Chapter 157

Jiang Xiurun couldn’t quite figure it out for a moment and wondered if she was overthinking things.

However, Feng Liwu’s heart was filled with sweetness.

Speaking of which, their two years of separation had long shattered Feng Liwu’s once-unshakable confidence that Jiang Xiurun harbored love for him.

Thinking carefully, back then, she was merely a frail hostage princess, arriving in Luo’an City with no one to rely on.

She had simply clung to him for protection.

All the flattering words spoken to him held little sincerity.

Even this time, bringing her back to the capital was nothing more than him leading his army to besiege the state of Bo, forcing her to come along.

Yet, Jiang Xiurun had a mind full of tricks.

If she truly wanted to leave, she might stir up trouble again.

Because of this unease, Feng Liwu was cautious in every way when dealing with Jiang Xiurun.

That feeling was all too similar to his childhood in the Cold Palace when he tried desperately to please his mother, just to see her smile.

But back then, every effort ended in failure.

After all, he was never one to flatter others, nor did he have his second imperial brother’s skill in charming women.

Every time he thought that Jiang Xiurun might have never been moved by him at all, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dejection and self-loathing.

Lately, the entire capital had been in a state of panic due to the epidemic.

Everyone feared for their safety.

Feng Liwu couldn’t visit Jiang Xiurun.

Though they were only separated by two palace walls and a single street, it felt like an insurmountable distance.

When alone, he often wondered what she was doing at that moment—was she busy with Baoli’s matters, completely forgetting about the child’s father?

Yet, at such a critical time, she had rushed to him without hesitation, simply because she suspected he had fallen ill.

Though her words were lighthearted, in crucial moments, her concern for him showed through.

This filled Feng Liwu’s heart with overwhelming tenderness.

Now, night had begun to fall, and the palace was silent inside and out.

Yet, the dimly lit inner chamber glowed softly, and the woman in his arms gazed at him with intoxicating eyes.

Even if he truly fell ill tomorrow, Feng Liwu felt he would have no regrets in this life.

Overcome with emotion, he spoke his thoughts aloud.

Jiang Xiurun, hearing him, anxiously pounded his chest.

“What nonsense about falling ill without regrets? You are the Son of Heaven, protected by divine blessings. How can you speak lightly of life and death? Hurry and spit out the bad omen, lest it invites misfortune!”

Feng Liwu felt the pain from her strike on his chest, so he deliberately put on a stern face.

“A woman this unrefined—I suspect you’re an impostor. I must strip you down and inspect carefully for any differences.”

Jiang Xiurun refused to indulge his nonsense, her face flushing red as she retorted, “So, for the last impostor, is this how you identified the deception?”

Feng Liwu, having gone hungry for several days, caught the scent of his “prey” and refused to let go.

Like a famished tiger pouncing on a lamb, he pressed the soft bundle in his arms down onto the dragon bed, murmuring indistinctly, “The last one was a poor counterfeit—I could tell with just a sniff. But this one is a perfect replica, so it seems only the dragon staff can distinguish real from fake.”

Jiang Xiurun, unable to bear his teasing, was soon overcome with laughter as he nuzzled against her with the tip of his nose.

Before long, the bed curtains swayed, and beneath the waning moon and morning breeze, sleep eluded them.

However, when she had come, she had been worried about Feng Liwu’s condition and hadn’t eaten dinner.

After their playful tussle, just as Feng Liwu was ready for another round, Jiang Xiurun’s legs trembled, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Hearing the grumbling of her stomach, Feng Liwu asked, “You didn’t eat dinner?”

Jiang Xiurun shook her head and rested her head against his firm chest.

“Lately, I haven’t had much of an appetite. I crave the flavors of my homeland, but being in the palace, I doubt there’s anything that suits my taste.”

Feng Liwu stroked her silky hair and said, “When I went to your state of Bo, your sister-in-law prepared a lot of food. She even sent back several jars of garlic-pear paste for me. I can have the kitchen prepare lamb with it for you.”

This garlic-pear was a specialty of the state of Bo. It resembled a pear in shape but had a pungent, garlic-like smell.

The people of Bo enjoyed using it in pickled dishes.

Although Wenniang was a foreigner, she had a taste for stronger flavors and particularly liked dishes made with garlic-pear.

During the banquet for Bo’s military officers, she noticed that Feng Liwu and his generals enjoyed it, so she had her servants chop a whole vat of garlic-pear into a paste, making it easy to carry back for them to enjoy.

Jiang Xiurun’s palace also had some, but she hadn’t expected Feng Liwu’s residence to still have a supply.

Her eyes lit up at the thought.

However, since it was late at night, she avoided heavy foods and simply had a steamed egg custard with two spoonfuls of garlic-pear paste to mix into her rice.

Feng Liwu hadn’t been hungry, but watching her eat so heartily, he couldn’t resist taking a few bites himself.

The silky egg custard combined with the garlic-pear paste was surprisingly appetizing.

As they chatted over their meal, the conversation naturally turned to the epidemic.

The physicians treating the illness said it was unlike anything they had seen before—it exuded an eerie aura, and they had no cure.

The only measures they could take were to isolate those showing symptoms in the capital and surrounding counties.

Feng Liwu casually asked, “Has your homeland ever experienced such an epidemic?”

Jiang Xiurun smiled and said, “The people of Bo are naturally strong and often drink untreated water, yet they rarely suffer from stomach ailments. While our land isn’t as prosperous as the Central Plains, it is a place that nurtures strong bodies. In fact, I only started falling ill frequently after coming to Luo’an—I barely even caught colds back home.”

Feng Liwu smirked at her boasting as the Empress of Bo and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? So the plague god visits only the Central Plains and dares not set foot in your state?”

