Chapter 9: Husband!

Naturally, Qiao Qingyun had no idea what they were up to; all she knew was that she could enjoy herself to her heart’s content. She played until it was nearly time for lunch, when the young maid Qingluo dragged her back to the Crown Prince’s residence.

“Miss, if we don’t return now and His Highness discovers it, he’ll surely punish us.”

Helpless, Qiao Qingyun followed back, only to find, upon entering the great hall, that the man seated with Yuan Zaichun was still dressed in that striking violet, none other than Feng Ke.

“Brother Feng, you seem rather absent-minded today. What’s the matter—trouble at home, a wife perhaps?”

Yuan Zaichun was rarely so courteous with anyone; if not for deep friendship, he’d hardly let a man remain standing, let alone show such politeness.

Feng Ke paused, smiled, sipped his tea, and said with great interest, “Your Highness, you wouldn’t believe it—today I met the most arrogant beauty on the street! She told me to watch where I was going, not keep my eyes above everyone else’s head. Who knows whom you’ll bump into next, she said. Tsk, tsk, tsk, never met anyone like her.”

Seeing Feng Ke so intrigued, Yuan Zaichun’s lips curled in a faint smile. “Oh? Now you have me curious. What sort of woman could unsettle you so?”

In truth, Feng Ke had come to seek medicine. One of his men had recently returned in a state of collapse, his health declining by the day. This man’s work was crucial, or else he might not have cared. Thus, he’d thought of seeking a cure from someone in the palace. Upon arriving, he’d heard tell of a Miss Qiao, reputed for her extraordinary medical skill, whom Yuan Zaichun had just been discussing—though Yuan Zaichun did not seem particularly fond of her.

Qiao Qingyun hadn’t even made it to her room before she was summoned, just as the two men were discussing her.

“Your Highness, that woman is truly exquisite—especially those eyes, ah! They hold no room for anyone!”

As he spoke, Liu Fu entered, bowing with hands clasped. “Your Highness, Miss Qiao is here.”

“Good.”

Yuan Zaichun’s face turned cold as he signaled for her to be brought in. Qiao Qingyun, knowing when to bend and when to stand tall, was all obedient timidity before him.

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

She bent in a low bow, not sparing a glance for either man. Because her head remained bowed, Feng Ke felt certain he’d seen her somewhere before—her attire especially familiar…

“Miss Qiao, my friend’s subordinate has been poisoned. I need you to cure him.”

“Yes.”

Qiao Qingyun couldn’t be bothered with empty flattery. She was destined to become the crown princess soon enough; there was no need for unnecessary distance.

But when she lifted her head, Feng Ke recognized her instantly!

“Well, well! My beauty! What are you doing here?”

At the sound of that address, Qingluo suddenly remembered—wasn’t this the scoundrel they’d met on the street?

Qiao Qingyun, whose memory for faces was not the best, looked at the vaguely familiar man in puzzlement. “And you are?”

“Miss,” Qingluo called softly, then whispered in her ear. Only then did Qiao Qingyun recall, though her expression remained unchanged.

“Brother Feng, and this is…?” Yuan Zaichun was confused. Did these two already know each other?

Feng Ke, elated, pointed at Qiao Qingyun and said to Yuan Zaichun, “Well, well! She’s one of yours! Your Highness, this is the haughty woman I just mentioned. Tsk, tsk, just now I didn’t recognize her, but the moment she lifted her head, I knew!”

“Oh?”

Yuan Zaichun regarded Qiao Qingyun with a measured gaze. At once, she curtsied and said, “This humble woman felt stifled by the rigid sky within these walls at dawn, so I took Qingluo out for a walk. Who could have guessed we’d meet a young lord who accused me of being blind—none other than Young Master Feng here. I did not linger, simply continued on my way.”

At this, Yuan Zaichun glanced at Qingluo, who hurried to echo, “Yes.”

Though the mood shifted, it did nothing to dampen Feng Ke’s excitement. Without restraint, he blurted, “Your Highness, since you seem less than fond of Miss Qiao, why not grant her to me?”

Startled, Qiao Qingyun swiftly changed her address. Before Yuan Zaichun could speak, she burst into tears, fell to her knees, crawled forward, and clung to his trouser leg, tears streaming like petals in the rain.

“I know I was wrong, husband. In the future, without your permission, I will never go out and cause more trouble. Please, forgive your Qing’er this once!”

“Husband!”

Feng Ke was taken aback, but from where he stood, he could not see the desperate looks Qiao Qingyun was giving Yuan Zaichun.

The meaning was clear: Yuan Zaichun had promised to shield her; now it was time to fend off trouble for her.

Yuan Zaichun ground his teeth in frustration, but there was nothing he could do with Qiao Qingyun. He could only force himself to nod. “Yes, Miss Qiao is my betrothed crown princess. I was just about to propose marriage in a few days.”

“What?”

That was the end of it. Just as hope had kindled, a bucket of cold water was poured over Feng Ke’s head, leaving him shivering.

So much for the beauty now within his grasp—she was lost before he’d even had a chance.

“All right, dry your tears. What sort of behavior is this before Young Master Feng?” Yuan Zaichun could hardly restrain his irritation, yet the play had to be carried through to the end; he could not abandon it halfway and so endured.

“Yes, I understand.”

With Qingluo’s support, Qiao Qingyun rose, delicate and demure—so unlike her usual haughty self that Feng Ke could make no sense of it.

When the poisoned man was brought in and Qiao Qingyun began the treatment in front of them, the cold edge in her demeanor surfaced once more.

The moment her fingers touched his pulse, her eyes, which had been closed, snapped open. A fierce aura radiated from her, so much so that even Yuan Zaichun sensed something amiss.

“What is it?” he asked, puzzled.

Qiao Qingyun glanced at the man, whose eyes were sunken and lifeless. “Speak. Who poisoned you?”

The subordinate was stunned, tried to recall, but his eyes had already become hollow, leaving Feng Ke anxious.

“My beauty—no, Miss Qiao, what’s wrong?”

“This is interesting. I can’t believe this poison appears here as well.”

She was all too familiar with this toxin—it was not merely a poison but something that in modern times had ensnared many a wealthy wastrel.

“I... I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember, or you don’t want to say? Or perhaps, you’re too dependent on it?”

From his pulse, Qiao Qingyun knew immediately—it was poppy toxin, which strips people of reason. Once addicted, a man could be made to do anything.

Hearing her diagnosis, the subordinate’s gaze grew frantic. “I...”

“My advice is to tell the truth. That stuff is no game. Many have died from it. You have two choices: first, death—I’ll cut your addiction cleanly, and don’t worry, I promise you won’t suffer. Second, confess, and I’ll do what I can. What will it be?”