The Spring Palace was bustling.
It was so vibrant, one might have mistaken it for the festivities of the spring festival. Word had it that the celebration was for the birth of Consort Xue Mei’s child, declared an occasion for the entire Spring Palace by Consort Li Sha.
Consort Li Sha’s surname was Yao, and her given name was Li Sha.
When Fei Ling visited Consort Xue Mei’s quarters, Consort Li Sha was already there to offer her congratulations.
Consort Li Sha exuded a youthful charm and grace. She was a delicate beauty, her figure adorned in layers of soft silk robes, with a draped stole over her shoulders, reminiscent of blooming double-flowered cherry blossoms.
Fei Ling and Lan Xin waited in the corridor until Consort Li Sha left.
Through the carved latticework of the red sandalwood screens, the lively voices of the two women inside could be heard.
“Let us all nurture and cherish this child as the Princess of the Spring Palace.”
“Your words are most gracious, Lady Li Sha.”
“If you require anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I’ve heard that Consort Xue Mei comes from a noble family of high status, but being so far from her homeland, it must be difficult to make requests or procure things as needed…”
In the corridor, an odd-looking eunuch, presumably Li Sha’s attendant, was also waiting for the conversation to end, much like Fei Ling. He was peculiar—his hair spiked in a jagged manner, and he wore a wolf-shaped mask that covered his face from nose to chin. Despite his lean frame, he was alarmingly tall, and his posture as he leaned against the wall with legs crossed gave no impression of refinement. A large sword hung from his waist.
It was unusual enough for someone of Consort Li Sha’s rank to have a eunuch in her retinue, but this one was especially strange. The eunuch cast a sharp glance at Fei Ling, his gaze almost hostile.
“That silver hair… you must be the physician girl.”
His voice was cracked and low.
“That is correct,” Fei Ling replied.
She wanted to ask more but held her tongue. As long as he served a consort, his rank was above hers. She bowed respectfully, yet she couldn’t shake the sense of malice in his stare.
(There’s something unpleasant about him.)
It wasn’t body odor but a deeper, more unsettling aura that seemed to emanate from him.
“I shall take my leave now. It’s chilly, so please take care of yourselves,” Consort Li Sha said as she exited the room. She smiled gently at the eunuch.
“Come, Guà Láng,” she called.
The eunuch, whom she had addressed as Guà Láng, nodded curtly and followed her. He seemed more like a bodyguard than an attendant.
“What a rude man! Calling such beautiful silver hair just ‘white hair,’ of all things,” Lan Xin fumed, puffing out her cheeks in indignation after they were gone.
Fei Ling calmed her and refocused her thoughts before entering Consort Xue Mei’s quarters. Camellias and sasanquas, hastily gathered two nights prior, still adorned the room, their petals unfaded.
“They haven’t even withered yet—it would be wasteful to replace them,” Consort Xue Mei said, smiling as she cradled her infant.
“How have you been feeling?” Fei Ling asked.
“I’m in perfect health. This little one feeds well and has cheeks like apples, don’t you think? Isn’t that right, Xing Rú?”
She caressed the infant’s cheeks with unadorned fingers.
“Xing Rú? What a beautiful name,” Fei Ling remarked.
“Yes, it was bestowed by His Majesty. I told him it was thanks to you that I could give birth without incident, and he said, ‘Then Xing Rú would be fitting.’ I hear the apricot is a symbol of doctors.”
“Good health cannot be achieved by physicians alone. It was your strength and Xing Rú’s vitality that made the recovery possible,” Fei Ling replied.
Though the child was not the long-awaited heir, Fei Ling was relieved to see the Emperor so overjoyed by her birth.
To say she hadn’t been surprised would be a lie.
(I had forgotten—Uncle has always been a man of deep compassion.)
She recalled how the Emperor had cherished his pet canaries. His chambers had been filled with birdcages, all housing injured or deformed canaries—ones with broken wings or cracked beaks. He had fed them by hand with chopsticks and doted on them tenderly.
There was an odd similarity between the disabled Empress Xin Hua and the injured canaries.
Ruling a nation required more than compassion alone.
Fei Ling had assumed she hadn’t been punished because her skills in detoxification were deemed necessary. But now, she wondered if familial affection had played a part.
(It was likely his compassion that gave him the strength to confront the former Emperor. Otherwise, gentle as Uncle was, he’d never have raised a sword against Father. That must have taken immense resolve. I must repay that kindness.)
“Would you like to hold her?”
“May I?”
Fei Ling carefully took the infant from Consort Xue Mei. The child’s warmth was tangible—a weight that symbolized life itself.
“No matter what happens, I will protect her,” Fei Ling vowed.
“Thank you,” Xue Mei said, her smile blossoming like a flower.
In this moment, Xue Mei seemed utterly content. Fei Ling hesitated to bring up what she had to say. But if left unresolved, she wouldn’t be able to protect the princess.
“…Have you investigated who poisoned you, Consort Xue Mei?”
“Well…”
A shrill voice suddenly rang out from the adjoining room, interrupting their conversation.
“You’re the one who poisoned Lady Xue Mei, aren’t you?!”
