The journey back to the capital continued without pause.
Along the way, Qi Heng and Hu Wei split off from the main party; Gu Qinglu understood—they had taken the escort of the assassins on a separate route.
When they finally reined in at the Qinning Prince’s residence, Gu Qinglu took a long, serious look at the main gates.
The gate was tall and imposing, with armored soldiers stationed along its edges.
No wonder the forest team had gone all out—ordinary people simply could not get past this entrance.
“Your Highness, Princess Consort, the housemistress has prepared the meal,” a guard dismounted and came forward with the steward of the front courtyard.
Gu Qinglu snapped back to reality, glancing at the men carrying herbs and the basket she had used.
“Take the Princess Consort to the inner courtyard,” Xiao Xingcang waved his hand, spurring his horse through the gate toward the mansion.
As they reached the true entrance of the residence, the housemistress and maidens brought cloaks for them.
Seeing both the Prince and Princess Consort dismounting easily, they were probably unnecessary.
Noticing Gu Qinglu’s grimy state, the housemistress produced a fine cloth and began wiping her face, guiding her inward. “Princess Consort, bathe first, then eat.”
Xiao Xingcang, walking ahead, glanced back, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Little flower cat.
Gu Qinglu’s eyes flicked to him; for a moment, it made her fume. If it weren’t for preventing someone from planting a poison on me, I wouldn’t have entered the mountains at all.
I’ll make him regret this when I start the acupuncture.
Gu Qinglu was decisive. After Xiao Xingcang returned to the main hall to bathe and eat, he went to the rear hall for acupuncture.
Outside, the housemistress and two maids lingered in the outer chamber, while muffled groans occasionally came from within.
The maids exchanged glances with the housemistress, silently withdrawing.
“Ugh…” Xiao Xingcang felt this session hurt more than usual, perhaps due to starting the meridian circulation too early.
Another needle, and the pain shot through him like a drill.
“Ugh…” another suppressed groan escaped him.
Gu Qinglu, holding the heated needle dipped in medicine, spoke earnestly, though inwardly she was delighted: “Relax. Don’t grip so tightly—hard to insert needles in the back otherwise.”
There, see? I can make you smile… or scream.
Out of the corner of his eye, Xiao Xingcang saw her pick up the thickest, longest needle.
His abdominal muscles twitched. “Too painful… Princess Consort, could we not—”
Gu Qinglu slightly turned her head, not looking at him. “The pain was due to residual poison traveling first. Now the medicine’s had time to work. There’s only this one thick needle left. Endure it.”
Indeed, the poison inside him was moving faster than before.
Having said that, what could Xiao Xingcang do? He closed his eyes, avoiding her needles.
After finishing the last needle, Gu Qinglu turned toward the pharmacy to prepare more medicines, the housemistress following.
The rear hall fell silent, with only Xiao Xingcang inside, eyes closed.
He contemplated how to approach her regarding the palace visit; only Gu Qinglu could get close enough to the Qi family lady.
This selection could not go wrong. The royal banquet must be flawless.
With Gu Qinglu present, he felt confident the event would proceed without error.
After some time, she returned from the pharmacy in an autumn robe. The housemistress, fearing she’d be cold, had draped a cloak over her shoulders.
Entering the rear hall, Gu Qinglu soaked her hands in a basin of strong wine, instructing the housemistress to bring a pot of plant ash.
Xiao Xingcang frowned.
He needed to settle matters before the lingering nausea and dizziness returned. “Princess Consort, after returning to the residence, how long will you remain indoors?”
Gu Qinglu dried her hands and glanced at him, assuming he worried about residual poison. “About ten days to two weeks. The next acupuncture session is on the eighth day of winter. You come yourself; I’ll prepare the decoctions and have the housemistress deliver them. Don’t practice swordsmanship for too long.”
Xiao Xingcang nodded slightly, relaxing, allowing her to take the needles. “There’s a palace banquet on the twelfth day of winter—you must attend.”
Gu Qinglu continued preparing needles without pause. Though nominally married, some occasions were unavoidable. “Alright.”
So straightforward? Xiao Xingcang had expected more coaxing or negotiation, but having gauged her love of wealth, he knew she could be persuaded easily.
As she removed the last needles from his back and chest, her long fingers pressed at his acupoints to distract him.
“Are there any formalities I should know?” she asked. “I can learn from the housemistress during my free time.”
Xiao Xingcang relaxed, but before he could reply, a sharp pain shot through his chest—an involuntary surge of force—and he spat a mouthful of dark blood.
The pungent, foul odor returned.
Gu Qinglu casually wiped the corners of his mouth with a cloth. The housemistress beamed, but Gu Qinglu just dabbed it and turned toward the lamp.
In the end, the housemistress had to attend to Xiao Xingcang.
“The blood’s lighter; the toxin is slowly dissipating,” Gu Qinglu observed, examining the cloth.
Xiao Xingcang rubbed his mouth, hand on his forehead, eyes closed, slowly recovering.
From her perspective, he was magnificent—long fingers, black hair cascading over his face, dressed in a dark navy velvet robe.
She retrieved a small box from the shelf, placing it on the side table. “Here’s the abdominal insect poison I promised. Once you recover, return quickly; don’t catch cold.”
With that, she turned back to her room.
The housemistress followed, cloak in hand: “Princess Consort, the Prince’s cloak—”
Gu Qinglu, ignoring her, quickened her pace and slipped inside.
Xiao Xingcang, having recovered, looked at the box on the table and the housemistress’s words, twitching the corner of his mouth.
Even if she wanted to stay, she wouldn’t attend to him personally.
He picked up the box, stood, and glanced at the dimly lit inner room.
“Princess Consort is tired, young; I’ll teach her gradually,” the housemistress murmured, unfolding the cloak.
Xiao Xingcang said nothing, choosing not to dampen her spirit, and slightly bowed in acknowledgment.
“Prepare winter clothes to her liking.” He stepped onto the corridor, turning back to give instructions quietly.
The housemistress followed behind.
Outside the main hall, shadows stirred.
Seeing Xiao Xingcang, a figure stepped forward from hiding. “Your Highness, the envoy sent to Southern Jiang has returned. Our men have already departed the border. News likely won’t arrive until March of the new year.”
Xiao Xingcang murmured in acknowledgment, moving inside the house. “Keep watch on Southern Jiang. If anyone is injured or suspicious activity is detected, return immediately.”
He wasn’t concerned about the northern border; news of his passing would reach there, and the cunning A’sina would certainly investigate.
The death of the Qinning Prince would be a national tragedy—northern and western provinces would observe mourning.
If merchants reported his death but the border didn’t raise flags, the truth and falsehood would blur.
Based on his knowledge of A’sina, any southern movement would occur in May next year.
Given the mediocrity of the border generals over the past two years, they’d only suffer blows.
By then, his great-nephew would remember his uncle.
As for Southern Jiang, with a master of poison in hand, if subordinates encountered anomalies, they could report directly.
“Understood,” said the masked man, bowing. “The young master at the National Uncle’s residence recently received three unfamiliar men.”
Xiao Xingcang paused at the folding screen, thinking. Then he raised a hand: “Do not alert them. Continue to observe discreetly.”
The man bowed again and withdrew.