Jiang Xiurun chuckled and said, “My mother once told me a story—when our ancestors migrated from their homeland to the Central Plains, they suffered greatly from illnesses along the way. Many could not endure the journey. One day, a golden-feathered cloud sparrow led the Saintess Adaishan into a nearby forest, where it flitted around a tree full of strange pear-like fruits, chirping loudly. The saintess plucked the oddly scented fruit and fed it to a gravely ill man. To their surprise, his symptoms eased after eating it. Others followed suit, consuming the fruit, which revived their strength and allowed them to continue their journey…”

Halfway through the story, Jiang Xiurun suddenly stopped smiling, her voice trailing off into silence.

Feng Liwu had been listening with interest while eating.

Noticing her pause, he asked, “Why did you stop?”

Jiang Xiurun slowly swallowed the spoonful of egg custard she had just taken and smiled.

“There’s nothing more to it. The saintess named the fruit ‘garlic-pear’ and brought its seeds with her. That’s how it took root and thrived in our state of Bo.”

After finishing their meal and rinsing their mouths with bamboo salt, it was already quite late.

The two of them nestled together, chatting for a while before finally embracing and falling asleep.

This was the first time Jiang Xiurun had slept on the imperial dragon bed in the palace.

Staring at the yellow canopy above her, she found herself unable to sleep.

It wasn’t simply because she wasn’t used to the bed.

Rather, during her earlier conversation with Feng Liwu, a subtle memory from her past life had suddenly surfaced.

In her previous life, at this time, she had been kept in an outer residence by Qin Zhao.

The epidemic was raging outside, and even the servants in the neighboring courtyard had started falling ill.

Back then, she had been terrified and didn’t dare to leave her room.

But after just two days, she developed a fever.

Suspecting that she had contracted the plague, she had no one to care for her.

Qin Zhao was hiding in his own residence to avoid the epidemic and naturally would not come to her.

The servants, upon hearing that she had a fever, had all fled in panic, making excuses to take leave and abandoning the estate.

That night, she had been so weak that she couldn’t even pour herself a cup of water.

However, her elder brother had suddenly arrived in a hurry, bringing her a basket of garlic pears from their homeland and repeatedly urging her to eat them immediately before quickly leaving again.

At the time, she had been craving the flavors of home, and since there was nothing else to eat with her dry biscuits, she had taken a bite of the garlic pear with each mouthful.

By the next day, her fever had subsided, and no rash had appeared.

The servants, who had been hiding in the outer courtyard, sighed in relief upon seeing her recovery, believing that she had merely caught a common cold rather than the plague.

She hadn’t thought much of it then.

Later, Yang Ruxu formulated the “Noble Consort Decoction,” which eradicated the plague.

The decoction was distributed freely to the suffering poor, earning Noble Consort Yang a reputation for kindness.

However, among the noble families of the capital, a special version of the decoction was said to contain rare medicinal ingredients and was sold at an exorbitant price.

Yet, the nobles, unconcerned about cost, eagerly sought it out.

Qin Zhao had also bought a few doses for her.

When she drank the decoction, she found it unbearably spicy—its taste strangely similar to that of her homeland’s garlic pear.

When she later visited her elder brother, she had jokingly remarked that the decoction might have been mixed with their homeland’s signature garlic pear juice.

Yet, Jiang Zhi had remained silent and did not respond.

Now, lost in her memories, Jiang Xiurun felt an unsettling turmoil rise within her heart.

Her elder brother had never married in her past life, but she recalled that when she had been trapped in the laundry bureau, he had once shyly confided in her about his admiration for a noblewoman—an elegant, virtuous lady, one of the finest women in the world.

Yet, shortly afterward, he never mentioned her again, as if that woman had never existed.

Moreover, when she had been gravely ill, why had her brother—who had not returned home in a long time—managed to obtain such a fresh basket of garlic pears?

And why had he been so insistent that she eat them?

Why had the so-called Noble Consort Decoction contained the taste of garlic pears?

If garlic pears truly had medicinal properties that could combat disease, specifically the epidemic, could it be that Dou Siwu had survived precisely because he had once eaten garlic pears?

Some things, when left unexamined, seemed insignificant.

But once scrutinized, the connections were tangled and terrifying.

As dawn approached, she finally succumbed to sleep in a daze, while Feng Liwu carefully got up and headed to the imperial study.

In recent days, the sudden outbreak of the epidemic had given rise to all sorts of absurd rumors among the common people.

Some had deliberately spread word of the late emperor’s supposed final edict, claiming that while the current Emperor Shengwu was the legitimate heir, a grandmaster had once read his fortune as a child and declared him a bringer of misfortune, destined to bring calamity upon his parents.

Because of this, the late emperor had sent the empress and her son into the Cold Palace.

Before his death, he had feared that the crown prince’s fate would spell doom for the empire, and thus, he had wished to pass the throne to the second prince, Feng Wu, who was blessed with great fortune.

However, the eldest prince’s fate was too strong.

He had ultimately caused the former emperor’s untimely death and seized the throne for himself.

Now, they said, the Emperor Shengwu’s destiny as a harbinger of disaster had come to fruition.

His reckless military campaigns had drained the empire’s resources, and he had even marched thousands of miles to Bo just to indulge in a private rendezvous with its alluring empress, disregarding the rebellion in the three counties.

Now, Heaven had grown enraged and sent the plague upon the capital as a warning to the tyrant.

These rumors spread like wildfire among the ignorant masses.

Ji Binglin, deeply concerned, feared that if left unchecked, they would stir unrest among the people and lead to a major crisis.

And so, he rose early that morning and made his way to the imperial study to seek an audience with the emperor.