Chapter Six: The Scapegoat Princess Sentenced to Death (6)

"When did His Highness pass out?"

"I have no idea!"

"It seems he stopped struggling about a quarter of an hour ago. Do you think someone pinched him into unconsciousness?"

"Don't look at me, I was only holding his legs."

"And who stuffed that rag into his mouth?"

"Stop talking nonsense! His Highness clearly lost consciousness due to illness; it has absolutely nothing to do with us."

"Yes, yes, exactly..."

The group of eunuchs and palace maids, who had retreated to the doorway but kept a constant watch on the room, whispered among themselves, shifting blame and refusing to admit any involvement in the Prince's collapse. Hearing the suggestion that it was an illness, the others immediately fell in line. If it were illness, they would be blameless. Serving this master offered no hope of glory or gain; simply surviving without being made a scapegoat was the greatest stroke of fortune.

Meanwhile, inside the bedchamber, Imperial Physician Wang was furrowing his brows deeply. After checking the pulse on the left wrist, he checked the right. He then examined the Prince’s pupils, pried open his mouth to inspect his tongue coating, and repeatedly touched the strange blue, purple, and black spots appearing on Prince Lu’s body. Utterly bewildered, he spoke cautiously after a long silence:

"Head Steward Dong, my medical skills are limited, I fear..."

"Spare me the pleasantries. There is no one else here, so speak plainly. Do not hide anything. If something happens to Prince Lu, none of us will fare well."

Dong Huaide knew the physician's temperament all too well and spoke bluntly.

"Head Steward, I truly cannot grasp what is happening to His Highness," Physician Wang said with a bitter expression, knowing he could not escape. "You know how fond Prince Lu is of consuming alchemical pills. His body was already riddled with holes from those toxins. Yet, upon checking his pulse, I find that the alchemical toxins seem to have largely vanished, though his internal organs are severely depleted."

"This is unprecedented and unheard of. It is most strange."

"Furthermore, these spots on his skin—I truly cannot tell what they are. If an elderly person develops spots, or someone is poisoned by a specific toxin, that would be normal. But those appear slowly over months or years."

"To have so many bizarre spots appear in a single day, or rather, in an instant—I have only ever read of such things in books of spirits and supernatural anomalies. I dare not speak recklessly."

"Perhaps we should consult a Taoist or a monk. As a physician, I am truly powerless here."

In truth, Physician Wang suspected the condition resembled the legendary "Ghost-Face Sores," the sort brought on by the vengeful spirits of those one has wronged. While it did not perfectly match the legends, minor discrepancies were expected in folklore. However, he could not say this directly, so he urged Head Steward Dong to seek a religious expert.

Dong Huaide was no fool; he understood the implication, and his face turned even grimmer. He had harbored similar thoughts himself, and the physician's words only confirmed his fears. Yet, such matters could never be leaked. If word got out, the Royal Family would lose face, and they would likely lose their heads. Whether they sought a Taoist or a monk, it had to be done in absolute secrecy.

"Do you have any recommendations, Physician Wang?"

"I have never sought divine guidance and know no such monks or Taoists. Head Steward, you must send someone to inquire."

"I observe that the spots on His Highness are merely skin-deep. Though the color is grotesque, there are no sores, bleeding, or ulcerations. The few wounds present were caused by His Highness scratching himself in agony. I wonder, if he wakes, will the pain return? Will it be life-threatening?"

"I do not know, but for now, he appears stable."

After a silent moment, Physician Wang retrieved golden needles from his kit. "I will perform acupuncture to rouse His Highness. I can only guarantee that he will not be in unbearable pain for the moment—after all, if it were truly unbearable, he would not have been able to lose consciousness. As for what happens afterward, I cannot promise."

"Fine..." Dong Huaide, ignorant of medicine, could only watch. Before the Prince awoke, he stepped out to warn the eunuchs and maids that no one was to breathe a word of this day’s events.

Minutes later, Prince Lu, Zhu Qin, slowly stirred under the needles. He instinctively reached out to scratch, a reflex from before his collapse, but Physician Wang quickly restrained him. "Your Highness, do not move! The needles are still in place!"

Only then did Zhu Qin realize the pain and itching had subsided. But before he could breathe a sigh of relief, he looked down at his hands. He saw an interweaving of three different colored spots. At first glance, they did not look like human hands at all.

"Ah! This... what is this..."

In his shock, Zhu Qin moved violently, startling the physician and causing the silver needles in his body to shift. Fortunately, they were not in vital points, and because his skin’s sensory perception was dulled, he felt no pain. He stared in horror at his hands, then tore at his already tattered clothes to inspect the rest of his body, roaring for an explanation.

"How did I become like this? What are these things on my body? What kind of devilry is this!"

"What just happened?"

"Physician Wang, what is going on? What has happened to me? Wait—could this be a marrow-cleansing? Could it be that I am to attain immortality?"

"Hahahaha! Hahahaha!!!"

"It must be! It must be..."

After roaring for a moment, a thought flashed through Zhu Qin’s mind. He convinced himself that his state resembled the legendary "cleansing of the marrow," where toxins and impurities are expelled. That would explain the pain, and these blue and purple colors must be the expelled impurities.

He began to rub his skin excitedly, thinking he could scrub the spots away like dirt.

This delusion left the two men nearby, and even Ding Shui—who could no longer be considered human—dumbfounded. Could he really be thinking that? The alchemical pills must have truly rotted his brain.

His excitement, however, did not last long. He soon discovered that the blue, purple, and black spots could not be rubbed off; they seemed to have grown deep into his skin and flesh.

Cleansing the marrow clearly did not look like this. He looked poisoned, or cursed.

In the next second, Zhu Qin flew into a rage again, screaming and demanding answers. The silver needles shifted further and further out of place, yet he remained completely unaware. Physician Wang watched, trembling with fear.