Chapter Seventeen: Concubine Liu’s Plea

He strode quickly toward the chamber, each step measured and cautious, as if afraid to disturb the one cradled in his arms. When he gently laid Luo Ningsang down on the intricately carved bed, his hands trembled involuntarily—a rare display of unease.

Mo Wu hurried over, stumbling as he arrived. He took her pulse, observed her complexion, and inquired about her condition. Mo Youli stood nearby, clenching his fists tightly, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Luo Ningsang.

“Master, the princess’s pulse is deep, slow, tight, and uneven. This indicates a cold pathogen invading directly, having soaked within her cold waters for too long. Her pores have suddenly contracted, allowing the cold to seize the opportunity to enter, trapping itself within her meridians and organs. This causes stagnation and sluggishness in her qi and blood. What we see now is the manifestation of the struggle between her vital energy and the cold evil inside.”

Mo Wu lifted his gaze, worry flooding his eyes, and continued, “The princess now suffers from fever and aversion to cold, body aches, fatigue, and extreme weakness. If this cold evil is not swiftly expelled, it may later affect her heart and lungs, leaving chronic ailments such as coughing and palpitations. I implore you, master, to allow me to apply acupuncture immediately, alongside medicines to dispel cold, transform dampness, and harmonize her qi and blood. With both treatments combined, we can drive out the cold.”

Mo Youli’s eyes were anxious as he commanded Mo Wu, “You must cure her.”

The earnestness in his voice was unlike the usual detached demeanor of a seasoned statesman.

Mo Wu produced silver needles and applied acupuncture to Luo Ningsang’s acupoints.

“Master, the princess’s cold invasion is severe. Beyond acupuncture, medicinal therapy is necessary. I have prepared a prescription with warming herbs such as dried ginger, cinnamon, and asarum to dispel the yin cold in her meridians. Additionally, poria and atractylodes will promote urination and resolve the phlegm-dampness caused by the cold. This will heal the princess.”

After preparing the prescription, Mo Youli personally oversaw the decoction in the pharmacy, standing by the stove. Occasionally, sparks flew from the fire, but he remained oblivious, eyes fixed on the medicine pot. His fan moved rhythmically, urging the medicine to brew faster.

When the decoction was ready, Mo Youli carried the bowl, first blowing away the steam, then stirring gently and testing the temperature. Only then did he sit beside the bed, one arm wrapped around Luo Ningsang’s shoulder, the other bringing the medicine to her lips with a soft voice: “Be good, drink this, and you will get better.”

Seeing Luo Ningsang frown and struggle to swallow, Mo Youli coaxed her gently, “Just one sip, take it slowly.”

Since childhood, Luo Ningsang had feared bitter medicine. After a few sips, she furrowed her brows.

Quickly, Mo Youli fed her a candied fruit to mask the bitterness.

Luo Ningsang’s eyes gleamed with greed as she stared unabashedly at the remaining candied fruits on the plate.

Mo Youli chuckled softly, feeding them to her one by one, catching the seeds she spat out.

After taking the medicine, Luo Ningsang soon fell into a deep sleep.

In the days that followed, Mo Youli did not take off his clothes.

At night, he lay by the bedside, alert to every sound, lifting his hand to gently feel Luo Ningsang’s forehead to check her temperature.

By day, he fed her medicine and food, wiped the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief, and read stories to amuse her.

Many memorials brought earlier by Mo San had piled up. During these days by Luo Ningsang’s side, once she was asleep, Mo Youli began reviewing the documents.

Gazing at her serene face, he felt no fatigue. Within a few days, he finished reviewing all the memorials and ordered Mo San to swiftly return them to the capital.

His once stern expression was now filled with tender affection, eyes brimming with adoration and worry, hoping only for Luo Ningsang to regain her former vitality and spirit.

Meanwhile, at the Grand Tutor’s Mansion…

Xiao Ze’an was barely alive, yet still insisted on sending a servant to escort Shen Shuwan home.

He was carried back to his chambers by the mansion’s servants and attended by physicians. The injuries were too severe; when the matriarch returned, Xiao Ze’an was still unconscious.

Seeing the collapsed buildings and shattered grounds caused by powerful internal force, the matriarch inquired about the incident.

Upon learning the full story, she felt as if the sky had fallen—her wayward son had offended the emperor of the Great Qi Kingdom. Such misfortune for their family! The Grand Tutor’s household might be doomed.

She unleashed a furious tirade, and if Xiao Ze’an were conscious, she would have had the illegitimate son whipped.

“Look at the son you’ve raised—he dares provoke anyone and everyone!”

