After all that commotion, Meng Min had a splitting headache again.
Zhen Nanny hurried off to fetch the Doctor.
Meng Min was lying on the side couch, supported by Xie Yushu, feeling a pair of cold hands continuously massaging the acupuncture points on her head.
She thought it was one of the maids nearby, but through the dizziness and nausea, she heard Xie Yushu quietly say, “Mother, rest now. I’ll do the massage.”
Meng Min opened her eyes amidst the dizziness and saw Qiao Bao’er sitting beside her.
Bao’er’s face was pale, yet she was still pressing her acupuncture points, softly telling Xie Yushu, “It’s nothing, this isn’t tiring. Mother’s used to taking care of people. You don’t need to do this…”
But those hands never stopped moving.
Meng Min closed her eyes, her nose tingling with sadness, tears uncontrollably falling.
That same hand gently wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks, whispering softly, “Madam, please bear with it a little longer. The Doctor is almost here. I’ll massage you a bit more to ease the pain.”
Meng Min’s eyelids twitched uncontrollably.
She raised her hand to cover her face and sobbed bitterly.
She had devoted her entire life to Xie Zhi’an, only to be left with a body full of ailments.
What was the end result?
Her daughter was missing without a trace.
Xie Zhi’an hadn’t stopped seeking other women, chasing after the official’s concubine…
And the ones caring for her during her illness were none other than the Qiao Bao’er mother and daughter—people she had looked down upon the most.
Only now did Meng Min completely understand what Xie Yushu had said to her in the West Garden: Qiao Bao’er and Yushu had never been her enemies; they were just as pitiful as she was.
The one she should hate was Xie Zhi’an!
“Cry, then. It’s better to cry than to hold it all inside,” Xie Yushu said softly.
“Once you’ve cried it out, we’ll carefully plan everything. Everything will get better.”
“Plan everything?”
Meng Min murmured miserably.
“How can things get better? Jia Ning can’t be found, and my body is like this…What else can I hope for?”
“Jia Ning will be found. And your body can be healed,” Xie Yushu said gently.
“As long as your body gets better, there’s hope.”
Meng Min thought it was just empty consolation, but then she heard Xie Yushu lower her voice near her ear: “Madam, there are plenty of paths you can take. It just depends on which you choose. If you decide to hold on to the Yong’an Marquis Manor’s legacy and wait for Jia Ning to return so she can inherit it, I will handle Xie Zhi’an for you.”
Meng Min’s eyes widened in shock, her crying abruptly stopped.
What was she saying?
Handle Xie Zhi’an?
Xie Yushu wiped the tears from her face with a gentle tone still: “If, out of the affection you still hold for your husband, you can’t bear to do that, there are other paths to take. Just focus on healing. You help me and my mother this once, and I will help you until the end.”
Meng Min stared at her carefully, suddenly realizing that these were not just empty words.
She truly…had made up her mind and dared to act.
“Congratulations, host, you have gained 1 point of Heartthrob Value.”
The system sounded in Xie Yushu’s ear.
“From Meng Min.”
Xie Yushu glanced at her current total of 24 Heartthrob Value points.
She wasn’t sure what that meant and asked the system: If the protagonist Xie Jia Ning represents 100 points, then 24 points correspond to which character?
The system quickly responded: “Male lead Xiao Zhen currently has 30 Heartthrob Value points.”
Xie Yushu was surprised.
Xiao Zhen only has 30 points?
Then how could he become Emperor?
No wonder he wasn’t even Crown Prince yet.
“After he wins over the protagonist, his Heartthrob Value will increase to 50 points. Fifty points is enough for him to be made Crown Prince,” the system explained.
“The more important the character you win over, the greater the Heartthrob Value increase. The protagonist, male lead, and antagonist are the characters who can generate the most Heartthrob Value in this world.”
So if she won over all three, wouldn’t she instantly reach 100 points?
“Currently, no task-giver has been able to win over the protagonist, male lead, and antagonist, so I cannot provide data on that.”
The system added, “There was a character in this world who had a Heartthrob Value of 40 points. She won over two Emperors.”
Who?
“Wan Susu.”
The system gave a name unfamiliar to Xie Yushu, then said, “She is now Female Daoist Yu Su of Yuqing Monastery, Xiao Zhen’s biological mother.”
That legendary Mother Consort.
Xie Yushu immediately understood the significance of 40 points.
Wan Susu was once a palace maid, forcibly taken by two emperors and had a secret relationship with a founding minister—those two emperors were uncle and nephew.
That was also why Wan Susu became a Daoist nun at Yuqing Monastery as Mother Consort.
Footsteps sounded outside. Zhen Nanny rushed in with the Doctor.
Xie Yushu stepped aside to look out the window.
The rain had stopped, but the sky was still gloomy.
She wondered what time it was and if Song Jie would still come to Pei Mansion to fetch her tonight.
This was already the third or fourth day of not seeing him.
She thought for a moment, then waved to Jin Ye, quietly giving her some instructions.
Night fell, and Song Jie wearily returned from the palace.
His Majesty was now obsessed with researching an elixir of immortality, but his health was worsening by the day.
