Mei Lin had always known that giving her all wouldn't necessarily yield a reward, and that the world was full of people who repay kindness with enmity. Yet, as she found herself trapped in a siege just outside Anyang City, she couldn't help but feel a sharp, uncontrollable pain in her chest.
The wanted poster bearing her likeness made it clear: she was accused of being a secret agent for the Dark Workshop, implicated in a plot to assassinate the King of Jingbei...
At that moment, her spirit sank into despair. She lowered her hands, offering no resistance as they bound her wrists and took away the dagger that had never truly belonged to her. The sound of the leprous doctor pounding his chest in despair reached her ears, stirring a pang of guilt in her otherwise cold heart. It was one thing for her to be foolish enough to get herself killed—she deserved that—but she hadn't meant to drag others down with her.
The prison cart rumbled along the official road, five days having passed with no end in sight.
Mei Lin shivered violently, huddled in a corner of the cart, the pain from her recurring illness overwhelming her now that she no longer had ground-root and mandrake to hold it at bay. She could barely lift her head.
The leprous doctor sat in another corner, his initial grumbling from the first two days having given way to his usual laziness. Lacking any sharp objects, and with nothing else confiscated, he was still able to sit back, pipe in mouth, casually taking in the roadside scenery, watching the passersby with the same curious interest they showed in him.
"How are you holding up?" he finally asked, unable to ignore the sight of the woman curled up and silent since their capture.
Mei Lin didn’t respond, remaining still for so long that the doctor thought she had fainted from the pain again. Only then did she slowly shake her head. The movement was so slight that if he hadn't been watching her closely, he would have missed it.
The doctor sighed, removed his pipe from his mouth, and tapped her shoulder lightly with the pipe’s bowl, eliciting a visible flinch from her. "Raise your head, would you? I’m not used to talking to someone who’s only showing me the top of their head."
After another long pause, Mei Lin finally lifted her head, revealing a face pale and damp with sweat, looking more like a ghost than the once-beautiful woman she had been.
The doctor clicked his tongue in disapproval but refrained from making any snide remarks. Instead, he rummaged through his belongings and pulled out a small, palm-sized earthen bottle.
"You promised to help me nurture jade, but here you are, too sick to even try, getting us both captured in the process. What a mess," he muttered as he pulled the cork from the bottle and shook it until a small yellow pill fell out. "This stuff is for poisoning scorpions—pretty toxic, but it should dull the pain... You're not going to live much longer anyway, so you might as well suffer a little less."
Mei Lin’s hand trembled uncontrollably from the pain, but she took the pill without hesitation. She had always believed that as long as she could survive, enduring a bit of suffering was worth it. But now, in the throes of real agony, she realized that death would be a much easier release when there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
The soldiers escorting them, meanwhile, paid no attention to their small exchange. Riding upright in their saddles, they rarely spoke to each other, maintaining a demeanor far more disciplined than ordinary guards.
After swallowing the scorpion poison, Mei Lin found that the pain did indeed subside significantly—more effective than the ground-root and mandrake. She let out a slow breath, finally finding the strength to wipe the sweat from her brow. As she gazed at the sparse, withered trees lining the road, she thought that even if she had known that the medicinal broth would render her mute, she still would have taken it in moments of unbearable pain, just as she had taken this pill now.
That man... he understood the human heart far too well. He could set a trap in plain sight, without fear that she would avoid it.
Taking a deep breath, Mei Lin clutched at her chest, her unfocused eyes filled with desolation.
Ten days later, the prison cart arrived at a place Mei Lin never expected.
Jingbei.
Jingbei was the northernmost and most desolate city in the Dayan Empire. By the time they arrived, it had already snowed several times, leaving a thin layer of snow on the hard-packed black earth streets, trampled into a muddy mess by passersby.
The leprous doctor shivered, as did Mei Lin—one from the cold, the other from the pain of her illness. The soldiers escorting them, dressed in little more than the two captives, remained upright and steady as mountains.
"If I’d known... achoo... that we were going on such a long trip... achoo... I would’ve worn more clothes..." the doctor muttered, curling into a tight ball as he sneezed repeatedly. He had been sunning himself at home just a few days ago; how had he ended up in this forsaken place?
I still haven’t made the winter clothes... Mei Lin cast a guilty glance at him. Realizing she had no extra clothes to lend him, her mind suddenly drifted to that thought, and her supposedly numb heart twisted again.
After being paraded through several streets under a barrage of complicated looks, they were finally removed from the prison cart they had occupied for ten days and thrown into a dark, cold cell. Though they were separated by a wall, Mei Lin was now deprived of the pain-relieving poison.
As the darkness closed in, along with the relentless pain, she felt as if she had returned to that place of endless despair—the Dark Workshop. The place she had sworn never to return to.
Back in Jingbei, Murong Jing He was like an eagle returned to the sky. Though this eagle's leg was crippled, it did not hinder its flight.
Five years ago, he had been a mighty eagle, dominating the borderlands. He had driven out invading forces from the Dayan Empire, securing the borders so tightly that even the enemy's capital had been within reach, his formidable reputation shaking the neighboring nations. Back then, he was full of youthful vigor and righteous courage. Never could he have imagined that while he was dedicating himself to his country, eating and sleeping in the wind, he would be betrayed by his own kin.
Military secrets were leaked, leading to the catastrophic defeat at Wanan. His vanguard of five thousand soldiers was annihilated, and he himself was left paralyzed, his meridians severed. If it hadn’t been for Qing Yan’s efforts to shield him, he would have long since perished in the damp, humid south, leaving nothing but bones behind. After barely managing to reconnect his meridians, he returned to the capital only to be stripped of his command and exiled to this desolate northern outpost as a king in name only, confined in a gilded cage, his mind dulled by indulgence in wine and women, scorned by the very woman who had once sworn eternal loyalty to him.
Who could he trust now... who could he ever trust again?
The Dark Workshop had been established by his uncle, and after his uncle’s death, he had taken over. No one knew who the previous master was, and naturally, no one knew who the current master was.
He no longer wanted to live in constant fear, so he set a trap. A trap to repay betrayal with betrayal. A trap that would allow him to regain his freedom.
He had someone, using Murong Xuan Lie’s name, secretly collude with Xiyan, planting agents from the Dark Workshop within the ranks of high-ranking officials, including his own father, the emperor. He even kept one of these agents by his side.
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