Chapter 66: Madam Marquis, Madam Marquis Part 1

Before the words had even faded, Wei Tingxia had already burst through the door like a gale carrying frost!

“Clang—!”

The massive crash tore through the oppressive silence outside.

The steward kneeling in the corridor, his forehead red and swollen with seeping blood, had barely caught his breath from the relief after despair when this sudden noise startled him into a full-body shudder.

He looked up in bewilderment, remnants of fear still lingering in his turbid eyes.

When he saw that it was Wei Tingxia charging out with a longsword gleaming coldly in his grip, murderous intent blazing, the steward was completely dumbfounded. His mouth opened and closed like a dehydrated fish, managing only a short, meaningless interrogative sound.

The two or three servants standing in the corridor were also scared out of their wits by the abrupt scene. The page boy carrying medicine trembled, nearly dumping the medicine bowl onto his own feet; another who had been holding a copper basin ready to catch water dropped it with a clang on the bluestone slabs, water splashing everywhere.

Ever since Wei Tingxia had returned to the capital with Yan Xinfeng, they had never seen this handsome and neat Wei gentleman in such a state. Gripping a sharp weapon, he seemed like a changed man, his killing aura sharp and chilling to the bone.

In that moment when the air nearly froze solid, and even the steward forgot to kowtow—

“Cough! Cough cough cough—! Wei Tingxia! Stop right there!”

A hoarse, urgent cough that sounded like it would hack up a lung erupted fiercely from the open doorway.

Everyone, including that murderous silhouette, instinctively paused for a beat.

The crowd turned back in panic, their eyes nearly bulging out.

There was Yan Xinfeng, somehow having struggled to half-drape himself over the doorframe. One hand clutched his shoulder tightly, fresh red blood starkly oozing between his fingers again, while the other hand dug into the door panel with bulging veins. His whole body swayed unsteadily, his face barely better than a corpse’s, beads of cold sweat trickling down his deathly pale cheeks.

“St-stop him!”

Yan Xinfeng gasped like a broken bellows, his vision blacking out in waves. Almost on instinct, he roared at the terrified servants, his voice cracking badly. “Quick! Stop him for me! Drag him if you have to! Hug him if you have to! Don’t let him out this door—!”

His appearance—like he’d just clawed his way back from the gates of hell, blood nearly drained dry yet still forcing himself to chase out and block— was even more terrifying than the sword in Wei Tingxia’s hand.

The servants were smashed by this double shock, at a loss for which way to turn first. The steward let out an “aiyo” and nearly fainted for real.

At least two quick-witted little maids reacted. Seeing the scene, they knew Physician Wei was about to do something stupid. They set down the water basin without hesitation, dashed forward a couple steps, and knelt—one in front, one behind—hugging Wei Tingxia’s waist tightly to stop him.

“Physician Wei, Physician Wei…”

They pleaded bitterly. “Put down the sword…”

Wei Tingxia didn’t move. “You two let go of me first.”

The little maids shook their heads frantically, carefully avoiding the longsword in his hand as they continued. “Put it down, the marquis is bleeding again. Turn around and look…”

She was on the verge of tears as she said it, her hands still tugging at Wei Tingxia’s sleeve. Clearly terrified herself, she didn’t know where she found the courage to block him.

Wei Tingxia looked down at their tearful eyes, the fire in his heart cooling somewhat. After a deep breath, a hand stained with warm blood reached from behind, slowly covering the back of his hand.

Yan Xinfeng, having crawled down from the bed, had finally staggered to his side.

“Don’t go…”

His voice was barely heavier than his breathing. Even after waking from blood loss shock, his body remained frail and weak. Half his body leaned directly against Wei Tingxia, the blood smearing onto his robes in the process.

“Prince Chen is in charge of the capital’s defenses. The assassin sneaking in must be connected to him, but it might not be his doing. I know you’re angry and hateful, but—but we need to plan this carefully…”

As he spoke, the five fingers pressing on the back of Wei Tingxia’s hand suddenly tightened. Wei Tingxia turned his head, meeting a pair of eyes dark with entreaty, and unconsciously let go.

Clang! The longsword hit the ground.

Yan Xinfeng, who had relaxed with a sigh, nearly collapsed too. Fortunately, the two little maids were quick and supported him. Then Wei Tingxia reached out, grabbed Yan Xinfeng’s uninjured side, and pulled him into his arms.

The wound tore open, blood flowing nonstop, even staining Wei Tingxia’s plain robes bright red.

Yan Xinfeng’s face was white as paper, while the steward, finally standing with others’ help, looked like the one truly about to die.

Snot and tears streaming, he rushed to the pair and, without a word, tried to kneel again. “I beg the marquis and madam to spare this old slave’s life. At my age, I really can’t take this torment—”

Wei Tingxia quickly stuck out a leg to block his kneel, not minding being called madam. “Alright, alright, I know. Where’s Pei Zhou?”

The news of the trouble at the Empress Dowager’s longevity banquet had just come in, and Pei Zhou had rushed to Yunzhong Marquis Mansion. He was waiting in the front hall right now!

After hearing the response, Wei Tingxia scanned the area and nodded. “Quick, call him over. Everything’s a mess now—let him sneak a sip in the chaos too.”

The steward understood, wiped his tears, straightened up briskly. “This old slave will go right now!”

He ran off. Wei Tingxia carried the man back to the bedroom, blood dripping the whole way. By the time they reached the bed, Yan Xinfeng was on the verge of passing out again.

“I’ll go to your whole family!”

