“You two, stand guard outside,” Shen Tinghe instructed.
“I’ll go in and take a look.”
Qing Lan and Qing Dai exchanged a glance, bowed, and replied, “Yes.”
Shen Tinghe pushed the door open and walked to the bedside. She lifted the gauze curtain and saw Ji Yunzhan lying unconscious on the bed.
The fine silk skirt had been torn to shreds, scattered carelessly by the bedside. Only a water-red undergarment barely clung to her body, exposing her fair skin and delicate collarbone.
Du Yixian had been ruthless enough.
Shen Tinghe casually grabbed an outer robe hanging nearby and gently draped it over Ji Yunzhan.
She sat down by the bed and placed her fingers on Ji Yunzhan’s wrist. The pulse was deep, slow, and weak—a clear sign of being drugged with knockout drops.
Shen Tinghe was no stranger to this.
In her previous life, she had been frail and sickly, abandoned by her family, and spent twenty years in hospitals.
Long illness had made her a doctor. Driven by sheer resilience, she taught herself exceptional medical skills, surpassing even many formally trained physicians.
After transmigrating to this world, she had extensively studied the medical texts treasured in her family’s collection. Combining that knowledge with her past life’s expertise, her medical skills rivaled those of the imperial physicians in the Imperial Hospital.
She took the seemingly ordinary silk sachet tied at her waist and gently waved it under Ji Yunzhan’s nose.
This sachet was personally crafted by her, filled with various herbs to refresh the mind, detoxify, and calm the nerves—an essential item she carried with her when traveling.
Sure enough, within moments, Ji Yunzhan’s eyelashes began to flutter faintly. A weak groan escaped her throat, and she opened her eyes.
As consciousness returned, Ji Yunzhan first looked around in confusion, then glanced down at her disheveled clothing.
She let out a sharp scream: “Ah—!”
Ji Yunzhan struggled to sit up but found her body weak and limp, without even the strength to lift her hand.
She could only writhe helplessly, her eyes filled with terror and humiliation.
Shen Tinghe, however, did not look at her. Instead, she turned and walked to the table, pouring some herbs from the sachet into a teacup.
Her voice was cool and detached: “You were drugged with knockout drops. The effects haven’t worn off yet, so it’s natural you feel weak and unable to get up.”
Lying on the bed, Ji Yunzhan stared fixedly at Shen Tinghe’s back. Her eyes were filled with venomous resentment and bitterness, almost burning with intensity.
Of course, she knew it wasn’t Shen Tinghe who had harmed her.
She even knew it was Shen Tinghe who had saved her.
But the more this was the case, the more overwhelming the hatred in Ji Yunzhan’s heart became. Why? Why did Shen Tinghe get to have everything?
A top-tier family background, breathtaking beauty, and even the Crown Prince—whom she herself had secretly adored since childhood, cherishing him in her heart for so many years—had become Shen Tinghe’s fiancé.
Ji Yunzhan believed she was no less than Shen Tinghe.
Yet, she ended up with nothing, while Shen Tinghe effortlessly possessed everything she had ever dreamed of.
And now, in such a wretched and humiliating state, it was Shen Tinghe who had ultimately saved her.
An indescribable jealousy and madness instantly seized Ji Yunzhan’s heart.
She felt as if all the blood in her body was boiling at that moment, burning away her last shreds of reason.
If only Shen Tinghe disappeared… If only Shen Tinghe were gone…
Then she, Ji Yunzhan, would become the foremost noble lady in the capital.
By then, everything Shen Tinghe possessed, including the Crown Prince, could be hers.
Once this thought took root, it grew wildly like weeds.
She had no idea where the strength came from, but driven by sheer determination, she forced herself up from the bed, grabbed the nearest heavy object, and walked up behind Shen Tinghe.
Shen Tinghe had just prepared a cup of warm water to help counteract the effects of the drug. As she turned around to hand it to Ji Yunzhan, a flash of ruthlessness gleamed in Ji Yunzhan’s eyes. Lifting the heavy brass candlestick, she swung it down toward the back of Shen Tinghe’s head.
