Chapter Forty-One: A House Call

Outside the study, the butler’s voice interrupted the conversation between Prince Pingyi and Zhao Xiyan within. Displeasure was evident on Prince Pingyi’s face.

“My lord?” Zhao Xiyan inquired softly, seeking his opinion.

Prince Pingyi glanced outside, then nodded at Zhao Xiyan, signaling for her to withdraw. Only after she left did he open the door and step out.

“Did I not say that no one was allowed near the study?” His tone was thick with dissatisfaction as he closed the door behind him with utmost caution, then turned to face the waiting butler.

“My lord, I only came under Grand Eunuch Mingde’s persistent urging,” the butler replied, startled by the prince’s annoyance and hastening to kneel and explain himself.

“That old eunuch Mingde—should he not remain quietly in the palace? What business brings him to my residence now?” Prince Pingyi eyed the kneeling butler, his reproach fading into curiosity.

“My lord, Grand Eunuch Mingde claims he comes at His Majesty’s command, bringing an imperial physician to examine you.”

An imperial physician? At this, Prince Pingyi let out a cold snort. Clearly, Feng Yewu had no intention of disguising his motives—truly vindictive and quick to retaliate. Nursing a grudge over Prince Pingyi’s recent visit to the palace, he now sent a eunuch and a physician to “check his health.” This was an obvious pretext to probe the truth within the Prince’s mansion.

“Grand Eunuch Mingde did bring someone; I assume he is the imperial physician,” the butler added hurriedly, seeing Prince Pingyi’s silence.

“Very well, let us see what skills this imperial physician sent by His Majesty possesses.” With a cold laugh, Prince Pingyi led the butler toward the main hall.

The moment Prince Pingyi entered, Grand Eunuch Mingde bustled forward, his face alight with concern as he sized up the prince. “Oh, my lord, are you well today? You’ve had this old servant worried sick.”

Prince Pingyi feigned illness with practiced ease, engaging in polite exchanges while frequently coughing. “Cough, cough—thank you for your concern, but I am well enough, not in mortal danger.”

“I heard from the household that, despite your condition, you still labor daily in the study. Truly, you are a blessing to His Majesty and to the realm,” Mingde observed, his words dripping with courtly tact. Many might have been moved by the apparent sincerity in his gaze.

“His Majesty toils day and night; as his ministers, we must not slacken either,” Prince Pingyi replied, inviting Mingde to be seated.

“His Majesty was greatly angered upon learning of your poisoning and immediately wished to order an investigation.” At this, Mingde cast a sidelong glance at his companion.

Following his gaze, Prince Pingyi noticed the newcomer—young, nothing like the aged imperial physicians of the palace, but rather possessing a spirited bearing more akin to a general.

“But, considering your health comes first, His Majesty sent this physician with me to treat you,” Mingde continued.

Prince Pingyi inwardly sneered at this. An investigation? Likely Mingde’s own fabrication—who would they investigate, Feng Yewu himself? The supposed physician was clearly not what he seemed.

Indeed, the newcomer was Zheng Tianlan—the very one who had poisoned Prince Pingyi. Both Feng Yewu and Zheng Tianlan knew the nature of the poison; even if they sent a real physician, it was unlikely any cure could be devised. Moreover, sending Mingde was a way to pass information to Prince Pingyi. Bringing in another physician would only widen the circle of those aware. So, after discussing it, Feng Yewu and Zheng Tianlan decided that Zheng would simply masquerade as the imperial physician. Having operated from the shadows until now, Zheng’s face was unknown to Prince Pingyi.

“His Majesty’s concern is deeply appreciated,” Prince Pingyi said, raising his hand in thanks.

“This is Doctor Zheng. Though young, he is a master of medicine, specially recommended by His Majesty,” Mingde announced, gesturing to the silent Zheng Tianlan. The implication was clear: with the emperor’s explicit instructions, Prince Pingyi could not refuse.

Prince Pingyi, understanding the subtext, offered his wrist without protest. “Then I must trouble Doctor Zheng to examine me.”

Zheng Tianlan was a little anxious at first; having always acted in secret, he felt uneasy being thrust into the spotlight. But seeing no suspicion from Prince Pingyi, he grew more confident in his role.

“Cough, cough—my respects, Your Highness.” Zheng Tianlan composed himself, approached with a gentle smile, and took the prince’s pulse with all the gravitas of a true physician.

“Tsk, tsk—such a strange poison, Your Highness.” He tried to stroke an imaginary beard, only to find his chin clean, so he settled for touching it thoughtfully. He looked from Prince Pingyi to Mingde in apparent amazement.

“Oh? Has Doctor Zheng discerned something?” Prince Pingyi replied with a frosty, insincere smile, playing along.

Mingde, genuinely surprised, listened intently; he had no knowledge of the true situation. He didn’t even know Zheng Tianlan, only that Feng Yewu had ordered him to bring Zheng to treat the prince. On the way, Mingde had doubted Zheng’s credentials, but now Zheng’s convincing performance aroused his curiosity.

“This poison is not acute but exceedingly troublesome. The pulse is weak and disordered, yet yin and yang remain in balance,” Zheng Tianlan declared, spouting nonsense with practiced authority.

Mingde listened, bewildered yet impressed, beginning to suspect he had misjudged Zheng—could he truly be a physician?

While Mingde grew more convinced, Prince Pingyi was becoming impatient. Yet, with so many eyes present, he maintained his composure, allowing Zheng to continue his act.

“Doctor Zheng, do you have a remedy for this poison?”