Chapter 21: Expecting a Child (1)

Wanwan clutched a bag of sour plums, popping one into her mouth every few steps. In recent days, the needles of her benefactor had left her dizzy and muddled, and her appetite had dwindled to almost nothing. Though at first she was told to eat only two meals a day, within three days she had quickly dropped to a single meal—plain porridge and greens. Only in the morning, when hunger became unbearable, would she take a few hurried bites. Then, for the rest of the day, she subsisted on sour plums, which made her feel a little better.

Eating so little, it was no surprise that she began to grow thinner in just a couple of days. Wanwan took a few feeble steps, sighing heavily. “Miss, if you’re tired, let’s go back to your room and rest,” Feng He said, her heart aching as she looked at Wanwan, weakened by hunger.

“Yes, I need to rest. Sister Feng He, let’s go back,” Wanwan replied, turning to head home.

After several days of not eating properly, she could barely walk straight. Suddenly, her ankle twisted beneath her. “Ah!” Though Feng He tried to catch her, Wanwan’s balance failed and she landed heavily on the ground. At once, a wave of nausea surged up from within her.

She vomited again.

Feng He was terrified. The garden was empty, save for herself and Wanwan. She wanted to call for help but dared not leave Wanwan alone, so she hurriedly looked around and shouted, “Someone, help! Someone, find Young Master Yin!”

Furui Rui had shamelessly lingered in the general’s residence for days, mooching food and drink. After all, a general of the realm would hardly begrudge a little generosity, especially when she’d already declared her intent to sell herself as a maid here. She continued to play the fool, trying to extend her stay.

But in recent days, she kept overhearing the maids talking about how Wanwan’s body was barely holding up under that man’s needles. She wanted to visit but didn’t dare disturb them; she heard Wanwan spent most of her time lying in bed, too unwell to do much more than wander occasionally. She’d gone twice, but each time Feng He told her Wanwan had fallen into a deep sleep. As a freeloader, she felt awkward making daily appearances. It was boring, too, just hiding away in her room all day.

As Furui Rui brooded, her expression darkened the moment she spotted that man again—how unlucky! Zong Yinyang was walking toward her, and seeing her face cloud over, he felt no particular fondness for this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere. He had no interest in such insignificant people.

“Miss Fu, it’s been a few days,” Zong Yinyang greeted her politely.

“Mm.” She barely acknowledged him, yanking a willow branch beside her and twisting it mercilessly.

“It grows so well, yet you damage it without a thought. What a shame, what a shame,” Zong Yinyang observed as the willow branch, now stripped bare, dangled limply in her hand.

“Here, take it! Aren’t you the one with a heart to save all living things?” She flung the branch at Zong Yinyang.

He deftly dodged. “It seems you’re in a rather foul mood.”

I don’t need you meddling! Furui Rui ignored him—after all, she wasn’t poisoned, and she didn’t need this so-called savior anymore.

Zong Yinyang paid her little mind, elegantly clasping his hands behind his back.

“Hey! You—what’s your name?” Furui Rui suddenly called after his retreating figure.

Zong Yinyang, perfectly aware she was addressing him, ignored her. “What’s your name?”—what did that matter to him?

Furui Rui stamped her foot in frustration. Glancing at the two ever-present attendants beside him, she picked up a pebble and tossed it their way.

Before the stone could reach them, it suddenly dropped to the ground with a thud.

Without another word, Furui Rui chased after the three men ahead. Damn it, you’re just so irritating—let’s see how you like being annoyed!

Knowing the stranger was following, Zong Yinyang quickened his pace. Though she was no delicate flower like Wanwan, Furui Rui was just a woman with little real strength. After a while, she was breathless and exhausted. Deliberately teasing her, Zong Yinyang wove left and right, a contemptuous smile on his face as he watched Furui Rui panting after them.

From a distance came the urgent cries of Feng He, “Someone, help!” She kept patting Wanwan’s back to soothe her.

Hearing the commotion, Zong Yinyang followed the sound. It was indeed Feng He, Wanwan’s attendant—though she rarely spoke, after so many nights of treatment, he could now recognize her voice.

“Ah, Young Master Yin! Please, come and see my lady!” Feng He, spotting him from afar, called out as if seeing a savior. Zong Yinyang also saw Wanwan collapsed on the ground.

“My lady can’t stop vomiting!” Feng He cried out before he even reached them, already listing Wanwan’s symptoms.

“Hurry!” As the imperial heir, it would not do for Zong Yinyang to personally carry a woman. At his command, Yu leapt to Wanwan’s side with light-footed skill, Ming dutifully following.

Yu scooped up Wanwan from the ground and hurried back.

Wanwan, her eyes tightly shut in pain, was quickly treated by Zong Yinyang, who took up his golden needles, first easing her discomfort, then ensuring she slipped into a peaceful sleep.

“What’s wrong with my lady, Young Master Yin?” Feng He anxiously looked at Wanwan, now sleeping but still frowning in distress—her own heart tightened in empathy.

“She’s all right. Most likely it’s her body’s weakness and the effects of several days of treatment. Her strength is failing, but I’ve helped her sleep,” Zong Yinyang replied as he wiped his needles clean. “Ink and brush.”

All physicians wrote prescriptions, after all. Feng He, brows still knit, ordered Pen and Ink to serve and waited for Zong Yinyang to write the remedy.