The Crown Prince’s position remained undecided, and the Great Prince’s faction had been stirring trouble at court in recent days, vying with him.
It was time to push Xiao Zhen aggressively to become Crown Prince.
The damp night breeze blew into the carriage.
He coughed twice from the cold and tugged at the wound on his shoulder, wincing in pain.
He hadn’t seen Xie Yushu for several days now.
She was either busy with her mother or too exhausted to meet him…
Song Jie felt she was deliberately avoiding him—was it because of what happened in the carriage that night?
He recalled the bite she gave him in the carriage and grew restless.
The relationship between him and Xie Yushu had turned strange.
Recently, he always smelled her floral perfume in the carriage, on the bed, on his clothes…stirring up his emotions.
Perhaps it was better to keep their distance for a few days.
After all, she was only Jia Ning’s double, Pei Shilin’s wife.
Did he really want to keep “secret meetings” with her forever, endlessly entangled?
Song Jie closed his eyes and didn’t instruct Cang Shu to detour to Pei Mansion for her.
The carriage stopped before the Prime Minister’s Mansion gate.
Cang Shu held an umbrella and helped him down.
“Raining again?”
Song Jie clutched his cloak, coughing quietly in the drizzle.
Not far away, someone called out, “Prime Minister.”
Song Jie looked up and saw the little maid beside Xie Yushu running over with a small umbrella, bowing to him.
“You’ve finally returned.”
Did Xie Yushu come looking for him herself?
Song Jie’s heart skipped inexplicably, but he saw no carriage or others behind the maid.
“My lady sent me to tell the Prime Minister that she will stay at Yong’an Marquis Manor tonight to take care of the Marquis Consort and cannot meet you,” Jin Ye said, handing over something to Cang Shu.
“This is an ointment Lady Dowager received as a palace gift. It’s excellent for healing wounds without scarring. She specially asked me to deliver it to you.”
Cang Shu took it, glanced at the Prime Minister.
Song Jie’s face was cold and indifferent, revealing neither happiness nor displeasure.
He simply said, “What haven’t I seen from the palace? Is a single ointment worth such a trip?”
He turned and went into the mansion.
Jin Ye pouted in dissatisfaction, then took back the ointment from Cang Shu.
“If Prime Minister doesn’t want it, I’ll take it back.”
Cang Shu apologized, “Thank you for your concern, Lady Pei. Sorry to trouble you with this errand.”
He took out some silver coins and handed them to Jin Ye.
“No need. I’m just following my lady’s orders,” Jin Ye refused and left.
Cang Shu could only laugh wryly.
The maids serving Lady Pei were different from ordinary ones—proud and headstrong.
He hurried inside without delay.
Before entering, he heard the Prime Minister coughing inside.
Lifting the curtain, he saw the dim light illuminating Song Jie feeding Panpan dried meat.
His hair and shoulders were wet, and he occasionally covered his mouth to cough.
Cang Shu ordered the servants to light another brazier and laid out food.
Song Jie had no appetite.
He took off his coat and saw the wound on his shoulder bleeding again.
Since the poisoning, his body had worsened.
Even the slightest injury was slow to heal and often turned septic.
Cang Shu brought the medicine box to change his dressing and whispered, “Prime Minister, please eat a little. You’ve been eating too little these days; your body might not hold up. I’ve instructed the kitchen to prepare pork wonton soup for you.”
Song Jie looked coldly at him, lowering his eyes.
“Cang Shu, you’re getting more and more presumptuous. When have I ever said I like pork fat wontons?”
Cang Shu said nothing and removed the blood-soaked gauze.
Then Song Jie asked, “Where’s the ointment?”
Ointment?
Cang Shu was momentarily stunned before realizing, “Prime Minister means the one Lady Pei sent?”
Song Jie gave him a cold look that said, “Don’t ask obvious questions.”
Cang Shu grew embarrassed.
“Didn’t you refuse it? Lady Pei’s maid took it back…”
Song Jie’s expression darkened, and he said no more.
The rain grew heavier, and the wind picked up.
It was only early autumn, but the night rain had turned chilly.
They lit another brazier inside, but Song Jie still felt cold, a cold seeping into his bones, icing his chest.
His coughs were cold too, each one painful.
He lay on the couch, hands and feet icy cold, struggling to sleep.
He threw back the bed curtains and called, “Panpan.”
The mastiff sleeping outside immediately got up and padded inside, wagging its tail as it approached.
“Come here.”
Song Jie patted the couch.
The dog obediently jumped up, curled up comfortably, taking up most of the bed.
Song Jie smiled for the first time in a while and stroked Panpan’s dark fur, lying on his side and hugging the dog like when he was a child holding his little yellow dog.
Unfortunately, after the poisoning, that little dog had gone missing.
He had tried to find it but never succeeded.
“Good Panpan.”
His face pressed against the dog’s head, he felt a faint warmth.
In this world, no one never leaves or abandons him—only his dog would always stay by his side.
The room grew too warm.
With thick fur, Panpan soon panted like a bellows but obediently let Song Jie hold him.
