Liu Tree Village
Xiao Guiwan was squatting in the courtyard in front of a freshly tilled vegetable patch.
She had just watered the newly purchased seeds with spirit spring water from her space. Her mood couldn’t have been better.
Mu Hanhe was splitting firewood nearby. His axe rose and fell in a steady rhythm, each strike cleanly splitting the logs in two.
After finishing one pile, he glanced over and saw Xiao Guiwan crouching by the garden, seemingly lost in thought, a faint smile lingering at the corners of her lips.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Xiao Guiwan blinked at him.
“I’m in a good mood. The sky is blue, the breeze is gentle, and my husband is handsome. Isn’t that worth smiling about?”
Mu Hanhe lowered his eyes and continued chopping wood.
The tips of his ears turned red.
Xiao Guiwan stood up and brushed the dirt from her hands. Just as she was about to go inside for a drink of water, she heard footsteps approaching outside the courtyard.
Not just one person.
Several.
Village Chief Wang called from beyond the gate.
“Daniu’s wife! Someone’s here to see you!”
Xiao Guiwan walked over and found a maid dressed in fine silk standing outside, accompanied by two servants.
She recognized the maid immediately.
It was Cui’er, Xiao Shuwan’s personal maid.
The moment Cui’er saw Xiao Guiwan, she looked her up and down with undisguised contempt.
Today, Xiao Guiwan was dressed in a faded blue cotton dress. Her hair was casually tied into a bun, and her hands were still stained with soil.
She looked every bit the ordinary village wife.
“Second Miss,” Cui’er said in a shrill voice, deliberately emphasizing the title, “Her Highness the Princess sent this servant to check on you. She was worried you might be having a difficult time living in the countryside.”
With that, she gestured to one of the servants, who handed over a cloth bundle. Cui’er stuffed it into Xiao Guiwan’s hands.
“Her Highness said that, after all, you’re sisters. Although you’ve married into… a place like this, she still worries about you. These are some clothes Her Highness used to wear. They’re a little old, but still far better than what country folk wear. Keep them so you won’t disgrace the Xiao family.”
Xiao Guiwan opened the bundle.
Inside were several sets of worn clothing.
The tailoring was elegant, but the collars and cuffs were visibly frayed, and one dress even bore a stain that had clearly never washed out.
It was humiliation.
Pure and simple.
At some point, Mu Hanhe had quietly come to stand behind Xiao Guiwan.
He said nothing.
He merely glanced at the clothes, and a trace of coldness flashed through his eyes.
Xiao Guiwan looked down at the garments.
Then she smiled.
It wasn’t an angry smile.
Instead, it looked genuinely pleased.
“Please thank Elder Sister for me. She really went to a lot of trouble.”
There wasn’t the slightest hint of resentment in her voice.
Cui’er froze.
She had expected rage.
Instead, Xiao Guiwan accepted the old clothes with a smile… and even thanked them?
Xiao Guiwan went inside and soon returned carrying a small clay jar, sealed with coarse cloth and tied with hemp string.
“This is homemade loquat syrup. Please take it back for my sister to try.”
She handed the jar to Cui’er with an exceptionally sincere smile.
“Oh, and please pass along one message.”
She lowered her voice slightly.
“Has Prince Ning’s cough gotten worse again? Tell my sister to remember this—Prince Ning must not take fritillaria. The more he takes, the worse he’ll cough.”
Cui’er accepted the jar, completely baffled.
She mumbled an acknowledgment before leaving with the servants.
Xiao Guiwan stood at the gate, watching them disappear down the dirt road.
Only then did the smile slowly fade from her face.
Leaning against the gateframe with his arms crossed, Mu Hanhe looked at her.
“Prince Ning can’t take fritillaria?” he asked evenly.
Turning to him, Xiao Guiwan looked up, the afternoon sunlight reflected in her bright almond-shaped eyes.
“I made it up,” she replied cheerfully.
Mu Hanhe studied her for a couple of moments before saying nothing further.
More and more, he felt that this wife of his was anything but ordinary.
When Cui’er returned to Prince Ning’s estate, she presented the clay jar to Xiao Shuwan and faithfully recounted everything she had seen in Liu Tree Village.
