The Sickly Emperor Is Only Immune to Me-Chapter 186 - : Antidote

There wasn’t a trace of worry on Hong Zhao’s tender face.

She stepped off the couch, walked barefoot to the table, picked up a brush, and wrote down a prescription.

Qing Wu picked up her shoes and placed them at her feet, “Lady, please put them on quickly. You mustn’t catch a cold.”

Hong Zhao lifted her delicate white feet, put on her shoes, and handed over the prescription.

Qing Wu, who had been full of worry, now turned her concern into joy upon seeing the prescription.

She knew the Lady was the smartest and most clever.

The prescription contained ingredients that would surely go unnoticed by the mediocre doctors within Quanzhou City.

“Lucky for us that Mr. Jiu used the Cicada Heart, a poison researched and developed by the Lady herself. Had it been something else, it might have taken more time.”

She flattered her and, at the end, added cleverly, “Mr. Jiu will surely come to visit the Lady when he finds the time if he knows how much you’ve helped him.”

Visit her?

Hong Zhao gave a slight smile, her ice-cold fingers caressing a Snow Monkey that had climbed onto the table without notice.

What need did her broken body have for his trouble?

It’s rare in this world to find a true confidant, and being able to help him was already her honor.

*

The next morning

Sang Yan personally came over to request Hong Zhao’s assistance in treating He Ying’s poisoning and injuries.

Hong Zhao was dressed in much the same way as the day before, in a simple white gown, her black hair cascading down her back, frail and pitiable as she sat in a wheelchair. Her complexion, though, was a few shades paler than the previous day.

Sang Yan gave her a look and asked gently, “Divine Doctor, are you getting accustomed to staying here? If there’s anything lacking, be sure to say so.”

She was approachable and gentle, without an ounce of the Empress’s airs.

Perhaps to other He Country people, this was seen as kindness, love for the people as her children, and respect for the virtuous.

But in Hong Zhao’s eyes?

Nothing but a foolish woman who neglected her own status and position for the sake of a man.

Qi Wuya was excellent in countless ways, except for his taste in women, to have taken a fancy to this kind of woman.

“Divine Doctor?”

Sang Yan saw that Hong Zhao wasn’t speaking and worried that she might be feeling unwell.

“If you’re not feeling well, we can postpone it a bit, and you can see the Emperor in the afternoon instead.”

After all, she was already here; a short delay wouldn’t matter.

Mainly because Hong Zhao looked so fragile and pale, as if she might faint at any second.

She had read “Dream of the Red Chamber” in her modern life and loved Lin sister the most, treating Hong Zhao with the same affection unconsciously.

“It’s fine. Cough, cough, cough—”

Hong Zhao covered her mouth with a handkerchief, gasping for a moment before whispering, “The Emperor’s well-being is paramount, cough, cough, my lowly body is of no consequence.”

Sang Yan: “…”

She was at a loss for words.

If she weren’t the Empress, she might have been able to convincingly talk about the equality of all beings.

But now, as He Country’s Empress, saying that would seem rather hypocritical.

“Then the Divine Doctor will be troubled.”

Sang Yan offered a grateful smile and led Hong Zhao to He Ying’s quarters.

Hong Zhao sat in the wheelchair, following behind her.

Her Snow Monkey was very lively on her legs, frequently peeking out at Sang Yan and sometimes trying to grab her dress’s hem when Sang Yan lagged a step behind waiting for Hong Zhao.

“Ah Jiu, stop it.”

Hong Zhao scolded gently upon seeing this.

The Snow Monkey squeaked twice and then settled down in her arms, motionless.

“It’s called Ah Jiu?”

Upon hearing this name, Sang Yan’s hair stood on end, and a flicker of panic crossed her bright, watery eyes.

This was bad.

She now had a conditioned reflex to the sound of “jiu.”

All thanks to Qi Wuya, who had once gone by the name Qi Jiu and left a deep shadow in her heart.

“Yes.”

Hong Zhao tenderly stroked the Snow Monkey’s head.

The monkey was incredibly docile, swaying its tiny head and even nuzzling her hand occasionally.

Though it was a monkey, it acted more like a cat.

Sang Yan was very interested in it and asked, “This Snow Monkey seems to be very human-like, it must be hard to find, right? How did you find it? How long have you raised it, for it to be so attached to you?”

She had never seen a monkey that was completely white, it was too rare.

“Cough cough—”

Hong Zhao coughed twice before slowly saying, “It was indeed hard to find. I’ve raised it for two or three years. It was a gift from a dear friend during my time as a traveling physician.”