But her strength was insufficient—the blow landed only on Shen Tinghe’s neck.
A dull thud echoed.
Shen Tinghe had no time to react. A sharp pain shot through her neck, her vision went black, and she collapsed limply to the floor.
The cup in her hand clattered to the ground, splashing warm water across her skirt.
Outside the door, Qing Lan and Qing Dai had been closely monitoring the commotion inside. At the sound of the thud and the shattering cup, their expressions changed drastically. Almost simultaneously, they burst through the door.
In an instant, they saw their young mistress lying unconscious on the floor, while Ji Yunzhan—who should have been unconscious—stood frozen nearby, a brass candlestick still clutched in her hand, a trace of murderous madness lingering in her eyes.
A surge of fury shot through Qing Lan. With a swift, sharp kick, she struck Ji Yunzhan squarely in the chest.
“Ugh—”
Ji Yunzhan let out a pained cry, flying backward like a ragdoll before crashing heavily into the bedpost. She too lost consciousness, the candlestick clattering to the floor beside her.
“Young mistress!”
Qing Dai immediately knelt down, carefully lifting Shen Tinghe’s upper body. She checked for breath beneath Shen Tinghe’s nose, then quickly pressed her philtrum.
After what felt like an eternity, Shen Tinghe’s eyelids fluttered open a sliver, her consciousness still hazy.
Instinctively, she raised a hand to touch the throbbing pain at the back of her neck, sucking in a sharp breath. “Hiss—”
Her gaze slowly focused, settling on the unconscious Ji Yunzhan not far away. In that moment, Shen Tinghe’s eyes turned icy cold.
All traces of pity vanished, replaced by a frigid resolve.
She truly should have known better than to show kindness to such a person.
For those who harmed her or her family, Shen Tinghe would show no further mercy.
A glint of severity flashed in her eyes. Struggling against her dizziness, she instructed Qing Lan, “Strip Ji Yunzhan’s clothes and put her back on the bed.”
“Qing Lan, stay here and watch for Li Ke’s arrival. Then go find Mother and tell her everything that happened. Let her handle this.”
Qing Lan and Qing Dai exchanged a glance, understanding their mistress’s intention.
They worked quickly, dragging Ji Yunzhan back onto the bed.
Qing Lan remained behind, while Qing Dai carefully supported Shen Tinghe. “Young mistress, let’s leave through the back door.”
Shen Tinghe nodded, leaning on Qing Dai as she stumbled out of the room through the rear exit.
As soon as she settled into the carriage waiting outside, the dizziness and pain from the blow washed over her.
Leaning against the soft carriage wall, her vision darkened once more, and she lost consciousness again.
Qing Lan waited outside the room. Before long, unsteady footsteps approached from a distance.
Li Ke staggered over, reeking of alcohol. He swayed as he pushed open the slightly ajar door. In his drunken haze, he only vaguely glimpsed a figure on the bed.
But his mind was too muddled to think. He didn’t even make it to the bed before collapsing onto the floor.
Expressionless, Qing Lan dragged and half-carried the heavily intoxicated Li Ke onto the bed, pulling a thin quilt over him haphazardly.
She examined it carefully for a moment, ensuring no flaws were visible, then silently closed the door and turned to walk briskly toward the front hall.
In the warm chamber of the front hall, Lady Shen was chatting leisurely with several noblewomen, her fingers gently turning a string of Eastern pearl prayer beads, her expression calm and unruffled.
Qing Lan recounted the events to Lady Shen’s personal maid, Yanshu.
Yanshu’s face paled slightly but quickly returned to normal. She curtsied and leaned close to Lady Shen’s ear to report.
Upon hearing this, Lady Shen’s expression remained unchanged, revealing nothing unusual to others, but a sharp glint flashed briefly in her otherwise gentle eyes.