021 Go Take Care of Her

When she arrived at the Junyu Pavilion, Yun Xueyan frowned slightly before stepping inside.

The room was crowded, so packed with people that she felt suffocated, unable to breathe properly. She was astonished that so many worried over Yun Xiyin’s accident, while she herself had no one—there was not even a physician for her. So this was where everyone had gone.

As she pondered this, a sharp pain shot through her wrist; in the next instant, Duan Nanyu dragged her to the bedside. “All of you, get out!” His frigid tone could not conceal the fury beneath.

No one dared utter another word. They obediently filed out, leaving only Duan Nanyu, Yun Xueyan, and the unconscious Yun Xiyin lying on the bed.

“Yun Xueyan, how heartless you are! When Yin’er saw you fall into the lake, she didn’t hesitate a moment to leap in and save you, even though she can’t swim! And you? You have the nerve to lie here and rest!”

He clamped his hand around Yun Xueyan’s slender neck, as if he might snap it with just a twist. In that moment, he truly wanted to throttle her, to vent his rage.

“It’s not like that, Your Highness, I didn’t... Princess Consort, she…”

“Silence! Still trying to make excuses? Let me make this clear: as long as Yin’er remains unconscious, you will serve her every need. Should anything happen to her—should her life be cut short—then you will accompany her to the grave!”

His icy words cut her off; the grip on her throat tightened, stifling her breath. Gasping in pain, Yun Xueyan struggled desperately.

It wasn’t her fault—truly, it wasn’t! Why wouldn’t he let her finish? Why deny her even a chance to explain?

She wasn’t a wicked woman... but who would ever listen to her defense?

In this world, no one was willing to pity her, not a single soul...

Her resistance grew weaker, and fear took hold—she could not die, not now! Digging her nails into Duan Nanyu’s flesh, she finally jolted some sense back into him.

His hand released her, and her body collapsed limply to the floor.

Leaning on the ground, gasping for air, Yun Xueyan’s face was deathly pale, making her tear-filled eyes appear even darker and brighter. “What does Your Highness wish of your servant?”

What should she do? Duan Nanyu sneered, crouching down and leaning in close. The cold aura radiating from him enveloped Yun Xueyan, whose hollow eyes brimmed with terror and helplessness. Instinctively, she shrank back, desperate to put distance between them.

“Do you really need me to teach you what to do?”

A shiver ran through her. Again, she had erred—spoken out of turn, asked what she ought not ask.

“Your servant understands,” she whispered, barely able to rise from the floor. Her head spun, her tongue was parched, and her body swayed feebly, threatening to collapse at any moment.

She picked up the medicine from the table and, trembling, made her way to the bedside.

“Hurry up! Don’t pretend to be pitiful! If you feel wronged, you can get out right now!” His violent voice echoed in her ears, growing more distant as her vision darkened; she toppled forward and crashed to the ground.

Just as he was gently stroking Yun Xiyin’s face, a sudden crash of shattering porcelain sounded behind him, followed by a dull thud, and then silence.

Annoyed, he turned—only to see that the woman who had just been carrying the medicine now lay collapsed on the floor.