Frustrated, she vented her anger on Xiao Ze’an’s birth mother, Lady Liu.

“Master, An’er is still young and foolish. Please forgive him,” Lady Liu sobbed, kneeling before the matriarch.

“He is young now, but if not punished, when he grows up, he will dare to poke a hole in the heavens!” The matriarch slammed her palm on the table, furious, her beard bristling.

“An’er, the princess still cares for you. Master… An’er is unconscious now. When he wakes, I will make sure he holds tight to the princess’s heart and cuts off all ties with the prime minister’s illegitimate daughter.”

Lady Liu clung to the princess as a lifeline, asserting that her son still held some value to the Grand Tutor’s Mansion.

“Hmph! Because he offended the princess over that illegitimate daughter and angered the emperor, he’s doomed to bring ruin on our entire household!” The matriarch mused about the young sovereign—calm and ruthless, veiled by civility was a heart as cold and unyielding as iron. His path to imperial power was paved with decisiveness and cunning, stained with blood at every step, firmly seated atop the realm.

How dare Xiao Ze’an provoke such a figure?

“I will atone for An’er’s sins. I will plead with the princess, even if it costs my life, to beg her forgiveness.”

Lady Liu wept, willing to sacrifice everything to save her son.

“Do as you wish…” The matriarch, irritated by Lady Liu’s tearful wailing, dismissed her curtly.

Her attention then fixed on Mo Youli. Why did he stand up for Luo Ningsang? What was their relationship?

She never imagined them as lovers; in her mind, Luo Ningsang was like the radiant moon in the sky, while Mo Youli was mere earthly dirt.

Luo Ningsang barely measured up to her son, let alone Mo Youli, the dazzling emperor.

That afternoon, the lazy sunlight filtered across the carved iron gate of the Ningxiang Hall. Lady Liu stood at the entrance, her expression complex, tightly clutching an exquisite brocade box—the “sincerity” she had prepared to offer her apologies.

She wore a simple robe, her hair neatly pinned up, but her brows and eyes were etched deeply with anxiety and exhaustion, devoid of her usual grace.

The door opened. The servants frowned slightly upon seeing her, but before they could speak, Lady Liu quickly forced a flattering smile, “Please inform the princess. I am Xiao Ze’an’s birth mother. I come with urgent business to discuss.”

Though reluctant, the servants stepped aside to let her enter the courtyard and notified the princess, asking Lady Liu to wait in the side hall.

In recent days, under Mo Youli’s careful care, Luo Ningsang had recovered well. She was now by the window, flipping through a storybook, sunlight tracing her slender silhouette.

Mo Youli had just left to prepare some snacks—Luo Ningsang liked to eat while reading.

The servants reported, “Princess, a woman claiming to be Master Xiao’s birth mother is here, saying she has urgent matters to discuss.”

“Let her in,” Luo Ningsang replied.

She thought of Lady Liu as a timid woman, ashamed of her status—a weak woman who only knew how to cry and rely on men.

In Luo Ningsang’s presence, Lady Liu always appeared timid and servile. Even before Luo Ningsang’s rebirth, when life at the Grand Tutor’s Mansion was miserable, Lady Liu still tiptoed around her, barely noticeable.

Soon, Lady Liu arrived with a maid. Hearing the commotion, Luo Ningsang glanced up and, seeing the brocade box in her hands, guessed her purpose almost exactly.

Her expression instantly turned cold, a faint, ambiguous smile playing on her lips as she withdrew her gaze and returned to her book, her voice cool: “Lady Liu, may I ask your purpose in coming today?”

The distance in her tone stiffened Lady Liu, but she forced herself forward, offering the brocade box: “Princess, An’er’s offenses were due to my poor guidance. This is a small token of my sincerity. I hope you will be magnanimous and no longer be angry with him.”

Luo Ningsang did not take it but glanced over the box, snorting lightly. “Lady Liu, what do you mean by this? Surely you know what Master Xiao did. My persistent fever and cold invasion are not things to be soothed by a few trinkets.”

Of course, Luo Ningsang was furious. If not for Xiao Ze’an throwing her jade pendant, she would not have been ill for days, forced to swallow bitter medicine at dawn.

Lady Liu’s eyes reddened, her hands trembling: “Princess, I understand An’er acted foolishly, but he is young and impulsive. You two have known each other since childhood—there must be some feelings left. For my sake, please spare him this time.”

Tears streamed down her face, soaking her handkerchief.

“Lady Liu, you exaggerate. I have not troubled him, so there is nothing to forgive.”

Luo Ningsang found it odd. She had been ill these days and hadn’t yet confronted Xiao Ze’an.

