That Imperial Concubine is both wicked and cunning! Your Majesty, wake up!

"Your Majesty...Your Majesty..."

Quan Lu scrambled in, shouting, "Something's happened! Physician Zhang, Physician Zhang...!"

His knees buckled, and he knelt down, saying, "Imperial Physician Zhang was found hanged in his room, but fortunately he was discovered in time and managed to be saved."

Quanlu took out a crumpled piece of paper from his sleeve and handed it over. "This was sent by Physician Zhang's disciple. He said it was written by Physician Zhang himself, and he repeatedly instructed that it must be delivered to Your Majesty."

Song Shuangning took the note, glanced at it, and was so angry she laughed.

Zhang Chengji spent half his life in the imperial court, and in the end, he was just a royal physician. Seeing him today, it was indeed as expected.

The few words on the paper simply said that he was ashamed to face her and only asked to be her slave in the next life to atone for his sins today.

Song Shuangning didn't really blame him.

Under the heavy pressure of imperial power, human life was as insignificant as a feather; he was nothing more than an ant that bowed its head in submission.

Moreover, finding another imperial physician who can serve one's own purposes is no easy task.

"How is he now?" she asked casually.

"Your Majesty, the imperial physician has not yet regained consciousness, but his life is not in danger."

Song Shuangning's tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Phoenix Palace.

The Empress was holding the eldest princess's little hand, teaching her to copy calligraphy stroke by stroke.

Qingdai quietly approached and whispered a few words in her ear.

The Empress paused, raised her hand and gently stroked the top of the eldest princess's soft hair, her voice gentle: "Your mother will be right back, my dear."

The eldest princess nodded obediently.

The Empress slowly walked to the outside of the palace before turning back to look at Qingdai, her brows slightly furrowed.

"Is what you say true? Did His Majesty really storm off from Yaohua Palace?"

"It's absolutely true. Many people in the palace saw it clearly," Qingdai replied, bowing her head.

The Empress gazed at the green buds sprouting on the treetops and said softly, "Qingdai, sometimes I wonder what kind of person I really am."

She paused, forcing a smile that looked worse than tears.

"This is something I should be happy about, but I can't feel happy at all."

"Although Consort Yuan enjoys great favor, she is not like Consort Rong of the past, who completely disregarded me. However, her calm demeanor always makes me feel that she harbors considerable ambitions, so I must be wary. Tell me, am I getting old, unable to even fathom people's hearts anymore?"

"Your Majesty..." Qingdai hesitated, her voice filled with worry.

The Empress raised her hand to stop her from speaking, and said calmly, "Enough. You're always so sweet-talking, always saying nice things to comfort me."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

For several days in a row, the Emperor did not set foot in the inner palace. Apart from the daily court assemblies and the regular visits to the Imperial Ancestral Temple to pay homage to the ancestors, he stayed in the Hall of Diligent Governance to handle state affairs.

The palace servants who served in the Hall of Diligent Governance lived in constant fear.

Li Fuquan, in particular, as the emperor's personal eunuch, knew the emperor's condition best these past few days.

The emperor seemed to have locked himself away.

The emperor never stopped reviewing memorials, and it was common for him to hold court meetings. The number of times court officials went to the palace to pay their respects increased, and they all secretly complained because the emperor's temper was becoming more unpredictable and irritable than before. He would often fly into a rage and summon people to give them a severe scolding within a few hours.

Even when he had free time, the emperor would not allow himself to be idle.

They either sit quietly reading or play the zither under the moon, determined to fill every precious moment of leisure.

It seemed that only in this way could I suppress the chaotic thoughts in my heart.

Nights were even more difficult to endure. The emperor tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He would either order someone to bring him calming medicine or simply drink wine to help him sleep.

The bedroom was so quiet that only the sound of wine going down one's throat could be heard.

Xiao Yan held the wine cup, letting the rich aroma of the wine, along with its scorching heat, burn all the way to the bottom of his heart.

This wine was buried by him and the King of Chu when they were young, with a promise to get drunk one day. Now he is drinking it cup after cup. If the King of Chu finds out, he will surely blame him for wasting so much fine wine.

But he couldn't care less about that.

There was wine; how did he endure the long night?

He was angry at himself for his poor judgment in judging people, having been deceived by a woman for so long.

He was even angrier at himself for being so weak-willed, falling for her despite knowing the truth, and still being unable to let go.

He kept telling himself that she had never loved him, that all that tenderness and affection was fake, but the feelings of liking in his heart seemed to have taken root, and no matter how hard he tried to tear them apart, he couldn't break them.

He tried to force himself to let go, attempting to erase her image from his mind, but the more he tried, the clearer her features became.

What a loser.

Li Fuquan glanced at the already drunk emperor, feeling both anxious and fearful. If this continued, the emperor's health would collapse sooner or later.

Therefore, Li Fuquan went to Yaohua Palace several times to invite Consort Yuan, and Consort Yuan was willing to come to Qinzheng Hall on her own initiative.

However, the Emperor was unwilling to see Consort Yuan. Even on rainy days, when Consort Yuan stood outside the palace with an umbrella, the Emperor could still harden his heart and tell her to go back.

Not to mention the pastries and soup that Consort Yuan sent.

This time, the Emperor still refused to see her. Song Shuangning didn't say anything and turned to leave.

Under the eaves, raindrops fell obliquely, and water droplets from the eaves fell like broken threads.

Song Shuang stood quietly beside the pillar, her gaze fixed on the flowers and trees shrouded in the rain, the pearl hairpin at her temple swaying slightly.

