"

Pei Zhihui leaned against a large pillow, his clothes half-open, revealing his chest wrapped in blood-soaked gauze.

Hearing footsteps, he lifted his eyelids and his gaze swept over her slightly pale face.

"Where did you go?"

He asked casually, but his eyes held a deep meaning.

"I went to the kitchen to check on the medicine," Shen Qiongju lied without batting an eye. "I also had someone make you some red date porridge to replenish your blood."

She walked over, picked up the bowl of dark, medicinal soup from the table, stirred it with a spoon, and blew away the steam.

Pei Zhihui stared into her eyes, which were clear but held a secret.

He was all too familiar with that look.

My sister-in-law in my dream always looks like this whenever she tries to hide something.

"Sister-in-law."

Pei Zhihui suddenly spoke, his voice low and husky, "If you encounter any difficulties, remember to tell me."

Shen Qiongju paused in her hand movements, then casually held the spoon to his lips.

"What difficulties could there be? They're just some trivial business matters." She smiled, her tone light. "Uncle, please take your medicine first and get well. That will be the greatest help you can give me."

Pei Zhihui stared at the spoonful of dark brown medicine without opening his mouth.

Of course he knew what had happened.

Pei An had already delivered the message the moment Shen Song entered the room.

The distillery was smashed, and the tribute wine was destroyed.

After a while, Pei Zhihui, with Shen Qiongju's help, drank the bowl of medicine clean, sip by sip.

Finally, Shen Qiongju took a handkerchief and wiped the corners of his mouth.

Pei Zhihui suddenly raised his hand and grasped her wrist.

His strength wasn't great, but it carried an unyielding resolve. His thumb gently caressed the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, again and again.

It carried a certain unsettling intimacy.

"Sister-in-law."

He called her name, his voice carrying a strange, sticky quality, "Last night, I had a dream."

Shen Qiongju tried to pull her hand away, but couldn't.

She frowned: "It's common to have dreams when you have a high fever."

"I dreamt..." Pei Zhihui stared into her eyes, those originally cold eyes now churning with an unfathomable undercurrent, "I dreamt that you were locked up in a place full of dirty water."

Shen Qiongju's pupils contracted sharply, and the empty bowl in her hand slammed against the edge of the bed with a "clatter".

The water dungeon was the deepest nightmare of her two lives.

Pei Zhihui keenly sensed her fear, tightened his grip on her hand, and pulled her closer to him.

In my dream, I wanted to save you, but I couldn't hold your hand no matter what I did.

He murmured softly, his eyes becoming somewhat unfocused, as if he couldn't distinguish between reality and dream, "Sister-in-law, tell me, it was just a dream, wasn't it?"

Shen Qiongju suppressed the turmoil in her heart.

Looking at the pale, handsome face before her, only one thought occupied her mind—

Has this person lost their mind?

He was the one who threw her into the water dungeon in her past life, so why is he pretending to be so affectionate now?

"Zhihui." Shen Qiongju took a deep breath and used her other hand to feel his forehead. "You still have a fever."

Her tone carried a hint of perfunctory coaxing, like she was comforting a child: "Dreams are always the opposite of reality. There's no water dungeon, and I'm perfectly fine here."

"Yeah?"

Pei Zhihui chuckled softly, his gaze gradually focusing, becoming clear and sharp.

That oppressive feeling that belonged to powerful ministers was released without warning.

"Since your sister-in-law is alright, why won't you look me in the eye?"

He suddenly exerted force, pulling Shen Qiongju so hard that she fell to the edge of the bed, their faces barely inches apart.

"You were crying when I took the knife for you last night."

Pei Zhihui's fingers moved up her wrist, finally stopping at the corner of her eye, gently stroking it. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Or... guilty?"