Crown Prince Jun Yixuan was the first to break the silence, clapping his hands in applause as he stared admiringly at Su Jinyao. “Miss Su’s mastery of the qin is truly extraordinary—truly refreshing to the soul and impossible to put out of mind.” With that, he offered a few more approving claps.
At his lead, the surrounding guests broke into a chorus of enthusiastic applause and praise.
Even the Empress struggled to conceal her open admiration. Beaming, she addressed Su Jinyao, who stood at the center of the hall: “Your skill upon the qin is peerless, Miss Su, and your heart is as pure as jade. Even the Crown Prince, who is rarely known to bestow praise, speaks so highly of you. It is only fitting that I offer a proper reward.” Without waiting for the awed whispers of the crowd to settle, she unpinned the phoenix-engraved gold hairpin from her own hair and handed it to a nearby attendant.
Instructed by the Empress, the palace maid carried the glittering golden hairpin on a tray directly before Su Jinyao.
Dropping to her knees in a display of profound, startled humility, Su Jinyao lowered her head. “Your Majesty, this is far too precious, this subject’s daughter is utterly unworthy of such a gift.”
Seeing her remain so composed in the face of such dizzying favor, knowing precisely when to advance and when to yield, the Empress’s appreciation deepened further. She smiled warmly. “Rise and accept it, Miss Su. The moment I set eyes upon you, I felt a natural fondness. It is merely a trinket, take it.” She tossed a subtle glance toward the attendant, who promptly stepped forward to present the tray once more.
This time, Su Jinyao accepted the treasure, offered a second prostrate kowtouch of gratitude, and finally returned to her seat with a slightly floating step.
The episode instantly ignited a wave of bitter envy among the assembled noble daughters.
By now, everyone in the hall had caught onto the underlying current. It was abundantly clear that the Empress and the Crown Prince had effectively pre-selected Miss Su as the future Crown Princess.
Watching the scene unfold, Gu Ci felt a suffocating surge of helplessness against the currents of fate. Even as a transmigrator, were historical constants and major plot anchors entirely immutable?
Observing the profound despondency washing over Gu Ci’s features, Jun Yichen felt a sharp, stabbing ache ripple through his chest. He longed to reach out and ask whether Gu Ci harbored feelings for Su Jinyao. “A-Ci.”
Yet the moment he parted his lips to speak, a violent internal upheaval wrenched through him. A wave of iron-tasting blood surged up his throat, while an agonizing sensation, as though thousands of microscopic insects were gnawing relentlessly at his flesh and bone, ripped through his heart.
A cold jolt of panic seized him. Why must it flare up precisely now?
“What is it?” Sensing him call out, Gu Ci turned his head only to find Jun Yichen’s face drained of all color, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.
Alarmed, Gu Ci reached out to steady the prince’s swaying frame, asking with urgent anxiety, “Your Highness, are you alright?”
The sudden commotion inevitably drew the attention of the surrounding guests, including the Empress, who glanced coldly toward their gallery. “A-Ci, what is wrong with the Seventh Prince?” Taking in Jun Yichen’s state, a flicker of cruel satisfaction crossed her eyes. It seemed that particular poison remained just as potent as it had been a decade ago; having heard no reports issuing from the Seventh Prince’s quarters for so long, she had almost feared her scheme had miscarried.
Unwilling to waste another second, Gu Ci stood up and addressed the dais directly. “Your Highness is feeling unwell. I shall escort him back to rest immediately, and I beg Your Majesty’s gracious forgiveness.” Without waiting for a formal dismissal, he gained the Empress’s tacit consent and threw his arm around Jun Yichen, half-carrying the stricken prince out of the banquet hall.
Observing their hurried departure, Su Jinyao furrowed her brow in confusion. Having personally taken the prince’s pulse earlier that very day, she knew that while his constitution was somewhat depleted, it was by no means wretched enough to induce such sudden collapse.
Once they had cleared the threshold of the Hall of Fengyi, Gu Ci swept a sharp, vigilant gaze across their surroundings. Confirming that no prying eyes were trailing them, he smoothly hoisted Jun Yichen onto his back, vaulted into the air with a burst of lightness skill, and vanished from the spot.
By this time, a thin line of dark crimson had spilled past the corner of Jun Yichen’s lips. He bit down hard on his palm, fighting desperately to endure the agonizing onslaught.
