The chamber lay quiet beneath the dim glow of the palace lamps, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. Outside, the winter night pressed heavily against the carved lattice windows, but within the room, the silence was thick and tense. Bai Wan knelt beside the bed, her slender fingers cautiously touching the large swelling on the forehead of Prince Ning (Ning Wang — a hereditary imperial prince, one of the highest noble ranks in the empire). The bump was unmistakably prominent, rising beneath his skin like an accusation.
For a fleeting moment, Bai Wan pursed her lips. It really wasn’t her fault. After all, in such a life-and-death moment, anyone would instinctively defend themselves. Moreover, over the past few days, she had already become quite practiced at handling unexpected situations. Experience, as they say, made perfect. With practiced composure, Bai Wan quietly removed the bamboo hairpin from her grasp and slid it back into her hair bun—a simple yet sturdy bamboo hairpin (a common hair ornament worn by women, often used to secure elaborate hairstyles in historical Chinese attire) that had unfortunately served as her weapon moments earlier.
Then she quickly grabbed the quilt and wrapped Prince Ning tightly within it, tucking the blankets around him with almost exaggerated care.
Under her breath, she whispered several soft apologies. “Sorry… sorry… forgive me…” Yet even after murmuring those words, Bai Wan did not feel reassured. Raising her hands, she lightly slapped the prince’s cheeks a few times.
Not satisfied, she rubbed his face vigorously with both palms. Only when the pale, lifeless hue slowly returned to a faint shade of healthy color did she finally stop. Now, at least, his complexion no longer looked suspicious. If someone glanced at him, nothing would appear out of the ordinary. All of this had been done purely out of instinct, driven by panic. Only after completing these frantic actions did Bai Wan belatedly realize just what kind of earth-shattering catastrophe she might have caused.
Her legs immediately went weak. With a soft thud, Bai Wan collapsed onto the ground beside the bed. She stared blankly at Prince Ning’s face.
The once imposing and dignified nobleman—whose authority could command armies and influence the court—now lay unconscious before her, his expression pale and haggard, his dark brows slightly furrowed even in sleep. For a long moment, Bai Wan could only stare.
Then suddenly— The door burst open. “Your Highness! What happened—” The voice belonged to Mo Xia (personal maidservant assigned to attend Bai Wan within the prince’s residence; in noble households, maids often addressed their master as ‘Your Highness’ when serving a prince). Mo Xia rushed inside in a flurry of alarm. However, the moment her eyes landed on Bai Wan— More precisely, on the unmistakable red marks blooming along Bai Wan’s neck— Her entire face froze in shock.
For a heartbeat, Mo Xia stood there, stunned and horrified. Then, without another word, she turned and ran out of the room as though her robes had caught fire. Bai Wan had no memory of what happened afterward. Her mind felt muddled and heavy. She vaguely recalled someone entering the room again, speaking in hushed voices, placing something on the table… and then leaving just as quickly. Time passed slowly in a haze. By the time Bai Wan gradually recovered from her dizziness and lifted her head, she noticed several identical medicine bottles neatly arranged on the table.
Her vision swam slightly. Still dazed, she stared at them for a long time before slowly dragging herself across the room. One by one, she opened five or six bottles and brought them to her nose, sniffing carefully. The assortment was surprisingly comprehensive. There were hemostatic powders (traditional medicines used to stop bleeding), anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving ointments, blood-activating and stasis-removing medicine (herbal remedies traditionally used to promote circulation and disperse bruised blood), and even medicines used to dispel wind-cold and rheumatism (a concept in traditional Chinese medicine referring to ailments caused by cold or damp conditions).
Bai Wan eventually selected the bottle intended for treating bruises and sprains. Holding it tightly in her palm, she drifted back toward the bed like a wandering ghost. Without a word, she began applying the medicine to Prince Ning. Her consciousness remained hazy. At this moment, she was acting purely on instinct—guided only by the medical knowledge her teacher had drilled into her over the years. She had no energy to question why Mo Xia had brought such a strange assortment of unrelated medicines.
