Chapter 305 Trouble in the Mansion

Chapter 305: Something Happened in the Mansion

The night was as black as ink, thick and impenetrable.

Ling Wu personally supervised as the last crate of medicinal herbs was loaded onto the carriage.

Divine Physician Sun and several mansion physicians had changed into nondescript plain clothes, blending in with a squad of disguised guards, ready to slip out of the city under cover of darkness.

"Please take good care of the princess and the young heir, Miss Ling Wu," Divine Physician Sun said before leaving, still somewhat uneasy, lowering his voice to urge.

Ling Wu nodded firmly. "Don't worry, Divine Physician Sun. I will take good care of the princess and the young heir."

The horses' hooves were muffled by thick cloth, thudding dully against the flagstones, and soon disappeared at the end of the alley.

Ling Wu stood at the back gate of the mansion, staring into the impenetrable darkness, a sense of unease creeping into her heart for no reason, as if something was about to happen.

Unexpectedly, less than three days after Divine Physician Sun left, something happened in the mansion.

Little Yejun suddenly developed a high fever, his young body burning like a small furnace.

He cried night after night, until his voice was hoarse, his little face flushed red to purple, and no one could soothe him.

The mansion physician prescribed fever-reducing formulas, and bowl after bowl of bitter medicine was forced down, but it was like throwing stones into the sea—the young heir's temperature remained alarmingly high.

Jiang Shuning held the child, staying awake for two days and two nights, her eyes bloodshot and terrifying.

She kept wiping the child's body with warm water, humming tuneless lullabies, her voice hoarse.

Ling Wu stayed by her side, her heart twisted in knots, but she was helpless, only able to fret.

On the morning of the third day, a faint fish-belly white appeared on the horizon, weak dawn light filtering through the window lattice, illuminating the mess and exhaustion in the room.

Little Yejun's cries finally stopped.

Jiang Shuning sat there quietly, holding the motionless child in her arms, like a statue that had lost its soul.

"Ling Wu," she spoke, her voice as light as a feather, but it crashed heavily onto Ling Wu's heart. "Jun... he's gone."

A buzzing sound filled Ling Wu's head, and she was completely stunned.

She couldn't believe her ears. Staggering forward, she tried to reach for the tiny infant.

But what her fingertips touched was a cold stiffness.

The little face in the swaddling clothes was pale as paper, with bluish-purple shadows under the tightly closed eyes.

He was so quiet now, never to cry again.

"How could this be?" Ling Wu's tears burst forth instantly, her voice trembling uncontrollably. "Didn't the mansion physician say... didn't they say it was just a common fever? How..."

She suddenly turned to Jiang Shuning, as if remembering something, and said urgently, "Princess! You can perform acupuncture, can't you? Save the young heir! You must have a way, right?"

Jiang Shuning slowly raised her head. Those once bright and beautiful eyes were now dim and lifeless, hollow and frightening.

"Jun is too young, his meridians are too fragile to withstand the needle force," she said, as if all her strength had been drained, every word spoken with immense difficulty. "I tried my best... but I still... couldn't keep him."

With the last shred of hope shattered, Ling Wu could no longer hold back. She fell to her knees and burst into loud wails.

"How could this happen... The young heir was so young..."

Seeing her cry so heartbrokenly, a flicker of pain crossed Jiang Shuning's eyes.

She reached out and gently placed her hand on Ling Wu's shoulder. "Life and death are fated; riches and honor depend on heaven's will. You... don't have to be so sad."

Ling Wu sobbed uncontrollably, choking out, "If the prince finds out... how heartbroken he'll be? Poor prince... he... he hasn't even seen the young heir once..."

"Don't tell him!"

Jiang Shuning's voice suddenly became sharp. She grabbed Ling Wu's hand tightly, her nails almost digging into her flesh.

"The prince is now fighting bloody battles in Xiyu. On the battlefield, things change in an instant! This matter must not distract him!" She stared at Ling Wu, her gaze carrying an unyielding command. "I will handle Jun's matter myself. Listen to me: a child who dies young cannot be placed in a coffin. Go outside... and buy a clean clay urn. Also, for now, don't let anyone in the mansion know. Say the young heir is unwell and cannot see anyone."

