“The detoxifying herbs were brought by it. That night when the poison flared up, the fruit that suppressed the toxicity was also given to me by it.”
Before He Zhixian could speak, Wei Rong had already voiced the questions he wanted to ask.
He Zhixian went from initial shock to finally staring wide-eyed at the chubby little cat held in Wei Rong’s arms.
Yun Fu, who was being comfortably stroked, felt a burning gaze upon her. Opening her eyes, she saw the white-bearded old man looking at her with fervent eyes, as if she had gold ingots on her face.
“Young Wei, has this cat truly become a spirit? Not only is it understanding of human nature, but it can also find herbs to detoxify poison. This…”
Wei Rong had never believed in tales of ghosts and monsters, let alone when it came to the little one in his arms. “A Fu is no spirit. It is a lucky star bestowed upon me by heaven.”
When Yun Fu heard the two characters “A Fu,” the entire cat abruptly sat up. But upon hearing the words “lucky star,” the cat went limp again.
So it was A Fu, not Afu.
Wei Rong noticed the reaction to the name he had given the little creature, and a warmth flickered in his eyes.
“A Fu? The name you gave this kitten?”
He Zhixian looked at Young Wei, who had always been strict with himself and meticulous. The warmth in his eyes now was so genuine that it made He Zhixian momentarily dazed.
He Zhixian had watched Wei Rong grow up. The old Duke had shown him kindness, and he had promised the old Duke to take good care of his grandson.
When Young Wei was three years old, He Zhixian had begun staying by his side, using the pseudonym He Zhixian and serving as the Estate Physician.
In his memory, this child had been like a little old man since he was young—rigid, proper, and speaking with the tone of an adult, mature beyond his years.
Later, he did smile, but those smiles were cold and mocking, never with the warmth he showed now.
So much so that seeing this child holding the little kitten, the gentleness in his eyes made He Zhixian momentarily lost in thought.
Wei Rong continued to hold the little kitten in his arms, unwilling to let go, occasionally squeezing its soft, pudgy paws.
He responded in a low voice, “A Fu, my lucky star.”
He repeated this phrase once more.
~
The Lady of the Wei Guogong Residence had been resting in the ancestral hall every night and had not emerged for three days.
It was said that upon receiving the news that her son was hanging by a thread, she had fainted on the spot. After waking, she had remained kneeling in the ancestral hall, praying daily for her son’s safety and well-being.
The Emperor had flown into a rage during the morning court session, dismissing several officials.
For a time, the court was filled with anxiety and fear. Many officials trembled with trepidation, afraid of attracting misfortune.
When Prince Cheng received the news brought by his subordinates, the ambition and amusement in his eyes grew even stronger.
But then he recalled his advisor’s exaggerated claims about how potent the snake venom was, and he asked in a deep voice, “So, Wei Rong isn’t dead yet? Still clinging to half a life?”
“Your Highness, it is said he still has a breath left. He Zhixian intervened and is keeping Wei Shizi alive by a thread. According to reports from below, the candles in He Zhixian’s medicine hut have been burning every night, and sighs are occasionally heard.”
If Wei Rong had died immediately after being poisoned, Prince Cheng might have been somewhat suspicious.
But this was Wei Rong—the Guogongfu Shizi who had elevated an ordinary, even incompetent, prince to the throne!
Back then, Prince Cheng himself had been manipulated by Wei Rong, letting his guard down until he was schemed against and exiled from Jing An Cheng to a fief thousands of kilometers away, cutting him off completely from the throne.
This grievance was something he could never let go of.
The scheme to poison Wei Rong had been three years in the making, and he had finally found the opportunity.
After assisting the new emperor to the throne, Wei Rong not only took over the Ministry of Justice but also served concurrently as the Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet, wielding immense power.
The fact that Wei Rong could help a useless emperor ascend to the throne was enough to show that he had deliberately concealed his abilities even during the Late Emperor’s reign. Yet, the little talent he revealed after hiding his brilliance still earned the Late Emperor’s admiration.
