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The steward led Di Jiang and Wen Yao into the bedchamber, where Prince Ru’an lay on a plush bed with soft pillows. His complexion was ashen, and the dark cloud over his brow had deepened since they last saw him. By now, even an ordinary person could tell something was amiss.
Di Jiang pretended to examine him for a moment, then instructed Wen Yao to hand over the prepared old ginseng to the steward. “Boil this down from six bowls of water to one, and have the prince drink it.”
The steward took it and asked, “Will this ensure His Highness’s safety?”
“For now, yes.”
“Good…” Without hesitation, the steward took the medicine and delivered it to the hall where the imperial physicians were stationed, showing them the ingredients one by one.
The physicians inserted a silver needle into the ginseng. After a while, they removed it and, seeing no discoloration, declared, “This medicine is not toxic, but its specific effects are unclear.”
“At this point, we can only treat a dead horse as if it’s alive,” Wen Yao urged. The steward then proceeded to brew the ginseng.
As Di Jiang watched them busy themselves, her mind was elsewhere. She interlaced her right thumb, index, and middle fingers, silently calculating Wu Ru’an’s birth chart while shaking her head.
“Boss, what’s wrong?” Wen Yao nudged Di Jiang.
Di Jiang shook her head and sighed, “I still can’t calculate Prince Wu’s fate.”
Wen Yao looked pained, asking sorrowfully, “How many days does the prince have left?”
“Three days.”
“Is your medicine ineffective?” Wen Yao persisted, hoping for just a few words from Di Jiang. But disappointment was inevitable.
“It doesn’t matter whether they take this medicine or not,” Di Jiang didn’t hide anything from Wen Yao and revealed some information: “I can only calculate Prince Wu’s fate up to the fifteenth day. This means he won’t die in the next two days regardless of whether he takes the medicine. But after the fifteenth day, who knows?”
“Ah, I only have three more days with him…” Wen Yao rested her cheek on her hand, gazing at Wu Ru’an on the bed with a heart full of grief.
“Let’s go see an old friend.”
“What?”
“Ruan Qingmei.”
Wen Yao’s eyes lit up: “Did she harm the prince? Let me eat her!”
“Eat, eat, all you think about is eating! Stay quiet and don’t cause trouble!”
“Oh…” Wen Yao frowned, mimed zipping her lips, and quietly followed behind Di Jiang.
Taking advantage of everyone’s distraction, Di Jiang found an opportunity and led Wen Yao to the eastern wing of Princess Zhaohe’s residence.
There weren’t many servants attending to the eastern wing, and now there were even fewer. Most had been reassigned to care for Prince Ru’an and the monks in the front hall.
Di Jiang and Wen Yao exchanged glances and went upstairs one after the other.
Pushing open the door to the bedchamber, they saw ‘Wu Jingyi’ sitting by the window applying makeup. No, she should now be called Ruan Qingmei, or Sister Mei.
Sister Mei wore bright red clothing, her hair styled in a high bun adorned with flowers. Her face was thickly coated with red and white greasepaint, making her look more like a performer from the Pear Garden ready to take the stage.
“You’re here.” She continued applying makeup without turning her head.
Di Jiang smiled: “Our seven-day agreement ends today.”
“Oh? You’ve come so early, eager indeed.”
“The outcome is the same. Whether earlier or later makes no difference.” Di Jiang shrugged.
“For you, perhaps it’s the same. For me, it’s different.” Sister Mei put down her brush and stared fixedly at Di Jiang. Her eyes held an indiscernible emotion, which Di Jiang couldn’t fathom.
“You audacious demon! How dare you harm the prince! If you surrender now, I’ll spare your life. Otherwise, don’t blame me for being merciless!” Wen Yao glared fiercely, shouting at Ruan Qingmei.
Di Jiang shuddered. Wen Yao’s ferocious demeanor reminded her of her true form, giving her a chilling sensation.
If Wen Yao, in a fit of anger, really ate Ruan Qingmei, what would happen?
Ruan Qingmei was currently inhabiting Wu Jingyi’s body, which was tantamount to killing!
