Chapter 6 How Long Do You Intend to Keep Me Down?

Tan Qingjiu’s voice was so low it was nearly a breath, meant for only herself and Shen Yingjue to hear.

She noticed, as she uttered the words, that Shen Yingjue’s gaze changed abruptly, tinged with probing intent and a trace of murderous intent.

Though his eyes now brimmed with the threat of violence, seeing this change in his expression, Tan Qingjiu felt a hidden sense of relief.

It seemed her gamble had paid off.

Shen Yingjue must have known.

“The pulse is without stomach, spirit, or root—signs of deep poisoning, depleted vitality, and failing stomach energy. At most, Prince Duan has only a month left to live. Yet, though there is nearly a month of life remaining, the best opportunity to cure the poison is no more than seven days.”

“If the toxin is not thoroughly removed within these seven days, it will invade the organs and heart vessels. Even if the poison is later purged, the damage will be irreversible.”

She lifted her eyes. “There are, at most, three people in the world who can resolve this poison.”

“And I am one of them. If Your Highness has anything you wish to ask, you may ask me.”

“Is that so?” Shen Yingjue narrowed his eyes. “Then, Divine Physician Tan, I have something to ask you.”

His voice was feather-light, almost brushing her ear. “I want to ask—how much longer do you plan to press me down?”

Only then did Tan Qingjiu realize she was still holding him down; her hand was at his neck, and their posture was exceedingly awkward.

She sprang to her feet. “Forgive me.”

Shen Yingjue sat up as well, his gaze fixed intently on her, as if he wished to see through her, to lay her bare.

But it also left Tan Qingjiu with the strange impression that he cared nothing for his own fate, nor even listened to her words.

“Your Highness,” she said, withdrawing her hand into her sleeve, her fingers stealthily searching for a pill, which she gripped tightly, “shall we make a deal?”

Shen Yingjue suddenly laughed. “A deal? Why should I… make a deal with you? Because of your meager medical skills? Because you think you can save my life?”

Her mind raced, sifting through everything she’d ever heard about him.

“Your Highness pretends indifference, but in truth, you have no wish to die, do you? You even went so far as to make such a stir—on your wedding night, no less—using such cruel means to kill the princess the Emperor bestowed upon you, just to provoke His Majesty’s wrath, to have an imperial decree issued, summoning the greatest physicians under heaven. You wanted to see if anyone could discover your poisoning, could cure you.”

“Tell me, am I right?”

He paused, eyes narrowing, gaze cold as steel. “Do you know what becomes of those who know too much? Only death.”

Her fingers trembled. The oppressive force emanating from him made it hard to breathe, making her feel like an ant he could crush at will.

But she had no intention of dying here.

Her hand clenched in her sleeve, nails digging into her palm with sharp pain.

“I don’t wish to die.”

Lowering her eyes, her voice was feather-soft. “I still have a child. And I have grave vengeance yet to take. So, even if there is only a sliver of hope, I will bargain with Your Highness.”

“That is why I propose this deal—I can purge your poison. I can even cure your strange illness. I have only one condition: I wish to live.”

Shen Yingjue let out a careless laugh. “Oh?”

Tan Qingjiu produced a small bottle from her sleeve. “This medicine is my own antidote. It can neutralize a hundred poisons, though not the one afflicting you. However, while it cannot cure you outright, it can temporarily suppress the symptoms, slow the spread, and buy us time.”

“During this window, I will prepare the true antidote.”

Shen Yingjue’s lips curled with intrigue.

He had no idea who this woman truly was, but she was fascinating.

“Very well.” He stood, approaching her step by step.

Her hand gripped tighter in her sleeve, yet she stood her ground.

He stopped before her, his chin nearly touching her face.

Reaching out, he took the bottle from her hand.

“You’d best not play any tricks,” he said, still with a hint of a smile, though his words sent a chill down her spine.

“You must understand: no matter where you hide, I can find you.”

“And—you have a child.”

Tan Qingjiu pressed her lips together. Escape?

She would not flee.

After all, it had taken six years to prepare everything and return to the capital; she would not leave so easily.

“Someone, come,” Shen Yingjue called.

The steward hurried in. “Divine Physician Tan, this way, please.”

Tan Qingjiu lowered her eyes, replied softly, and turned to leave.

She could feel a gaze burning into her back all the way out of the courtyard.

Only when she was outside did she finally exhale deeply.

The steward glanced at her with nervous curiosity. “Divine Physician Tan, just now with the prince…”

“His Highness had a fit.”

“What?” The steward was startled. “He… had a fit?”

She nodded, turning to reveal the red marks on her neck. “He nearly strangled me.”

“I had to struggle with all my might—that’s how it happened. Fortunately…” She frowned slightly. “Somehow, His Highness seemed to regain his senses, little by little. That’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

The steward patted his chest, relieved. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I did notice he seemed unlike himself just now. His illness comes and goes with no pattern. When it’s dormant, he’s like any other man; but when it strikes, it’s terrible.”

“Divine Physician Tan, do you have any means?”

Tan Qingjiu’s expression was calm. “I’m not sure, but I do have a few prescriptions to try. Whether they’ll help, I cannot guarantee.”

“It’s worth a try. We’re at our wits’ end.”

He escorted her out of the residence, where Qingdai hurried up to her.

Qingdai’s sharp eyes immediately noticed the marks on her mistress’s neck. “My lady…”

“We’ll talk in the carriage,” Tan Qingjiu said.

Once inside and rolling away, she recounted the events at Prince Duan’s manor.

Qingdai was horrified. “If he’s that dangerous, perhaps you shouldn’t treat him.”

Tan Qingjiu laughed softly. “I’ve only just arrived in the capital; my reputation is not yet established. If I give up now, how can I remain here?”

“Then… perhaps you should tell your masters about this?”

“No need. I can handle this on my own.”

No sooner had she spoken than the carriage jerked to a halt.

Qingdai frowned, lifted the curtain, and peered out.

From outside came the sound of weeping and pleading. “My lady, please have mercy. Though I am just a woman from the pleasure quarters, I have never sold myself, nor ever wished to marry the young lord. It was always he who pursued me…”

Tan Qingjiu frowned, uninterested in meddling. “Someone’s blocking the road? Go around.”

But before she finished, a cold laugh rang out. “Oh, pursued you? How you flatter yourself. The young lord told me himself—you shamelessly seduced him, drugged him, and forced yourself on him. Then you claimed pregnancy and coerced him into marriage.”

Hearing this voice, Tan Qingjiu’s body froze.

That voice…

Why did it sound so familiar?

The young lord’s wife?

She remembered. Six years ago, the one who stole her child was none other than the wife of Prince Ding’s heir—Tan Yunge.

This voice belonged to Tan Yunge!