Chapter 108

The Culinary Chronicles of the Court Physician: The Disgraced Princess Consumes Poison to Create Medicine

Zhèn carried Fei Ling in his arms, moving through the shadows of the palace before leaping onto the rooftop. He crossed the roofs and finally set her down atop the tower.

The sky lanterns were released in an orderly fashion, marking the passage of the seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—each palace launching them in turn.

The summer palace’s lanterns soared into the sky.

The flames flickered and swayed with the wind, drifting past them.

From this height, the glow of the lanterns was dazzling—intense yet fleeting. The lanterns floated close enough to touch, only to drift away again.

When she cast her gaze farther, a vast sea of twinkling lights stretched into the distance. The people of the capital had set countless lanterns adrift.

But it wasn’t just the heavens that burned.

On the night of the festival, lanterns were strung up along the eaves, courtyards, and even the bridges. Looking down from above, the pathways of fire stretched across the city like a celestial net. Fei Ling let out a breath of awe.

“It’s like a dazzling hell, isn’t it? Both the sky and the earth burn equally.”

Zhèn spoke as he exhaled smoke from his pipe.

“I wanted you to see this.”

“…Ah. So that’s how it looks to you.”

To him, the raging flames symbolized hell. But Fei Ling saw it differently.

“To me… each and every one of these flames represents a life.”

The people were like grass—burning yet constantly sprouting anew. Within the delicate workings of human life, happiness flourished while sorrow took root. Whether those elements became poison or medicine depended on the vessel of the emperor.

The emperor…

Fei Ling perched on the roof’s ridge and, after a moment of thought, spoke again.

“I never knew you wanted to be emperor.”

Zhèn let out a dry chuckle, smoke curling from his lips.

“Hah, not even if someone begged me to.”

“Of course not. You’re not that much of a fool.”

It wasn’t merely disinterest. Zhèn truly understood the nature of the emperor’s throne. If he had been foolish enough to covet power greedily, perhaps he wouldn’t have found himself walking this path through hell.

“Power is like wet silk—it clings heavily to you and won’t come off. A curse. Even if I became emperor, in the end, I’d only be a puppet dancing to the empress’s tune. Everything—everyone—is just a piece in her game.”

“That means… even His Majesty was just a pawn.”

Was it the empress’s scheme that had poisoned the previous emperor?

“If you understand all of this, then why did you still choose to side with her?”

Zhèn tapped the ashes from his pipe.

“Because I finally found something worth drinking poison for.”

He stepped onto the green tiles, then turned back. His eyes glowed with a venomous light.

“Kè is poisoned.”

Zhèn spoke again.

“And you don’t just mean the poisons of heaven and earth.”

“The court belongs to those who support the empress. They hold all the power, governing as they please. Any dissenters were killed—by my hand, of course. The emperor, lacking experience, left decisions to the veteran ministers, but all they cared about was stuffing their own pockets. The people’s well-being never crossed their minds. But… that doesn’t concern me.”

His gaze burned with resentment.

“I hate the imperial family. I hate the people. I hate Kè. I hate everything. I want it all to burn to the ground. But you… you’re different.”

A gust of wind swept past. One by one, the lanterns burned out, their embers trailing as they fell—like stars crumbling from the sky.

With a backdrop of falling comets, Zhèn slowly knelt. Not before anyone else, but before Fei Ling.

“You should be emperor, Cài Fei Ling.”

Fei Ling was taken aback, but the sincerity in his gaze made her press her lips together.

“You… you give both medicine and poison, equally, to those who love and despise you. You bear more poison than anyone.”

The lanterns flickered out. Darkness veiled the sky and draped over the earth.

But as if to defy the encroaching night, the autumn palace began releasing its lights.

“If anyone can cure Kè’s poison, it’s you.”

Fei Ling’s emerald eyes wavered.

They were clear yet burned with an intense heat. They held unshakable resolve, seethed with resentment, and bore the scars of despair.

(I could never become an empress…)

She wasn’t arrogant enough to believe otherwise. She understood reality too well.

Sensing her hesitation, Zhèn wordlessly reached for her foot.

Slipping off her silk shoe, he pulled her closer. Her bare foot was unblemished. But he alone knew the hells she had walked through on those delicate feet.

His eyes softened with affection as he pressed a reverent kiss to her toes.

“…So you will make me emperor?”

“Yes. I will give you all my poison.”

There was no filled chalice, no grand feast. No crown, no witnesses, no written decree.

Only poison and medicine.

“Let the flames in your heart consume you. Devour it all.”

He took her hand, whispering sweetly—a poison far removed from love.

Fei Ling’s lips curved like a pale pink peony. She smiled.

“Alright. Give me your poison.”

Medicine alone is not enough.

Only with poison does it become a true cure.

“I’ll consume it all and turn it into medicine.”

Fei Ling leaned forward and stole Zhèn’s lips. Their breaths intertwined, their gazes locked—as if sealing a vow of love.

Then she bit his tongue.

Zhèn exhaled sharply, his breath unsteady.

But he did not pull away.

The venom in his blood seeped into her. Fei Ling felt it rush through her veins, setting her heart ablaze. A searing, intoxicating euphoria.

She finally pulled away and murmured:

“I’m the only one who can devour you.”

Not even the empress could consume his poison.

She wouldn’t allow it.

“So now, you will drink my poison.”

They had met through the cycle of Heaven’s Poison.

To consume and be consumed.

Yet through that, poison remained poison, and medicine remained medicine.

Zhèn chuckled. It was a rare smile—devoid of mockery or scorn. A peaceful smile. And yet, still steeped in venom.

“Our two hells will now become one.”

Ah…

She had always been alone. No one had ever been able to accompany her into her own personal hell.

Fei Ling clutched his words to her heart.

“…Yes. You will be in my hell.”

Then, she could keep walking forward.

Even if flames consumed the path, even if a storm of blood-red petals raged.

As long as she was not alone.

From somewhere distant, a divine roar echoed—a sound reminiscent of a shō flute, solemn and ethereal.

So pure, it was hard to believe it belonged to a beast.

Fei Ling gasped.

She had heard this sound once before.

A cry of blessing.

For the birth of a new emperor.

A qilin had roared.