“Your Highness, forgive this servant’s incompetence,” Physician Li reported. “I detect no illness. The gentleman’s pulse is steady and normal. At most, there is slight internal heat—cooling remedies will suffice.”
The Third Prince trusted Physician Li.
If no ailment could be found, then these abnormalities must be Mu Xueshi’s own contrivance. Perhaps half a month of torment had finally taught this pampered nobleman to bend the knee.
While he pondered, Physician Li took his leave.
Looking down, the prince found Mu Xueshi already sprawled upon the desk, fast asleep.
His long lashes lay like black feathered fans against skin white as snow. His rosy lips parted slightly; he smacked them once, then puffed his cheek and turned his face to the other side.
Even his sleeping posture had changed.
So it was not an act?
Had those days of terror truly broken him?
The prince lowered his eyes, disdain flickering within. He had imagined Mu Xueshi resilient. Yet mere days had reduced him to submission.
If so—
What amusement remained?
The moment Mu Xueshi slept, the chamber fell into utter stillness, broken only by his breathing.
This was the Third Prince’s private residence—Qingyun Palace—situated within a secluded courtyard bestowed upon him by imperial favor, known as Qinyi Courtyard.
Two small towers faced one another within the courtyard, separated by a grand circular flower pond shaped like a compass. Rare blossoms filled it—some unseen elsewhere in the empire. Their mingled fragrance formed a singular aroma said to strengthen the body and cure hidden ailments.
When the breeze stirred, that scent drifted beyond palace walls. Many ministers, consorts, and princes had sought entry after catching its perfume—yet all were refused.
Only the Third Prince’s confidants and childhood attendants were permitted within.
Save one exception.
The Emperor himself.
Now Mu Xueshi had joined that select circle.
The prince had intended to return him to Linhan Palace—the place of his former confinement—once he awoke. But in his present state, he could only be left here a few days longer. When his mind cleared, judgment would follow.
Linhan Palace had once been the retreat of Consort Mu for quiet cultivation. Recently, however, strange happenings plagued it. Servants whispered that at the stroke of midnight, a woman’s weeping echoed through its halls—pitiful and resentful as a wronged spirit.
Consort Mu, frail in health and newly devoted to prayer, had soon fallen ill and retreated to her own chambers, Muyan Pavilion, where she now lay bedridden.
The thought stirred the prince.
It had been days since he paid respects.
Cold though he was, propriety remained.
Accompanied by Eunuch Tai’an and Su Ruhan, the Third Prince walked to Muyan Pavilion.
At the corridor’s entrance, the attending eunuch announced his arrival within. Though weak, Consort Mu insisted on rising. Supported by her maid, she moved step by trembling step toward the door.
Futile Devices Scans 
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