Jiao Niang’s Medical Record Chapter 376

“Wei-lang, what did you say?”

The emperor’s voice slowly echoed through the grand hall.

“Your Majesty!” The Imperial Consort let out a heart-wrenching cry, collapsing to her knees on the floor, nearly fainting. “I am willing to die…”

Her sobs shattered the stagnant atmosphere in the hall, yet it plunged everyone’s hearts into an icy abyss.

It’s finally beginning… Unstoppable…

Duke Jin’an looked at him, stepping forward to speak, but just as he opened his mouth, the sharp, high-pitched announcement of a eunuch came from outside the door.

“Her Majesty, the Empress, has arrived.”

The heavy doors, as if weighing a thousand pounds, were pushed open by the eunuchs. The empress, who had not left her chambers or walked for a long time, slowly entered, supported by two palace maids.

Dressed in full ceremonial attire, with a phoenix crown and embroidered robes, she appeared even more frail, as if a gentle breeze could blow her away.

After a moment of silence, the Imperial Consort, weeping in sorrow, hurriedly paid her respects to the empress.

“I am guilty.”

The voice rang out in the grand hall.

The Imperial Consort instinctively covered her mouth, a flicker of panic in her eyes. How could she say such a thing? Why would she admit guilt?

“Jingrong, what are you doing? Rise quickly,” the Empress Dowager said.

“I am guilty,” the Empress repeated.

The Imperial Consort breathed a sigh of relief—it was the Empress who had spoken. But then tension gripped her again. If even the Empress was confessing guilt, did that mean there was no intention to let this go?

The Empress Dowager, clearly deep in thought, fell silent, her expression complex.

“Everyone, withdraw,” the Emperor commanded.

As if granted a pardon, everyone in the hall rushed out in a frantic surge, disregarding all decorum in the presence of the emperor. Their faces were deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat, as though they had narrowly escaped the gates of hell.

Only the imperial family remained in the hall. The vast space grew even more hollow, its doors tightly shut. Sunlight seemed unable to penetrate the gloom, leaving the interior dim and shadowy.

“Jingrong, please rise quickly. Your health is frail, and the matter of the Second Prince…”

The Empress Dowager spoke, her voice trembling slightly as she gazed at the Empress with a mix of sorrow and resolve.

The hall instantly fell into a suffocating stillness, as if everyone had held their breath.

“It was an accident.”

These four simple words pronounced the conclusion of the incident and made the Empress Dowager’s stance clear.

Upon hearing this, the Imperial Consort continued to weep behind her sleeves, while the Emperor remained expressionless, seated on his couch.

The room once again sank into a deadlock.

A slow smile spread across the face of Duke Jin’an. Standing before the couch, the young man’s silent laughter seemed peculiarly out of place.

“This was no accident.”

Duke Jin’an, who had been about to speak but had not yet uttered a word, froze in surprise and turned to look at the Empress, who had spoken before him.

Kneeling on the ground, the Empress raised her head as she spoke, reached up, and removed her phoenix crown. Her bound hair immediately cascaded down, and amidst the loose strands, patches of stark white hair became clearly visible.

The Imperial Consort instinctively covered her mouth, barely suppressing a gasp.

The Empress was younger than the Emperor. Though she had long been ill, she had always maintained herself well and possessed beautiful hair. No one had expected it to have turned so white.

Had it gradually whitened over these days, or had it suddenly turned white upon hearing the news?

The Empress pushed the phoenix crown forward, while a palace maid on the other side also presented the Empress’s seal.

“I respectfully request to relinquish my position as Empress,” the Empress said, bowing deeply.

The Empress Dowager’s expression darkened, while the Emperor remained as impassive as ever, revealing neither anger nor sorrow.

“Jingrong, what is the meaning of this?” the Empress Dowager asked slowly.

The Empress raised her head, a sorrowful smile on her pale, sickly face.

“Your Majesty, this is my fault,” she said slowly. “This was no accident—it is my wrongdoing. If I had not praised the Second Prince for his pure filial piety, why would he have ventured into the hill in winter to pick plum blossoms to please me? He would not have fallen and been injured. He was just a child—he understood nothing. He was a child, one who lost his birth mother early and was raised by me. Your Majesty, he was only a child, yet he understood everything. He wanted to please me, to win my favor. Your Majesty, Emperor—he was just a child. I am an adult. I failed to guide him properly, indulged him, and deceived him. In truth… in truth, I did not even like those plum blossoms. I did not like them at all…”

The Empress pressed a hand to her chest, tapping it heavily as she spoke. Her words came faster and faster, her expression growing increasingly agitated. In contrast, the Empress Dowager’s expression softened, the resolve in her eyes replaced by compassion.

