Chapter 4: You Really Can Drive Me to Death with Anger

The banquet was held in the lakeside pavilion within the residence. At dusk, maids glided in, carrying lanterns that cast a brilliant radiance. The sound of strings and flutes filled the air, melodious and unbroken.

Qiao Qingyun, dressed in blue, followed behind Yuan Zaichun with evident reluctance, her lips pressed tight, eyes brimming with silent grievance.

Hadn’t she been told this was a family banquet? What was the meaning of dragging her along? High-handed and unreasonable—damned feudal authority!

“Keep up,” Yuan Zaichun said unhurriedly, as if unaware of the glare boring into his back. There was a hint of amusement in his tone. “I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Qiao Qingyun paused, momentarily confused. What danger could there be, here in the Crown Prince’s residence?

She soon understood his meaning.

“Your Highness, this young lady…” Yuan Zaichun had barely taken his seat when someone eagerly sidled up, his features—otherwise passable—contorted into something lecherous by his manner.

Yuan Zaichun didn’t even spare him a glance, his eyes lowered, but the tail of his gaze swept across the Seventh Prince, gauging his expression. His lips curved carelessly. “Just someone from my household. Are you interested, Fourth Brother?”

Fourth Brother? So this was the infamous Fourth Prince, renowned for his lasciviousness.

As expected, Fourth Prince let out a lecherous chuckle and stammered, “Would Your Highness be willing to part with her? I have a pair of newly-acquired dancing girls at my residence…”

Qiao Qingyun felt the man’s gaze stuck to her like glue. Her face stiffened; she clicked her tongue inwardly and shot Yuan Zaichun a glare, the golden needles hidden in her sleeve twitching with impatience.

The Crown Prince still needed her; if she offended this Fourth Prince now, surely the Crown Prince would have to clean up the mess?

It seemed, then, that this was a chance to kill two birds with one stone.

She considered for a moment, her fingertips twitching, but before she could act, Yuan Zaichun pressed her hand down.

He had found nothing amiss with the Seventh Prince, so he drew his gaze back, arching a brow at Qiao Qingyun with a half-smile. When he addressed Fourth Prince again, his tone was edged with warning. “Regrettable. This woman is the physician of my household. Unless, Fourth Brother, you are suffering from some ailment?”

“Not at all, not at all.” Fourth Prince’s face changed instantly, replaced by a fawning smile as he quickly shifted the subject. “That was thoughtless of me. Allow me to toast Your Highness.”

“Pour the wine,” Yuan Zaichun ordered, lips twitching with cold indifference.

Qiao Qingyun widened her eyes, lips pressed tight, brow furrowed as she nudged him discreetly and whispered, “You can’t drink.”

Was he really thinking of drinking during his treatment? Why not just take antibiotics and be done with it?

“Pour,” Yuan Zaichun mimicked her lowered tone, rapping the tabletop with his knuckles in a refusal to discuss further.

With a sour face, Qiao Qingyun tilted the jug, only to realize something was off—this was no wine, but a jug of water.

“Crafty fox,” she muttered under her breath. Clearly, he had been prepared all along and was only playing with her. When Yuan Zaichun shot her a glance, she immediately replaced her scowl with a look of feigned innocence.

“Seventh Brother, will you join me for a drink?” Fourth Prince, relieved by the Crown Prince’s compliance, turned with a grin to the silent Seventh Prince.

The Seventh Prince’s gaze flickered as he stood, cup in hand. “I, too, offer a toast to Your Highness.”

“This is a family banquet. Your health is poor; there’s no need for you to drink,” Yuan Zaichun said, his tone unreadable.

“How could I put on airs before Your Highness?” the Seventh Prince insisted, draining his cup with a smile. He had barely sat back down when a violent coughing fit overtook him.

For a moment, Qiao Qingyun was stunned. Her instincts as a doctor took over as she observed him carefully, her face darkening at once.

“Asthma,” she muttered in disbelief.

This was a life-threatening illness.

“He’s gone all out,” Yuan Zaichun remarked coldly, a mocking sneer on his lips.

Qiao Qingyun listened, her mind racing. The Seventh Prince had suffered an attack at a banquet hosted by the Crown Prince, while toasting him, no less. Word of this would have everyone suspecting Yuan Zaichun’s motives. And since he and the Crown Prince were born of the same mother, if even he was treated so, how would the other brothers fare? Should this be confirmed, even the Emperor would be troubled.

This was a plot, played out in the open.

And now, since she needed the Crown Prince’s cooperation, they were in the same boat. If he suffered a setback, so would she.

Qiao Qingyun quickly made this calculation. Without hesitation, she strode over, knelt beside the Seventh Prince, and reached out to feel his pulse.

“Who are you?” A guard by the Seventh Prince’s side brushed her away, his tone harsh and laced with contempt. “His Highness is of noble blood. Not just anyone can touch him.”

At the sound of his voice, Qiao Qingyun’s head snapped up, her gaze shifting in an instant.

He was the man who had pursued her that night.

Her eyes grew icy, but she forced a smile, her tone light but edged with threat. “I’m the physician of the Crown Prince’s household. If I can treat His Highness, is the Seventh Prince any more precious?”

“Or are you stalling for some ulterior motive?”

“A mere girl, and so young—what could you possibly know of medicine? Reckless and arrogant!” The guard sneered, his scarred face menacing as he blocked her path. “Who can guarantee your prescription won’t poison His Highness?”

Even the Fourth Prince sensed something wasn’t right.

Qiao Qingyun watched as the Seventh Prince’s face reddened, his breathing labored and desperate. She grew increasingly anxious.

At this stage, even a few needles might not be enough.

If only she had asthma medication.

Suddenly, she felt a weight in her sleeve—as if something had appeared out of thin air.

Was it possible? Could it really be?

Qiao Qingyun froze, recalling the rows of medicine cabinets in that mysterious space. Delight flashed in her eyes as she swiftly retrieved a vial and, upon seeing the label, nearly burst out laughing.

It was budesonide—the fastest-acting inhalant!

Confidence surged through her as she stepped forward, chin raised, eyes bright with triumph.

“Move aside!”

Yuan Zaichun, seated above, watched her profile with a fleeting sense of daze before speaking, his gaze inscrutable. “Let her treat him.”

The Crown Prince had spoken. To obstruct her further would risk more than it was worth.

The guard glanced at the Seventh Prince, his face twisting with indecision before he grudgingly stepped aside, not forgetting to threaten, “His Highness is of royal blood. If you fail, not even ten lives could pay the debt!”

Qiao Qingyun met his words with a cold laugh, her voice tinged with mockery. “But if I succeed, and you treat your master’s savior so rudely, shouldn’t you be kneeling to offer your thanks with a resounding kowtow?”