It had happened when they fell from the cliff.
In that moment of weightlessness, he had used his body to force aside the brambles.
That was when he got injured—then carried her on his back for nearly the entire night.
“Jinan… Chen Jinan…”
Feng Lezhen believed herself to be calm, someone capable of facing any emergency. But the moment she opened her mouth, she realized her voice was trembling badly.
Chen Jinan’s eyelids twitched. Feng Lezhen froze for a moment, wanting to lift him up but afraid of touching his wound. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was her pale face and her hands fumbling, unsure of what to do—until finally she chose to hold his hand.
“Jinan… Jinan…” Feng Lezhen leaned forward urgently when she saw he was awake. “What happened to your injury? When were you hurt?”
“Your Highness…” Chen Jinan tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t move. He could only offer her a small smile.
That smile sparked a sudden wave of anger in her.
“What are you smiling at?!”
“Don’t be afraid, Your Highness,” Chen Jinan was still trying to comfort her.
Feng Lezhen stared at him in a daze, her eyes suddenly reddening.
“Chen Jinan, you’re not allowed to die. I forbid you to die.”
She hadn’t expected that she—always calm and composed—would say something so childish. In that moment, their roles seemed reversed. Feng Lezhen had become the helpless, flustered one, while he… looked at her with the same patient indulgence one might show a child throwing a tantrum.
“Did you hear me?” Feng Lezhen was still fixated on getting an answer.
Chen Jinan gave a slow, difficult nod, and only after a while did he finally speak, voice faint: “This humble servant has medicine. I won’t die.”
“Where did you get the medicine?” Feng Lezhen frowned.
“In my coat,” Chen Jinan looked directly into her eyes.
Feng Lezhen paused, suddenly recalling that when she’d found him at the bottom of the cliff, he seemed to have stuffed something into his chest.
“Please, Your Highness, help me take it out,” Chen Jinan said again. Perhaps because his body was too weak, his voice lacked the clarity and directness it once had, instead carrying a kind of gentle softness.
Feng Lezhen’s hands trembled as she reached into his coat to search. Her fingers, slightly chilled, fumbled around his body. Chen Jinan closed his eyes for a moment, then refocused his gaze on her.
She searched for quite a while before finally pulling out a black lump no bigger than a coin. The thing looked like some kind of root, still with soil clinging to it.
“It’s Gentian Poison—an extremely rare treasure. For those on the brink of death, taking it could grant a lifetime without worry. Master Shen searched for years but never found it. Seems this humble one had a bit of luck,” Chen Jinan looked at the object in her hand, his tone gradually lightening. “Your Highness, please feed it to me.”
But Feng Lezhen didn’t move.
Chen Jinan slowly lifted his eyes, puzzled as to why she hadn’t acted.
“If it’s really that miraculous,” Feng Lezhen heard herself ask coldly, “why didn’t you take it sooner?”
Chen Jinan was silent for a moment. “This humble one wanted to save it for Your High—”
“Chen Jinan!” Feng Lezhen suddenly raised her voice.
Chen Jinan didn’t flinch at her anger as he once might have, though his face did show a trace of helplessness. “It’s called Gentian Poison, after all—naturally, it’s poisonous. With good luck, you’ll live a long life. With bad luck, it kills within fifteen minutes, beyond the help of any medicine. I still have to escort Your Highness to Zhou Family Village. Unless absolutely necessary… I didn’t want to gamble.”
Feng Lezhen’s grip on the black lump suddenly tightened.
“Your Highness… I truly can’t hold on any longer,” Chen Jinan’s breath was growing fainter, his eyes now glazed with moisture. “Let’s gamble just once. I beg you.”
Feng Lezhen stared at him intensely, still not moving.
“Your Highness, please.” His voice softened further, carrying even a hint of sorrow.
Feng Lezhen lowered her head, her gaze shifting away from his face—only to land on his abdomen. A broken tree branch was still lodged there, blood slowly oozing from the wound. With no one else around and no nearby shelter, just the two of them in this isolated place, she hadn’t dared pull the branch out for fear of triggering an avalanche. So it remained, an eyesore embedded in his flesh.
