Chapter 20: The Uninvited Guest (Part 4)

At this moment, only Zong Yinyang, his companions, and Xueqing remained in the hall; Yu and Ming had tactfully withdrawn.

“Miss Xueqing, would you care to show me around the General’s Residence?” Zong Yinyang stepped forward with initiative.

“This is just an ordinary estate; there’s nothing of interest. I have matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave,” Xueqing replied coldly. She had little affection for this man who fancied himself worldly-wise.

With a sudden force, Xueqing dodged swiftly. Another move followed, and she responded with a speed rivaling that of her junior, Bai Li Mubai. Yu and Ming, standing at the door, sensed their master’s keen interest in Xueqing; from the sounds within, it seemed as though a fight had broken out.

Zong Yinyang’s martial arts were unpredictable and swift. As the exchange continued, Xueqing found herself struggling. In a moment of imbalance, Zong Yinyang seized the opportunity and pulled her into his embrace.

Regaining her composure, Xueqing forgot to channel her inner strength and merely pushed him away with a practiced palm strike.

“I was merely testing your internal power,” he said lightly, brushing his robes and offering her an innocent smile.

“If you’re so ignorant of propriety, I suppose I’ll forgive you,” Xueqing said, clearly troubled by the embrace. When she stumbled, his fingers had lingered far longer than necessary.

“When you grow weary of this place, you should leave.” Zong Yinyang was more composed than Xueqing, stepping out the door without any hint of ambiguity or passion, as though the embrace had been a mere accident.

Xueqing watched the trio’s departing backs with mixed feelings. Perhaps, she wondered, his advice was right?

But after a moment’s hesitation, she shook her head vigorously. No, she could not. Yueyang depended on her; she could not abandon him. Their lives were bound together—she would sacrifice herself if necessary to protect him.

That night, Zong Yinyang arrived at the study in Yunlu Courtyard, waiting for Wanwan.

Wanwan, already deep in sleep, was awakened by Fenghe. Groggy-eyed, she looked at Fenghe. “Sister Fenghe…”

“Miss, Young Master Yinyang has been waiting outside for some time. I’ll help you change,” she said, already holding Wanwan’s daytime clothes.

“Mmm.” Wanwan climbed up reluctantly, feeling the pain of being disturbed.

Zong Yinyang’s eyes brightened as he saw Wanwan emerge from her room, sleepy and languid.

“Benefactor,” she muttered, yawning—her disarray didn’t mar her charm, but made her even more endearing.

Zong Yinyang was momentarily lost in thought, shyly fidgeting with the golden needles in his hand.

Fenghe stood close by Wanwan’s side. Zong Yinyang considered for a moment and then slowly inserted a golden needle into Wanwan’s Baihui acupoint, then another into the center of her brow…

His movements were deft and precise. Fenghe grew tense, gripping Wanwan’s arm, but soon realized that Young Master Yinyang’s technique was excellent and Wanwan showed no ill effects, so her worries eased.

Zong Yinyang continued to manipulate the needles, increasing the stimulation to Wanwan’s acupoints.

After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, he began to withdraw the needles.

Wanwan was nearly asleep, but when Fenghe tried to help her up, she opened her eyes. “Ah, benefactor, is it over?”

Zong Yinyang wiped the needles slowly and nodded.

Unable to bear the exhaustion, Wanwan made for the bed, nearly collapsing from fatigue.

Fenghe rose to see Zong Yinyang off. As the general’s concubine, it was proper to leave quickly after the treatment, especially in the dead of night—it wouldn’t do to invite him in as a guest.

Zong Yinyang said little himself, eager to return for rest, and departed with his two guards.

Shortly after, a shadow dropped silently from the darkness.

It was none other than Pan Yueyang.

“General.” Fenghe greeted him respectfully. She did not follow him into the bedroom but stood guard at the door.

Watching Wanwan drift swiftly into dreams, Pan Yueyang’s thoughts churned. He couldn’t fathom why the emperor of Fengxiao, who deliberately concealed his surname, was so unconcerned with his knowing his identity, nor why he assisted Wanwan with acupuncture. That night, he had sent Mubai to investigate in Fengxiao.

Looking again at Wanwan, Pan Yueyang cared little whether she remembered who he was. He knew himself well. He simply adored this girl—not in love, but fondness. This time, since Zong Yinyang offered to treat her, he let things take their course. If she wasn’t cured, at most he would lose a woman; it didn’t matter to him.

“Tomorrow, Wanwan will sleep in the master’s chamber.” Pan Yueyang stepped out and gently closed the door behind Wanwan.

“Yes, General.” Fenghe was delighted for Wanwan. Even the favored Lady Pin’er had never spent the night in the general’s room, always returning to her own courtyard afterward. Now the general was allowing the young mistress to share his bed—how could she not be happy?

Speaking of Pin’er, since Wanwan entered the residence, Pin’er had kept to herself in Autumn Court, only visiting Wanwan once.

As for Autumn Court, without her master’s orders, Pin’er made no move. She knew how violent he could be; though she longed for him, she dared not seek Pan Yueyang out.