He remained motionless for a long time, lost in thought.

This greatly worried Tingyu and Tinglu.

Listening to the rain and listening to the dew communicated with their eyes.

Tingyu: "In the past, whenever Her Majesty lowered her head to admit her mistake, or took the initiative to go to the Hall of Diligent Governance to seek out the Emperor, his anger would always subside. But this time, it's different. The Emperor won't even see Her Majesty. What should we do?"

Tinglu said, "What can we servants do? We can only hope that the Emperor will calm down soon and change his mind."

After a long while, the rain stopped.

Song Shuangning spoke up, "Tinglu, tell Consort Qing about the datura pollen."

"Your Majesty!" Tinglu was confused and even shocked.

Song Shuangning gave her an approving look, "Yes, go do it. Your master hasn't lost his mind yet."

Song Shuangning took the initiative to reveal the matter of datura pollen to Consort Qing.

Knowing Consort Qing's temperament, she knew she would be furious upon hearing this and would immediately rush to the Emperor to cry and complain.

This move was risky, but it also reassured her.

Punishment means that past affections have turned to ashes, and the emperor no longer cares about them at all.

If the Emperor suppresses this matter, it means that he still has feelings for her, and despite his anger, he ultimately cannot let go of them.

Consort Qing's impulsiveness and irritability were precisely her advantage; she could use this turmoil to accomplish several more major feats.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

A eunuch from the Imperial Household Department quietly informed Consort Qing that datura pollen had been added to the flowers they usually served.

As expected, when the news reached Consort Qing's ears, she was so angry that she trembled all over. She smashed several jade artifacts in Jingren Palace and cursed Song Shuangning's name over and over again, completely disregarding any semblance of decorum.

Before long, Consort Qing led a group of palace servants to the Hall of Diligent Governance to file a complaint.

She knelt down with a thud, her voice trembling with sobs: "Your Majesty, you must do justice for me! You know I've been having nightmares every night, thinking it's something unclean in the palace. But who knew it was that poisonous Consort Yuan? She actually mixed datura pollen into my favorite peonies, deliberately causing me to have nightmares, and she's trying to harm me."

"Consort Yuan is a vicious woman! She always pretends to be so gentle and innocent. What did I ever do to offend her? She's utterly wicked and poisonous!!"

Before the cursing had even finished, a sharp "snap" suddenly came from the imperial desk.

Xiao Yan suddenly threw the wolf-hair brush in his hand onto the brush rest, splashing a few drops of ink.

Consort Qing trembled, and many pitiful words stuck in her throat.

Xiao Yan, seated on his throne, had a grim expression. He spoke coldly, each word like ice, "Consort Qing, I will not recount all your scandalous affairs with Consort Liu and Consort Song. If it weren't for the friendship between our two nations, and the recent reopening of border trade, do you think you could have caused such a ruckus in front of me with your meager tricks?"

"Consort Yuan was personally appointed by me. Whether she is good or evil, right or wrong, I know better than you. Even if she has done something wrong, it is up to me to deal with her. Who gave you the right to interfere?"

The Emperor already knew? Consort Qing was stunned.

The Emperor's words were so blunt and hurtful that she didn't even understand why he was so angry.

On second thought, if it weren't for the influence of her motherland, the emperor would probably find even seeing her annoying.

A surge of resentment welled up inside me.

It was Consort Yuan who mixed datura pollen into her peony flowers, causing her nightmares every night. How did it end up being her fault?

Moreover, rumors have been circulating in the palace these past few days, all saying that Consort Yuan has long since fallen out of favor. Why is the Emperor still so protective of Consort Yuan?!

Seeing that Consort Qing was still frozen in place, the Emperor's face darkened, and his tone was full of impatience:

"go out."

"Your Majesty, I take my leave." Consort Qing dared not say more, lifted her skirt, and retreated with tears in her eyes.

Xiao Yan clenched his fists and slammed them hard on the imperial desk.

Xiao Yan had long known that she had tampered with Consort Qing's peonies, but he had no intention of blaming her. After all, Consort Qing hadn't been seriously injured; it was just some minor trickery involving witchcraft.

But the more you indulge them, the angrier you become.

He wasn't angry that she schemed against others; he was angry that it was only after this incident that he belatedly realized he had never truly understood her.

Perhaps in those seemingly harmless days, she harbored many more untold thoughts and did many more things that he was unaware of.

But he was so pathetic, easily swayed by her emotions, trapped in this relationship, unable to move forward or backward. He knew he should let go, but his heart just couldn't bring itself to do it.

He was stunned for a long time.

Xiao Yan decided to follow his heart.

If I can't win her heart, can't I at least win her body?

*

Yaohua Palace.

Tingyu told Song Shuangning that Consort Qing cried as she returned to Jingren Palace after leaving Qinzheng Hall.

Physician Zhang woke up, but kept saying he was too ashamed to live in the world.

Song Shuangning asked her to pass on a message: "What kind of person is this, constantly threatening to kill himself?"

Tinglu brought over a bowl of bird's nest soup, keeping her head down the whole time. "Your Majesty, I made this bowl of bird's nest soup myself. Would you like to try some?"

Song Shuangning took a sip. "Not bad. Did they add honey?"

"Yes, I also added your favorite papaya pulp."

Less than fifteen minutes after Song Shuangning finished drinking the bird's nest soup, a wave of dizziness suddenly surged up, initially just a slight feeling of heaviness.

In an instant, the world spun around me, and my eyelids felt as heavy as lead.