Chapter 41

Shao Qing’s head throbbed deep inside, a searing pain pulsing with each beat, yet her spirit was suddenly revitalized. She closed her eyes for a moment and then reopened them, first instructing Han Xi to inspect the surroundings. In the heat of momentary panic earlier, she had shouted the actual names of Ji Huan and a few others—she needed to ensure that no one except the Qingzhai Guards had overheard them. Taking a deep breath, she supported Wei Jing as they turned back toward the outer study room.

Wei Jing’s condition was very poor. With his eyes closed, he panted roughly while his body trembled ever so slightly. His large hands were clenched into tight fists with blue veins, and whenever his eyes briefly opened, they still shone with a red tint.

Supported into a seat on the low couch, his head bowed down onto Shao Qing’s shoulder and neck, he was drenched in cold sweat. That decision to retreat earlier had drained some of his strength. Emotionally unstable, he was struggling to force down his turmoil. He writhed in inner torment, and Shao Qing felt no less anxious.

They had to devise an alternative plan before the Gaoling salt ship set sail—otherwise, the emotions awakened within Wei Jing might not be able to subdue his hatred a second time.

Steeling herself, she loudly said, “Han Xi, please fetch Boyan.”

Boyan—that is, Ji Huan.

Worried for their master, Han Xi instructed his close aides and immediately went to wait outside the door; upon hearing her command, he responded briefly and hurried off.

Two heads are better than one. Moreover, given Wei Jing’s current state, it was tough for her to calm herself enough to think clearly. As for why she called only for Ji Huan, and not for Zhang Yong or Chen Qi

Firstly, Ji Huan was always a strategist; secondly, after spending some time together, Shao Qing noticed that he was a man with exceptional insight in certain respects. Once he confirmed in his heart that his lord was indeed wise, he would automatically yield on relatively minor matters.

For example, when the merchant caravan under Zhuang Yan encountered bandits, Zhang Yong and Chen Qi unswervingly drew their blades to help while he hesitated for a moment—concerned that attracting trouble might delay the search for Wei Jing.

Thus, Shao Qing decided not to inform Zhang Yong and Chen Qi about this matter at this stage.

Ji Huan arrived very promptly.

On the way, Han Xi had already explained the whole situation. With a solemn expression, he hurried into the study but did not enter the inner chamber; instead, he bowed respectfully behind the stone-blue drape hanging before the low couch.

“Greetings, my lord, madam.”

“Sir, there is no need for such formalities.”

Wei Jing’s condition was just as it had been earlier. Shao Qing retrieved the pillow from the couch and placed it behind him so he could lean against it as he gently sat up. A large patch of his hair was already wet, and his eyes were firmly closed as he silently panted. Once he was away from Shao Qing, his brows furrowed even more deeply, and after his fists briefly relaxed, they clenched again even tighter.

“My husband was once full of passion, but unfortunately, he fell victim to treacherous enemies—suffering severe wounds and excruciating pain that changed his nature. Yet his conviction has never been extinguished, which is why he endures the bitter hardships of today.”

Shao Qing composed her features and bowed with dignified grace as she spoke: “Water can carry a boat, yet it can capsize it; a sword can injure, but it can also protect. A benevolent heart bestows blessings upon all under heaven. My husband has placed his trust in you—and I hope that henceforth, whenever you face difficult decisions, you will consider accepting gentle counsel from aside.”

She did not intend to speak with such far‐reaching profundity, but Wei Jing’s current state was enough to make one worry that he might one day set off irrevocably on a path toward uncontrolled brutality. Shao Qing knew she might not always be by his side and feared that her lone efforts might not be enough to dissuade him. She then performed a deep bow, and Ji Huan hurriedly took hold of her hands with both of his, saying, “Madam, your words are too weighty.”

“Assisting our lord is a duty we must all bear—you don’t have to offer such ceremonial courtesy.”

Wei Jing’s changed aura was evident to anyone with eyes. When a lord is disgraced and ministers suffer dire losses—a pain felt all too personally by those who have labored tirelessly to help—how could one possibly need the intercession of a lady of the house?

Shao Qing’s remark drew a sober expression on Ji Huan’s face, while the confusion and anxious concern in Han Xi’s eyes gradually faded. But now was not the time for pleasantries; after a brief exchange, the two immediately returned to the main subject.

Alas, a good alternative method cannot be conjured up simply by earnest discussion. The three deliberated in several directions; regrettably, none of the alternatives could match the strength or effect of the “poison salt” plan.

