Chapter 312

Chapter 312

Consort Ping pretended to try to sit up, her frail and unsteady appearance making the palace maids waiting beside her hearts skip a beat. They hurried forward to support her, quickly advising, "Your Highness, you are injured. Please be careful not to strain your wound." Their nervous tone played right into her act.

They thought to themselves—their mistress was truly going all out.

The imperial physicians were sweating bullets. They had arrived just before Consort Ping drew her last breath. If the emperor hadn’t come soon, they feared she might have taken her final breath any moment—bad luck to even think it.

Consort Ping wasn’t actually trying to rise. Any sudden movement would cause her blood to flow even faster. Fortunately, the maids had the good sense. By the time Kangxi entered, she had already put on a well-practiced look of joy, her eyes brimming with tears as she weakly called out, "Your Majesty," while leaning on the maid’s arm as if to stand.

Kangxi’s expression shifted slightly. Seeing this, he strode forward and raised a hand to stop her, his voice tense. "What’s this about? You’re injured—there’s no need for formalities."

When his gaze fell upon her arrow wound, his face darkened. He turned to the kneeling physicians and said sternly, "Why hasn’t the arrow been removed yet? Are the physicians not doing their duty?"

Here it comes, here it comes—what a perfect question! The physicians also wanted to ask, *Why hasn’t the arrow been removed yet? Do you think we don’t want to?!*

Of course, the bitter truth was that they couldn’t outright say Consort Ping had refused to cooperate. After all, she was a noble consort—one who had taken an arrow for the emperor, no less. Not only was His Majesty concerned, but she might also receive rewards later. If they threw her to the wolves now, she might hold a grudge for ruining her act, making things even harder for them.

So, the physicians absolutely dared not imply any negligence on their part. They were terrified that Consort Ping might hang on by a thread only to drop dead any second.

Instead, they launched into a tactful spiel about the extensive preparatory work required, emphasizing how delicate, dangerous, and life-threatening the arrow’s position was. They had to proceed with the utmost caution—hence the delay. But now that His Majesty had arrived, they were ready to proceed immediately.

Not that it’s because Consort Ping refused to let them remove the arrow until you got here, oh no.

The physicians maintained solemn expressions as they spoke these bald-faced lies.

Consort Ping, satisfied that they hadn’t said anything they shouldn’t, chimed in. "This concubine… *cough*… is fortunate just to see Your Majesty again. This concubine feared… *cough*… she wouldn’t last until Your Majesty arrived… *cough*… but it seems… Heaven has cut me some slack."

Her words came out broken and weak, as if speaking itself was a struggle. Her brows were tightly furrowed in pain, sweat dampening the strands of hair at her forehead. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tears glistening in them, her beautiful face drained of color—fragile and pitiable. Trembling, she reached out as if seeking something to hold onto.

Without realizing it, the vulnerable demeanor she instinctively adopted bore an uncanny resemblance to that of Rong Noble Consort—the very woman she had long regarded as a rival, someone she wished to steamroll over beneath her feet.

Though Consort Ping had always insisted on forging her own path to avoid comparisons, after repeated setbacks, she had begun subconsciously mimicking her rival. Deep down, she had started to believe this approach would serve her better.

Hearing her words, Kangxi finally turned his full attention to her, naturally taking her hand in his. His tone softened. "Don’t think such things. The physicians will surely heal you."

After so many failed attempts, so many cold shoulders, so many times she had been denied closeness—even when she tried to intercept his attention—Consort Ping had grown numb from hitting wall after wall. She had pushed herself to this extreme just to force her foot in the door, if only to avoid complete helplessness.

Earlier, when Kangxi had delayed his arrival, her heart had plunged. She couldn’t help but doubt herself—*Had all this effort truly been for nothing?*

Fortunately, taking an arrow for him had, in the end, paid off.

Though Kangxi hadn’t come to her immediately, after so many disappointments, Consort Ping was giddy with relief that he had come at all.

Now, hearing this rare gentleness in his voice, she was truly moved.

Her nose stung, her eyes growing even wetter. She tightened her grip on Kangxi’s hand, pressing her lips together without speaking—a wordless plea. She nodded lightly, her gaze fixed on him with hope and dependence, her expression heart-wrenching. Kangxi responded with a reassuring smile.

She wanted to seize this moment to further soften his attitude, to exchange tender words and solidify her gains—but with an arrow still lodged in her, this wasn’t the time for deathbed confessions.

"Remove the arrow," Kangxi said decisively, stepping aside to give the physicians space.

Finally, the physicians had their chance to shine. The medical attendants swiftly took their positions, and the palace maids sprang into action, eager to erase the earlier impression of negligence. When Consort Ping had refused to let them near her earlier, it had made them look like useless ornaments.