“Jingrong, Jingrong, please say no more. This has nothing to do with you. It was an accident…” the Empress Dowager said tearfully, reaching out a hand.

“This was no accident!” the Empress shrieked, her voice piercing as she clutched at her robes, eyes wide with agony. “It was me! I am the one who harmed him! I harmed him! I did not like those plum blossoms, nor did I enjoy him attending to me while I took medicine. I disliked it all—yet I pretended otherwise. I wanted everyone to see that I was pleased. It was I who harmed him! If I had reprimanded him earlier, he would never have gone to pick the plum blossoms. Why would he have gone? He was just a child, yet I coaxed him into picking them with his own hands, making him believe that only this could prove his filial devotion. He was still a child—and I destroyed him. I destroyed him…”

Her voice grew increasingly shrill, echoing through the grand hall as she tore at her clothes and gripped her hair.

“Restrain her! Somebody restrain her!” the Empress Dowager finally cried out, rising to her feet.

The Imperial Consort, also weeping, rushed over and desperately clung to the Empress’s hands, pleading, “Your Majesty, please!”

Even the Emperor, no longer expressionless, wore a look of profound sorrow and despair as the Empress spoke.

“No, it is my fault…” he said. “In striving to correct one extreme, I created another. Honey can also be poison. He was just a child, with a heart of pure innocence. It was I who praised him for his filial devotion. He respected and delighted me—and I am the one who harmed him…”

The Empress Dowager stamped her foot in frustration.

“Your Majesty, do not add to the chaos! This was an accident! In this life, who can guarantee everything will be alright? Even drinking water can lead to choking! Can we blame the one who gave him water? Or blame the water itself?” she exclaimed.

On the other side, the Empress was overcome with grief to the point of near madness, and even the Imperial Consort could no longer restrain her.

The hall was filled with cries and shouts.

“Doctors! Summon the doctors!” the Empress Dowager urgently called out.

The doors of the grand hall swung open, and sunlight poured in once again. Palace maids, eunuchs, and physicians rushed in, their clamor quickly filling the palace. Though noisy and chaotic, the commotion dispelled the earlier chill and suffocating atmosphere, replacing it with the vibrant energy of living beings.

Duke Jin’an remained standing motionless, just as before, his expression wooden as he watched the scene transform in the blink of an eye—as though the world itself had shifted.

Without turning around, he slowly retreated until he bumped against the couch and gradually sat down. Behind him, the child lay quietly, lost in deep slumber.

The day had been clear and bright, but as night fell, the wind picked up, howling through the layers of palaces like ghostly wails.

When the door was pushed open, the plump figure huddled deep inside the couch began to tremble uncontrollably.

Are they coming to kill me?

Is it a person or a ghost?

“Si Ge’er…” A woman’s voice sounded outside the bed curtains. The drapes were lifted, and the Imperial Consort stepped inside.

Palace maids kept their heads lowered as they lit the lanterns on both sides, brightening the room and illuminating the Consort’s weary face.

Pulling aside the bed curtains, she looked at the figure trembling beneath the blankets, a flicker of impatience in her eyes. After scanning the room, she glanced around, and the palace maids immediately bowed their heads and withdrew.

The Imperial Consort sat on the edge of the couch and reached out to pull back the blankets.

The First Prince, as if seeing a ghost, tried to scramble away, but the Consort grabbed his arm firmly.

“What are you so afraid of?” she scolded sharply.

Her stern tone overpowered the prince’s inner terror, and he froze, not daring to move anymore.

The Consort took a deep breath, pulled the prince into her arms, and began patting his back gently, her voice softening.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Everything is fine now,” she soothed. “The Second Prince isn’t dead…”

As soon as these words left her mouth, the eldest prince, who had just begun to relax, instantly tensed up again. He tried to crawl away immediately, but the Consort held him down tightly. Mother and son locked eyes, their faces equally filled with horror.