Wei Tingxia cursed under his breath. “Do you know how much effort I put into saving you?!”

Yan Xinfeng didn’t know. How could this heartless bastard possibly know how much a life-saving medicine from the System Space cost?

It was enough to cover the application fees for Wei Tingxia to submit thirty times over.

“That was trouble for you,” Yan Xinfeng said, enunciating each word, his voice exceptionally faint. “When I wake up, I’ll repay you with my body.”

Wei Tingxia’s face was expressionless. “That’s what you call repaying kindness with enmity.”

Without waiting for Yan Xinfeng to protest, he deftly undid the buttons, peeled back the bandages, and dumped a handful of hemostatic powder directly onto the wound.

A muffled groan of pain echoed in the room.

Meanwhile, the steward limped to the front hall and ran straight into Pei Zhou, who was pacing anxiously in circles.

The moment he saw the steward emerge, Pei Zhou asked without thinking. “How is it? He’s not dead, right?”

Normally, the steward might have felt miffed at his loose tongue, but after that ordeal, the steward had seen through worldly concerns and just shook his head calmly.

“No major issues,” he said. “Saved him.”

Pei Zhou let out a huge sigh of relief.

“I knew he wouldn’t die!” He plopped back into a chair and slapped his thigh hard. “He’s survived so many years—too not worth it to die over something like this!”

The steward continued. “Physician Wei asks you to come over.”

Pei Zhou’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yes,” the steward repeated what he’d heard. “Physician Wei said the marquis mansion is total chaos right now. For you to sneak a sip in the mess too.”

Pei Zhou: “…”

When Pei Zhou reached the back courtyard, he first caught a whiff of bloody scent mixed with medicinal tang—a smell that evoked the Northern Border army camps, yet carried an extra layer of intrigue and scheming.

Pei Zhou’s sharp eyes spotted two little girls near the corner, playing with a longsword. It was quite heavy; the girls couldn’t lift it properly and were wobbling as they held it up together.

In the middle of the courtyard path, several household servants were sprinkling water to wash away the bloodstains.

It was clear a storm had just blown over before he arrived—who knew who had tried to kill ahead of time.

Probably Wei Tingxia; that demon had a hot and rotten temper. But getting so heated as to kill for Yan Xinfeng meant his brother had finally made it.

The steward stopped at the door, gesturing for Pei Zhou to go in himself.

Before Pei Zhou could step forward, the door was pushed open from inside. A pair of bloodstained hands gripped the doorframe as Wei Tingxia poked his head out.

“You’re here.”

He greeted Pei Zhou, then turned to the steward. “You go report to Your Majesty first. Say the marquis is temporarily fine, but he’s lost a lot of blood qi and will need many days to recover.”

The steward instantly got his meaning.

Then Wei Tingxia pushed the door fully open and said to Pei Zhou, “Come in.”

The room was dimmed by cloth curtains blocking the light, evoking the lair of some monster from a tale of the strange. Pei Zhou swallowed, stepped in, and kicked something after two paces.

Clothing, stained with blood.

“The blood he’s bled in his whole life probably amounts to this much,” Wei Tingxia said from behind him. “Good news is he didn’t die.”

Pei Zhou looked toward the bed. Yan Xinfeng was half-reclining against two stacked pillows, breathing shallowly, eyes open—he was indeed not dead.

“…Alright.”

He slowly sat on a stool, feeling his undergarments completely soaked through. Without speaking, he buried his face in his hands first, took several deep breaths, then slowly raised his head.

By then, Wei Tingxia had sat on the bed’s edge, adjusting Yan Xinfeng’s position and pulling the quilt over both their legs. Another blood-soaked cloth lay under the bed.

Pei Zhou spoke. “What next?”

Assassins from the enemy nation had struck at the Empress Dowager’s longevity banquet. On a grand scale, this was an issue of relations between two nations. Mishandled, and the Northern Border would see war again.

To put it bluntly, Pei Zhou was even a bit glad the injured one was Yan Xinfeng, not Li Yun.

If Li Yun had been hurt, the situation would spiral out of control instantly.

Hearing his question, Yan Xinfeng didn’t reply right away. Wei Tingxia asked, “What did the emperor say?”

“Nothing much, just ordered him confined. Until things are cleared up, Prince Chen can’t leave his prince’s mansion.”

Wei Tingxia nodded.

Prince Chen oversaw the capital’s defense changeover. Assassins infiltrating the city meant he couldn’t escape responsibility, whether mastermind or not.

“What about Prince Jin?” Yan Xinfeng asked. “How’s he?”

“No news. After routine duties, he returned to his mansion and hasn’t gone out since.” Pei Zhou spilled everything he knew, then rubbed his temples. “Who the hell is sick enough to do this?”

He couldn’t figure it out. “Have the Shuo Kingdom people finally gone mad?”

After years of hard-won peace, they stir trouble again. They couldn’t win a fight anyway, always unresigned, and now escalating to the Empress Dowager’s banquet—did they really not want stability?

Wei Tingxia shook his head at that. “The assassins are from Shuo Kingdom, but the mastermind might not be. What good does war do them now?”

The country was still in internal chaos. Who’d be crazy enough to provoke Da Zhao at a time like this, courting troubles inside and out—did they want to die?

The words hit home for everyone. Pei Zhou fell silent.

Wei Tingxia shifted slightly on the bed, carefully avoiding Yan Xinfeng’s shoulder wound to let them both lie more comfortably.

Earlier while stitching, he’d poked a few extra times out of personal grudge. Yan Xinfeng was very obedient now, letting him position as needed.