Chapter 8
Chapter 8
I had gambled correctly.
Over the next few hours, I wasn’t forcibly drugged, I wasn’t nailed down, and my face wasn’t flayed. Naturally, I didn’t see Cheng Wei either.
As for my husband, who was supposedly “traveling to the Southwest on imperial orders,” he “happened” to arrive just after my face was injured.
Yuan Heng sat by the edge of the bed, the chill of the wind and snow still clinging to him.
He didn’t even bother to take off his heavy cloak before he grabbed my chin, carefully tilting my head from side to side to inspect my face.
I feigned ignorance, asking through sobs, “Marquis, weren’t you sent to the Southwest by His Majesty? Why are you here?”
“His Majesty summoned me back to the capital for urgent business.”
Yuan Heng brushed me off impatiently.
His brow was knitted into a tight knot, and he said angrily, “How could you be so careless! If this leaves a scar…”
I cried out in grievance, “That pearl was a gift from you. You even said you’d have it set into a hairpin for me later. Concubine cherished it so much that I kept it on me every day…”
As I spoke, I tugged at his sleeve and whispered a plea, “Please don’t blame Hongyu. I was the one who told her to go pick it up. She only bumped into me by accident.”
The veins on Yuan Heng’s forehead pulsed. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard with two fingers, clearly wanting to explode in rage, but he held it back.
He turned to Nanny Lin, who had accompanied him on this trip, and asked, “Where is Divine Physician Meng?”
Nanny Lin trembled and replied hastily, “He is waiting outside.”
Yuan Heng roared, “You stupid thing, bring him in this instant!”
A moment later, a young man carrying a medicine chest entered.
He wore a clean, grey cotton robe. His features were handsome and refined, possessing an elegant, scholarly air.
How should I describe him?
He was like a piece of fine mutton-fat jade dropped into a frozen river-warm and smooth, yet carrying a hint of coldness.
“Marquis.”
The young man clasped his hands and bowed.
Yuan Heng nodded slightly and beckoned him over. “Huaiqing, quickly, come and look at the Madam’s face.”
I stole a glance at the young man, observing him closely.
Perhaps sensing my gaze, he looked up, and our eyes met.
He seemed slightly startled and quickly lowered his head.
I looked away as well.
This man’s surname was Meng, and his courtesy name was Huaiqing.
He had arrived far too quickly, which meant he had been hiding in the temple all along, waiting for the signal.
What was Yuan Heng’s goal in killing me to take my face?
Was he having a divine physician refine an elixir? Was it meant to be a medicinal catalyst?