“…Alright.”
At last, after a long silence, she agreed.
Chen Jinan quietly exhaled in relief and, with her help, swallowed the small black lump.
“Is it bitter?” Feng Lezhen asked.
Chen Jinan smiled faintly. “A bit.”
Feng Lezhen gave a helpless smile, but it vanished in an instant.
As they waited for the medicine to take effect, time seemed to stretch endlessly. Chen Jinan still lay on the ground, his breathing growing ever weaker. Feng Lezhen leaned over him and spoke softly, “You’ve earned such great merit this time. When we get back, what reward do you want from me?”
“Anything?” Chen Jinan actually replied.
Feng Lezhen smiled. “Mm. Anything.”
Chen Jinan looked at her for a long time. His eyelids were getting heavy, yet he still managed to respond: “Thank you for Your Highness’s grace.”
“I haven’t given you anything yet,” Feng Lezhen pinched his cheek lightly. “Save your thanks until I do.”
“I’ve already been rewarded,” Chen Jinan replied.
“What?” Feng Lezhen didn’t quite catch that and leaned in closer.
Some strands of her hair fell down, brushing across his lashes. Chen Jinan closed his eyes for a moment before looking at her again.
“Your Highness has already rewarded me.” His voice was even weaker now.
This time, Feng Lezhen heard him clearly and couldn’t help laughing. “When did I reward you?”
“Just now,” Chen Jinan’s lips curved slightly, “this humble one… looked directly at Your Highness—for the first time—and for so long.”
From the moment they first met, their status had always been a chasm between them. He stood on the other side of that gap, strictly observing the rule of never meeting his master’s gaze. Even face to face, he would keep his eyes lowered.
He’d worked as a menial in the princess’s residence for three years, and another four as her personal guard. In those seven years, the “Your Highness” in his eyes had always been a silhouette, a side profile, the swaying hem of a gown, or a glimpse of an embroidered shoe. He always kept his head down, always stealing glances—those treasonous thoughts always hidden deep.
But this was the first time he’d ignored the divide—face-to-face, openly, for a long, unguarded look… at her.
“This humble one…” Chen Jinan closed his eyes again and only managed to open them after a long while. “Is satisfied.”
He’d lost too much blood. His mind no longer worked properly. Everything felt light and hazy, and he could no longer hide anything. So all the secrets once buried deep came spilling out, unguarded, in the way he looked at her.
Feng Lezhen froze. When she finally came back to her senses, it was the first time she felt so foolish—that she had never seen through his feelings. Or perhaps, she’d simply never tried. He had always been like a stone—useful when needed, quietly waiting when not, simply there for her to call on when convenient.
Like a stone. Always there. Always at her disposal. She had felt safe and taken it all for granted. She’d never once stopped to wonder why someone would risk so much, even their life, for a debt of gratitude. What had sustained him through all those days and nights they spent supporting each other?
She had never thought about that.
A quarter of an hour passed, slowly. Chen Jinan’s breathing began to steady, and a look of relief appeared on his face. “Your Highness… this humble one made it.”
Feng Lezhen bowed her head and silently gripped his hand.
“Too bad the wounds are too serious. I don’t have the strength to go any farther. Your Highness will have to finish the journey alone… This humble one will wait here for you, wait for you to come back and save me.” Chen Jinan’s voice was barely a whisper.
Feng Lezhen was silent for a long time. Then, lifting her head, she revealed a faint smile.
“Alright. Then wait for me. I’ll come back to save you—soon.”
Chen Jinan gave a soft reply, watching as she struggled to get up from the ground and limped toward Zhou Family Village, biting back the sharp pain in her foot. He exhaled slowly, about to close his eyes for a short rest, when Feng Lezhen suddenly turned back.
“Your Highness…”
He hadn’t even finished voicing his confusion when Feng Lezhen knelt down on one knee, cupped his face, and kissed him.
