In the great tent, Bule Humu sat at the head of the assembly, his expression grim.
“Typhoid fever disappeared more than ten years ago. How has it returned?”
“It took at least half our warriors the last time,” someone said. “Our cavalry still hasn’t fully recovered from that disaster.”
“The most urgent thing is finding a treatment. If it spreads, the tragedy from over a decade ago will happen all over again.”
“Hmph. Easier said than done. Where are we supposed to find a cure? Even the physicians of the Central Plains were helpless against it.”
“Then we should send people to find the Barin Tribe immediately. They might know what to do.”
“The disease progresses too quickly. There isn’t enough time.”
“The Barin usually camp near the snow mountains. Even if we leave now and they agree to help, the round trip would take at least a month.”
“A month…”
“Everyone will be dead by then.”
…
The discussion went on and on, but no one could offer a real solution.
Seated in the place of honor at Bule Humu’s right hand was a broad-shouldered, powerfully built man.
Years of sun and wind had darkened his skin.
Most striking of all was the scar that stretched from the corner of his eye all the way to his mouth, giving him a fierce and intimidating appearance.
He drained his cup of wine in one gulp.
Then slammed it heavily onto the table.
The tent immediately fell silent.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Noticing that he seemed eager to speak, Bule Humu asked,
“China, what is it?”
The man cupped his fists.
“Khan, I simply find it strange.”
His voice was cold.
“This disease has been gone for over ten years. How has it suddenly come back from the dead?”
“And what do you think?”
China sneered.
“I think this is not a natural disaster.”
“It’s man-made.”
Whispers erupted throughout the tent.
“Silence.”
Bule Humu slammed a hand onto the table.
“Speak plainly, China. Stop circling around your point.”
China’s eyes darkened.
“Hasn’t our tribe recently gained a Southern Kingdom princess?”
“Before she arrived, everything was fine.”
“She hasn’t even been here very long, yet now this has happened.”
His voice rose.
“She must be a spy sent by the Southern Emperor.”
“When they can’t defeat our cavalry on the battlefield, they resort to dirty tricks like this, trying to destroy us from within.”
His anger made the scar on his face twist even more frighteningly.
“Without evidence, you shouldn’t make accusations.”
Bule Humu was not convinced.
“The people of the South are deceitful by nature.”
China pointed at the scar on his face.
“I received this because of them.”
“That princess brought countless dowry chests with her. Who knows what may have been hidden among them?”
“Let me search them, and we’ll find out.”
He knelt.
Several others immediately voiced their agreement.
“For typhoid fever accompanied by sweating and thirst, Wuling Powder should be used. If there is no thirst, Fuling Licorice Decoction should be prescribed…”
Lin Jiayan desperately recited passages from Treatise on Cold Damage and Miscellaneous Diseases from memory.
Suddenly—
The tent flap burst open.
A freezing wind roared inside.
More than a dozen armed men stormed in.
“What are you doing?”
Lin Jiayan stared at them in horror.
She had no idea what was happening.
“Your Highness.”
China entered slowly behind them.
“We’re looking for something. Forgive the disturbance.”
“What are you looking for?”
She had never seen this man before.
Only one thought crossed her mind:
He looked terrifying.
China laughed coldly.
“When we find it, you’ll know.”
Then he waved a hand.
“Search.”
The soldiers immediately began tearing the tent apart.
Boxes were overturned.
Jewelry scattered across the floor and shattered beneath boots.
Silks and brocade garments were hacked into pieces by swords.
Driven into a corner, Lin Jiayan trembled as she watched.
The men searched every inch of the tent.
Yet they found nothing unusual.
China’s expression grew uglier.
They had already searched the rest of the princess’s belongings.
This tent was the last place remaining.
He refused to believe she was innocent.
She had to be hiding something.
Stepping closer, he demanded,
“Where is it?”
“Where is what?”
Lin Jiayan stared at him blankly.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Still refusing to talk?”
His voice turned icy.
“Then Your Highness will have to come with me.”
He grabbed her shoulder.
The pressure was like an iron trap snapping shut.
Pain exploded through her collarbone.
Before she could resist, he dragged her out of the tent.
When China hauled Lin Jiayan into the great tent, Bule Humu frowned.
“Did you find anything?”
“Nothing.”
China bowed.
“The woman must be hiding it somewhere.”
“Give her to me, Khan. I’ll make her talk today.”
He tossed Lin Jiayan to the ground.
She landed hard and immediately clutched her injured shoulder.
She couldn’t understand most of what was being said.
Then Bule Humu spoke in Chinese.
“Princess Qingyang.”
His voice was deep and stern.
“I ask you this: is the plague in our tribe connected to you?”
Lin Jiayan’s eyes widened.
So that was it.
After all this chaos, they thought she was responsible.
“It has nothing to do with me.”
“Are you a spy sent by the Southern Emperor?”
“No.”
“Have you concealed anything from us?”
His gaze sharpened.
“Speak now and spare yourself unnecessary suffering.”
“I’ve concealed nothing.”
Her jaw tightened.
Without lowering her eyes, she met Bule Humu’s gaze directly.
China snorted.
“Khan, she won’t confess like this.”
Seeing Bule Humu hesitate, he pressed harder.
“The royal grandson spent considerable time around this woman.”
“Now he’s gravely ill and unconscious.”
“Even the princess consort who cared for him has fallen sick.”
His voice grew louder.
“Yet this woman remains perfectly healthy.”
“Doesn’t that prove something?”
“This epidemic began because of her.”
“That’s why she’s able to protect herself.”
His eyes burned with fury.
“Khan, that outbreak years ago took the life of the late queen.”
“And countless members of our tribe.”
“The Southern Kingdom is using the same filthy methods against us again.”
“They’re trying to destroy us at the root.”
Mention of his deceased wife struck a nerve.
Bule Humu’s beard trembled.
His eyes turned red.
For a long moment, silence filled the tent.
Finally, he spoke.
“Lock her up.”
China’s eyes flashed.
“Khan—”
“She is Chahar’s wife.”
Bule Humu’s tone left no room for argument.
“We will wait for him to return and deal with the matter then.”
China’s fists clenched.
Though furious, he could only bow his head.
“As you command.”
He hauled Lin Jiayan back to her feet.
His hand landed directly on her injured shoulder.
Pain drained all color from her face.
She was dragged to a cold, dilapidated tent.
Because the Khan had forbidden torture, China could only throw her violently to the ground.
The impact rattled her bones.
The scarred warrior looked down at her with undisguised hatred.
“Princess of the Southern Kingdom.”
His voice was chilling.
“Enjoy these last few days of life.”
“When the time comes, I’ll personally send you to your death.”
The tent flap slammed shut.
Heavy chains rattled as multiple locks were secured outside.
Lin Jiayan slowly crawled into a corner, clutching her shoulder.
A bitter laugh escaped her.
At one time, she had thought being thrown into the Cold Palace was already a nightmare-level beginning.
Who would have guessed that the real disaster was still ahead?
From what she’d overheard, A’ming and the princess consort were both gravely ill.
If treatment didn’t come soon, it might truly be too late.
The cruel irony was that she already knew how to save them.
She had figured out a treatment.
If she could get out—
She could help them.
But trapped here, escape was impossible.
And nobody outside would listen to her.
All she could do now was pray.
Pray that Chahar returned quickly.
Yet another question lingered in the darkness.
Would he believe her?