He swiftly penned the prescription and handed it to Feng He.

Feng He took it, bowed, and left the room, instructing the maid at the door, “Take this to the General. If you can’t find him, give it to Miss Xueqing. Don’t delay—the young lady needs this quickly.”

Her voice was low, but Zong Yinyang heard every word. The maids of the general’s residence were indeed cautious and thorough.

Yu and Ming, standing by, were displeased. Someone of their master’s caliber as a divine physician was neither easy to invite nor his prescriptions easy to obtain, yet here his expertise was being questioned!

At that moment, Pan Yueyang and Xueqing were in the study. Thanks to Baili Mubai’s speed, he was already sitting calmly inside. The three were discussing Zong Yinyang’s motives. One thing was certain: Zong Yinyang was the crown prince of Fengxiao. Mubai had gone straight to the palace, investigated for two days, and learned the emperor no longer attended court. Affairs of state were all managed by the prime minister, Xiao Minghao.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps and knocking at the door. Before any reply, a maid announced urgently from outside, “General! Miss Wanwan collapsed suddenly. Young Master Yin has written a prescription; Feng He sent me to report at once.”

“Enter,” Pan Yueyang said calmly.

Baili Mubai, hearing the news, tensed and was about to rush out, but Xueqing held him back.

The maid bowed and presented the prescription, waiting for Pan Yueyang’s decision before withdrawing.

Pan Yueyang unfolded the slip. The ink strokes were rounded and elegant, both forceful and gentle, the brushwork harmonious and refined.

Perilla, scutellaria, mulberry mistletoe, teasel, eucommia, acorus, bamboo shavings, gelatin, dodder seed, mugwort, atractylodes, amomum, ramie root, grapes?

He handed the prescription to Baili Mubai. “Junior brother, you’ve studied medicine—what is this for?”

As a man of war, Pan Yueyang was familiar with some medicinal herbs, but many were beyond his experience. Grapes, even? Better let his junior look.

Baili Mubai glanced over the prescription, and his face darkened.

“What is it, Mubai?” Xueqing took the prescription for a quick look. Being a woman, she recognized some of the ingredients commonly used for women’s ailments. She noted Mubai’s worried expression, and Pan Yueyang’s impassive face.

“Xueqing, can you see the purpose?” Pan Yueyang was calculating Zong Yinyang’s next move, preparing to respond cautiously without revealing what he knew.

“It’s nothing—all herbs commonly used by women,” Xueqing replied, setting the prescription on the desk.

“General, Miss Xueqing, Master Baili—the young lady hasn’t woken up,” the maid ventured, seeing the three superiors hesitate.

At the mention of Wanwan, the sorrow on Baili Mubai’s face faded. “Make up the medicine as prescribed, or Wanwan will suffer,” he said, snatching the prescription and pressing it into the maid’s hand.

“Junior brother, well?” Pan Yueyang’s calmness only made Baili Mubai resent him more.

“Senior brother, don’t you care about Wanwan?” Baili Mubai tried to sidestep the question about the prescription.

Pan Yueyang was taken aback. “Mubai, you should know—Wanwan is only a concubine. If using her can reveal Zong Yinyang’s intentions, that is no bad thing.”

“Don’t you love her?” Baili Mubai pressed.

Pan Yueyang rose to his feet, considering that he really ought to check on Wanwan. “Let’s go see her together.”

“Wait!” For once, Baili Mubai’s face was utterly serious.

“Junior brother?” Xueqing pulled at his sleeve.

“I have something to say.” Baili Mubai, facing his proud senior, forced himself to drop his defiance.

“Speak,” Pan Yueyang said, sitting down again.

“If—just if—you do not love Wanwan, would you let her go, let me have her?” Baili Mubai summoned all his courage to ask.

“You’re that sure you love her? You don’t even know her real name or her background!” Pan Yueyang was a little angry, not at his brother’s feelings, but at the uncertainty of the girl’s origins.

“That doesn’t matter. When you love someone, you don’t care who they are or where they come from. Love is love,” Baili Mubai replied steadfastly.

“We’ll speak of this later,” Pan Yueyang said, though he had meant to agree; yet the words that came out were a refusal.

“If you don’t love her, and only use her, then let her go,” Baili Mubai pleaded, unwilling to give up.

“I said, we’ll speak of this later!” Pan Yueyang’s temper was rising. “Mubai, she’s not suitable to be your wife. If you must marry, find a woman of good repute—she is... I don’t think it’s right. I’ll help you find someone you like, but she must be virtuous, gentle, and pure,” he added, his tone softening.

“We’ll discuss this later, Mubai. Listen to your senior sister. We still don’t know why Zong Yinyang went to such lengths to enter the household, or what he intends by using Wanwan. Is this really the time to be so hasty? Your brother always considers your position first—he’s not reluctant to let Wanwan go, he’s worried for you,” Xueqing interjected, hoping to ease the tension. Hearing Pan Yueyang’s words, she felt reassured: a woman’s purity was still what men wanted...

Mubai looked at his brother, smiled faintly, and calmly said, word by word,

“Wanwan is pregnant...”

— — — Endnote — — —
When Pan Yueyang truly falls in love with Yan’er, when he sheds tears for her, when one so proud as he finally kneels and begs her to let go of everything, Yan’er will gaze at the birds flying across the sky and think: all this glory and luxury, how bittersweet it is.