Shen Xihe returned to her room and bathed and changed with the assistance of Ziyu and Biyu. Just as her hair was dried and she had changed into comfortable sleepwear, Hongyu's voice sounded outside the door: "My Lady, Sister Zhenzhu sent me to seek your instructions. The last knife wound Prince Lie suffered was poisoned. Sister Zhenzhu has already used needles to stop the poison from spreading, but the flesh around the wound must be scraped away. His Highness is weak and unconscious. If we rashly scrape the flesh, I fear his body cannot withstand it..."
"Biyu," Shen Xihe called softly after hearing this, her gaze sweeping over the intricately carved and brightly lacquered redwood clothing rack.
Biyu immediately stepped forward respectfully, took down the snow-white fox fur draped over the rack, and placed it over Shen Xihe's shoulders.
Gathering the fox fur with both hands, Shen Xihe went to Xiao Changying's room with her hair still loosely flowing.
It was late at night, and the room was brightly lit with candles. Not only was Mo Yuan personally guarding the door, but many guards and maids were also waiting outside. Seeing Shen Xihe approaching under the moonlight, they hurriedly bowed in greeting.
Shen Xihe walked into the room expressionlessly and went straight to the bedside in the inner chamber. Zhenzhu had just inserted a silver needle and stood up, looking at Shen Xihe with concern. "My Lady, I can only use needles to prevent the poison from quickly spreading to His Highness's internal organs. But if the poisoned flesh is not scraped away in time, I fear His Highness's arm will be crippled. Forcibly scraping the flesh may cause His Highness to awaken from the pain, and in his agitated state, the poison could rush to his heart.
His Highness is currently unconscious. We tried administering anesthetic and pain-relieving medicine just now, but it couldn't be forced down. Moreover, these medications would aggravate the poison he has been exposed to..."
Although Zhenzhu believed that Prince Lie was strong-willed and could endure the pain, he was, after all, a son of the imperial family. She dared not act recklessly, as any mishap would not only cost her, a servant, her life but also bring the emperor's wrath upon the Shen family.
Shen Xihe's indifferent gaze fell on Xiao Changying's exposed arm. The deep knife wound there was bone-deep, with two pieces of bluish-purple flesh turned outward from within the split wound. The surrounding area was severely swollen, and the blood was an abnormally dark red. "How long at most until the poison must be scraped away?"
Zhenzhu glanced at Xiao Changying's complexion and replied cautiously, "Half an hour."
"That is enough." Shen Xihe turned and instructed Biyu and Ziyu, "Ziyu, in the fields where I took a walk earlier, there are datura flowers. Ask Mo Yuan to send someone with you to pick them. Biyu, go fetch my incense tools."
The two maids quickly obeyed and went to carry out their tasks. Zhenzhu followed Shen Xihe as she walked out. "My Lady, are you planning to prepare a hallucinogenic incense to immerse His Highness in an illusion?"
"Aside from this, is there any other method?" Shen Xihe asked as she sat behind the main table in the central hall.
"But this incense..." Zhenzhu started to question, then suddenly realized she was overstepping and quickly stopped herself, lowering her head.
"At this point, there is no other way. If his arm is crippled, we will be held accountable; if the poison rushes to his heart due to any negligence, we will be even more deserving of death." Shen Xihe stretched out her hands and washed them again in the hot water Hongyu had prepared. "Since we cannot avoid blame either way, we might as well take a risk."
Zhenzhu's brow twitched slightly. She looked up at Shen Xihe with a probing gaze. The several of them had followed Shen Xihe since childhood, especially Zhenzhu, who was the daughter of Shen Xihe's wet nurse. Zhenzhu's mother had been a dowry maid of Shen Xihe's mother, and Zhenzhu understood Shen Xihe better than anyone else.She sat behind the desk, resting her chin on one hand with eyes closed to rejuvenate her spirit. The warm, mellow glow of pale yellow candlelight spilled over her face, casting a porcelain-like radiance on her unusually fair, ceramic-like skin.
She still appeared so fragile—so delicate that anyone would instinctively wish to shield her from the world’s harshness, allowing her to bloom carefreely and fill the garden with her fragrance.
Yet her spine was held straight as if supported by an invisible ruler, unyielding to the extreme, exuding both resilience and dignity.
Had it not been for her clear memory of every detail about the princess, her intimate knowledge of her mistress’s physical condition, and the undeniable authenticity of the birthmark on her back, Zhenzhu might have suspected that the master she had served since childhood had been replaced by another.
Perhaps Linglong’s betrayal had indeed struck the princess deeply. Having brushed with death, the princess seemed reborn—a transformation that pained Zhenzhu to witness.
Ziyu and Biyu returned one after another, interrupting Zhenzhu’s contemplation. Shen Xihe was not unaware of Zhenzhu’s suspicions, but she paid them no mind. She was Shen Xihe now, and Shen Xihe was her. She would subtly introduce changes, allowing them to gradually adapt to this entirely new Shen Xihe.
Fragrant spices were highly popular at the time, indispensable among scholars and refined gentlemen, while Buddhist circles held ceremonial incense in great esteem. Consequently, blending scents had become an essential skill for noble young ladies—not only to cultivate elegance but also to ensure shared interests with their future distinguished husbands after marriage.
Shen Xihe had always been a woman of refined tastes. Shen Yueshan had specially invited masters from Jiangnan to instruct her meticulously. Unfortunately, these experts only taught her elegant pursuits, never mentioning how fragrances could be used to harm others.
While others regarded scent blending as a graceful pastime, she alone delighted in employing these elegant substances for murder and malice.
She boiled water infused with mandrake flowers together with several fragrant spices until it dried, leaving behind a layer of white powder.
Incense came in various forms: stick incense, coil incense, incense cakes, incense seals, scent pills, and powdered incense. Among these, powdered incense—a fine, dust-like form—offered the purest and richest fragrance, with the most immediate effects. It was this powdered incense that Shen Xihe was preparing.
Fine incense required meticulous, slow craftsmanship, and some special blends even demanded specific timings. However, pressed for time, a rough yet effective product would suffice.
Shen Xihe placed ashes from burned mandrake roots into the incense burner, using a ash press to level them. Then, she took an incense spoon and pressed a slight depression into the center of the ashes, pouring the refined powdered incense into it.
Blocking her nostrils with a silk handkerchief, she carried the incense burner to the bedside and sat on the edge.
Once the incense was lit and thin white smoke began to curl upward, Shen Xihe gently fanned it with her pale, delicate hand. The wispy smoke drifted with the air, all of it inhaled by Xiao Changying.
After roughly half the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, Xiao Changying sank into a deep dream. Fearing he might break free, Shen Xihe remained by his side. Seizing the moment, Zhenzhu instructed Biyu and the others to restrain Xiao Changying’s limbs. Taking a sterilized knife from Ziyu, she cut into the increasingly swollen, festering flesh.
"Cold…"
The intense pain caused even the entranced Xiao Changying to struggle violently. His hand broke free from Ziyu’s grip and clamped onto Shen Xihe’s wrist. The tremendous force instantly left blue-purple finger marks on her fair, lotus-root-like arm, nearly causing her to drop the incense burner."Continue cutting." Zhenzhu and the others paused momentarily, but Shen Xihe's expression remained unchanged as he gave the order.
Crimson blood snaked down Shen Xihe's arm, the glaring red forming a stark contrast against his snow-white skin.
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