Chapter 95

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

Even though it was the Spring Festival, the palace was deathly silent.

Music was not played for fear of disturbing the emperor’s health, and only the red decorations fluttered emptily in the wind.

The emperor himself did not emerge from his chambers, and only the imperial physicians took turns visiting, leaving with bowed heads in an endless cycle.

Emperor Diao was weakening from increasingly severe headaches.

The horns on his forehead had become misshapen, branching out as they continued to grow.

Lately, even the sunlight streaming through the windows caused him unbearable pain, so the windows of his chamber were covered with drapes. Even lying down made his skull creak, preventing him from sleeping, and if he tried to rise, the weight of his horns made his head tilt, bringing excruciating pain and intense dizziness.

“Is there… no stronger medicine?”

“…I’m afraid not, Your Majesty.”

“That will do. Leave me.”

The emperor spoke in a faint breath.

Even the most skilled imperial physician had exhausted all options.

The dosage of his medicine had only increased, yet none of it could counteract the poison coursing through his body. Frustrated, the emperor swept the medicine from the table.

“Where has Cai Feiling gone…? Why has she not been found?”

Four days had passed since Cai Feiling’s disappearance.

Was she kidnapped, or—
A worst-case scenario crossed his mind.
Could she have discovered that he had poisoned the previous emperor?

No, impossible, he shook his head.
The only ones who knew the truth were himself and the empress.

“…I must be growing weak.”

The emperor groaned as he lay back down on his bed.

“…Your Majesty.”

At the sound of wheels rolling and a bell-like voice, the emperor spoke up.

“Xinhua, you’ve come. Stay by my side.”

Even the empress’s smile felt like a ray of light piercing through the darkness of his chamber. Xinhua wheeled herself closer to his bedside.

“You poor thing. Shall I sing for you? Just for you.”

“Yes… Sing for me.”

The emperor pressed his cheek against Xinhua’s motionless legs and closed his eyes.

She nodded and, stroking his hair, began to sing.

A pure, crystalline melody flowed from her lips, filling the chamber.
Even a canary could not sing so beautifully.

“A canary, hm…”

As if to distract himself from the pain, the emperor spoke softly.

“A long time ago, I kept canaries. I chose only those with broken legs or underdeveloped wings. The bird sellers must have thought me quite eccentric. Yet, despite their crippled legs and wings that could not lift them into the sky, they chirped so sweetly in their cages. Feeding them and decorating their cages with splendor—those moments comforted me.

Since childhood, I was shunned in the palace, unwanted by anyone… but the canaries were different. They needed me, regardless of my lineage or talent.”

He had cages adorned with lapis lazuli crafted and rare fruits imported from distant lands. He spared no expense for his beloved canaries.

Xinhua paused her song and smiled.

“Oh my, then I must be your canary now, aren’t I?”

The emperor’s eyes softened in agreement.

“…Spending time and wealth on them, I sometimes felt as if I were not the one keeping the canaries, but rather, they were keeping me. And that feeling… I adored it.”

A sigh of enjoyment escaped him at the memory of a pleasure only he could understand.

“But never have I seen a canary as beautiful as you.”

Meeting her had changed his world.

She had taught him what happiness was. What love was.

The emperor had visited nearly every consort in the harem and shared a bed with them.
Yet Xinhua was the only one he had never touched.

His love for her was not of that nature.

For a while, he listened, entranced by her song. Then, out of nowhere, he murmured:

“I saw it during the solar eclipse… A qilin, with my own eyes.”

Xinhua fell silent at the unbelievable words.

“I know. Such a thing should be impossible. The qilin should have perished the night I executed Suomon.”

Emperor Diao knew the truth—
That the qilin had died with Suomon, never acknowledging him.

But that was in the past.

“The qilin’s corpse…”

With trembling fingers, he traced Xinhua’s lips.

“…You consumed it.”

His fingers, slick with the moisture of her lips, withdrew.

“That’s right. But it was just an empty shell. The qilin’s soul was reborn as a phoenix… and now, it slumbers within Cai Feiling.”

“Then… is this a curse? Am I going to die?”

Xinhua lowered her lashes and smiled again.

“Curse or not, humans all die in the end.”

“I see… Yes, that’s true.”

Death was the great equalizer.

Whether talented or talentless, all would become corpses and return to the earth.
The arrogant feared death and tried to escape it—some drank mercury, others sought immortals.

But the inevitability of death had always been a strange comfort to Emperor Diao.

“Death itself is fine… but suffering—I cannot bear it.”

He recalled the previous emperor’s agonizing end,
his soul shattered yet his life cruelly prolonged.

And it was he who had poisoned him into that state.

Perhaps because of that, more than anything, he feared such an end for himself.

“Xinhua, I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

His voice trembled as though he were clinging to a god.

“If I should die…”

A plea, barely above a whisper.

“Devour me. Every part of me.”

A hint of red peeked between her lips as she curved them into a smile.

Leaning over, she kissed his forehead—
as if she were about to bite into him.

“Of course. I will eat you. Every last bit… even your soul.”