The Disabled Heir Pretends to Be a Physician (3)

“Sis, let me tell you, you can’t keep doing things this way.” The system, having picked up some odd phrases from who knows where, sounded distinctly unserious. “You need to seduce him! If you fail the mission, you’ll get docked pay, you know!”

Zhao He looked stricken. “It’s not easy for me to save up a little money, you heartless taskmaster! You don’t understand the struggles of working folk!” Well, fine, let’s call it ‘pursuing the target’ for now…

—

“Boss, our people found out that this poison originates from Xiangxi—very rare here in the capital. Assistant Minister Ma’s wife is from Xiangxi.” The speaker was Ding Tie, the street thug Zhao He had previously stripped of his clothes. Ever since he’d been beaten and robbed, he’d become “willingly” Zhao He’s informant, specializing in gathering capital gossip and introducing wealthy contacts.

Zhao He often made late-night visits to these households, discreetly accepting gifts on the side.

“Who is Assistant Minister Ma working for? A mere assistant minister wouldn’t dare make a move against the only son of Prince Zhenyong,” Zhao He mused aloud as she surveyed the restaurant’s sparse decor.

Too plain, too empty—definitely a negative review!

“That I don’t know, miss. I’m just a small-timer, not cut out for officialdom,” Ding Tie replied, bowing with a barely perceptible shudder, fearing another beating.

Zhao He eyed Ding Tie. Other people’s thugs could do anything once caught, but hers only seemed good for gossip. Clearly, she needed a more seasoned partner in this business.

“Sis, find the young lord! He’s bound to know,” the system urged again. Of late, it had been constantly pushing her toward Jing Ze—definitely up to something.

Zhao He pushed open the door, ignoring Ding Tie in the corner, and strode out. The street was packed with people, vendors far more numerous than usual. The mission could wait; first, she needed to make some money!

“Activate item detection mode.”

Rattle-drum, sentiment value: 10
Egg, sentiment value: 1
Candied hawthorn, sentiment value: 2
Ink-painted mask, sentiment value: 5
Hairpin, sentiment value: 20

All she saw were trinkets with low sentiment values, but Zhao He didn’t mind; low as they were, quantity made up for it, and it satisfied her shopping itch.

“I’ll take all of these. Deliver them to Prince Zhenyong’s residence,” she ordered, nearly buying out an entire street. Draped in a flowing turquoise gown, she was a vision of wealth in the vendors’ eyes: Here she comes, here she comes—the lady with the silver is coming!

“System, don’t you think I’m a child of fortune? These restaurants give me shares just for introducing a menu, I make silver, buy things, and rack up sentiment points with ease.”

—

The system was exasperated: This host’s method is all wrong—shouldn’t she be searching for high-sentiment items?

“Sis, that scholar’s family had an item with 999 sentiment, and General Lin’s residence had one at 3000! You should find a way to get those!”

What to do when your system keeps pushing you into dangerous tasks? Asking for urgent advice online.

“If you want them, go get them yourself. I’m not doing dangerous work,” she retorted. Tied to this money-grubbing system just for a bit of cash—useless and suspicious…

Could it be, as in the novels, that the system upgrades itself by stealing other people’s fate? Zhao He’s imagination had already suspected the system eight hundred times. A system that brought her nothing yet kept urging her into missions, not even threatening her with erasure!

—

The servants at the prince’s residence eyed the stream of goods being delivered—how many times was this now? Ever since a physician arrived, the once-quiet suite of the young lord had turned into a marketplace, with deliverymen coming and going every day.

“Zhao He, you seem awfully busy these days,” Jing Ze lounged on the chaise, lazy as a cat.

Since when did he start calling her Zhao He instead of Miss Zhao?

“Your pulse is fine. Another seventeen or eighteen gold-needle sessions and you’ll be set. How’s your leg feeling lately?” Zhao He ignored his remark, instead focusing on his fair, shapely leg—beautiful, but poisoned.

“The first few times after the needles, I felt a bit tight in the chest and my leg was sore,” Jing Ze replied, clearly concerned, unconsciously reaching to squeeze his knee.

“That’s a normal reaction. Don’t stop your medicine; keep neutralizing the poison.” Zhao He put away her needles and sat at the other end of the chaise, debating whether to bring up Assistant Minister Ma.

Jing Ze, amused by her indecision, could guess her intention but said, “You know, Zhao He, you look at my leg and keep prodding me every day. What about my reputation…”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that! I’m a physician—a healer’s heart is a parent’s heart. I’m treating you like a son!” Zhao He sat bolt upright, her small face taut with seriousness.

Jing Ze: …………
System: …………
Lu Er, off to the side: I didn’t hear a thing.

—

“Host, the young lord is practically offering himself up for you to seduce—a perfect chance to complete your mission!” The system was beside itself with frustration. This host was definitely single in her past life.

“You’re a money-making system, but all you ever do is push me to seduce someone. Are you sure you’re not wearing the wrong disguise?” Zhao He shot the system a cold look in her mind.

Something was off. This young lord was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and even the system didn’t act like a normal system.

—

This little world looked real enough, but everywhere there was something uncanny.

There were always schemers lurking in the shadows!

“Young lord, I heard an interesting bit of gossip lately. Would you care to hear it?” Zhao He decided to stop overthinking, propping her chin in her hand as she gazed at Jing Ze. Whatever else could be said about him, he was certainly easy on the eyes.

“If Zhao He wants to share, of course I want to listen,” Jing Ze replied, a faint smile lifting his lips, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.

“Rumor has it that Assistant Minister Ma’s wife is from Xiangxi, and everyone from there can command corpses, right? Imagine, marrying a corpse driver—what a taste!” Zhao He, now relaxed and no longer so brash, suddenly seemed the picture of a gentle young lady.

“Oh? I’m not familiar with this ‘corpse driving’ you mention.” Jing Ze arched an elegant brow—damnation, he was handsome.

Zhao He cleared her throat and looked away. “That’s not the point. The point is, people from Xiangxi are skilled at making poisons, and the one you were afflicted with is the Xiangxi Eight-Palm Poison.”

“So what you’re saying is, you suspect Assistant Minister Ma poisoned me? Just an assistant minister?”

“I’m suspecting someone behind him is targeting you. So, do you want revenge?” Zhao He replied with utmost seriousness.

Jing Ze was used to her manner of speaking and chuckled lightly. “Rather than revenge, I’m more curious—why are you so invested in my affairs?” He shifted closer across the low table.

“You, honestly. I’m out here planning your revenge and all you do is test me every day.” Zhao He glanced at him, then flopped back down on the table. Scheming man!

“It wasn’t Assistant Minister Ma. He wouldn’t dare. His wife may be from Xiangxi, but she grew up here in the capital,” Jing Ze said, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“All these years, my father has held military power, controlling the key border regions…”

Zhao He looked up, thinking, Palace intrigue… Could it be the emperor?

“The emperor, however, trusts my father implicitly…”

Well, that guess was wrong.

“So the only one who would dare act against me is him. He believes if I’m crippled, I’ll never be a threat. A crippled young lord is unworthy of inheriting my father’s command seal.” For once, Jing Ze’s tone was grave, a chilling aura radiating from him. It was the first time Zhao He had seen this side of him.

So, it really was palace intrigue… And so it was him…