The Sickly Regent Prince Who Was Abandoned as a Substitute Bride

Chapter 510

Rain streaks slanted across the carved window lattice, making the atmosphere in the warm chamber even more somber.

The old doctor could barely hold the wolf-hair brush; the stench of blood wafting from the three courtyards made his throat tighten.

The silver needles on his wrist trembled slightly in the medicine bowl, reflecting his bloodshot eyes—this was the third time he had rewritten the prescription, each stroke like a signature under a judge's pen.

As the ink spread across the Xuan paper, he suddenly heard the beaded curtain rustle softly, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his inner garment.

"Mingzhu, please don't act so impulsively again."

As night fell, the gold thread patterns on his dark brocade robe gleamed coldly in the candlelight. His slender fingers pressed against the silk curtains at the head of the bed, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

Those eyes, once piercing the hearts of enemy soldiers on the battlefield, were now filled with a sinister glint in their eyes. "If the child is harmed..."

The last note was shattered by the sudden gust of wind outside the window, yet it made the heart of the Oriental Pearl Tower on the couch tremble.

The fingertips of the Oriental Pearl Tower, which were gripping the brocade quilt tightly, had lost all color, and the pearl hairpin on her forehead swayed slightly with her heavy breathing.

The cramping pain in her lower abdomen came in waves, but she bit down on the gold-embroidered handkerchief and forced the sobs down her throat.

The image of Li Yanran's raised lips during her provocation earlier that day flashed before her eyes; that mocking smile was like a poisoned dagger, carving out gushing bloodstains in her heart.

"Li Yanran..." She crushed that name into dust in her heart, her nails digging deep into her palms.

"Once I get through this, I'll make you pay a hundredfold."

"Brother Jingchu, I know I was wrong..."

She forced herself to sit up, her pale cheeks streaked with pitiful tears, but the moment she lowered her eyes, a calculating undercurrent surged within them.

The fetal movements in her womb suddenly became weak. This child, obtained through secret techniques, was both her talisman and a sharp blade hanging over her head.

She thought to herself, as long as the child can be born safely, what does it matter if she is exposed later?

With her status as a prince, she could easily gain a foothold in this ruthless royal palace.

In the corner, Li Yanran concealed a smile with a silk handkerchief, her jade nail guards lightly tapping the back of the sandalwood chair. She moved with graceful steps, her skirt sweeping over the dregs of medicine scattered on the floor, her voice as sweet as honey: "Sister, take good care of yourself, lest you harm the fetus again." Beneath her lowered eyelashes, a cold glint flashed like a venomous snake's tongue. As she turned, her wide sleeves fluttered, revealing a small glass bottle hidden within—this was merely one of her many backup plans, a carefully prepared, monthly dose of abortifacient medicine, waiting for the opportune moment.

As Li Yanran's footsteps faded at the end of the corridor, Ye Jingchu reached the door. He suddenly stopped, his gaze falling on the unopened secret letter on the desk. The edges of the letter were slightly curled, vaguely revealing the words "Xinzhou." That mysterious woman who had been lying in wait in Xinzhou for many years might truly be able to solve his current predicament...

Meanwhile, thirty miles away, the Lu family manor was gripped by tension. Ye Jiuchen's black iron token gleamed coldly in the moonlight. He raised his hand and grasped Dongfang Wan'er's icy fingertips, his gaze sweeping over the suddenly palpable faces of the Lu family members: "Last night, Wan'er and I shared intimate moments; naturally, I should welcome her into the family with a grand procession." Before he finished speaking, Lu Yanchen's longsword pierced the air with a whooshing sound, but it was barely blocked by the soft sword of the dark night.

Lu Mufeng slammed his aged hand heavily on the stone table: "Ye Jiuchen! Though my Lu family is fallen on hard times, we will not tolerate such humiliation from you!" The old tiger tally at his waist rose and fell with his heavy breathing. Recalling that snowy night twenty years ago, when the entire Lu family was falsely accused of treason, and now his granddaughter had suffered this misfortune, tears welled up in the old general's cloudy eyes. Lu Qingmo picked up the bronze candlestick on the table, but was stopped by Dongfang Wan'er.