Ji Huan stroked his beard, furrowed his brow for a long moment, and then said, “This plan is exceedingly venomous—but how it factors in the people’s hearts and the shifts in circumstances is just right. To add even one measure too many, or one too few, would make all the difference. I fear it is simply irreplaceable.”

“Replace it?” Shao Qing’s headache had not subsided at all; as time passed, a dull numbness began to set in, making her feel very uncomfortable. The pain felt as if it had rusted her entire brain, leaving her sluggish and making it difficult to move. Meanwhile, none of the alternative methods yielded any results, and she grew anxious.

Then Ji Huan’s words sparked an idea in her: “Well, can we replace the poisonous salt with a substance that appears potent on the surface but, in reality, does no harm to the body whatsoever? And then continue to use this strategy?”

This plan is intricately connected, yet its key, unacceptable flaw lies in the use of poison—poisoning innocent common people. So what if we strike at the root and replace the secret poison altogether?

The toxicity of the secret poison from the Pu tribe was not entirely clear. Even Na’ang could not explain much, as he had only heard about it. He didn’t even know whether it would be fatal after dilution, but it was presumed to be extremely potent.

Han Xi brought back a small amount of the poisonous salt and fed it to a chicken. The chicken heated up and struggled, and its skin beneath the feathers became covered in red spots. It collapsed to the ground, convulsing, letting out brief and sorrowful cries—its voice was extremely hoarse. This clearly demonstrated that the poison was extremely powerful.

So, could they replace the secret poison with a drug that appears formidable but has no adverse effect on human health at all? Something similar to a mild skin allergen that brings no pain or hindrance and, once the reaction subsides, leaves no lasting harm.

Time was short, and this was the best solution Shao Qing could come up with. After speaking, she immediately turned her gaze toward Ji Huan.

Ji Huan, who had been stroking his beard, paused his hand and said, “It could work.”

In theory, it’s possible—but why hadn’t anyone thought in this direction before? Does such a medicine really exist?

Facing Shao Qing’s hopeful eyes, Ji Huan shook his head with difficulty. “I only have a basic knowledge of traditional Chinese medicine, and my skills in that field are far from refined. How can I possibly claim mastery in toxicology?”

Shao Qing knew this all too well, yet she could not suppress the surge of disappointment within her. She swallowed hard and paused, her hand momentarily stopping as it rubbed her forehead.

“Skilled in toxicology?”

Immediately, she thought of another person.

Yan Ming.

Yan Ming had always been fascinated by toxins. On the way to Pingtao, Shao Qing had witnessed him deliberately uprooting wild herbs with toxic properties several times. Moreover, when the donkey cart encountered trouble, he even tossed some poison to resolve the issue quickly.

Furthermore, when it came to the troublesome residual toxins on Wei Jing back then, a few doses of his decoctions had solved the problem, clearly demonstrating his expertise in this field.

The group promptly decided to first seek out Yan Ming. If that didn’t work, they would consider other options later.

Deeply worried about Wei Jing, Shao Qing turned back to the inner room to check on him.

On the short couch, Wei Jing remained in the same position, leaning on the pillow. His hair and clothes were soaked through, and he looked as if he had just been pulled out of the water, yet his condition had improved considerably—his mind had clearly returned.

When he saw Shao Qing come in, he opened his eyes, still with a slight reddish tint, and said, “Ah Qing.”

His voice was very hoarse.

This man was always resilient, and Shao Qing felt terribly upset—something twisted inside her heart, causing a sour, aching pain. Her eyes grew warm, and she nearly shed tears again. Battling her emotions, she sat on the edge of the couch and took his hand. In a gentle voice, she said, “We’ve found a way. Wait for me.”

Wei Jing replied hoarsely, “I’ll go—you stay at home.” He raised his other hand and touched the corner of her forehead—right where she felt ache.

Even though he was in a bad state and suffering terribly, he could still hear everything clearly. At that, a pang rose at the tip of Shao Qing’s nose, and she couldn’t hold back her tears. Quickly wiping them away, she insisted, “I’m fine. I’ll go— you stay at home.”

It wouldn’t be right for him to go; matters like this were not suited for him to handle personally.

Shao Qing squeezed his hand tightly and added, “I’ll be back soon.”

Han Xi stayed behind to watch him while Shao Qing and Ji Huan headed straight to Yan Ming’s medical clinic.

A large group of people surged in, driving away the herb-collecting boy. The door shutters were closed, and the guards were so tight that not even a drop of water could slip through—it was clear that a serious crisis had occurred.

