Chapter 121 Poisoning
"Do you think that account book is just evidence of corruption?" The emperor turned back and looked at Song Qingyuan with a burning gaze. "No, it's a signal. Someone deliberately gave you that account book. He wants to use you to clip Wei Yande's wings, but he doesn't want Wei Yande to fall down immediately. Because if the tree falls, it won't hit the people he wants to hit."
Song Qingyuan's mind raced as a terrifying thought emerged: "Is Father suggesting that someone wants to see the Eastern Palace and the Duke of Wei's Mansion fight to the point of mutual destruction, so he can reap the benefits?"
"More than that." The emperor shook his head, his breathing became more rapid, he coughed violently, and his face flushed abnormally.
"Father!" Song Qingyuan hurried forward and wanted to pat his back to help him calm down.
"Don't touch it!" the emperor shouted at her, a flash of alarm and pain in his eyes. He stared at her intently and said word by word, "I was poisoned."
Song Qingyuan's pupils suddenly shrank.
"A very slow-acting poison, it's already... penetrated deep into my bones." The emperor's voice gradually deepened, with a resigned calmness. "When it attacks, it feels like millions of ants gnawing at my brain marrow. The pain is unbearable. The imperial physicians can't find the cause. They only say that I'm overworked and my heart is stagnate."
He looked at Song Qingyuan, and for the first time, a hint of pleading appeared in his cloudy eyes: "You... are the disciple of the miracle doctor. I'm not asking you to save my life, I just want to know how much time I have left."
He summoned her not to heal his illness, but to ask for divination. To find out when he would die.
Song Qingyuan forced himself to calm down and held out his hand: "Father, please let me take your pulse."
The emperor hesitated for a moment, then slowly extended his wrist.
Song Qingyuan placed three fingers on his pulse and closed her eyes. A moment later, her face turned as pale as that of Fu Zongguan outside.
Her pulse was deep, thin, and astringent, sometimes trembling like a thread about to break, other times beating wildly like a plucked zither string. This was definitely not a cold, nor was it a heart fire. This was a strange poison from the Western Regions that she had seen in her master's only medical records - "Seven-Day Pagoda."
This poison is colorless and odorless, expertly blended into incense. Over time, it accumulates and invades the internal organs. Initially, it causes only a slight fatigue, but once triggered, it erupts like a flash flood, unleashing a torrent of pain within seven days. The attacks recur daily, with increasing pain until the victim's vitality is exhausted, resulting in death similar to natural causes.
And the so-called inducement is often just the most common calming incense.
"How is it?" There was a dead tone in the emperor's voice.
Song Qingyuan raised his head, met his gaze, and uttered two words with difficulty, yet with incredible clarity: "Six days."
The emperor's body suddenly stiffened, and then he laughed out loud towards the sky. His laughter was so shrill and crazy that it echoed throughout the entire bedroom.
"Good! Good! What a great six days!" He smiled, but two lines of turbid tears flowed from his eyes. "I have been planning this my whole life, but I never thought that the end would be like this!"
The laughter stopped abruptly.
The emperor grasped Song Qingyuan's wrist tightly with astonishing strength, his eyes gleaming with a final glint. "Qingyuan, I want you to... do something for me. Something that will secure Yanzhi's throne and bring those traitors... to ruin!"
The emperor's hand was like a pair of iron pliers, withered yet filled with astonishing strength, tightly gripping Song Qingyuan's wrist. The crazy smile in his eyes faded, replaced by a calm and resolute look that burned out his life.
"This Qian'an Hall of mine has long been a sieve, allowing anyone to reach in." The emperor's voice was extremely low, as if squeezed through teeth. "Every day, the food, incense, and medicine are strictly controlled, but still, it was caught. This means that the person who did this is right next to me, someone I didn't expect, or rather... I don't want to think about."
Song Qingyuan's heart sank. The scope of the emperor's words, "I don't want to think about it," was already terribly small.
"Any decree from me regarding a thorough investigation cannot leave this Gan'an Palace. Even if it did, they would misinterpret it and turn it into a death warrant."
The emperor panted, his eyes growing clearer. "So, I can't investigate. I have to act. Play the role of a seriously ill old father, a foolish king who is utterly disappointed with both the Crown Prince and the Duke of Wei and only wants to balance the situation."
He looked at Song Qingyuan, a glint of cunning in his eyes: "Yanzhi's 'Imperial Grace Platform' is a good plan. But it's not cruel enough. I want to add fuel to the fire."
He motioned Song Qingyuan to come closer and listen.
Song Qingyuan moved closer, and a strong smell of medicine and death hit her face. The emperor used up his last bit of strength and whispered a few words in her ear.
Song Qingyuan's eyes widened and she could hardly believe her ears when she heard the last part. She raised her head and looked at the emperor.
A tired and cruel smile appeared on the emperor's face. "Only my death will be the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Only my will can be the most legitimate sword for Yanzhi to ascend the throne. I will sharpen this sword myself and hand it to him personally."
He loosened his hand, took out a small object wrapped in bright yellow silk from under the pillow, and stuffed it into Song Qingyuan's sleeve. The object felt hard and cold, like a piece of jade.
"This is my personal seal. Seeing it is like seeing me." The emperor's voice had grown much weaker. "From now on, I will entrust the garrison of the capital and the Nine Gates to you and Yanzhi. Keep quiet, and use this seal to quietly replace all unreliable personnel. Remember, do it quickly and quietly."
"Father..." Song Qingyuan's voice choked. In her hands lay the most crucial military power in the entire Great Zhou Dynasty. And yet, in the last six days of his life, the man before her thought not of how to linger, but how to use his own death to pave the way for his son.
"Don't act like a girl." The emperor's eyes regained their imperial majesty. "In my life, I have been decisive and ruthless, and I have never regretted it. It is better to die in a calculated plot than to die on a sickbed. Go, tell Yanzhi that my kingdom, my hopes, my... the last of my fatherly love, are all here. Tell him not to let me down."
After saying this, he closed his eyes, as if he had exhausted all his strength and fell into a semi-comatose state again.
Song Qingyuan stood up and bowed deeply to the emperor on the dragon bed. This was not only a daughter-in-law's courtesy to her father-in-law, but also a witness's final and decisive respect to an emperor.
She turned and walked out of the inner hall, her face calm. Steward Fu was anxiously waiting outside. Seeing her come out, he hurried over to greet her, "Your Majesty, His Majesty..."
"The emperor is ill from overwork and excessive worry. I gave him acupuncture and put him to sleep." Song Qingtour's voice was steady and calm, "The emperor needs to rest for the next few days.
No one is allowed to disturb you. I will personally oversee the daily soups and medicines, which Bai Zhi will prepare in the side hall. The Eastern Palace will also be responsible for the food. "General Manager Fu, draft an edict stating that... His Majesty has caught a cold, and the affairs of state are temporarily being handed over to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince. If there are any military or national affairs, please report back."
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