Chapter Sixty-Two: The Potion

Lin Fu had always considered herself to be quite eligible; never once had she looked down on Jiang Hu or treated him with disdain. Someone like Jiang Hu, she thought, must rarely receive kindness from others—so with her showing him such consideration, he ought to be deeply grateful.

Feeling secretly pleased, she glanced at Jiang Hu again. “Mo Hu, just say yes—show me around this grand Prince Regent’s manor.”

Jiang Hu kept his head lowered, his eyes unreadable. “Is that so? Then shall we visit somewhere fun?”

“Of course!” Lin Fu agreed at once, following closely behind.

She was confident that she now occupied a place in Jiang Hu’s heart—otherwise, why would he invite her with such warmth? Compared to before, his attitude today was much improved. She glimpsed the light of victory ahead.

Without the slightest wariness, she trailed after him. But the path Jiang Hu took grew increasingly secluded, until they were quite alone.

They stopped before a small wooden house in the rear courtyard, surrounded by bamboo groves—a place well-suited for things best left unspoken.

Lin Fu’s thoughts began to wander. To say she had never been tempted by Jiang Hu would be a lie; his figure was exceptional, and people often talked about him. Those eager for just a single night with him could queue from here to the front gate. Of course, they only thought about it; none had the courage to act. But if Jiang Hu were to take the initiative—well, she might not refuse.

These days, it was not uncommon for noblewomen to keep handsome guards. If she claimed Jiang Hu for herself and treated him well, what harm could there be?

With a tender, suggestive look, Lin Fu asked, “Mo Hu, have you made up your mind?”

Jiang Hu quietly turned and closed the bamboo door behind them, shutting out all sound. Then, the malice and darkness hidden within his eyes surged forth. “And who do you think you are? You? You’re not worthy. Have you ever looked in a mirror and compared yourself to my mistress?”

He had long since had enough of this repulsive woman.

Lin Fu’s face froze, cycling through several shades before settling into a cold mask. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, you’re nothing but a disgusting parasite—not even fit to compare to a single strand of my mistress’s hair,” Jiang Hu said, making no effort to hide his contempt.

He despised the way she looked at him; it stirred up memories of a filthy, humiliating past—so wretched, so abject.

Lin Fu’s expression turned icy, her whole body trembling with rage. In all these years, no one had ever dared speak to her this way. In the end, he was just a slave. She’d shown him a little respect, and he fancied himself important?

Pointing at Jiang Hu, Lin Fu cursed, “Mo Hu! Who do you think you are? A slave! Do you really think I don’t dare touch you?”

Jiang Hu shot her a look of mocking disdain, further stoking Lin Fu’s fury. She swung her hand and slapped him hard across the face.

Jiang Hu took the blow and fell to the ground.

Lin Fu had initially been a bit worried—after all, Jiang Hu was strong and she was just a woman; if it came to a struggle, she’d hardly have the advantage. But he was unexpectedly weak.

She crouched down, grabbing Jiang Hu’s collar. “I heard you were injured, that your body was ruined. Seems it’s true.”

“So what if it is? What can you do to me?” came the reply.

Enraged, Lin Fu slapped him again, her grip on his collar tightening, malice in her eyes.

Suddenly, the door burst open and light flooded in. Lin Fu turned, flustered, to see Mo Niannian standing at the threshold, her expression dark as ink.

Jiang Hu, aggrieved but holding back tears, called out, “Mistress.”

His gaze was filled with sorrow and utter despair—he looked every bit the pitiable victim.

Mo Niannian strode over, yanking Jiang Hu to his feet, her whole presence radiating menace. “Are you all right?”

Jiang Hu bowed his head, pressing into her shoulder, trembling all over as he repeated, “Thank heavens you came, mistress. Thank heavens for you.”

Mo Niannian’s heart ached so much she could barely stand it. She had cared for him so diligently, and just when he seemed to be recovering, this happened the moment her back was turned?

“Your Grace, it’s not—please, let me explain,” Lin Fu stammered, her face paling. If she still failed to realize what had happened, she’d be no better than a fool. She’d been set up—by a mere slave.

Mo Niannian, livid, delivered a swift kick. “Baishao, seize her!”

To think someone would dare bully her in her own house—did they really think she was a pushover?

“You can’t do this, my father is still in the manor!” Lin Fu was now thoroughly panicked. She had forgotten—if there was anyone she shouldn’t have crossed, it was Mo Niannian. She was ruthless, and even Lin Fu’s father feared her.

“You’d better pray nothing happens to him.”

Baishao dragged Lin Fu away.

Mo Niannian helped Jiang Hu straighten his clothes. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”

“I can, mistress.” Jiang Hu braced himself and stood, his body trembling.

Mo Niannian grew even angrier. She ordered a sedan chair brought to carry Jiang Hu back.

Before the doctor arrived, Jiang Hu suddenly shuddered, his skin flushing red as a cooked shrimp. He began to moan softly, a faint mist gathering in his eyes.

Clutching Mo Niannian’s hand, his voice turned sweet and plaintive. “Mistress, I… I’m not well.”

He was burning up, tearing at his clothes until his strong, muscled chest was exposed.

He clung to Mo Niannian’s hand, whimpering, sweat quickly dampening his hair.

Mo Niannian’s heart pounded anxiously. What on earth was happening to him? She had a vague suspicion, yet hoped desperately to be wrong.

The system’s answer was evasive. The hero’s been drugged with an aphrodisiac. It had worried itself sick over these two. The hero was indeed ruthless.

Mo Niannian’s face twisted with concern. “Is there any way to cure it?” she asked inwardly.

Even the system was unsure. The hero’s truly gone to extremes—it almost couldn’t bear to watch.

“Mistress, I’m burning—” Jiang Hu’s eyes brimmed with tears as he pressed himself against her.

His clothing hung loose, and Mo Niannian could see his toned body at a glance. At any other time, she might have appreciated the sight, but not now.

Quickly, she snatched up a blanket and wrapped him tightly.

“Mistress—” Jiang Hu’s voice lifted into a needy whine, his face flushed and pained, as if he’d just been pulled from boiling water. His eyes saw only her, and he struggled to move closer, each word more seductive than the last.

Mo Niannian held him down firmly. “Behave yourself, the doctor will be here soon.”

“Mistress… I… it hurts…” he whispered again, his breath hot on her neck, leaving a bright flush in its wake.

Mo Niannian’s hand trembled; she nearly pushed him away. Her whole face scrunched in distress as she wondered whether to knock him out.

“Miss, the doctor is here!” Baishao dragged the physician in.

Mo Niannian quickly stepped aside to let the doctor examine Jiang Hu’s injuries. Most were superficial, but the pressing issue was the drug in his system.

“Is there no way to counteract this medicine? Whatever you need, just say the word,” she urged.

The doctor hesitated. “This isn’t a potent poison—just a base love potion, typically used for entertainment. No one’s ever bothered to develop an antidote for it.”