Yan Ming sat unflinchingly behind his desk. Even while he continued fiddling with a few small bottles, he only barely twitched an eyelid and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Apart from the members of the Kou family, he had always maintained this attitude—so Shao Qing was not at all surprised. With time running short, she raised her hand to silence Wang Jing and the others, cutting straight to the chase.

“Cunshan, this matter is urgent, so I won’t waste words. Yuan Hong didn’t die—he’s being used by the Pu tribe. He secretly sought out Yueniang and had her bring him into the Salt Post.”

She said in a somber tone, “Now a tremendous catastrophe has struck; if we cannot resolve this smoothly, …”

Shao Qing paused—any attempt to appeal to sentiment or logic would be completely out of place now. Plainly outlining Kou Yue’s involvement is their most effective option.

Sure enough, Yan Ming’s brows furrowed. “Yuan Hong didn’t die? And colluding with the Pu tribe, he actually dared to approach Yueniang?!”

Instantly, he brushed aside his earlier nonchalance, dropped the small bottle, and stood up. “What do you need me to do?”

Straightforward and decisive. Very good.

Ji Huan, who wasn’t on familiar terms with Yan Ming and had stayed silent earlier, now picked up the conversation: “Cunshan, do you think there is some kind of medicine…?”

He didn’t explain the entire background; he only laid out his side’s demands and the desired effects in great detail, one by one.

Yan Ming fell into deep thought, and Shao Qing was so tense that she unconsciously held her breath. She prayed, “Please, it must work. Otherwise, I really don’t know what I’ll do.”

Fortunately, heaven heard her prayer.

Yan Ming’s pause was only momentary. With a slight furrow of his brow, he said, “There is something that can produce a similar effect, but I’m not sure if it’ll work on you.”

In the southwest, there is a common type of frog. Its skin can be peeled off to extract glandular secretions, which, when mixed with a certain medicinal powder, will cause red spots to appear on a person’s skin. These spots spread in large patches that look extremely alarming, although they cause neither pain nor itchiness and vanish after a few days.

“If you wash them with peppermint water, the markings will fade even faster.”

At first glance—and without knowing the trigger—it might look like a serious infectious disease. In fact, however, this was a trick Yan Ming and his childhood friends used on each other, and they even innovated many variations based on it. The ingredients are extremely easy to obtain. He could prepare it right now.

“If I may mention a flaw, it does have one. The effect is optimal immediately after it is prepared, but it diminishes over time—in roughly two months, the medicinal potency is nearly gone.”

“It’s best used within half a month; using it within a month is also fine. But if…” If it’s used after over a month, the resulting impact might not be as dramatic as before.

They needed to prepare a large quantity within a very short period, and the effect had to be appropriate and sufficiently shocking. After much deliberation, Yan Ming concluded that this was the only recipe available.

Shao Qing and Ji Huan exchanged a glance. Amid her joy, there was a trace of worry.

Salt ships travel from Pingtao to Gaoling by water in about four days. Under normal circumstances, the warehousing, distribution, and retail process would be sufficient within half a month. The only remaining concern was that they weren’t sure how much stock the Gaoling salt depot originally had and whether there would be any hiccups during its dispatch.

The salt resources in Yizhou are abundant and inexhaustible, and in fact, salt depots around the region do not stockpile large quantities. They are about 90% confident that this plan will succeed. Yet, there remains a slight risk.

Ji Huan said, “I’ll report to the lord first.”

Wei Jing carried his hatred like a mountain on his back—a weight Shao Qing could never truly feel herself—but even as a bystander, her heart grew heavy and her breathing labored. Still, she could not bear to watch him resort to any unscrupulous means for his revenge. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, every beat like a tightly drawn string in her mind. With each step she took, it felt like she never quite touched the level ground; the dull, constant ache numbed her. Stepping into the outer study, her emotions strained to their limit, and she felt utterly drained and dizzy. She couldn’t help but grab the curtain that separated the inner and outer rooms, slowing her steps.

Inside, Ji Huan was already solemnly reporting, recounting every word Yan Ming uttered—even the slightest potential risk in the salt depot was clearly understood.

A few moments of silence passed in the inner room before Wei Jing’s hoarse voice broke through: “Yes.”

At that moment, Shao Qing was unsure whether to feel joy or sorrow. After a deep exhalation, her body quivered, and she quickly clutched the curtain even tighter. A cool breeze swept through the open door, leaving an icy chill on her face. When she reached out to wipe it, she realized those were tears.