Their lips met and clung. Chen Jinan closed his eyes, half-conscious, thinking he must be dreaming.
Feng Lezhen straightened up but kept her hands cradling his face. Only when he opened his eyes to meet her gaze did she speak softly: “Stay alive. As long as you’re alive… I’ll give you what you want.”
Only then did Chen Jinan realize it hadn’t been a dream. But his body was too weak, no longer capable of sustaining intense emotion. He simply lay there calmly, watching Feng Lezhen walk away again. This time, however, he didn’t close his eyes.
The first rays of sunlight had already leapt over the horizon. The long night was finally coming to an end. He lay alone in the dried-out ditch by the roadside, fighting against the increasing pull of sleep.
He couldn’t sleep. He had to wait for Her Highness to return… to ask her what it was she would give him. He couldn’t sleep…
The world was vast and desolate, boundless. Time itself seemed to dissolve. The sun rose slowly, and the surroundings grew steadily warmer. But Chen Jinan only grew more and more tired.
At last, he closed his eyes.
What a pity… I still don’t know what Her Highness was going to give me… That was his final thought before he lost consciousness.
***
In the Imperial Palace, Capital City.
The Emperor had claimed illness and not shown himself for three or four consecutive days. Even his closest attendants hadn’t seen him—the bedroom doors had remained shut, only briefly opening when food was delivered, before closing again.
Everyone could tell something was wrong. Everyone kept their distance from the bedchamber. Only a newly recruited eunuch, emboldened by curiosity, dared approach to investigate—only to be firmly stopped by a more seasoned palace maid.
“Where do you think you’re going? Are you tired of living?” the maid hissed.
The young eunuch replied, “Isn’t it strange that His Majesty hasn’t appeared in days?”
“So what if it’s strange? Just do your job. What’s the point of poking your nose into this?” the maid snapped. Then, seeing his persistent expression, she glanced around warily before adding in a lowered voice, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. But think: civil and military officials, guards of the Inner Court and Imperial Army—every last one of them smarter and sharper than you. None of them dared do anything. And you, just a lowly eunuch? You go in, you die.”
The eunuch shrank back. “So we just stand by while His Majesty is in danger?”
“What else do you suggest? You going to rescue him on your own?” the maid mocked. “Go ahead, but when they wipe out your whole clan for treason, don’t drag me down with you.”
With that, she turned and left without another word.
The young eunuch looked longingly at the tightly closed chamber doors. After a long hesitation, he sighed and left, doing nothing.
Their brief exchange, though they believed it secret, still reached the bedchamber within a quarter of an hour.
Fu Zhixian let out a light laugh as he rinsed a teacup and poured water. “At least he’s sensible—didn’t throw his life away for nothing.”
With tea in hand, he walked to the bedside and offered the cup to the pale-faced Feng Ji. “Your Majesty, have some water to moisten your throat.”
Feng Ji gave him a cold stare but did not accept the cup. “Fu Zhixian, do you even know what you’re doing?”
“This humble servant isn’t even thirty. I’m quite clear on what I’m doing.” Fu Zhixian saw he wouldn’t take the cup and, with a look of regret, drank it himself.
“You’re courting the extermination of your entire clan—cough, cough, cough…”
Feng Ji broke into a fit of coughing before he could finish. A trace of pity flickered in Fu Zhixian’s eyes as he held the cup in one hand and gently patted Feng Ji’s back with the other.
“The imperial physician said Your Majesty’s illness stems from repressed emotions. Anger is the worst trigger. If Your Majesty keeps flying into a rage, no medicine will help.”
He paused, then added with a soft laugh, “If having my clan executed will bring Your Majesty peace of mind, this humble servant is willing to offer all nine generations.”
“Fu Zhixian… can you really face the late Emperor with this?” Feng Ji’s voice was hoarse.
The smile on Fu Zhixian’s face faded slightly. “I repaid the late Emperor’s kindness in a past life. There’s no need for Your Majesty to keep using him to question me.”
