TFSRITA Chapter 9

“Interesting!” Ji Yecheng raised an eyebrow upon hearing this and stretched out his hand.

The young eunuch immediately understood and used a damp towel to clean his hand, wiping it thoroughly before drying it with a dry towel to ensure his long, fair hand was perfectly clean. Only then did he carefully release it.

Ji Yecheng gave a light snort, lazily stood up, and with a wave of his wide sleeve, said, “Let’s go, take me to the front to have a look.”

Jiang Wende wiped the sweat from his forehead and replied, “Yes! men, prepare the carriage.”

At once, the emperor’s grand procession set off, and all the palace servants along the way automatically stepped aside, not daring to offend.

When Ji Yecheng arrived, the commotion was noticeable, and Yan Qing was naturally aware, especially since someone had already alerted her.

She, however, paid no attention and continued to admire the vibrant peonies in full bloom.

The peonies, with their radiant colors and magnificent presence, were the most beloved flowers among the nobles of the palace. Right before her eyes was a particularly large and brilliantly red peony, so large that her hand couldn’t completely cover it.

Yan Qing gazed at the flower with delight, ignoring the stir caused by Ji Yecheng’s arrival, and reached out to pick it.

“Your Grace, you’re not allowed to pick the flowers in the Imperial Garden…” Qingshan hurriedly reminded her.

Before he could finish, she had already plucked the peony. With a bright smile, her pretty face beamed with joy, fearless and carefree. Her voice was lively as she said, “How beautiful! Go and find me a vase.”

Qingshan’s face paled, his steps hesitating, because… Emperor Yecheng had already arrived.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” the palace servants knelt in greeting. As expected, the consort once again remained standing, not even sparing a glance at the emperor. Her audacity was enough to make anyone’s heart race with fear.

Qingshan now thought he had miscalculated—this mistress of his was likely about to face consequences.

Yan Qing continued admiring the peony in her hand. Seeing no movement from the servants, she didn’t mind and turned to pick another flower. If a flower is worth plucking, you should pluck it. Such beautiful blooms deserved to be taken home for further enjoyment—if she lived to see another day, that is.

“How bold of you, Consort!” Ji Yecheng said coldly.

Yan Qing gave him a sarcastic smile, then, in his presence, plucked yet another peony. She held the two flowers together, flicking away the dew that had yet to dry, her smile radiant and alluring. After admiring them for a moment, she reached for another.

Suddenly, the man in black robes stepped forward, his large hand extending to seize her by the throat. His voice was icy and chilling: “Woman, are you testing my patience?”

Yan Qing’s pupils contracted sharply upon seeing the large hand. Her heart nearly stopped, and she instinctively tried to dodge. However, the man was too fast, giving her no chance to evade. His hand wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air, and pain immediately shot through her throat. But upon hearing his words, Yan Qing almost wanted to laugh. Were it not for her current state, she might have laughed out loud.

Her body trembled twice before going limp from the lack of oxygen.

Ji Yecheng was not a patient man. His tolerance for this woman’s rudeness stemmed from two things: Song Yu, and the fact that this woman was unlike anyone he had ever met.

Reckless and daring, bold and seductive.

Such a personality intrigued him from time to time, but now, as his imperial dignity was being challenged, Ji Yecheng’s anger began to rise.

The moment he showed signs of anger, everyone around him immediately knelt, shouting in unison, “Your Majesty, please calm down!”

The only person who remained silent was Yan Qing, who, despite the excruciating pain in her throat, refused to make a sound. Ji Yecheng had not been gentle—his grip cut off her air, and soon her vision began to blur from lack of oxygen.

Yet she still didn’t beg for mercy. Her hands remained clenched at her sides, resisting the instinct to fight for survival as she silently awaited her death.

She even prayed in her heart, Just a little more pressure! Soon my mission will be complete.

But just as she began to hope, her vision darkening, the pressure around her neck suddenly loosened, and she was thrown to the ground. Ji Yecheng looked down at her from above, his gaze cold and filled with a fierce anger that sent shivers down one’s spine. “Do you wish to die that much?”

To his surprise, she hadn’t resisted at all—not a hint of survival instinct. This piqued his interest.

He had assumed she was just a woman acting impulsively out of love, but now he saw that she was truly ready to die for it.

Was Song Yu truly that lucky to have found such a devoted woman?

As the air rushed back into her lungs, Yan Qing’s throat burned with pain. Her face turned pale as she gasped for breath, coughing uncontrollably from the intense pain in her throat. She had no strength to respond.

“Your Grace,” Qingshan hurriedly supported her.

The hard stone floor beneath her was uncomfortable, and though she tried to sit up with Qingshan’s help, she had no energy left. Her head was spinning, and her ears were ringing, making it impossible to comprehend what was happening around her, let alone hear Ji Yecheng’s words.

This time, however, Ji Yecheng wasn’t angered by her lack of response. Instead, he turned to Jiang Wende and said, “Summon the imperial physician.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Jiang Wende immediately ran off.

Soon, a palace maid with great strength carried Yan Qing to the incense pavilion, where she was laid on a recliner. A group of people surrounded her, and Ji Yecheng sat beside her on a stone stool.

The imperial physician arrived hurriedly, his old bones nearly pulled apart by Jiang Wende’s rush. When he finally stopped, he was about to exclaim, but upon seeing Ji Yecheng, his breath caught, and he knelt. “Your Majesty.”

“Examine her,” Ji Yecheng ordered, pointing to Yan Qing.

The physician hurried to her side and began his diagnosis.

As soon as he saw her, he noticed the bruising around her neck, already turning purple after some time. The clear handprints on her neck were unmistakable, and though he didn’t know who this woman was, judging by her attire, she was a concubine. No one but the emperor could have left those marks.

Especially this emperor, known for his unpredictable temper. After checking her pulse and examining her condition further, the physician bowed and explained, “Your Majesty, Her Grace is not in danger, though her throat will need some time to heal. She won’t be able to speak for a while. I’ll prescribe some medication, both for internal use and external application, to speed up the recovery.”