PFC Chapter 503
Chapter 503
Dusk hung low over the vermilion palace walls. Li Yanran twirled her gilded nail guards, listening to the patter of rain on banana leaves outside the window. Her maid, Suqiu, brought in a cup of fresh tea; the Biluochun tea leaves unfurled and rose in the celadon bowl, the rising steam blurring her reflection in the mirror. This secluded courtyard, though quiet, felt like an impenetrable cage, trapping her in the backyard of the Marquis's mansion.
"Miss, Miss Dongfang Wan'er requests an audience." Su Qiu's voice interrupted her thoughts. Li Yanran's hand trembled slightly, splashing scalding tea onto her wrist, but she didn't bother to wipe it away, her fingertips digging into her palm. Dongfang Wan'er, the younger sister who always followed Dongfang Mingzhu, had suddenly come to visit; she feared her visit was not well-intentioned. She adjusted the pearl hairpin in her hair in front of the bronze mirror, a perfectly measured gentle smile playing on her lips: "Please come in quickly."
The carved wooden door creaked open, and Dongfang Wan'er, dressed in a moon-white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), strode in, her skirt brushing against the bluestone floor with a soft rustling sound. Before she could even curtsy, her eyes welled up with tears: "Sister Li, I heard you sent Mingzhu some medicine to help with her pregnancy. You really went to great lengths." Before she finished speaking, alarm bells rang in Li Yanran's mind, her nails almost digging into her palms. The medicine contained a highly undetectable ingredient called "Suiyucao" (a type of medicinal herb), something an ordinary doctor wouldn't be able to spot. Was Dongfang Wan'er just testing her by chance, or did she already know something?
“Sister, what are you saying?” Li Yanran rose to greet her, personally pouring tea for Dongfang Wan’er. The amber tea swayed gently in the cup. “We’re all family, so naturally we should look after each other.” Her voice was as soft as willow catkins in spring, but a hint of coldness flickered in her eyes. Dongfang Wan’er suddenly leaned closer, her body carrying a faint scent of magnolia, and lowered her voice, saying, “Sister, don’t hide it from me. I know you hate them. Why don’t we join forces and make them suffer?”
These words struck Li Yanran like a hammer blow. She gripped her teacup tightly, the coolness of the celadon spreading from her fingertips. In the three years since marrying into the Marquis's household, she had endured endless ostracism from Dongfang Mingzhu, and even Ye Jingchu's gaze towards her was distant. Last night, as she tended the medicine stove to prepare the broken jade herb, the flickering candlelight cast her shadow on the wall, twisting into a grotesque shape. Now, Dongfang Wan'er was extending an olive branch—was it a godsend, or a trap?
"What nonsense are you spouting, sister?" Li Yanran lowered her eyes to hide the turmoil within, only to see Dongfang Wan'er pull out a yellowed prescription from her sleeve—the very formula for the pregnancy-stabilizing medicine she had sent the day before. The three characters "碎玉草" (Shattered Jade Grass) with their still-wet ink pierced her eyes, and she felt a tightness in her throat. Dongfang Wan'er smiled slyly: "If you don't believe me, sister, you can ask Physician Zhang. He's an expert at identifying these rare medicinal herbs."
The rain suddenly intensified, raindrops pattering against the windowpane. Li Yanran stared at the handwriting she had written on the prescription, her fingernails digging into her skirt, creating several creases. Dongfang Wan'er seized the opportunity to grasp her hand, her palm warm: "Sister, Dongfang Mingzhu is pregnant, her position is becoming increasingly secure. But if she loses this child..." Before she could finish, Li Yanran abruptly looked up, their eyes meeting, a dangerous spark igniting in the dim room.
Silence hung in the air for a moment, then Li Yanran suddenly chuckled softly, a laugh tinged with relief and ruthlessness: "Alright, then let's make a good plan." She turned and took out a stack of silver notes from the sandalwood box. In the candlelight, the gold threads on the notes gleamed coldly: "Manager Wang of the pharmacy in the west of the city owes me a favor. Tomorrow I'll have him..." Their voices gradually faded, and the rain outside the window grew heavier, swallowing up their whispered schemes.