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That day, Xiyue truly cut into the flesh of his heart.
The court physicians gathered anxiously by his bedside, working to stop the bleeding and treat his wounds, their expressions tense.
After Qingya had detoxified him, she still stayed by his side day and night, her eyes filled with worry and pain.
Xiyue's face was as pale as paper, yet he gently held Qingya's wrist with both hands, a faint but still charming smile gracing his lips. "Even if you have someone in your heart... treating me like ice, shouldn't I have melted it by now?"
In that moment when he weakly spoke those words, Qingya felt a sharp pang in her heart. It turned out he had always been thinking of how to touch her heart, how to be the best for her, and tears shimmered in her eyes.
"It has long melted, Your Majesty treats this servant so well. How many in this world can do the same!"
In that instant, he knew he had ultimately won her heart, her love, and a hint of a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.
The next day, a heavy snowfall blanketed the land.
A thick layer of snow piled up on the blue-tiled bricks, transforming the red walls inside and out into a stunning silver landscape. The footprints of palace maids marked the snow-covered ground in varying depths, indicating an unusually busy atmosphere within the Court.
As Qingya passed through the Imperial Garden, she happened to catch sight of a heart-wrenching figure clad in Jin Bai. Through the scattered Plum Trees, that Jin Bai figure slowly approached her alongside Ling Jiarong.
"Consort Ya, Jia Rong has come to apologize to you." The Seventh Prince bowed slightly; the man before him still bore a familiar face but appeared slightly thinner.
His eyes, like a tranquil spring, were stirred by Qingya's calm demeanor. The words he had intended to say were swallowed back due to her unfamiliarity.
"I heard about your poisoning; it's Jia Rong's fault."
Qingya lifted her gaze to glance at Ling Jiarong, who was hiding behind the Seventh Prince. A sarcastic smile curled at the corners of her mouth, her eyes filled with disdain.
"If you came to see whether This Palace is dead, Jia Rong, then This Palace must disappoint you."
Qingya's words caused Ling Jiarong to pause for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and looked defiantly at Mu Qingya. "You were the one who wanted to compete with me for the position of consort. Everything today is merely your own doing!"
The expression of the Seventh Prince dimmed slightly at Ling Jiarong's words, and Qingya caught a glimpse of pain and sorrow in his eyes.
She knew that the Seventh Prince had always loved Jia Rong, even though he was aware that Jia Rong only loved power.
In that instant, Qingya felt that the prince's love was too humble, too forced.
"This Palace is feeling unwell and will take my leave now. You may do as you wish, Your Highness."
Not wanting to argue further with Ling Jiarong, Qingya closed her eyes briefly and spoke coldly to the Seventh Prince before turning away and walking off hurriedly.
The last time she had helped Qingya with the poison, Xiyue's condition had not improved.
Inside the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Xiyue coughed up blood for the tenth time since this morning.
As the thick blood blossomed on the Jin Bai silk handkerchief, a sense of heaviness settled in Xiyue's heart, and her brows furrowed tightly.
He instructed someone to handle the silk handkerchief properly, ensuring that Qingya would not see it. He did not want his beloved Qingya to feel guilty or uneasy, his gaze filled with deep affection.
Thunder rumbled as Xiyue casually draped a dark robe over himself and walked hurriedly toward the palace gates, murmuring to himself, "It's thundering; will Qingya be scared?"
It wasn't until he reached the plum grove near Eternal Spring Palace that Xiyue halted his anxious steps. He stared intently at his royal brother and Qingya standing in the pouring rain. Qingya looked sorrowfully at the Seventh Prince, shaking her head with difficulty.
"Are you telling me to speak with His Majesty and let Jia Rong enter the palace as a consort? What about you?" Sadness flickered in his eyes.
Qingya could only hear his still gentle voice echoing in her ears: "I hope Jia Rong's wishes can be fulfilled."
Qingya cried, but she was grateful to be standing in the rain, where the raindrops mingled with her tears.
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