When Song Jie coughed, the dog sniffed his face anxiously, as if afraid he would choke to death.
Song Jie closed his eyes, trying hard not to cough, hoping to ease the pain a little.
It was too cold; every day he lived was cold like this.
Yet his memories always brought up scenes of fishing in the river when he was young.
The more he remembered, the deeper his hatred grew.
He hadn’t been born to suffer like this—it was his mother who had made him suffer.
Yet she said she never regretted it.
How could she not regret forcing him to drink that poisoned bowl?
How could she not be in pain because of it?
Why was the pain only his…?
Panpan suddenly moved.
Song Jie suddenly smelled the floral scent and heard a gentle laugh say, “Are you being lulled to sleep by the dog?”
Song Jie snapped open his eyes and saw Xie Yushu lifting the curtain to look at him.
He almost thought he was dreaming.
How was she…here?
Was this a dream?
But she leaned down, her fair fingers gently stroking Panpan.
Smiling in front of him, she said, “Prime Minister Song, you’re going to make Panpan overheat.”
The floral scent flowed from her brows and eyes to him.
Song Jie reached out and grasped the hand stroking Panpan.
The warm fingers felt like they had endless fire power.
It was real—he wasn’t dreaming.
“Why did you come?” he asked instinctively.
She struggled slightly, making him hold tighter.
Then she laughed and teased him, “If Prime Minister Song didn’t want me here, why hold me so tightly?”
When did he say he didn’t want her here?
Song Jie couldn’t help but say, “Is it because Lady Pei’s noble affairs keep you too busy to make money off me anymore?”
“I am busy,” Xie Yushu said.
“My mother just had a miscarriage and needs care, and the Marquis Consort is also ill.”
“Then why did you come?”
Song Jie stepped on her words as if he needed to hear something more.
Xie Yushu looked at him and slowly said, “It rained so heavily, I was afraid you’d get sick too.”
Song Jie was stunned, feeling as if he had been thrown into a warm spring.
He hadn’t expected those words.
He thought she would say she squeezed time from a busy schedule to earn money.
But she said, “It rained so heavily. I was afraid you’d get sick.”
Song Jie slowly released her hand, seeing the rain had soaked a patch on her shoulder.
She had rushed over in the rain—not for money, but because she was worried about him.
Outside, Cang Shu beckoned to Panpan.
Panpan happily jumped off the bed and ran outside.
The door closed, and the room’s lamp flickered in the wind.
Song Jie coughed again.
Xie Yushu gently patted his back and asked, “Did you take your medicine?”
Then, “Cang Shu said you didn’t eat dinner?”
Song Jie lowered his eyes, unable to express the feeling in that moment, only that his throat and eyes ached terribly.
She simply scolded him softly, “How can you get better without eating…”
His heart ached along with hers.
He couldn’t help but reach out and hug her, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to her warm chest.
“It’s been long beyond recovery.”
She sat up quietly.
Fearing she would pull away, he spoke first, “Ten thousand taels of gold, don’t go. Stay and lie with me a while.”
He held her tight and leaned over to press her down on the couch, not daring to look at her face.
He turned to hold her close, murmuring, “Xie Yushu, you keep earning my money. I have plenty, and I won’t live long anyway. You can take it all…”
He didn’t want her to leave or play Jia Ning anymore.
At this moment, he just wanted her to quietly lie beside him and let him hold her.
Whether it was for the ten thousand taels or not, she truly didn’t move and allowed him to hold her, silent.
The quiet room held only their breaths and the patter of rain.
She slowly placed her hand on his back and gently stroked his cold skin, asking, “Do you want me to imitate your Jia Ning?”
Song Jie opened his eyes and looked at her.
She turned her face toward him, the only makeup on her lips, the slender eyes and the distinctive mole on her nose—all uniquely hers.
But with this face, she teasingly called him, “Little Taoist.”
Song Jie felt inexplicably annoyed but didn’t know why. He raised his hand to cover her mouth, hoarsely saying, “Don’t speak, Xie Yushu. I just want you to lie with me a while.”
She truly stopped talking then, turning her face away without looking at him.
Song Jie held her tighter.
She was as warm as melting ointment, and the unique floral scent nearly overwhelmed him.
He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, his nose gently brushing her arm.
The fragrance intoxicated him like strong liquor—more he smelled it, more drunk he felt, hotter and more restless.
He could only hold her tighter and tighter, his lips touching the spring shirt on her shoulder…
Yet he didn’t dare truly touch her skin, a teasing pain.
He opened his eyes and looked at her flushed neck, speaking low and hoarse, “Xie Yu…”
She responded with a soft “Hm?” and turned to look at him.
In her eyes was a strange smile, feigning surprise, “Song Jie, why is your face so red? Fever?”
Song Jie caught the smugness in her eyes and realized she knew exactly why his face was flushed at this moment…
He stared at her, his gaze burning with heat.
Knowing he shouldn’t, knowing he would be mocked, he still hoarsely said, “Your hand…”
He held her burning hand through her sleeve and whispered, “Can I touch my face?”
Before she could tease him, he added, “Twenty thousand taels of gold, okay?”