The Zhèn harbored venomous creatures on his body. In his sleeves hid poisonous snakes and toxic moths, at his collar a venomous lizard. At the hem of his robe, spiders and centipedes lurked, and on his belt was a scorpion.
These creatures, drawn to the Zhèn, who bore human toxin, had chosen him as their master. No matter the circumstances, they never bared their fangs at him. Though small in size, they were sharp and perceptive. In an instant, they understood strength and submitted without a word, obeying purely by instinct.
The Zhèn found these creatures agreeable.
“I always thought women tended to dislike insects. Are you different, Fei Ling?”
The detached palace was quiet, as always.
Especially at night, with no noisy court ladies around, a transparent silence flowed through the air. Only during this time could they be together peacefully, neither as a poison master nor as a royal physician.
The Zhèn sat on the windowsill, smoking a pipe. Beside him, Fei Ling leaned against the wall, cradling a venomous spider on her lap as if it were a cat. It was a large species, about the size of an apple, covered in vivid, toxic purple fur. Each strand of fur was a venomous needle; a prick would deliver a potent neurotoxin that could kill within five minutes.
But Fei Ling, immune to poison, stroked it without fear, running her hands through the furry texture.
“Is that so? Well, it seems Lan Xin hates insects. But as far as I know, she’s one of the few who dislike them that much.”
“Really? I doubt Li Xue Mei is fond of them either.”
“Ah, now that you mention it… when a moth flew into her chambers once, she screamed. Although she seems to like butterflies.”
Fei Ling frowned slightly, as if baffled by this inconsistency.
“Moths and butterflies are essentially the same, aren’t they?”
“Well, there is one key difference.”
The Zhèn shook his sleeve, and a green moth fluttered out. It was a strikingly vibrant shade of green, like newly sprouted grass.
“Moths are poisonous. Butterflies aren’t.”
“I see,” Fei Ling murmured, lowering her lashes.
“But poison can be medicine. Silkworms, which make silk, are moths, not butterflies. Even cordyceps, the medicinal fungus, often parasitizes moth larvae.”
Without hesitation, she extended her sleeve toward the moth. The poisonous moth alighted on her fingertips as if drawn to her. Toxic scales scattered in the moonlight, sparkling like stars.
“Rather than something neither poison nor medicine, I prefer this.”
Fei Ling lowered her eyes slightly and smiled faintly.
For some reason, the Zhèn felt a warmth bloom in his chest.
Not just the moth—her words seemed to affirm and accept his very essence, his poison itself. It was a peculiar sort of peace.
“And besides… spiders, when deep-fried, are fragrant and flavorful.”
“What?”
The topic suddenly veered in an unexpected direction.
“They taste like heated chicken breast or white fish—mildly bitter, but that bitterness becomes addictive. You can’t stop eating them. They’re even good for eye ailments, so I’d love for civil officials to try them. But spiders of this size, big enough to make a satisfying meal, are rare in the palace. This one, so plump, would make an excellent medicinal dish.”
Fei Ling poked the spider’s abdomen with delight.
“Does it have eggs?”
The Zhèn was taken aback, then burst out laughing.
“…Haha, I see. So, to you, whether poisonous or not, an insect is just something to be eaten.”
She consumes poison. And she feeds others poison. To transform it into medicine.
Consuming something is also a form of affirmation. She, while being medicine herself, affirmed the existence of poison.
If that’s the case—
The Zhèn wondered. Someday, would she consume him as well? Split his lips with her radiant teeth, bite down, savor his poison, and devour every last fragment of him.
For her, he would willingly let himself be consumed.
Such was the intoxicating allure of her brilliant lips.
Before he knew it, the Zhèn leaned forward and stole her lips.
“Mm…”
It was a faintly bitter kiss, like mixing one poison with another.
The closer they drew, the more isolated they felt, yet they couldn’t part.
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“The more bitter something is, the more addictive it becomes.”
The first time he kissed her, it was filled with defiance and curiosity. Afterward, it became an experiment to see if the same poison would still have an effect. At some point, their kisses began to melt into something else entirely.
Would their relationship ultimately lead to poison or medicine? Not knowing was precisely why, for now—
“Let me do it again.”
“Hmph, you always act like you’re stealing it.”
Those who poison will inevitably be poisoned.
And so, the one who steals must, in turn, be stolen from.