Feng Ji didn’t understand what “past life” or “next life” meant. After a long silence, his tone suddenly softened: “Lord Fu… Brother Fu, calm down. I know… I know my royal sister’s death, to you—”
Smash!
Fu Zhixian suddenly crushed the cup in his hand. A wet shard of porcelain pressed against Feng Ji’s neck.
Tea and blood mixed and ran down his throat. Fu Zhixian glanced indifferently at the gaping wound in his own palm, then calmly met Feng Ji’s gaze. “Your Highness has heaven’s favor. Be careful with your words, Your Majesty.”
The veins on Feng Ji’s forehead bulged, but he dared not speak further.
Fu Zhixian seemed bored now. He tossed the shattered porcelain aside and walked out, leaving blood trailing behind him, drop by drop.
Feng Ji stared at the spreading trail of blood and suddenly erupted in anger: “What have I ever done to wrong you?!”
Fu Zhixian stopped walking.
“I gave you rank, status, wealth, everything! What have I withheld from you? Why would you betray me? Why?!” Feng Ji clung to the edge of the bed, chest heaving like a bellows, wild-eyed. “What’s so good about Feng Lezhen?! What can she give you? What can she give anyone?! Why does everyone obey only her, treating me, the Emperor, like I’m nothing?!”
“Does Your Majesty truly not know?” Fu Zhixian turned to face him. After locking eyes for a moment, he seemed tired and only gave a soft laugh.
“Your Majesty got everything too easily. That’s why you never understand anything at all.”
Feng Ji didn’t understand, but seeing that Fu Zhixian showed no sign of anger, he still sneered, “Yes, I’m muddleheaded. But muddleheaded as I am, I’m still the Emperor of Great Qian—not like Feng Lezhen, who schemed her whole life only to die so disgracefully. Even if future historians write pages about her, she’ll be mentioned only in the annals of the princesses, just a few scant lines. How could that compare to my full official history…”
He hadn’t finished speaking when a sudden commotion broke out outside. Fu Zhixian’s expression turned sharp as he looked toward the door. The guard by the entrance gave a nod and immediately left.
The doors opened, then closed again. The vast bedchamber became a prison once more.
Feng Ji leaned weakly against the bed, casting a glance at Fu Zhixian. “Tell me—are those people outside here to rescue me, or to help you?”
Fu Zhixian said nothing.
“I say they’re here for me.” Feng Ji narrowed his eyes. “Admit it, Fu Zhixian—even if I’m useless and foolish, as long as royal blood flows in my veins, as long as I’m a man, there will always be people willing to die for me. You can imprison me for a time, but not for a lifetime.”
Still, Fu Zhixian said nothing—just looked at him in silence.
Feng Ji met his gaze and felt a chill in his heart. His tone softened: “You let me go, and I’ll treat these last four days and nights of captivity as if they never happened. I won’t pursue it…”
“I am a man of letters,” Fu Zhixian suddenly interrupted, “Though not entirely powerless, I’ve never killed anyone with my own hands. The only time I did—it was regicide.”
Feng Ji’s pupils trembled slightly, though he tried to keep calm. “What are you saying?”
“His Majesty was ill then too. But today, it’s fear—back then, it was poison, administered by someone I sent.” Fu Zhixian slowly approached him. “I held His Majesty by the throat and gradually tightened my grip… watched as his face turned from pale to purplish-red, then to blue-black. It didn’t take more than a quarter of an hour.”
“What are you trying to do—Fu Zhixian, are you mad?!” Feng Ji tried to struggle away, but his body was too weak. He attempted to sit up multiple times, only to fall back onto the pillow.
Fu Zhixian looked down at him from above, as if watching a dying beast caught in a trap. “His Majesty looked at me just like this back then—eyes filled with disbelief, asking why. I said nothing. But I’m sure the moment he died, he understood everything.”
“Fu Zhixian—”
Before he could finish, Fu Zhixian’s hand closed around his throat.
The hand that once wielded a brush now strangled a man—steady as a mountain.