He’s not dead… he’s not dead… Does that mean others will find out that I let go of him…

The eldest prince’s face turned deathly pale, and he trembled like a leaf.

To be so terrified—to react with fear rather than relief upon hearing that the Second Prince was alive—could only mean one thing…

A storm of shock and dread surged within the Imperial Consort’s heart.

What exactly happened…

“The two princes left the Emperor’s quarters and passed by the imperial garden, then went to pick plum blossoms…”

In the Empress’s palace, a eunuch knelt on the ground, his voice trembling as he spoke. He paused, then looked up and added:

“It was the Second Prince who suggested it. The First Prince was reluctant at first, but after a few words from the eunuch attending him, he agreed to go along…”

The Empress, who had been carried back from the Second Prince’s palace, lay motionless as if asleep.

The eunuch dared not raise his head again and continued:

“…Later, they went up the hill together. The First Prince ordered the eunuchs to pick the blossoms, while the Second Prince insisted on picking them himself. Then the Second Prince spoke to the First Prince and asked him to come see the plum blossoms… and then… the soil and rocks there gave way. The Second Prince accidentally lost his footing…”

“No, he was pushed by the First Prince.”

A voice interrupted him.

The eunuch kept his head lowered, not even daring to look up.

From the shadows beside the couch, the faint figure of Duke Jin’an emerged.

The eunuchs who had been serving at the time had already been executed. Very few people in the world knew the exact details of what had happened, yet Duke Jin’an actually knew. What did this imply?

Either the imperial palace was full of leaks, with no secrets able to be kept, or this seemingly insignificant prince, who was once thought of as little more than a decorative fixture, already had eyes and ears spread throughout the palace.

Regardless of which it meant, it was not good news.

“Continue.”

The Empress’s voice broke the stifling silence in the room.

“…The Second Prince lost his footing, and the First Prince reached out to grab him, but in the end, his strength wasn’t enough. By the time others rushed over, it was already too late…” The eunuch finished in one breath.

A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the howling night wind outside.

“You may leave,” the Empress said.

The eunuch hurriedly kowtowed in acknowledgment and retreated. As he closed the door, the cold wind pierced through his sweat-soaked robes with a bone-chilling bite, yet he felt a wave of relief. He glanced around cautiously before lowering his head and disappearing into the night.

Inside, the lamplight flickered like a dying bean. On the couch, the Empress had sat up. Though her face remained sallow and her hair hung loose, there was no trace of the earlier madness in her expression—nor even a hint of sorrow.

“You have survived in the palace for so many years and lived so well. I thought that no matter what happened, you would never need anyone’s help.”

The Empress’s voice echoed softly in the room.

Duke Jin’an knelt before the couch, his head bowed low, obscuring his expression.

“I truly never expected that you would choose to seek your own doom today,” the Empress continued.

The duke’s hands, resting at his sides, clenched tightly into fists.

“Do you think there is any meaning in what you did? Other than throwing your own life away?”

The Empress’s voice drifted down from above him. Weakened by prolonged illness and further strained by the day’s weeping and cries, her voice was hoarse and feeble, far from pleasant to the ear.

The Second Prince was injured—this was a fact known to all. As for how a prince came to be injured, no one would dare to question it openly, especially after the Empress Dowager had already declared it an accident.

Under such circumstances, Duke Jin’an still pressed for answers, and his questions were terrifying in their implication.

What would the First Prince say?

Everyone understood exactly what he was implying.

Fratricide.

Regardless of the final outcome, those words alone were enough to stir public outrage, thrusting the First Prince into the eye of the storm and making him the target of universal condemnation. Let alone whether the Imperial Consort or the Empress Dowager would spare him—even the Emperor would not let him off easily.

How could he not know this? Of course he knew. He had lived cautiously and fearfully for so long, devouring history books and closely observing the struggles, rivalries, and fluctuations among court officials. There was nothing he didn’t understand.

He knew that once he spoke those words, he would become unforgivable. All his carefully laid plans—to leave the palace safely and live a life of freedom—would vanish like a bubble.

He had thought that understanding a truth and seeing through a situation would allow him to let go. But it turned out… that wasn’t the case. It really wasn’t.

Some things simply…

“I cannot accept it…”

Duke Jin’an bowed deeply, his voice hoarse and choked as he uttered those three words.

I cannot accept it! I cannot accept it! I simply cannot accept it!