Using her fingertip, Bai Wan scraped out a small portion of the swelling-reducing ointment and absentmindedly applied it to the first bump on the prince’s head. Several days had already passed since the injury. Although the swelling had not entirely subsided, the critical treatment period had already passed. Applying medicine now would not make much difference. Still, since the bottle was already open, she might as well apply it.
Bai Wan sat cross-legged beside the head of the bed, her back resting against the cold wall. While mechanically applying the medicine, her thoughts drifted. Even in an unconscious state, this man had possessed such terrifying strength. If he were fully awake… How formidable would he be? The truth of her forced marriage (a political arrangement often imposed by imperial decree or family decision in noble households) would inevitably come to light sooner or later.
And when that happened, Prince Ning might very well punish her without even listening to her explanation. Therefore… It would be better to reveal her trump card first. If she could present something valuable enough, perhaps she would at least gain the right to negotiate. At present, the people within Prince Ning’s Residence (Wang Fu — the official mansion granted to a prince by imperial authority) regarded her as nothing more than a weak woman confined to her chambers. In their eyes, she was useless.
Naturally, no one took her seriously. Trying to appeal to emotions would be pointless. A man of Prince Ning’s status and power would hardly be moved by sentimental pleas—nor would he care for her appearance.
No.
What she needed was something tangible. Something that proved her worth. Her medical abilities were well known among the women of the inner courtyard (nei yuan — the secluded domestic quarters where female family members and attendants resided). But the servants and officials of the prince’s household knew nothing about them. Which meant— They could say whatever they wished about her skills. Although Bai Wan knew she might not be quite as skilled as the military physician (a doctor assigned to serve the army or high-ranking commanders) who had previously treated the prince…
Even that physician had failed to cure Prince Ning’s poison. In that regard, they were evenly matched. If she could successfully cure the prince…
Would that not count as atoning for her mistakes? At that time, whatever reward she wished to request would surely not be denied. Lost in her thoughts, Bai Wan could not help imagining the life that awaited her after everything was resolved. She would return to her hometown with her aunt[ Concubine mother.] Together, they would reopen a small medical clinic.
There will be no noble intrigues.
No princes.
No life-threatening disasters.
Just a quiet, peaceful life. The future seemed almost wonderfully bright. While daydreaming about her retirement, Bai Wan’s fingers remained pressed against the swelling on Prince Ning’s forehead for quite some time. Gradually, the faint redness that had returned to the man’s face faded away again. His complexion slowly turned pale. Bai Wan did not notice. After finishing with the ointment, she casually lifted the prince’s head and dropped it back onto the pillow. Then she opened another bottle—the medicine meant to activate blood and disperse bruising—and carefully applied it to the marks around her own neck.
The medical books her teacher had left behind were still at the Bai family residence (the natal household of Bai Wan). Sooner or later, she would need to return and retrieve them. Having roughly formed a plan, Bai Wan suddenly felt all her strength drain away. The fear she had been holding at bay finally faded beneath overwhelming exhaustion. Pulling her clothes tighter around herself, she crawled into the corner of the bed.
Her forehead burned with feverish heat. Seeking relief, she pressed it against the cool edge of the quilt.
The faint chill brought a moment of comfort. Bai Wan inhaled deeply, her chest rising sharply, before slowly releasing the breath. The room fell quiet once more. The warmth she had imagined for the future remained nothing more than a fragile illusion. Compared to that distant dream, the tragedy of her previous life and the helpless predicament of this one pressed down on her far more heavily, like an invisible weight crushing her chest.
Unable to bear it any longer, Bai Wan sighed deeply. Her voice, faint and hoarse, slipped out in a soft murmur. “Please… show mercy and give me a way out.” Her head throbbed painfully. Fever clouded her mind, blurring the boundary between past and present until the two seemed to overlap in a dizzying haze. Leaning weakly toward the bed, Bai Wan began talking endlessly into the ear of the man lying beside her. “Look how well I’ve taken care of you.” The room remained silent. Naturally, no one answered her. Yet Bai Wan paid no attention to the silence. As if speaking to herself—or perhaps pleading with fate—she continued rambling without pause.