Feng Ji opened his mouth in vain, panic overtaking him. Fu Zhixian stared into his eyes, devoid of all emotion. “This time, I brought only a few dozen men into the palace. They’re all in this hall now. If someone has truly brought troops to rescue Your Majesty, I will surely die. But if there’s one thing I can still do before that happens—it would be to take Your Majesty with me. We could walk the road to the Yellow Springs together.”
A flicker of killing intent flashed in his eyes. He was just about to twist Feng Ji’s neck completely when the door was suddenly flung open.
“Lord Fu!” the guard who had just left cried out, voice brimming with excitement. “Her Highness has returned alive!”
His words were like a drop of water in boiling oil—exploding within the chamber. The dozens of men who had long since resigned themselves to death all brightened instantly at the news.
“Truly?”
“Her Highness is alive?!”
The messenger was surrounded and interrogated. The room buzzed with noise. Fu Zhixian quietly released Feng Ji, watching him collapse onto the bed like a drowning man gasping for air.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty. You’ve survived another day.” Fu Zhixian smiled, stood, and left without looking back.
Feng Ji slowly recovered, lying on the bed, his face utterly ashen.
The news of Feng Lezhen’s safe return quickly spread throughout the palace and across the streets. The next piece of news came just as swiftly: the palace had been surrounded by the combined forces of the Yang and Qi clans. Having escaped death, Her Highness had grown tired of playing cat-and-mouse. She acted decisively—taking full control of the palace and the Imperial Guards.
But Fu Zhixian cared little for any of this. He simply sat silently in the carriage, not saying a word. The young page beside him had the good sense to urge the driver to go faster, faster. The carriage dashed through the gates of the Princess’s manor. Before it had even come to a full stop, Fu Zhixian—like a statue coming to life—threw open the curtain and leapt out.
Inside the bedchamber, Feng Lezhen was sitting with lowered eyes as the physician tended to her wounds. She seemed lost in thought when a sudden commotion rose from outside. She looked up—and saw Fu Zhixian charging in.
Their eyes met. Fu Zhixian stopped five steps away from her.
“Your leg’s injured?” He tried to stay calm, but his voice was shaky.
Feng Lezhen replied, “Bone’s fractured. I won’t be walking for two or three months.”
“That’s nothing serious. Have a craftsman make a low cart and that’s that.” Fu Zhixian nodded.
Feng Lezhen gave a slight nod in return and looked into his eyes. “I haven’t thanked you yet—for stopping Feng Ji at the root. You bought me precious time.”
“I didn’t do much. Lord Yu was the one controlling the court and the harem. I was only able to hold Feng Ji this long because of him,” Fu Zhixian replied.
The two of them spoke without any effort to hide their words. The doctor, frightened by what he heard, quickly packed his medicine chest and left at a run. The maids exchanged glances and sensibly filed out as well. In an instant, the spacious room was empty save for the two of them.
Feng Lezhen pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “This whole ordeal was truly…”
Before she could finish, someone strode forward in long steps and suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace.
“You’re warm…” Fu Zhixian spoke again, his voice trembling, “You’re warm.”
Feng Lezhen let out a soft laugh. “Of course I am. What else would I be—cold?”
But the smile on her face quickly faded.
Because if a person dies, of course, they turn cold.
Fu Zhixian clung to her with all his strength. Who knew how long passed before he finally let go. But then he cupped her face again, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Besides your foot,” he asked softly, “are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Everything else is just surface wounds. A few days of rest should be enough,” Feng Lezhen replied.
Fu Zhixian nodded and let out a breath of relief—then, moved by impulse, wanted to kiss her.
“Your Highness…” Qin Wan entered just in time to see the scene and hurriedly turned around, flustered.
Feng Lezhen turned her face away, avoiding Fu Zhixian’s kiss. “What happened to Jinan?”
Wanwan was always one to follow protocol. The fact that she burst in without announcing herself could only mean something had happened to Chen Jinan.
