Chapter 15: Potion 

The members of the second branch hadn’t expected her to leave so decisively. 

They were all dumbfounded. 

Madam Zhang quickly said, “You’ve already brought it here—how can you just take it away?” 

“Since you disdain it so much, eating it would surely make you uncomfortable. Why bother?” Shang Ruoyi shook the wolf meat in her hand and walked over to the third branch, smiling as she asked, “Third Uncle, Third Aunt, do you mind?” 

Before the two could respond, He Jingxi stepped forward and took the meat. “If Sister-in-law made it, it must taste good. Thank you.” 

Seeing their son speak up, the couple fell silent. 

After the long journey, they were all starving. 

Though Madam Lin disliked Shang Ruoyi, she wasn’t foolish—on an exile journey, stamina was paramount. 

Initially, they had been repulsed by the idea of eating wolf meat, as it was wild game. But now, having meat at all was a rare luxury. 

With the first bite, they were stunned. 

Who knew roasted wolf meat could taste so delicious? 

They couldn’t help but devour it eagerly. 

The second branch watched, swallowing hard. 

He Ning’an said darkly, “This is all your fault. They brought it over, yet you had to put on airs. Now we’re left with nothing but watching.” 

He Jinghe couldn’t resist complaining, “Mother, we haven’t eaten all day. We finally had a chance for some meat, and you ruined it.” 

Madam Zhang watched them eat so heartily and shut her mouth awkwardly, saying nothing more. 

But her gaze toward Shang Ruoyi grew even darker. 

That wretched girl—she had played her for a fool. 

She was now certain Shang Ruoyi had deliberately flaunted the meat in front of her, never intending to share it with the second branch. 

Shang Ruoyi handed the last piece of wolf meat to He Jingheng. 

“Eat.” 

He Jingheng had long caught the aroma of the meat. 

If even his notoriously picky grandmother had eaten it with relish, the roast must be excellent. 

“Thank you.” 

Shang Ruoyi didn’t respond and instead turned toward the pile of wolf pelts. 

“Master, I’ll dispose of these pelts.” 

The guards were too busy eating to look back, waving dismissively for her to handle it herself. 

Shang Ruoyi carried the pelts out of the ruined temple. 

Once alone, she slipped into her Space with the pelts. 

She washed them clean in the spring water and left them to dry inside the Space. 

These pelts were valuable. The journey to the exile destination was long, spanning months of arduous travel. 

Though the weather was warm now, winter would arrive in a few months. Dressed so thinly, they’d likely freeze to death before reaching their destination. 

She glanced at the seedlings growing in the Space’s fields. 

Once again, she felt grateful. On the second day the Space appeared, she’d had servants purchase a variety of seeds for her. 

Though she’d never farmed in her past life, she’d at least seen how it was done. 

Moreover, the fields in the Space seemed different from the outside world—seedlings sprouted just days after planting. 

Now, the fields held corn and many vegetable and fruit seedlings. Though their diet would be plain along the way, at least they wouldn’t starve. 

Once they reached the exile destination, she’d figure out the next steps. 

When she returned to the temple, a guard frowned. “Why so long?” 

“I wanted to throw them farther away. If there really are wild beasts, they won’t track us here.” 

The guard considered it and didn’t press further.

Shang Ruoyi returned to her spot and closed her eyes to rest.

The moment her eyes shut, she found herself inside the Space.

Her heart skipped a beat.

If she vanished into thin air in front of so many people, wouldn’t she be labeled a demon?

Just as panic set in, the scene outside the Space materialized before her eyes.

Outside, her physical body was leaning against a stone post, seemingly asleep.

Could it be that her consciousness could enter the Space independently of her body?

It seemed this was another new function brought by the Space Upgrade.

She went to the laboratory and prepared several potions to accelerate wound healing.

With the journey ahead bound to be rough, and the lab only stocked with oral tablets, she had no choice but to concoct topical healing potions herself.

As soon as the potions were ready, she exited the Space.

By then, night had fallen. Everyone was deep in slumber, and even the guards on duty were dozing off.

She approached He Jingheng, but before she could crouch down, the man suddenly opened his eyes. His sharp, hawk-like gaze sent a shiver down Shang Ruoyi’s spine.

Recognizing her, He Jingheng frowned slightly and asked in a low voice, “What is it?”

She produced a porcelain vial, intending to apply the potion to the wound on his arm.

“What’s this?”

“While handling the wolf pelts earlier, I found some herbs that aid in wound healing,” Shang Ruoyi lied smoothly without batting an eye.

He Jingheng blocked the wound with his hand, his expression skeptical.

“In your condition, you still think I’d harm you?” Shang Ruoyi rolled up her sleeve, revealing a scratch from a tree branch, and dabbed the potion on it.

“See? I’ve tested it on myself, Your Highness the Heir Apparent.” She rolled her eyes. Had she known, she wouldn’t have bothered—her kindness was wasted on him.

This time, He Jingheng didn’t stop her.

Watching her skilled application, he asked softly, “You know medicine?”

Shang Ruoyi nodded. “Of course!” Not just knew—she was proficient.

Noticing his hesitation, she smirked. “Don’t tell me you were about to ask something as foolish as, ‘How does a Prime Minister’s daughter know medicine?’”

He Jingheng rubbed his nose but said nothing.

The fleeting discomfort on his face confirmed her guess was spot-on.

“‘Long illness makes a good physician.’ Ever heard that saying?” Shang Ruoyi gave a cold laugh. “What kind of life do you think an unfavored second daughter like me could have under the First Wife’s thumb? If my mother had been favored, things might’ve been bearable. But in Shang Nian’s eyes, she was nothing but a stain.”

He Jingheng understood.

Many knew Shang Nian had once been a poor scholar who rose through the imperial exams.

Without the support of Shang Ruoyi’s maternal grandfather, he’d never have reached the position of Prime Minister.

A first-rank Prime Minister who owed his rise to a concubine—who wouldn’t laugh behind his back?

As the potion seeped into his flesh, the pain gradually eased.

He Jingheng eyed the vial in her hand with suspicion.

What herb could have such miraculous pain-relieving effects?

Frowning at the whip marks on his arm, Shang Ruoyi asked gravely, “Are there more on your back?”

He Jingheng chuckled. “Not afraid?”

“Why should I be afraid?” Shang Ruoyi said calmly, “What are these injuries compared to anything?” 

In her past life, she had seen countless dismembered corpses and severed limbs. A few whip scars were nothing to fear. 

But to He Jingheng, her words carried a different meaning. 

His brows furrowed tightly, his voice laced with anger, “Did the First Wife of the Prime Minister’s Residence subject you to private punishment?” 

Shang Ruoyi paused, then replied after a moment’s thought, “You could say that.” 

Denying her meals through the servants—that counted as punishment, didn’t it? 

He Jingheng’s gaze turned dangerously cold. What a fine Prime Minister’s Residence. What a fine Shang Nian. Truly impressive. 

As she took in the crisscrossing whip marks on his back, Shang Ruoyi felt a pang of unease.