“I work day and night without rest. Even if I haven’t done anything extraordinary… I’ve still worked very hard.”She sniffed quietly and rubbed her face against the edge of the blanket. “I had to keep watch over you… feed you water… make sure you didn’t swallow the wrong medicine. When you were cold, I tucked you in. When you were hot, I wiped the sweat from your face.” Her voice grew softer, almost aggrieved. “It really wasn’t easy…” She lifted her fingers weakly, counting her so-called achievements one by one. Unaware of it, the long fingers hanging at Prince Ning’s (Ning Wang — a hereditary imperial prince granted a princely title by the emperor) side twitched slightly.
Once.
Twice.
Then slowly, those fingers curled inward, forming a tight fist that gripped the blanket beneath him. Bai Wan felt unbearably hot. Yet despite the burning heat spreading through her body, a chill crept over her skin again and again. Gradually, her rambling voice faded. Her body shifted uncomfortably where she lay wedged between the wall and the broad frame of the man beside her. Slowly, she arched her back and pushed herself away, creating a small gap between them. Then she curled inward like a small animal seeking warmth, drawing the quilt tightly around herself. Instinctively, she moved toward the only source of warmth nearby.
Unknowingly, she pressed against a strong body. A faint medicinal fragrance lingered around him—clean, sharp, and strangely reassuring.
Bai Wan lowered her head slightly, breathing in that scent. Her heavy eyelids gradually drooped. Without realizing it, her head slipped down and came to rest on the man’s firm arm. And then— Darkness swallowed her completely. Outside the Bedchamber (Within the residence of Prince Ning — Wang Fu, the official mansion granted to a prince by imperial decree) A low voice broke the quiet. “She hasn’t asked about the medicine yet?”
The speaker was Fu Guanchen (chief steward and senior physician attached to Prince Ning’s household; a trusted subordinate responsible for medical oversight). Mo Xia stood nearby, frowning slightly. “Exactly, Lord Fu,” she replied quietly. “Why did you give me so many bottles?”
She hesitated, then added with mild confusion, “Her Highness the Princess’s neck is so slender. One bottle should have been enough.”
(“Her Highness the Princess” refers to Bai Wan’s formal title as the lawful wife of Prince Ning — Wang Fei, the principal consort of a prince.)
Fu Guanchen’s voice sharpened slightly. “Has she used them?” Mo Xia nodded. “It looks like she’s used two bottles already.” Then she sighed softly.
“The Princess is weak. Perhaps we should take over the night watch instead of letting her stay there.” Fu Guanchen turned his back, folding his hands behind him in thought. After a long pause, he muttered quietly to himself. “There were no labels on those bottles… yet she could identify them correctly.” His tone turned thoughtful. “Is that merely luck… or something else?”
Inside the West Wing Chamber a faint groan escaped Bai Wan’s lips. Slowly, painfully, she began to wake. The moment movement stirred within the room, the murmurs outside abruptly fell silent. Mo Xia watched Fu Guanchen depart down the corridor before turning and entering the chamber herself. She gently lifted the embroidered bed curtains.
“Your Highness, you’re awake.” Her voice was soft and respectful. Bai Wan rubbed her aching head and gave a faint response. Mo Xia raised the bed curtains fully and spoke with concern. “How are you feeling? Should I call the imperial physician?” (An imperial physician was a doctor formally attached to the imperial court and often dispatched to treat members of the royal family.) Bai Wan paused to sense her condition.
She was no longer shivering with cold. The fever had subsided considerably. Only her head continued to ache. Forcing a weak smile, she replied softly,
“I’m fine.”
She leaned back against the headboard of the bed, her mind still sluggish from fever. Her gaze followed Mo Xia as the maid moved back and forth around the room. Then suddenly— Her eyes fell upon the bright red quilt covering the bed. The color struck her like a bolt of lightning.
Bai Wan abruptly sat upright. The sudden movement sent a sharp wave of pain through the back of her head. Rubbing it instinctively, she exclaimed in shock,
“How did I get back here?!” Her voice rose in alarm.
“And where is His Highness?”
She clearly remembered falling asleep in Prince Ning’s bedchamber. Yet now she was lying in the west wing. Mo Xia calmly wrung out a hot towel and gently wiped Bai Wan’s face. Laughing lightly, she explained,
“Surely Your couldn’t Highness remembers?” She continued casually, “I went to check on you in the middle of the night and found you had rolled off the bed. You were burning with fever and completely unresponsive.” “So I carried you back here.” Bai Wan stared blankly. Her mind struggled to process the explanation. She had clearly been sitting upright, leaning against the wall. So how had she ended up lying on the floor?
