chapter 13

Early autumn. Good news arrived: the stubborn illness finally showed signs of improvement, and Emperor Yan, greatly pleased, agreed to let Yan Ci return to the Imperial College to study.

Yan Ci’s status rose swiftly, now able to stand as an equal among his royal brothers.

He intercepted me as I left the kitchens, asking me to help carry charcoal. On the way to the Internal Affairs Office, we once again ran into Yan Qing.

As usual, Yan Qing mocked him coldly: “A wretch who climbed up by selling his own blood-never fit for the throne.”

“The throne.” After Yan Qing left, Yan Ci suddenly turned to me, his face full of confusion. “Guanqi, why can’t I ascend to the throne?”

This was the second secret he had ever confided in me. I blinked, meeting the ambition in his eyes.

I knew Yan Ci was exceptionally shrewd; he told me everything, including the fact that Emperor Yan’s illness had suddenly worsened-which was his doing.

A block of ice. Powdered Wulingzhi was mixed into the ice. It would take half an hour for the ice to melt completely.

The Imperial Physician said Emperor Yan’s constitution was of the fire type, and he needed ice to suppress the heat poison. The autumn heat was fierce, and Emperor Yan drank Ginseng Ice Soup every day.

Yan Ci carried the basin of soup, walking, entering the hall, testing for poison, serving the soup-it all took exactly half an hour.