Di Jiang was internally conflicted and anxious, but Sister Mei remained unfazed. She sneered, “Wu Ru’an and Wu Jingyi treated me that way. I’m merely taking back what I deserve. Why are you in such a hurry? Once he has tasted the bitterness of the Yellow Springs, I’ll release him.”
“You’re shameless!” Wen Yao cursed angrily, “You’re lowborn yet ambitious, with a fragile heart unable to bear any grievances. Your death is self-inflicted. Who can you blame?”
Ruan Qingmei sneered, ignoring Wen Yao completely.
“Why do this to yourself?” Di Jiang looked at her, not with hostility like Wen Yao, but calmly said, “Suicide is already a grave sin in the ghost realm. Attempting to harm royalty will condemn you to the lowest level of hell, never to be reborn.”
“Heh, I’ve enjoyed everything I should have in this life and endured all the suffering. What’s there to fear about the lowest level of hell? If this resentment isn’t resolved, how can I leave in peace?”
“Prince Ru’an gave you a grand funeral. He wasn’t heartless towards you.” Di Jiang said.
“That’s because he believed the lies of the nun from Liuyun An!” Ruan Qingmei slammed the table and stood up, “He was nice to me only to cure Wu Jingyi! If it weren’t for her saying that Wu Jingyi’s misfortune was because of me, making him think I was haunting Wu Jingyi, would he even remember who I am?”
“If he didn’t remember who you were, why did he specifically order a rush-made set of operatic costumes for you during your funeral?”
“What?” Ruan Qingmei raised her head in astonishment, “What operatic costumes?”
“The golden-thread embroidered opera costume, isn’t that your favorite outfit?”
Ruan Qingmei’s eyes widened, filled with complex emotions, “How do you know?”
“I know everything.”
“Who exactly are you?” Ruan Qingmei’s expression grew more puzzled as she stared intently at Di Jiang, trying to see through her.
Di Jiang merely smiled, refusing to say another word.
Finally, Wen Yao couldn’t hold back and shouted, “You’re unworthy of knowing our boss’s name! Leave quickly, or don’t blame me for acting!”
“We’ll see if you have the ability!” The doubt in Ruan Qingmei’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by malice. She snarled, “Whether Prince Ru’an has feelings for me or not, no one can stop what I want to do!”
“I want their siblings to repay blood with blood!” Ruan Qingmei’s eyes gleamed with ferocity, her face contorted with a sinister smile.
In the next instant, her figure flashed, disappearing from their sight in the blink of an eye.
“Boss, shall we chase her?” Wen Yao bared her teeth, ready to pursue, but Di Jiang quickly stopped her.
“It’s almost the rainy season. Recently, we haven’t seen otters offering fish nor heard the high flight of geese. These are ominous signs. Be careful not to reveal your identity.”
“But, just let her go like that?”
“As long as Ru’an is still in the mansion, she’ll return. We’ll wait patiently.”
“Our boss is so wise.” Wen Yao nodded, looking admiringly at Di Jiang.
Di Jiang smiled enigmatically, inwardly sighing that she wasn’t particularly smart—she was just lazy…
Too lazy in spring to move or make a fuss. Since the outcome was already clear, why bother with unnecessary actions?
The antidote for Prince Ru’an was never medicinal herbs—it was his soul.
“Hey, what’s this?” Behind her came Wen Yao’s surprised voice. Di Jiang turned around to find that in just moments, Wen Yao had rummaged through Sister Mei’s bed and seemed to have found something.
Wen Yao proudly presented a half-new, half-old cloth doll to Di Jiang. A glance revealed that the doll bore Prince Ru’an’s name and birth date, but it didn’t seem like a deadly curse.
Di Jiang shook her head and pushed it away immediately, “Such a filthy object, don’t show it to me.”
“Aren’t you afraid of this, Boss?” Wen Yao’s eyes widened.
“I’m not afraid; I just don’t want to see it.” Di Jiang’s gaze was distant as she said lightly, “Throughout history, how many people have been harmed by black magic? Originally thought to harm others, in the end, it harms oneself. Best not to touch such things if possible.”
After Di Jiang spoke, Wen Yao quickly threw it away, then dusted her hands off disdainfully, saying, “It seems Sister Mei really made this.”
“Perhaps.”
Di Jiang sighed and didn’t answer.
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