Could it be that in her feverish state she had crawled down herself? But if she had crawled over… Her gaze flickered uneasily. She would have had to climb over Prince Ning. And she had no idea whether she might have crushed him while doing so. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed through her chest. Before she could untangle the matter further, another maidservant entered the room to report something. “The imperial physician has just left,” the maid said respectfully. “He prescribed new medicine and asked that it be prepared immediately.”
At those words, Bai Wan’s eyes brightened at once. She stretched her neck slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the prescription. But Mo Xia accepted the folded prescription calmly. Without even glancing at it, she tucked it into her sleeve. Then she turned to Bai Wan with a gentle smile. “The medicine is here, Your Highness.” Her tone became slightly hurried. “Please remember to drink it.” With that, Mo Xia quickly departed. Left alone, Bai Wan curled beneath the quilt.
Her eyes remained fixed on the bowl of medicine resting beside the bed. For a long, long time— She said nothing. Later That Night (Within Prince Ning’s residence) The hour had grown late. It was time for the household to retire. Tonight, Bai Wan did not insist on remaining in Prince Ning’s bedchamber. When Mo Xia heard that Bai Wan intended to rest instead, her relief was obvious.
“You should have rested earlier,” she said warmly.
“His Highness has all of us here to attend him.”
Bai Wan lowered her gaze quietly. She knew very well that most of the guards and attendants of Prince Ning’s Residence (Wang Fu) were stationed near the main hall, where the prince’s chamber was located. Within the entire residence, only Mo Xia treated her with the respect due to the prince’s lawful consort. To everyone else, she might as well not exist. Now that she had left Prince Ning’s side, she was even less likely to receive any attention from the servants. But…
That suited her perfectly. Bai Wan’s expression remained calm and composed. She politely bade farewell to those present and then returned alone to the quiet side hall (a smaller secondary residence within the princely estate)
Since the day she had entered the Wang Fu as the lawful consort of Ning Wang, Bai Wan had faithfully kept vigil beside him every night. Unless fever had driven her mind into delirium, she never once left his side. Yet tonight—without persuasion from anyone—she had voluntarily chosen to rest. To those watching from the shadows, this was far too unusual. High among the branches of an ancient locust tree within the courtyard, a figure crouched like a hawk poised over its prey.
It was Chi Jun. (Chi Jun — one of Ning Wang’s personal guards, known for his sharp temper and blunt speech, but fiercely loyal.) Balanced lightly upon the thick branch, he folded one leg beneath him while his keen gaze followed the retreating figure of Bai Wan disappearing along the corridor. His tone was certain. “This sudden behavior… something must be wrong.” Beside him, leaning lazily against another branch, stood Wei Han. (Wei Han — another of Ning Wang’s trusted guards; taciturn by nature yet gentle in temperament.)
Wei Han’s lips curved faintly with amusement. “Then go take a look,” he suggested lightly. Chi Jun fell silent for a moment. His brows knit together as he considered the proposal. Then he shook his head. “His Highness is more important.” His gaze turned toward the distant bedchamber where Ning Wang lay unconscious. “Let her go tonight.” None of them dared abandon their post. Not a single guard would gamble with the safety of their master.
For all they knew, this could be a diversion meant to lure them away. And the life of Ning Wang, a prince of immense military prestige and authority within the empire, could never be risked so lightly.
During the days she had spent inside the residence, Bai Wan had slowly come to understand the basic structure of Ning Wang’s household guard. There were several individuals who stood closest to Prince Ning . One of them was Wei Han, quiet and steady, rarely speaking yet always courteous. Another was Chi Jun, whose tongue was as sharp as a blade. His temper was fierce, his manner often harsh, and reason did not always guide his words. Then there was the most mysterious among them— A Wu.
(A Wu — the leader of Ning Wang’s secret shadow guards; such guards were elite operatives trained for covert protection and assassination.)
