The next morning, as Rouyuan pushed open the doors of the Sacred Lotus Medicine Hall, a faint metallic scent brushed past her nose.
Something felt wrong.
She stepped into the treatment room—
and froze.
A body lay collapsed on the floor.
Rouyuan's breath caught.
Her vision blurred.
It was Yexuan.
Soaking wet… clothes torn… blood pooling beneath him.
"Yor highness!" Rouyuan dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she touched his face. It was burning hot.
His skin was flushed unnaturally red—a fever caused by infection.
Her tears fell uncontrollably.
Several young physicians and students rushed in after hearing her cry.
"Prepare the instruments and surgery room—now!" Rouyuan ordered, voice breaking but firm.
Yexuan's injuries were brutal, a sword slash down his side, and worse—
a broken arrow lodged deep in his chest.
By sheer luck, it had missed his heart.
Rouyuan steadied herself.
There was no time for fear.
With practiced precision, she performed emergency surgery by removing the arrow shaft.
She cleaned the wound thoroughly, stopped the bleeding, and stitched the torn flesh layer by layer.
Her hands never once shook.
Her students worked swiftly beside her, passing tools, cotton, heated water, and disinfecting herbs.
Afterward, Rouyuan mixed several herbal medicines—
for infection, inflammation, pain, and fever—
and fed them to him carefully.
"Not a word of this to anyone," she said, wiping her tears with her sleeve.
"If others learn he is alive… it may kill him."
The young physicians and students nodded gravely.
Yexuan was transferred to the observation room, wrapped in warm blankets, with round-the-clock monitoring.
Rouyuan stayed beside him.
Hours later—
his fingers twitched.
"Yexuan…?" she whispered, rushing to hold his hand.
His eyes opened a sliver.
He saw her face—tear-streaked, exhausted—and managed a faint smile.
"…Rouyuan…"
Her tears slipped down her cheeks once more.
"How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" she whispered shakily.
"Please… get better. I'll agree to anything you ask—just wake up again…"
He lifted her hand weakly.
"I only have… one request for now," he murmured.
Rouyuan leaned closer.
"…marry me."
Her heart clenched. For once, she did not hesitate.
"I will," she whispered. "I promise."
A faint smile curled at his lips—
and he passed out again, breathing shallow but alive.
The Political Turmoil Following Yexuan's "Death"
Outside, the winds of Wuzhen had barely stirred awake when chaos swept through the political court like wildfire.
News travelled faster than arrows—
Prince Murong Yexuan had fallen in battle. His body lost to the sea.
Though false, the rumor struck the empire like thunder.
By morning, the Imperial Court erupted.
Prime Minister Zhao Jinming stormed through the outer hall, robes flaring like a wounded beast, "Your Highness must give an explanation!"
He slammed his palm against the jade railing, voice trembling with manufactured grief.
"The pillar of the empire—gone! And under your watch!"
Beside him, Liu Fanjian, Chief of the Scholar Bureau, bowed with cold authority. "This cannot be negligence. This must be accounted for."
Lord Xie Wenzhao stepped forward, feigning sorrow as if he had not personally arranged half the mercenaries who attacked Yexuan.
"Your Highness, Prince Yexuan was investigating the borders on your orders. Now he is dead. Are you trying to weaken the military so you may seize power unchallenged?"
Behind them, Prince Murong Yuntai appeared in full mourning attire—white silk, inked sash—like a vulture masquerading as a grieving brother.
"Brother…" he said with a long sigh, eyes full of false sorrow.
"What have you done…? Even our cousin Yexuan fell under your command."
He bowed dramatically, "In my humble opinion, the Crown Prince must be suspended from handling military affairs."
Their accusations piled like mountain stones—negligence, suspicion of political assassination, incompetence, attempting to seize power by eliminating those loyal to the Emperor.
The Crown Prince, usually calm, clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ached.
But he kept silent.
He had no words he could safely speak.
Not when the emperor's condition was worsening…
Not when one wrong phrase could spark civil war.
The Emperor's Declining Condition Sparks Further Fury
Alongside political chaos came a terrifying rumor, "The Crown Prince is denying physicians access to the emperor."
Zhao Jinming shouted in the court, "Is His Highness trying to usurp the throne by letting the emperor die?!"
Liu Fanjian echoed, "To keep all doctors away—this is unmistakably the act of a traitor!"
Of course, they knew nothing of the truth.
Rouyuan was secretly treating the Emperor through a hidden door.
No one knew except the Crown Prince and Prince Murong Yunxi.
They did not know the poison brewed in the emperor's tea, nor the incense quietly poisoning his lungs, gradually losing its effect. Consort Rou and the Empress had been successfully treated.
To outsiders, the Crown Prince truly looked like a son trying to kill his father.
Whispers grew.
Soldiers hesitated.
Ministers murmured in corridors.
Even palace servants trembled.
Prince Murong Yuntai Makes His Move
For Prince Murong Yuntai, it was the perfect time.
He met Lord Xie Wenzhao in a secluded courtyard at dusk, their shadows long on stone tiles.
"The Emperor will not last long," Yuntai said, voice low and serpentine.
"Crown Prince Murong Yunqing cannot stabilize the court. Tonight, we move."
Lord Xie Wenzhao nodded.
"My men from the Western Peaks division army are ready. They wait for your command."
"And the mercenaries?"
"Ten thousand desert soldiers and two thousand archers from Xihuai are marching toward Wuzhen," Lord Xie whispered.
"They will reach the city by nightfall."
A terrifying smile crept across Murong Yuntai's face.
"Good. Before dawn, the palace will belong to us."
The Palace Under Siege
Before Crown Prince Murong Yunqing could give the order to arrest Prince Murong Yuntai and his crony, the attack came.
Just as twilight faded into night, the Western Peaks Army—trained, merciless, steel-armored—descended upon Wuzhen Palace like a wave of iron.
The clash echoed across the stone courtyards.
The Imperial Guards were caught off guard.
Dozens fell before the palace gates.
Arrows rained like storms, torches flew across the battlements—
and the palace walls glowed red with firelight.
The Imperial Guard was outnumbered ten to one.
Their armor dented, their spears trembling, their morale fading.
Yet they held.
Inside the palace, there is someone they need to protect.
"Protect His Majesty!"
The Royal Cavalry formed a barrier in front of the emperor's chamber.
If the chamber fell, the empire would fall with it.
Their shields locked, blades drawn, breaths heavy.
They held with everything they had.
Because behind them—
The Emperor they need to protect.
The Western Peaks soldiers slammed against them like battering rams.
"The emperor's seal is inside!"
Prince Murong Yuntai raised his sword high, "Seize the throne!"
The pounding intensified.
The hinges screamed.
And the palace shook under the weight of rebellion.