With a few rapid, breathless leaps, Gu Ci carried him straight into the interior of the Seventh Prince’s residential hall.
Mebai, who had been quietly polishing his blade in the courtyard, felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight. Dropping his weapon, he sprinted forward to assist.
Together, the two men managed to settle the violently trembling prince onto the edge of the bed. Without a moment’s hesitation, Mebai darted behind a cabinet, retrieved a small porcelain vial, shook out a single white pill, and pressed it between Jun Yichen’s lips, following it up with a cup of cold tea to wash the medicine down.
Moments later, a violent convulsion racked Jun Yichen’s frame, and he spewed a dark mouthful of blood. Immediately following the purge, he began clawing frantically at his own garments, trying to tear them away in a frenzy of agony.
Suddenly, as if a final shred of consciousness pierced through the haze, he forced his torso upright. Desperate to preserve his last tattered remnants of dignity, he squeezed his eyes shut and rasped out in a raw, broken whisper, “Mebai, ask, Lord Gu to leave.”
Gu Ci felt as though his heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces. His eyes burning with hot tears, he stared at the wretched, agonizing spectacle before him.
A powerful impulse to pull the prince into his arms surged within him, but forcing himself to swallow the urge, he ultimately backed away.
He knew all too well that Jun Yichen possessed immense pride; the prince could never bear to be witnessed in such a shattered, humiliating state.
Stepping out past the chamber doors, Gu Ci sank down against the wood, sliding to the floor. He asked no questions, offered no demands, he simply sat there against the threshold through the endless span of the night.
From deep within the chamber, muffled, agonizing whimpers drifted out, accompanied by the dull thuds of a body colliding against furniture, persisting until the first gray light of dawn crept across the horizon and the sounds slowly subsided into quiet exhaustion.
When Mebai eventually emerged carrying an empty basin of water, he discovered Gu Ci sitting rigidly outside the threshold, his eyes bloodshot, maintaining the exact posture he had held since the previous night.
Because the prince detested being observed during his recurrent bouts of affliction, everyone in the inner circle had long since adopted an unspoken pact of standing watch silently from the shadows.
Mebai had quietly assumed the young marquis would have fled in sheer terror long before midnight, yet the boy had faithfully kept vigil the entire night.
“Lord Gu, the master’s condition has mostly stabilized. Would you care to step inside?”
Stiffly, Gu Ci pushed himself up from the floor. Having maintained a single posture for so many hours, his limbs momentarily locked, sending him pitching forward; fortunately, he managed to catch himself against the doorframe before losing his footing.
Taking a slow, steadying breath as the wave of dizziness subsided, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The night felt as though it had stretched across an eternity.
Surprisingly, the chamber remained remarkably orderly; there were no signs of chaotic smashing or shattered wreckage.
Then, his gaze locked onto a heartbreaking scene near the bed: a pale youth clad in a simple white undergarment sat slumped against the bedside, his dark hair falling in disarray around his shoulders. His eyes remained softly closed, while fresh smears of blood stained both his lips and his chest. Worse still, his exposed wrists were crisscrossed with a terrifying web of deep, raw lacerations.
A blood-stained dagger lay discarded upon the floorboards, the silent witness to the brutal methods the prince had employed to anchor his mind against the agony throughout the night.
With his eyes still half-closed, his lips cracked and parched, the youth spoke in a frail, raspy murmur: “Mebai, did I frighten A-Ci yesterday?” A bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. “Never mind, just leave us.”
The sight tore relentlessly at Gu Ci’s heart. Without a word, Mebai cast a sympathetic glance toward the trembling boy before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving the door drawn shut behind him.
He sensed that at this moment, the person his master needed most of all was Lord Gu.
Hearing the soft click of the closing door, Jun Yichen instinctively reached out to tear blindly at the old scars along his arm, the physical pain serving as his sole anchor to survive the internal torment.
Stepping forward swiftly, Gu Ci dropped to his knees before him, gathering the prince into a tight, protective embrace as hot tears spilled over his voice. “Your Highness, just hold on a little longer… everything is going to be fine.”
Drained of every ounce of lingering strength, Jun Yichen blinked his heavy eyes open, staring blankly at the youth holding him. When realization finally registered that it was truly Gu Ci, a flicker of panic crossed his features, and he began weakly attempting to push him away.