119 An Expression of Sorrow

Upon returning from outside, Yun Xueyan fell into a high fever that refused to break. For days, she drifted in a semi-conscious state, hovering between wakefulness and slumber, unable to string together a single coherent sentence for Duan Nanyu.

Duan Nanyu was frantic, yet utterly helpless. The physicians could only prescribe fever-reducing decoctions, but Yun Xueyan could not keep them down; she would vomit everything back up immediately after consumption.

Holding the bowl of medicine, Duan Nanyu looked at Yun Xueyan’s pale face on the bed with a pained expression. What was he to do with her?

Taking a mouthful of the bitter liquid, he pressed his lips to hers, praying she would swallow just a little—even a drop. This was how he had been feeding her for days; he could not stand by and watch her wither away on this bed.

Yun Xueyan did not resist. She kept her eyes closed, allowing Duan Nanyu to force the medicine into her, though she smiled bitterly to herself. What was the point? It would only come back up.

The medicine was incredibly bitter. She frowned instinctively as the warm liquid slid down her throat into her stomach, spreading a wretched, lingering taste through every limb and bone. She was truly exhausted, body and soul.

Her stomach churned violently. With a sudden surge of strength, Yun Xueyan propped herself up, leaned over the edge of the bed, and retched desperately, as if trying to purge her very soul to escape the agony and torment.

As the medicine bowl shattered on the floor, the sound felt like a blow to Duan Nanyu’s heart, shattering his spirit along with it.

He stroked her back with a large hand, trying to soothe her. "Yan'er, why must you torment yourself? How can you recover if you resist the medicine?"

He spoke with gentle persuasion, yet he knew deep down it wasn't that she couldn't keep the medicine down—it was that she didn't want to. She had no desire to get better; she had lost all hope in herself. What could he do?

"Someone, come here!" he roared, his voice low and dangerous. He pulled Yun Xueyan into his arms and fixed his cold, sharp gaze on Ziyu, who had rushed in in a panic. "Summon every physician in the city! Send word to the palace for the imperial doctors! Bring them all here! If they cannot cure Consort Yan, they can forfeit their heads! A bunch of useless fools!"

Terrified by Duan Nanyu’s fury, Ziyu stood frozen, head bowed, unable to utter a sound. She felt hopeless; she knew Yun Xueyan wasn't taking the medicine, but even the best physicians in the world couldn't change the fact that Yun Xueyan had simply given up.

Hearing his outburst, Yun Xueyan moved weakly in his embrace. Was he angry? Angry at her? Why did he have to be like this? Using the lives of others to coerce her—he knew she couldn't let him do that.

"Nanyu..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Have Ziyu brew another bowl. I will drink it. I promise I will."

"Go at once!" Duan Nanyu softened his tone, his arms tightening around the figure in his embrace.

Ziyu snapped out of her trance and hurried away. She knew Yun Xueyan was only pleading for her sake, but even if the medicine were brewed, would she really be able to swallow it?

She quickened her pace toward the pharmacy but collided with someone as she exited the courtyard. Looking up, her face drained of color, and she immediately knelt. "Prime Minister Feng."

Feng Xilou offered a gentle smile. Looking down at the kneeling girl, he said softly, "Rise. How is your mistress?" He suppressed his own anxiety, forcing his voice to remain calm.

"Consort Yan cannot keep the medicine down, and her fever will not break," Ziyu replied. "She remains delirious. The Prince is at his wit's end, and just now..." Recalling Duan Nanyu’s outburst, she shivered. "The Prince was furious."

Feng Xilou frowned, placing a hand on Ziyu’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "The Prince is only worried about your mistress. Do not be afraid. Go about your tasks; I will go in myself."

He walked into the courtyard, his heart heavy with trepidation. He didn't know what state he would find her in. He knew it was improper for him to be here, but he couldn't stay away. He had pressured Xiao Siyi for days before finally getting the truth about her condition, and he had been burning with anxiety ever since.

He could no longer bear to watch her wither away.

Stopping at the doorway, Feng Xilou stepped inside to see Duan Nanyu cradling Yun Xueyan, his face etched with grief. He sighed; Duan Nanyu, too, had been poisoned by this love.

"Nanyu," he said, using the name he had once called him by.