Now that the emperor was present, they had to prove their diligence. No more slacking off.

In an instant, everyone had a role to play—except perhaps Kangxi, who sat to the side, waiting. A freshly brewed cup of tea sat within arm’s reach, ready for him to sip at any moment.

Consort Ping, though carefully attended to, had no such luxury. Her hand had barely warmed in his before the moment was ruined. The pain of the arrow seemed to intensify, and the tender atmosphere she had worked so hard to create was shattered by these clueless busybodies!

Consort Ping was so frustrated by their overzealousness that she felt suffocated, yet she couldn’t afford to stall like before.

She couldn’t possibly ask for a pause just to exchange a few more words with Kangxi before the arrow was removed. Not only would the servants think her absurd, but Kangxi himself might deem her unhinged. Consort Ping was no fool—she knew better.

Unable to move, she strained to follow Kangxi’s figure with her gaze, but the palace maids wiping her sweat blocked her view. She shifted slightly, yet still couldn’t lock eyes with him, so infuriated that she nearly slapped the obstructing maid away!

Just as the physician gripped the broken arrow, ready to pull it out, Consort Ping suddenly spoke, "Wait!"

The tense physician started violently at her command, his heart pounding in alarm. He barely stopped himself from blurting out, *What now?!*

Fortunately, his brain caught up before his mouth could run wild. Wiping his sweat, he waited for Her Ladyship’s next words.

"What is it?" Kangxi stepped forward, his expression concerned.

The maid who had been blocking Consort Ping’s view finally moved aside, easing some of her irritation. "Your Majesty… *cough*… May I hold your hand while they remove the arrow?" Her eyes were awash with hope, fear, and vulnerability—impossible to ignore. Her voice was weak, her eyes red-rimmed as she whispered her plea.

Consort Ping knew this was the perfect moment to make such a small request. It would not only be granted but also showcase her dependence and fragility, earning his pity while salvaging her dignity.

She was well aware that the servants might have secretly mocked her when her summons went unanswered. Now was the time to seize Kangxi’s softened attitude and flaunt her secure status and favor.

The physicians were experts at turning a blind eye. No matter their inner thoughts, their bearded faces remained completely expressionless, focused solely on the task at hand.

Earlier, they had feared she might die on the spot. But seeing her cling to life with such tenacious grip, they realized she could indeed wait a little longer.

As expected, Kangxi took her hand without hesitation and reassured her, "Do not fear. I am here." His tone was soothing, his demeanor perfectly natural.

When the usually cold and detached Emperor softened his expression and treated her with such gentleness, even Consort Ping—who prided herself on being unshaken by the charms of wealthy elites—couldn’t help but feel her heart race.

This was entirely different. The hand she held represented absolute power and wealth, and in that moment, her ambitions swelled uncontrollably.

Thankfully, there were no further interruptions. Once the arrow was successfully removed, the physicians sighed in relief—not because of the procedure’s difficulty or the bleeding, but because the exhausting prelude had made even this daunting task seem manageable.

Professional challenges were tough, but psychological warfare was far more draining.

The process lacked any dramatic tension. The arrow was pulled, the wound cleaned, and the bandages applied in a seamless relay. Consort Ping had hoped to hold tightly to Kangxi’s hand, exaggerating her suffering to make him understand the agony she endured.

Yet, it was over in moments. There was no time for slow-motion dying declarations like in dramas—just a frustrating sense of being cut short.

Once bandaged, the maids quickly changed her into fresh sleeping robes. Naturally, Kangxi couldn’t assist, and to avoid hindering him, he was politely ushered to a seat nearby. By the end, Consort Ping hadn’t even managed to warm his hand!

She had wanted to seize the moment for heartfelt words, but constant interruptions thwarted her. The pain, now reduced to a tolerable ache, allowed her to remain composed enough to strategize—had it been unbearable, she wouldn’t have had the luxury.

Kangxi’s face displayed concern and urgency as he urged her to rest, yet his eyes betrayed calm indifference.

Consort Ping knew it would seem unnatural if she didn’t give in to exhaustion. After such an ordeal, holding onto consciousness until she saw the Emperor was plausible, but remaining awake after the arrow’s removal would raise suspicions.

So she let herself slip into unconsciousness, reserving her energy to reap the rewards upon waking.

---

Consort Yi had considered waiting there—not to steal Kangxi’s attention, but simply to see His Majesty. Even accompanying him would show her concern, wouldn’t it?

But after her last futile attempt, she refused to humiliate herself alongside Consort Ping again. Instead, she sent servants to monitor the situation and report back once Kangxi arrived.