Prince Cheng had also considered winning Wei Rong over, offering various favorable conditions, but all were unhesitatingly rejected. Wei Rong even went so far as to advise him to stop causing trouble at his age.
Since he could not be used for his own purposes, Prince Cheng had no choice but to exhaust all means to eliminate him.
Now, the heavy stone in Prince Cheng’s heart was gradually settling. The next target was the person on the throne. A ruthless smile flickered in his eyes, as if the position was already within his grasp.
In the underground chamber of Lingxiao Hall.
Ji Chenghe looked at the man sitting on the couch playing chess, his eyes reddening.
“Cousin! Are you alright?!”
Wei Rong’s expression was cold. He threw a sharp glare at the young emperor who was rushing toward him.
Ji Chenghe immediately halted his advance, straightened his posture, and stood properly, like a child who had done something wrong, weakly lowering his head.
“Cousin, I’m sorry… it was my fault for harming you…”
At this moment, Ji Chenghe referred to himself only as “I,” not using the imperial “We,” clearly showing his closeness to Wei Rong.
In response to Ji Chenghe’s words, Wei Rong’s expression grew even colder. He placed a black piece on the board, annihilating the white pieces completely.
The crisp sound of the pieces striking echoed clearly in the quiet chamber.
“Your Majesty…”
These two words made Ji Chenghe’s heart tremble.
“Cousin, you don’t…”
“Your Majesty, do you still remember what Aunt said when she brought you to find me back then?”
Ji Chenghe swayed slightly, closed his eyes, and replied in a low voice, “We remember everything.”
“It is good that Your Majesty remembers. I have said that this empire belongs to the Ji family, not the Wei family.”
The last few words struck Ji Chenghe like a thunderbolt, shaking him to his core.
After ascending the throne, Ji Chenghe had indeed harbored suspicions toward the Wei Family, but he had only thought about it in his heart and never expressed it.
Unexpectedly, his cousin had seen right through him.
Ji Chenghe was overwhelmed with shame. It was true—back then, his mother had brought him to seek out his cousin, asking for his help, yet he…
“Cousin, I have failed your teachings!”
Wei Rong stood up, the indigo hem of his robe flowing like water with his movement.
He approached the new emperor, cupped his hands in respect, and slightly lowered his gaze.
“Your Majesty, the Wei Guogong Manor can withdraw from court affairs. I am aware of my inadequacies and am unfit to hold the positions of the Ministry of Justice and the Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet. I beg Your Majesty to grant me permission to retire and return to my hometown.”
As soon as the words “retire and return to my hometown” were spoken, Ji Chenghe could barely maintain his composure.
If the situation and atmosphere weren’t so tense, Ji Chenghe would have wanted to say a few words: “You are only twenty-three years old! How can you speak of retiring at such an age?”
Ji Chenghe hurried forward to support his cousin. “Cou… Minister Wei! It was Our fault. We apologize to you. This assassination attempt—We will surely give you a satisfactory answer, and…”
As he spoke, Ji Chenghe performed a ritual bow of respect to a teacher.
“Please, Teacher, you must believe me!”
Wei Rong looked at the person before him, hands clasped and waist slightly bent, his expression solemn. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
This address of “Teacher” was indeed something Wei Rong deserved.
The young emperor before him danced on the edge of a blade with every step he took. Wei Rong had long anticipated that Ji Chenghe would be wary of him.
Had there been no wariness at all, Wei Rong might have thought he had chosen the wrong person to assist. Anyone who dared ascend the throne without a shred of caution was simply courting death.
A faint “Mm” from Wei Rong allowed Ji Chenghe’s anxiously suspended heart to settle back into place.
Wei Rong returned to his seat on the couch, feeling the soft, skin-friendly fur cushion beneath him, and abruptly remarked, “This fur is quite fine.”
Ji Chenghe, who had just weathered an intense internal struggle, froze for a moment at these words.
Huh? What fur?