Bai Wan had never once seen him. She only knew his name through whispers among the servants. These men guarded Ning Wang like iron walls. They rarely left his side. And each time Bai Wan delivered medicine to him, servants and guards crowded nearby, making it impossible for her to examine anything carefully.
But tonight… The residence lay wrapped in silence. The hour was deep into the night. And for once, no eyes were fixed upon her. That meant she could quietly inspect something she had been wondering about— The discarded medicine dregs from the small kitchen behind the residence.
Not having the physician’s prescription did not mean she could not determine the ingredients. A trained physician could often recognize herbs simply from the residue left behind after boiling.
And Bai Wan possessed exactly such knowledge. Around midnight, the small side door of the mansion kitchen creaked open quietly.The night outside was heavy and dark. Thick clouds swallowed the moon, leaving only the faintest thread of pale light. A slender shadow moved along the wall of the corridor. It was Bai Wan. Her figure was wrapped in a cloak, the hood drawn low over her head. She held her breath as she walked. Every step was cautious. Finally, she reached the kitchen.
She paused. Her sharp gaze swept the surroundings.
No guards.
No servants.
Satisfied, she slipped inside. Using the faint moonlight filtering through the window lattice, her eyes searched the room carefully. Her gaze moved across the cooking tables… the medicine stove… the shelves lined with jars… Until finally— She spotted what she had been looking for.
In the corner stood a pile of discarded refuse, where the waste from boiled medicinal herbs had been thrown. Bai Wan crouched down.
At once, a pungent sour odor mixed with the bitter scent of medicine filled the air. The smell was unpleasant, even slightly rotten.
But Bai Wan ignored the filth entirely. She reached out without hesitation. Her fingers unwrapped the gauze bundles containing the boiled medicine dregs. Inside lay softened shavings of herbs that had already been simmered once in water. Bai Wan leaned closer, examining them carefully. Her eyes sharpened. She sorted through the pieces slowly, identifying textures and fragments by sight and scent.
Suddenly— A night breeze stirred through the grass outside. Rustle. The faint sound pierced the stillness.Bai Wan’s chest tightened instantly. Her heart began pounding violently. Without hesitation, she slipped behind a large water vat standing near the wall. (Water vats were large ceramic containers used to store clean water in kitchens and courtyards.) Her breathing slowed. Her eyes fixed sharply on the doorway. The silence stretched. Then— “Meow.” The soft cry echoed gently in the night. A small white cat slipped through the half-open door. The kitten’s fur was snow-white, glowing faintly in the dim moonlight.
It was the same cat that had climbed onto Bai Wan earlier. With elegant, light steps, it padded into the room. Bai Wan exhaled in relief. Watching the tiny creature, she could not help but feel a little helpless. “Little troublemaker…” she thought silently. But the kitten’s arrival reminded her of something important— She could not stay here any longer. Quickly, Bai Wan gathered herself. She removed a small portion of the herb residue and wrapped it inside her handkerchief.
Then she tucked it safely away. After that, she bent down and picked up the kitten. Drawing her cloak hood over her head once more, Bai Wan left the kitchen quietly. Her posture hunched. Her head lowered. Moving swiftly through the silent corridors, she disappeared into the darkness.
Within moments, her figure melted completely into the night. From the Shadows Behind a thick stone pillar near the kitchen entrance— A tall figure stepped out silently.
It was Fu Guanchen. (Fu Guanchen — chief physician and strategist within Ning Wang’s residence; a man responsible for both medical matters and advisory duties.) His gaze followed Bai Wan’s disappearing figure. His expression was unreadable. Calm. Deep. Unfathomable. After a moment, he pushed open the kitchen door and stepped inside. His eyes swept the room lightly. Then they settled on the corner where the refuse lay. The pile of discarded herbs had clearly been disturbed. Fu Guanchen stared at it quietly.
Just then, hurried footsteps approached from outside. “My lord!” A guard appeared at the doorway, breathing slightly fast.
“His Highness has awakened.”
For a brief instant— Fu Guanchen froze. Then his expression changed. Without another word, he turned sharply and rushed toward Ning Wang’s bedchamber, his robes fluttering behind him as he ran.
Author’s Note:
Daughter: Is she still alive? 😭
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