As Sang Yan listened, she felt there was a story behind it.

Just as she was about to ask more, she looked up and realized they had already arrived at He Ying’s room.

“Please—”

Sang Yan opened the door and invited her in.

According to etiquette, Hong Zhao should have performed a courtesy bow and inquired after one’s health, but Sang Yan dispensed with the formality.

“Come over here and look at his wound and take his pulse first.”

Sang Yan pulled back He Ying’s clothes, unwrapping layer by layer the bandages soaked with pus and blood.

Hong Zhao examined carefully, thinking to herself: With a poisonous wound at this stage, he remains calm and collected, the Emperor actually seems unafraid of death.

“You should take a look quickly, because of the poison, the wound has become like this.”

As Sang Yan said this, her eyes reddened.

She felt unbearable heartache every time she saw the wound.

Seeing this, Hong Zhao offered empty comfort, “Lady need not worry, the poison is ruthless, but it doesn’t immediately claim a person’s life, there’s still time. Now, I will take the Emperor’s pulse.”

Upon hearing this, Sang Yan immediately handed over He Ying’s hand, anxiously watching by the side.

She was even more nervous than He Ying himself.

He Ying felt both fortunate and distressed, and touched her face, whispering, “Don’t be nervous. The Divine Doctor has said there’s still time.”

As he spoke, he looked towards Hong Zhao, his expression cool, “Thank you for your trouble, Divine Doctor.”

Although he said “thank you for your trouble,” his face did not show much respect.

It even seemed slightly disdainful.

A trace of displeasure rose in Hong Zhao’s heart: Such a haughty man, how could he compare to Mr. Jiu? If he were to become the Lord of the World, no, how could he be worthy of that title?

While thinking this, Hong Zhao’s slender white and cool fingers rested on He Ying’s wrist pulse.

Sang Yan held her breath, as if a loud breath might affect Hong Zhao’s pulse diagnosis.

She widened her eyes, nervously watching Hong Zhao, trying to guess He Ying’s condition from her micro-expressions.

But Hong Zhao’s face remained calm and indifferent, showing no emotion, which gave Sang Yan no clue about the pulse condition.

Time silently passed by.

After a while, Hong Zhao finally withdrew her hand.

“How is it?”

Sang Yan nervously swallowed, her palms sweating.

With a light smile, Hong Zhao responded, “Lady need not be anxious, the Emperor’s pulse is weak and floating, there’s internal qi and blood stagnation, but it hasn’t reached the vital organs yet. Once I have written the prescription, and the medicine is decocted and administered to the Emperor daily, the poison will be cured after half a month.”

With those words,

Sang Yan’s face lit up with surprise, “Really?”

Hong Zhao nodded, “Of course.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Divine Doctor!”

Sang Yan was so moved, her nose tingled, and she broke into tears of joy.

These days, she had truly been praying every day for He Ying’s safety, and now, it seemed her wishes were about to come true.

It was wonderful!

His poison could finally be cured!

“We mustn’t delay, cough cough cough cough—”

Hong Zhao coughed violently for a moment, and faint fresh blood stained her white handkerchief, which she clenched tightly to hide.

“Lady, I will go write the prescription now, and then have someone boil the medicine and send it over.”

“Good.”

Sang Yan, immersed in joy, didn’t notice Hong Zhao’s unusual state.

She personally escorted Hong Zhao and her servant out.

Then, with light and cheerful steps, she returned to He Ying’s embrace firmly around his waist.

“Xinyuan, did you hear that? She said your poison can be cured!”

As Sang Yan spoke, tears fell uncontrollably.

She felt she was losing composure.

Wiping away her tears, she smiled with eyes curving, “No crying, this is a happy occasion!”

Seeing her like this, He Ying was emotionally moved, he cradled her face and sealed her tear-stained lips with a kiss.

“No more crying.”

As he embraced her lips, tenderly caressing, the warmth and affection in his eyes nearly melted Sang Yan.

Caught up in the moment, Sang Yan gradually sensed something was amiss, she looked down and noticed, without knowing when, her clothes had become undone at the chest, feeling chilly.

“Xinyuan!”

She exclaimed with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, drawing back slightly and catching He Ying’s roaming hand.

“What are you doing? Have you forgotten what Imperial Doctor Liang said?”

“I haven’t forgotten. Isn’t this a happy occasion? I feel like we should do something to celebrate.”

“…”

This is a way to celebrate?

Absurd!