Ling Wu was stunned by the fierce determination in her eyes. She could only nod numbly, tears streaming down her face.

Overwhelmed by immense grief, she lost the ability to think. Whatever the princess said, she obeyed.

The door was gently closed, and Ling Wu's footsteps gradually faded away.

The deathly stillness in the room lasted only a moment.

The grief, despair, and exhaustion on Jiang Shuning's face receded like a tide, replaced by an icy, almost cruel calm.

She lowered her head, pressing her cold lips gently against Little Yejun's icy forehead, her voice so low only she could hear.

"My son, I have wronged you."

"Mother... will come to you soon."

Then, holding the child, she walked to the window and gently pushed it open.

Outside the window, a slender figure had been waiting for a long time—it was Xiao Cui, the maid beside Cui Zhilan.

"I've sent Ling Wu away," Jiang Shuning said, her voice extremely low. "Please ask Concubine Cui to help send the child to my mother. My mother will take care of everything!"

Xiao Cui quickly reached out and carefully took the small bundle.

"Rest assured, Princess. The concubine has arranged everything. The young heir will be properly taken care of!"

Jiang Shuning's gaze clung to the bundle, greedily tracing the child's outline inch by inch, as if she wanted to carve him into her bones and blood.

Only when Xiao Cui's figure disappeared around the corner did she close the window, shutting out the outside world.

She turned and quickly took out some of Little Yejun's old clothes from the wardrobe, deftly folding them and stuffing them into another clean cloth to form a baby-shaped bundle.

When Ling Wu returned, her eyes red and swollen, holding a plain clay urn, what she saw was Jiang Shuning holding that "baby" shape.

"Princess..." Ling Wu's voice was still thick with tears.

Jiang Shuning gently and solemnly placed the bundle in her arms into the clay urn.

Crying, Ling Wu instinctively leaned over to take one last look at the young heir.

"Don't look," Jiang Shuning said, reaching out to block her view, her voice hoarse. "It would only add to the sorrow."

Hearing this, Ling Wu's tears, which had just stopped, gushed out again.

She dared not cry out loud, afraid of upsetting the princess even more.

The pain of losing a child—how deep it must be—she dared not even imagine.

Ling Wu carefully cradled the earthenware jar in her arms, its weight seemed to carry the sorrow of the entire prince's manor.

She made a solemn promise to Jiang Shuning: “Rest assured, Your Highness. I will take the little heir… to the best temple on the outskirts of the capital for burial, burn the finest incense for him, and have the monks chant sutras for him day and night.”

“Thank you, Ling Wu.”

Jiang Shuning lowered her gaze, her long lashes hiding the fleeting guilt in her eyes.

Forgive me, Ling Wu, for making you shed so many heartfelt tears for this performance I staged.

But if not for this, I fear I would never be able to break free from Xiao Lingchuan’s grip and taste freedom in this lifetime.

Xiao Cui used the bedding as a cover and carried the swaddled Little Yejun to the Hidden Brocade Pavilion.

In that brief span of time, the small body that had been cold and stiff moments before had already grown warm and soft again, with a steady rise and fall in his chest.

When Cui Zhilan saw him, Little Yejun’s complexion had returned to a rosy glow. He wasn’t crying, just staring at her quietly with clear eyes like black grapes.

A soft pang touched the tenderest spot in Cui Zhilan’s heart.

She couldn’t help thinking how lucky it was that Jiang Shuning hadn’t eaten that bowl of red bean porridge laced with abortifacient herbs that day.

Otherwise, how could she ever have witnessed such a fair-skinned, adorable child today?

“Secondary Consort, the little heir has arrived. Shall I send him to the Prime Minister’s residence as the Princess instructed?” Xiao Cui asked.

“Don’t send him to the Prime Minister’s residence,” Cui Zhilan said, looking at the sturdy, lovely infant, slowly, emphasizing each word. “Send him… to my cousin’s residence instead.”

“But the Princess…”

“Say no more. Just do as I say.” Cui Zhilan met her eyes. “Only then can the severed bond between them be re-tied.”

“Yes, Secondary Consort.” Xiao Cui replied in a low voice, cradling Little Yejun as she left.