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墨書 Inktalez
At the beginning of the month, Ye Zixing took his consort and traveled by boat a thousand miles down to Jiangnan.
People often say that Jiangnan is a place blessed with talented individuals and beautiful scenery. Upon his arrival, he busily sought out many highly esteemed physicians from the Xinglin school.
Later, when Zhao Hua mentioned it, I learned that he actually harbored the intention of curing my condition, mutism.
If I were an ordinary woman, I would have surely been moved by his efforts by now.
In recent days, Ye Zixing had been sleeping poorly. The officials in Jiangnan were almost huddled together, and with only a few officials from the capital accompanying him, he found it difficult to make any progress.
Worried that I would be left alone, he searched high and low for various exquisite treats and delicacies.
I casually picked a cluster of loquats; they were a brilliant yellow, soft, and juicy.
This fruit was not popular at the time, and few in the capital ever consumed it. I never expected to see a taste of home in this life.
So, I took up my brush and wrote, "Send some to Your Majesty for him to try."
He smiled and patted my hand. "As long as you like it."
Then he ordered someone to select fast horses to send the loquats back to the capital before changing his clothes to attend a banquet.
By the middle of the month, there was still no progress on the tax issue, yet Ye Zixing appeared unfazed. In just half a month's time, he had grasped at least eighty percent of the situation within Jiangnan's officialdom.
Just as he was preparing to take action against the local governor, an imperial edict suddenly arrived from the capital, summoning Ye Zixing back to the palace with urgency and forbidding any disobedience.
It turned out that the Loquat sent had been poisoned.
As a result, the Second Prince lost his life, while the Emperor only tasted a bit and was not deeply poisoned, but his Dragon Body was already damaged and reportedly needed a long time to recover.
Ye Zixing knelt outside the Meridian Gate Great Hall, waiting for a long time without anyone paying him any attention. It wasn't until the sun sank low in the west that the Emperor awoke from his slumber and ordered him to return home for self-reflection. Without an imperial decree, he was not allowed to leave the residence freely.
That night, he sat alone in the study for the entire evening, marking the first time since their marriage that he did not return to their shared chamber.
The next day, before dawn broke, Ye Zixing quietly stood at my bedside, waiting for me to wake slowly.
In just one night apart, he seemed to have aged considerably, with bloodshot eyes.
Seeing me sit up, he opened his mouth several times before finally asking what had been on his mind.
"That poison..."
I gestured towards the paper and brush on the table. Ye Zixing hesitated for a moment before handing them to me.
"It was I who did it."
His body trembled suddenly, disbelief filling his eyes.
Once one chooses such a lofty position, they must inevitably stain their hands with the blood of many innocent people.
I paused for a moment in silence before continuing to write: "I know you couldn't bear to do it, so I took it upon myself. You should understand that sooner or later, the Second Prince will become a sacrifice between you and Fourth Brother."
In the court, everyone is skilled at peeling back layers and analyzing situations.
All the evidence in this matter points to Ye Zixing, even his recent search for a doctor has been used against him.
However, amidst the truth and deception, the beneficiaries of this incident are not only him but also Fourth Brother.
The more astute individuals might suspect that Ye Yuchen is behind the framing; those even wiser might think that Ye Zixing is deliberately implicating himself.
Yet, the emperor's thoughts are always profound. What if we delve deeper?
In the end, the poisoning case was left unresolved, and Fourth Prince Ye Yuchen lost the emperor's favor for no apparent reason.
On that day, Wen Qing delivered an invitation.
Upon seeing me, she was so furious that she nearly bit her red lips.
"Wen Yan, everyone says that the barking dog bites the hardest. I never understood it before, but now I believe it. You are the most ruthless one. However, who will ultimately prevail is still uncertain; there will come a day when you will weep!"
I sat quietly in the hall, a smile playing on my lips as I tossed her a pouch embroidered with Wax Plum.
It was her first work, stitched over half a month when she was ten years old. The stitches were crooked and barely recognizable as a pattern, yet I had treasured it close to my heart for five years.
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