“Second Miss accepted the clothes with a smile and thanked Your Highness. She also asked this servant to pass along a message.”
“What message?”
Xiao Shuwan was leisurely sipping tea.
“She said… Prince Ning must not take fritillaria. The more he takes it, the worse his cough will become.”
Xiao Shuwan’s hand froze.
Tea sloshed over the rim and spilled onto the back of her hand.
She abruptly set the cup down, her expression changing dramatically.
“How does she know I’ve been giving Prince Ning fritillaria?”
Cui’er stepped back in fright.
“I… I don’t know…”
Xiao Shuwan shot to her feet and paced around the room.
She had been extremely careful.
Cui’er had secretly purchased the powdered medicine, and each dose had been mixed into the prince’s medicine by Xiao Shuwan’s own hands.
Not even the imperial physicians knew.
So how could Xiao Guiwan—a concubine-born daughter married off to a remote village dozens of miles away—possibly know?
A coincidence?
Could she really know medicine?
Thinking back to her previous life, Xiao Guiwan had indeed possessed medical knowledge.
But she had grown up in the countryside.
Where could she possibly have learned it?
After pondering for a long while without finding an answer, Xiao Shuwan eventually dismissed the matter.
A peasant’s wife… what real abilities could she have?
She had probably gotten lucky.
Or perhaps she’d picked up some folk remedy from a wandering doctor.
“Ignore her,” Xiao Shuwan waved dismissively.
“Keep adding the fritillaria. Prince Ning’s cough has seemed better these past two days. That proves the prescription is working.”
Cui’er opened her mouth as though wanting to say something.
But seeing Xiao Shuwan’s expression, she quietly swallowed her words.
That night, as usual, Xiao Shuwan mixed powdered fritillaria into Prince Ning’s medicine before personally bringing it to him.
After taking one sip, Prince Ning frowned.
The taste seemed slightly different from before.
Still, he said nothing and drank the entire bowl.
An hour later—
Xiao Shuwan was removing her makeup in her own courtyard when sudden commotion erupted from the main residence.
Screams.
Hurried footsteps.
The sound of shattered teacups.
And mixed among them…
violent, heart-rending coughing.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Without even changing clothes, she hurried over.
The prince’s bedchamber was in complete chaos.
Prince Ning was half-collapsed over the bedside, one hand gripping the bedpost so tightly his knuckles had turned white while the other covered his mouth.
His body was bent over like a shrimp.
Each cough sounded as though it would shake his lungs right out of his chest.
The deep, terrifying sound echoed through the room.
Then—
Pfft!
A mouthful of dark crimson blood sprayed across the floor, splattering into a foul-smelling blossom.
Prince Ning stared at the blood.
His eyes widened.
The agony on his face slowly transformed into furious rage.
“Imperial Physician! Summon the Imperial Physician!” a eunuch shrieked.
The physician arrived almost immediately.
An elderly doctor with snow-white hair stumbled into the room carrying his medicine chest.
The moment he saw the blackened blood on the floor, his face changed.
He knelt beside the prince and began taking his pulse.
The longer he examined him…
the paler he became.
Cold sweat covered his forehead.
“Your Highness…”
His voice trembled.
“This isn’t right… Your Highness’s pulse is abnormal. Someone has administered an excessively harsh medicine—and one entirely unsuited to your condition. It has forced the phlegm and blood stasis deep into the lungs. Had treatment been delayed any longer… Your Highness’s life would have been in danger!”
Silence instantly filled the chamber.
Prince Ning leaned weakly against the pillows, his chest heaving violently.
A sickly flush colored his pale face.
His gaze slowly swept across everyone present before finally stopping on Xiao Shuwan, who was trembling in the corner.
“The medicine.”
His voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.
Yet every word carried the chill of a blade.
“Who tampered with my medicine?”
No one dared speak.
Nanny Lu stepped forward, bowed, and answered expressionlessly.
“Your Highness, these past several days, every bowl of medicine has been personally delivered by Her Highness the Princess. No one else has handled it.”
The color instantly drained from Xiao Shuwan’s face.