Sure enough, Qin Wan immediately said, “He suddenly woke up, but he was disoriented and insisted on seeing you. In his agitation, he tore open his wounds.”
“Help me over there,” Feng Lezhen stood up immediately. Qin Wan quickly called for the sedan chair. She limped into it, and the entire time she was being carried out, she didn’t look back once.
Fu Zhixian stood where he was, his expression unreadable, silent.
The sedan chair was carried all the way to a side courtyard. As Feng Lezhen grasped the armrest to rise, Shen Suifeng came out of the room.
“How is he?” Feng Lezhen asked right away.
Shen Suifeng gave a faint tug at the corner of his mouth. “Completely uncooperative. I had no choice but to sedate him.”
“I heard his wound reopened?” she pressed.
Shen Suifeng nodded, “Yes. I stitched it up again. That brat was lucky—if someone else had treated him today, he’d be dead for sure.”
In other words, Chen Jinan was out of danger.
Only then did Feng Lezhen relax the tension in her back and slowly sit down again.
Shen Suifeng stared at her for a long while before smiling faintly. “Don’t worry. With me here, he won’t die.”
Feng Lezhen forced a smile and after a pause, finally nodded.
The smile at Shen Suifeng’s lips faded. He quickly feigned a casual tone. “By the way, if you’re free later, could you speak to Miss Ah Ye? She keeps refusing her medicine—can’t have that.”
“She only threw a tantrum because I wasn’t back. Now that I’ve returned safely, she’ll behave.” Feng Lezhen thought of Ah Ye’s bloodied hands, and her heart felt heavy.
When the gunpowder exploded, she had been outside the main gate. But that foolish girl had rushed back in without fear for her life, even before the aftershock had ended. She had clawed at the searing-hot rubble with her bare hands. If not for sheer luck, she would have been crushed to death inside the imperial tomb. And then there was Jinan—driven half-mad, already seriously wounded back on the mountains, yet he had carried her for an entire night…
Feng Lezhen paused, then looked at Shen Suifeng again.
He straightened slightly, putting on a mild smile. “What is it…”
“When he was on the brink of death, I gave him the gentian poison,” she said.
Shen Suifeng had thought she was going to ask about her condition. He hadn’t expected her to still be talking about Chen Jinan. His chest tightened with a sharp, pricking ache.
But he was a physician. And a physician must always calmly answer any question about their patient.
“Gentian poison is both poison and cure. If he really took it, his pulse wouldn’t be this weak,” he said.
“Then what about those herbs on his back?” she asked again.
Shen Suifeng was silent for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Just wild grass—hardly medicinal.”
If they weren’t real medicine, then they couldn’t stop the bleeding or relieve the pain. Feng Lezhen had already suspected as much, but still, her breath caught in her throat.
“Your Highness,” perhaps because her expression was too painful, Shen Suifeng’s voice softened, “It’s all over now.”
Feng Lezhen slowly came back to herself. After meeting his gaze for a long while, she gave a bitter smile. “And you? What are you doing in the capital all of a sudden?”
His Highness—his once single-minded Highness—had finally, after all this time, thought to ask him that question. Shen Suifeng looked at her distracted expression. From Yunming to the capital, he had rehearsed what he wanted to say so many times, but now, not a single word came out.
At last, he said softly, “I heard Your Highness entered the capital, and I was worried. So I came to see if there was anything I could help with… I didn’t expect the imperial tomb incident to happen the moment I arrived.”
“Thank you,” Feng Lezhen said softly.
Shen Suifeng fell into an even deeper silence.
The two of them sat quietly in the courtyard. Neither spoke another word.
No one knew how much time passed before a maid came in with a bowl of medicine. “Doctor Shen, it’s time to give Guard Chen his medicine.”
Shen Suifeng roused himself, took the bowl, and started walking toward the room. But after a few steps, he stopped suddenly. Resisting the urge to turn around, he spoke slowly: “Your Highness never needs to thank me.”
Feng Lezhen blinked in surprise, but by the time she looked up, he had already entered the room.
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