Each night, Pin’er tossed and turned, imagining scenes of Pan Yueyang with Wanwan. Her lovely face alternated between pale and flushed.

“You are far too careless.” The deep voice, like a spell, startled Pin’er so much she dropped to her knees on the carpet.

“Pin’er greets the master.” She pressed her body to the rug, remaining in that posture until he allowed her to rise.

Clearly, the visitor was angry at Pin’er’s lack of vigilance. Watching her kneeling, he smiled contemptuously.

“Don’t even think of bearing Pan Yueyang’s child.” He spoke as if he knew exactly what Pin’er had been plotting deep inside.

“Yes, I wouldn’t dare. I take my medicine on time.” Pin’er bit her lip hard against the carpet. “May I ask what orders the master has for me tonight?”

He produced a box and tossed it beside her. “Open it when the time is right.” With that, he vanished.

Pin’er waited a long while, certain her master had left, then straightened and grabbed the box, opening it swiftly before closing it again. She stashed it in her unused jewelry case.

Wanwan lay soaking in the bath, her whole body immersed in the hot water. “So comfortable.”

Since moving to her master’s bedroom, she felt as if she’d entered paradise compared to her old room. Her arm rested on the tub’s edge, her face turned toward her master’s shadow glimpsed through the screen, unmoving.

“Master?” Wanwan stuck out her tongue and called sweetly, “Yueyang~”

Pan Yueyang ignored her change of address, stood up, and moved around the screen. With a mischievous grin, he placed his hands on her thin shoulders. “You’re too skinny. You need to put on some weight—so you feel better to the touch.”

After several days of acupuncture, Wanwan showed no signs of regaining her memories. Pan Yueyang was unconcerned. To him, Wanwan was merely a pawn, dispensable.

“The water will cool soon. Come out quickly.” With those words, he scooped the dripping Wanwan from the bath.

“I have to wake up in the middle of the night every day—I’m so tired.” Night after night of his attention, barely asleep before she was called up for needle therapy; such torment truly wasn’t pleasant.

“For you to recover quickly, you must persevere.” Pan Yueyang considered that if Wanwan showed no improvement in a few days, Zong Yinyang need not remain in his residence—his motives were unclear, and it was dangerous to keep him close.

“It’s wonderful having you, Master!” Wanwan hugged Pan Yueyang’s neck, her fondness for him growing with every glance.

“How wonderful?” He grinned, unconcerned at her soaking his robes.

What had begun as Pan Yueyang guiding her now became Wanwan’s initiative; he relished her fearless, familiar presence, especially when she seduced him.

Soon they reached the bed. Wanwan’s teasing aroused a deep satisfaction in Pan Yueyang, who rolled over and pressed her down…

Zong Yinyang arrived as promised. Now, every night, he waited outside Pan Yueyang’s bedroom for Wanwan. Each time he performed acupuncture, Pan Yueyang accompanied her. Tonight, Wanwan appeared before him, still groggy with sleep.

Zong Yinyang shook his head. Did she not know how her drowsy state stirred a man’s impulse? Watching her nightly, he could only suppress his own restless feelings.

“After several days of acupuncture, tonight I can begin to remove the stagnated blood,” Zong Yinyang announced, raising his golden needle.

“Ah?” Wanwan was curious.

He smiled knowingly. “Until now, I’ve only unblocked your meridians. Tonight is the real beginning.”

“Oh.” It didn’t matter—she cared little whether she recovered, so long as her master was by her side.

Pan Yueyang looked down at his book, unmoved by Zong Yinyang’s words. If the prince truly wished to heal someone, he surely could. Though unfamiliar with him, Pan Yueyang trusted the healer’s ethics. But if his intentions went beyond Wanwan’s recovery, then Pan Yueyang would respond as needed, step by step.

“Be…nefactor.” Wanwan pressed her hand to her chest.

“She’s dizzy and nauseous.” Zong Yinyang focused on his needle, watching Wanwan’s reactions and increasing the force.

Fenghe quickly prepared water and a spittoon; finding none at hand, she grabbed a chamber pot.

Wanwan retched violently, unconcerned about her appearance. Thankfully, Fenghe acted fast, preventing a mess. Wanwan vomited up her dinner, still feeling unwell, gulped water, and threw it up again, repeating the cycle until her mouth tasted clean.

The room was filled with the acrid smell of vomit. Fenghe glanced at Pan Yueyang—he continued reading, unfazed by the filth or Wanwan’s condition. Fenghe hurried out to summon the night maid to dispose of the waste and light incense to clear the air.

“For the next ten days, only two meals—skip dinner if possible,” Zong Yinyang instructed, observing Wanwan’s miserable state and shaking his head.

Yu and Ming were displeased; their sovereign, lord of Fengxiao, tolerating such filth—how disgraceful!

Wanwan nodded heavily, unable to speak, finally understanding.

“These days, if you feel chest tightness, headaches, or nausea, it’s normal. I’m stimulating your head, so these symptoms are expected.” He spoke mainly for Pan Yueyang’s benefit.

Wanwan nodded again. Fenghe handed her some sweet-and-sour plums; Wanwan grabbed three and tossed them into her mouth, savoring the tart relief. So much better!