Prince Ning’s gaze coiled around her like a venomous snake.
“You.”
There was no question.
No accusation.
Just that single word.
As though he had already passed judgment.
“Your Highness… I… I only wanted to help you…”
Xiao Shuwan dropped to her knees, trembling uncontrollably.
“I heard that fritillaria treats coughs, so I added only a little…”
The imperial physician gasped.
“Fritillaria? At His Highness’s current condition, fritillaria must never be used! It only traps the phlegm deeper within the lungs. The blockage grows worse and worse until the airways are completely obstructed. By then, not even immortals could save him!”
Xiao Shuwan’s mind exploded.
She suddenly remembered Xiao Guiwan’s message.
“Prince Ning must not take fritillaria. The more he takes it, the worse he’ll cough.”
She hadn’t been making it up.
But Xiao Shuwan no longer had time to think.
Prince Ning had already risen from the bed.
He was painfully thin.
Thin as dried firewood.
Yet when he stood…
it felt as though a mountain were bearing down upon her.
Step by step, he walked toward her.
His footing was unsteady.
Yet every step landed heavily upon her heart.
Looking down at the kneeling Xiao Shuwan, his dark eyes burned with fury.
“Who gave you the courage?”
Xiao Shuwan prostrated herself on the floor, shaking violently.
“Your Highness… I truly only wanted to—”
Smack!
A sharp slap landed across her left cheek.
The blow sent her sprawling onto the floor.
Her ears rang.
Half her face instantly swelled, burning with pain.
Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth and dripped onto the gold-woven carpet.
“If you ever touch anything of mine again…”
Prince Ning spoke calmly, as though commenting on the weather.
“I’ll have your life.”
Turning away, he waved a hand at the imperial physician.
“Lock her up. Without my permission, she is not to leave her courtyard.”
Two elderly servants hauled Xiao Shuwan to her feet like a sack of grain and dragged her out of the main courtyard.
Her head spun.
Her swollen cheek left one eye nearly impossible to open.
Blood trickled down her chin, staining the pomegranate-red dress she had so carefully chosen.
Drop by drop.
Dark crimson.
As they dragged her through the covered corridor, every maid and eunuch lowered their heads.
No one looked at her.
No one pitied her.
Suddenly…
she thought of Xiao Guiwan.
She remembered her previous life.
Xiao Guiwan sitting in the Phoenix Palace, dressed in the empress’s robes—graceful, noble, the mother of the empire.
She remembered the message Xiao Guiwan had sent today.
The smile on her face had looked so sincere.
“Prince Ning must not take fritillaria. The more he takes it, the worse he’ll cough.”
She hadn’t sent that message to warn her.
She had sent it to tell her—
Even if I married a peasant… you’ll still never defeat me.
Xiao Shuwan was thrown back into her own courtyard.
The gate was locked from the outside.
She collapsed onto the icy ground, clutching her swollen face.
Her teeth ground together with audible clicks.
“Xiao… Guiwan…”
She forced the words through clenched teeth.
Every syllable dripped with venom.
“Just you wait.”
“I will never let you off.”
Outside, the night was dark.
The lanterns of Prince Ning’s estate swayed in the wind, casting eerie shadows across the grounds.
That night, Xiao Shuwan never slept.
She sat before the window, staring in the direction of Liu Tree Village.
Her eyes blazed with hatred.
Meanwhile…
Inside the shabby thatched cottage in Liu Tree Village, Xiao Guiwan was sleeping soundly in Mu Hanhe’s arms.
The lingering warmth from the stove still heated the room.
Their newly bought cotton quilt was thick and soft.
The man beside her held her in a broad, warm embrace.
She turned over in her sleep, burrowed her face deeper into Mu Hanhe’s chest, mumbled something incoherent, and drifted into even deeper slumber.
Mu Hanhe slowly opened his eyes.
Looking down at the woman in his arms, he gently pulled the quilt higher to cover the shoulder she had kicked exposed.
Moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating her fair, peaceful face.
She looked like a contented little cat.
He watched her quietly for a long moment.
Then he lowered his head and gently brushed a kiss against the top of her hair before closing his eyes once more.