This time, she wouldn’t return empty-handed. Consort Ping had saved the Emperor—of course, His Majesty would visit her. As she waited, Consort Yi began meticulously grooming herself, only for the returning messenger to bring unexpected news: Consort Hui had been stripped of her title.

That woman, Nala Shi—despite her veneer of dignified elegance—had once protected the Eldest Prince under Empress Hesheli’s watch. She was anything but simple.

During the years the Eldest Prince spent outside the palace, Nala Shi had lain low, refraining from contention—but she never forgot to send fresh, alluring women Kangxi’s way. Consort Yi had been outmaneuvered by her hands before, long disgusted by Nala Shi’s two-faced act.

After the First Prince was brought back to the palace, if not for the Crown Prince keeping him in check, Consort Nara's arrogance would have soared to who knows where.

Now, not only has she lost her title, but she is also kneeling before Consort Ping. Consort Yi doesn't know whether to call Consort Nara foolishly overconfident or simply reckless, thinking she could rely on the First Prince’s influence to provoke Rong Noble Consort at such a critical moment.

If Consort Nara had truly managed to use this opportunity to bring down Rong Noble Consort, she might have earned their respect. But since her scheme failed, she has become an object of ridicule.

Like now—Consort Yi curses Consort Nara's stupidity under her breath, as it thwarts her planned visit. All the effort she put into preparing her attire is wasted.

Ever since being promoted to one of the Four Imperial Consorts, with Consort Nara ranked below her, Consort Yi has long nursed resentment. She isn't unwilling to witness Consort Nara’s disgrace—even Consort Ping's dissatisfaction was within her expectations. But if Consort Ping wanted to ally with her, she'd have to maintain a facade of harmony despite her displeasure.

However, if Consort Yi were to go now and run into Consort Nara outside, she'd be embroiled in the conflict and earn Consort Nara's hatred as well. With Consort Nara having lost both face and status, suffering such a major setback, she'd surely retaliate fiercely. Consort Yi has no desire to provoke her at this moment.

After weighing the pros and cons, Consort Yi reluctantly abandons her intention to visit.

As for why others aren't rushing to show familial courtesy, it's for the same reason.

Even if Consort Hui has lost her title and become Consort Nara, she's still one of the Four Imperial Consorts, higher in rank than them, and with the First Prince as her leverage. Visiting now would only earn Consort Nara's resentment—and possibly Consort Ping's as well. So everyone tacitly avoids stirring trouble.

With the First Prince drugged into dizziness and cut off from information, he can't come to Consort Nara's rescue. What was meant to be a tactical retreat has turned into a humiliating, unavoidable punishment—one she'll endure thoroughly.

But Kangxi isn't idle. He busies himself with handling reports on the assassination attempt, dealing with those involved, and even having government affairs delivered to Consort Ping's quarters for processing. It seems he intends to stay by her side through the dangerous recovery phase.

To outsiders, it appears Consort Ping's act of saving the Emperor has genuinely moved him. If she survives this ordeal, the merit of her sacrifice will ensure lasting favor.

Consort Ping's confidence in reaping rewards upon waking stems from the genuine rise in favorability. Once she wakes, she can reinforce it and possibly gain even more points, surpassing the minimum benchmark.

Given her injuries, sleeping for a full day is normal. Before she lost consciousness, Kangxi even promised to wait for her to wake.

Though most of the pain was suppressed, the day's ordeal still drained her energy. Like completing a major project, she finally relaxed and drifted into peaceful slumber.

At midnight—no natural awakening, no disturbance—yet the system’s warning shrieked in her mind.

The deep slumber was shattered by the jarring warning, startling Consort Ping so badly her heart nearly stopped. The sudden movement tore her wound, causing fresh bleeding, though she barely noticed.

The previously suppressed sharp pain burst through its barrier, overwhelming her with agony. She nearly screamed, but the sound died in her throat when her gaze landed on the figure in bright yellow.

The searing pain in her shoulder and chest left her dazed, unable to process the warning at first—only that it had forcibly ripped her from sleep.

When she finally understood the cold, mechanical message, the world seemed to collapse around her. The pain intensified, her vision darkened, and she wished she could faint just to escape the horror.

The favorability points that had skyrocketed after taking the arrow had plummeted overnight—plunging into meager remaining points!

No wonder the pain suppression had failed!

Previously, when her favorability dropped, the system had subjected her to electrocution punishment as retribution, forcing her to comply. Now, with such a drastic fall, it didn't even bother with shocks—it simply revoked her pain-blocking privilege as the most direct punishment.

The agony tore her awake.

Before she could demand answers from the system, her gaze fell on the figure in imperial yellow beside her. She barely held back her emotions.

Overwhelming dread and anxiety, mixed with the stabbing pain, nearly drove her to lose all restraint and lash out.