“After the emperor taught An’er a lesson, he’s been bedridden from his injuries,” Lady Liu bluntly revealed.

Luo Ningsang recalled that Mo Youli had severely beaten Xiao Ze’an—it must have been brutal.

After a long silence, Luo Ningsang finally said, “Lady Liu, shouldn’t you be asking Mo Youli instead?”

“Princess, that’s precisely why I have the audacity to ask you! You have a close relationship with the emperor, and all he has done is evidently for you. If you speak to him and ask him not to pursue An’er further, I will forever remember your kindness,” Lady Liu pleaded.

Seeing Luo Ningsang hesitate, she suddenly knelt with a “thud,” startling Luo Ningsang, who quickly reached out to help her up.

“Lady Liu, what are you doing? Please rise at once!”

Lady Liu sobbed uncontrollably: “As his mother, I know An’er’s heart belongs to you alone. Though he is currently bewitched by that enchantress from the Shen family, I will make him cut off such improper thoughts. I have watched you grow all these years; only you deserve An’er. An’er has been filial since childhood. I promise you, princess, his heart is truly yours.”

Luo Ningsang sighed deeply before accepting the brocade box, her voice grave: “Lady Liu, please stand. All I can say is I will try. Whether Mo Youli listens or not, I cannot guarantee.”

Lady Liu nodded eagerly, hope lighting her face. She trembled as she rose, clasped her hands, and bowed deeply to Luo Ningsang. “Thank you, princess. You are a great benefactor to our Lin family.”

Noticing Luo Ningsang’s weariness, Lady Liu refrained from further disturbance and hurried away.

Mo Youli had arrived as Lady Liu began to cry but stopped when he overheard their conversation.

Luo Ningsang had nearly lost her life because of Xiao Ze’an’s actions, yet she still chose to forgive him. So he was truly important to her.

In the short half-month in Yan Chi, Mo Youli’s emotions had been a rollercoaster. Each revelation of truth was met with disbelief.

Though knowing he was merely a tool Luo Ningsang used to anger Xiao Ze’an, he convinced himself that at least he still mattered to her.

Though she regarded him as a brother, at least that gave him a reason to be near her.

When Luo Ningsang had been cold and distant, avoiding him, just as he was about to give up, her sudden warmth gave him hope.

He approached cautiously, afraid it was a dream, unwilling to wake after repeated disappointments.

“Mo Youli, come here,” Luo Ningsang called.

Looking up, she saw him standing under a tree, holding various snacks, lost in thought.

“Who was that just now?” Mo Youli asked after a moment’s silence.

“That was Lady Liu, Xiao Ze’an’s birth mother. She came to plead. She said Xiao Ze’an, badly injured by you, is bedridden and unable to move, asking me to speak on his behalf and spare her good son.”

Luo Ningsang bit into a large piece of cake as she spoke but suddenly began to choke, flailing her hand wildly before grabbing a cup to drink. Mo Youli was too late to stop her.

The liquor was originally prepared for Mo Youli himself; unexpectedly, Luo Ningsang had drunk it by mistake.

“Do you feel alright? Any discomfort?” Mo Youli asked anxiously, given her recent recovery.

“I’m fine, no discomfort. I have some tolerance for alcohol,” Luo Ningsang said confidently. She occasionally enjoyed sweet fruit wines, loving their tart and sweet flavors.

“Winter is dry; lychees and longans should be eaten sparingly to avoid heatiness,” Mo Youli cautioned.

“I know, I won’t eat them anymore. Now, about Lady Liu’s request, what do you think?” Luo Ningsang opened the brocade box, revealing a bracelet inside. The jade was not exceptional but clear and free of impurities.

“What do you think? If you forgive him, I will follow your lead. Whatever you decide, I will always support you,” Luo Ningsang said.

To Mo Youli, Xiao Ze’an was insignificant. Yet because of Luo Ningsang’s affection for him, Xiao Ze’an was a thorn he longed to remove.

Mo Youli lifted the cup Luo Ningsang had drunk from, poured himself some wine, needing the courage it gave to hear her reply.

“See, I’ve accepted the bracelet. Besides, he’s not much better, bedridden and beaten to a pulp—tsk, tsk, tsk,” Luo Ningsang said, slipping the bracelet onto her pale wrist. The jade-white skin made the bracelet’s green hue even more vivid.

Mo Youli’s fingers tightened abruptly around the cup, knuckles whitening.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed a bitter lump, the sting seeming to take form, stabbing from throat to heart, racing wildly within his chest, wrenching his heart with pain.