"Grandpa!" Dongfang Wan'er looked at the unprecedented solemnity in Ye Jiuchen's eyes, and recalled how he had wrapped his cloak around her trembling body last night. Her heart warmed slightly. She reached out and pressed Lu Qingmo's wrist, her voice soft yet firm: "The Ninth Prince always keeps his word, Wan'er trusts him."

The night wind rustled through the reeds outside the manor. Ye Jiuchen looked at the few new strands of white hair in Dongfang Wan'er's hair and remembered the arrow she had taken for him amidst the chaos of battle three days ago. The sound of the night watchman's drum drifted from afar, and he gripped the tiger tally at his waist—this world should have a new master.

On the carved sandalwood table, the flame of the gilded candlestick flickered eerily, distorting the shadow cast on the wall by the early night. His slender fingers had just touched the sealed letter, the silk-wrapped paper still warm, when he heard a piercing scream behind him. The scream shattered the medicinal fragrance that filled the warm room, startling the secret report beneath the paperweight on the table, causing it to tremble.

"Mingzhu!" Ye Jingchu's dark sleeves swept the celadon teacup off the table, shards of porcelain mixed with leftover tea crisscrossing the blue bricks in blood-red patterns. He rushed to the bedside, the embroidered gold bed curtains billowing in a gust of wind, revealing Dongfang Mingzhu's deathly pale face. The old doctor's trembling hands clutched a blood-stained handkerchief, beads of sweat rolling down his wrinkled face into his cloudy eyes: "Your Highness... Your Highness! The pregnancy is in serious trouble, I'm afraid..." Before he could finish speaking, Dongfang Mingzhu suddenly grabbed Ye Jingchu's wrist, her nails digging deep into his flesh: "Brother Jingchu... save our child..." Her weak murmurs, mixed with the blood frothing from her throat, spread like red plum blossoms on the silk pillowcase.

Meanwhile, the twilight outside the Lu family manor was being dyed crimson by the sunset. Ye Jiuchen's black iron token gleamed coldly in the setting sun. Amidst the tense standoff between him and the Lu family members, the sound of rapid hooves suddenly shattered the silence. A jet-black steed galloped in, the guard on the saddle, his chest stained with undried blood, stumbled and nearly fell as he dismounted: "Your Highness! An urgent report has arrived from the capital, His Majesty..." Before he could finish, Ye Jiuchen's pupils suddenly contracted, and his grip on Dongfang Wan'er's hand tightened involuntarily.

Lu Mufeng slammed his bronze cane heavily on the bluestone slab, making a dull thud. "Hmph! Something's happened in the capital at this critical juncture, saving us the trouble of lifting a finger!" A hint of mockery flashed in the old man's cloudy eyes, and the old tiger tally at his waist rose and fell with his breath. Lu Yanchen's sword tip was still pointed at Ye Jiuchen's throat, but then the other man suddenly released Dongfang Wan'er's hand and strode to the front of his horse.

The moment Ye Jiuchen mounted his horse, the moonlight happened to brush past the dark currents surging in his eyes. He looked down at the stunned Dongfang Wan'er on the ground, his voice low but each word carrying immense weight: "Wan'er, once I've resolved the matters in the capital, I will welcome you into my family with a grand wedding procession!" His black cloak fluttered in the night wind, and as he turned, the jade pendant at his waist clattered against the saddle, producing a crisp sound. With a whistle, dozens of horses galloped away, kicking up dust, leaving only a mess of hoofprints on the ground.

Dongfang Wan'er stood rooted to the spot, her plain skirt billowing in the night wind. She watched the figure disappear into the darkness, clutching her crumpled handkerchief tightly to her chest. The distant sound of a night watchman's drum startled a flock of crows that flew over the ruins, unaware that deep within the shadows of the Prince's mansion, Li Yanran leaned against a vermilion pillar, her jade nail guards gently rubbing against a small glass bottle hidden in her sleeve. She gazed in the direction Ye Jingchu had hastily departed, the curve of her lips colder than the moonlight on the eaves: "The show has only just begun..." Moonlight shone on the silver bracelet on her wrist, revealing the mandala pattern engraved on its surface—the sole piece of evidence in the massacre of the Lu family twenty years ago.