Chapter Forty-Five: Stirring Up Trouble

"...What... what have I done?" Lu Jue slowly raised both hands, staring at the sword in his grasp and the bright red blood sliding from the blade. He had actually wounded Feng Yewu.

"Guards, seize this man!" The Imperial Guards, alerted by Han Yue's cry, rushed to the scene. Though none understood what had transpired, the sight before them left no doubt—Lu Jue was the assailant.

Earlier, when Feng Yewu and Lu Jue exchanged blows, though their hands moved ceaselessly, Feng Yewu's mind was preoccupied with affairs of court. Distracted for a moment, she failed to evade Lu Jue's simple thrust, and her sword veered off course, leaving her vulnerable to his strike.

"Quickly, escort His Majesty back to the bedchamber and summon the imperial physician!" Han Yue, wholly anxious for Feng Yewu's well-being, forgot to explain Lu Jue's actions to the guards. By the time Lu Jue regained his senses, he found himself surrounded, dozens of swords pressed to his throat, unable to move.

Confronted with the fact that he had wounded Feng Yewu, Lu Jue's heart was utterly desolate. He felt no desire to defend himself, almost wishing the guards would kill him on the spot to atone for his mistake.

A group of palace maids and eunuchs, led by Han Yue, carefully carried Feng Yewu to her bedchamber. After a while, Han Yue paced anxiously outside with Eunuch Mingde.

"Miss Han Yue, do you know why Young Master Lu would harm His Majesty?" The matter of Lu Jue and Feng Yewu practicing swordplay was known to few, and after the upheavals of her previous life, Feng Yewu trusted hardly anyone besides Han Yue. Thus, Eunuch Mingde had never been told about their training.

Han Yue’s mind was fraught with worry, her thoughts consumed by concern for Feng Yewu within. Regardless of intent, Han Yue had witnessed the strike clearly—a sword so long, plunged straight into the chest. Not only was Feng Yewu a woman, but even a robust man might not withstand such a wound.

"Eunuch Mingde, please refrain from other questions for now. Forgive me, I cannot explain. At present, His Majesty’s life is paramount," Han Yue replied, just as the doors to Feng Yewu's bedchamber opened from within and the imperial physician emerged.

"How is His Majesty's condition?"

Han Yue hurried forward, her inquiry urgent, Mingde’s face likewise etched with worry.

"His Majesty’s life is not in danger, rest assured," the physician soothed, seeing their anxious faces. "Though the wound is severe, the sword did not pierce the heart. There is no threat to life."

"That is a relief, most fortunate," Han Yue exclaimed, rushing inside to check on the bedridden, gravely injured Feng Yewu. After exchanging a few words with the physician, Mingde saw him off.

Thanks to prompt treatment, Feng Yewu was spared any fatal mishap from blood loss. But Lu Jue was less fortunate. For injuring Feng Yewu, he was taken in silence to the death cell by the guards.

Many who had long begrudged Lu Jue for accompanying Feng Yewu now seized the chance to cast stones. Some even dredged up his early history, claiming he was a long-hidden assassin.

Lu Jue met all this with silence. Overwhelmed by guilt, he seemed hollow, his eyes vacant as he was shackled. Lashed repeatedly, he uttered not a sound, as if he were already a corpse—unfeeling, unafraid. He ignored every question posed to him, as though he heard nothing.

"Where... where is Lu Jue?" As Lu Jue suffered torture in the death cell, Feng Yewu slowly awoke. Han Yue, who had fallen asleep at the bedside, thought she heard something and woke with a start. Seeing Feng Yewu awake, she was overcome with joy and hurried to her side.

"Your Majesty, how are you feeling now?" Because Feng Yewu’s voice was so weak, Han Yue did not immediately realize she was asking for Lu Jue.

"Where is Lu Jue now?" Feng Yewu regarded Han Yue, who inquired after her health, and shook her head slightly. Then, straining her parched throat, she called Lu Jue’s name.

"Young Master Lu must have been taken to the death cell," Han Yue replied, her face troubled. She had remained by Feng Yewu’s side and had no way to explain matters to the Ministry of Justice. She was only a palace maid, with no authority there.

Moreover, Lu Jue teaching Feng Yewu swordplay was itself a secret. If Feng Yewu had died from that sword, Han Yue’s testimony would have been futile.

Han Yue had done nothing wrong. She and Lu Jue were both of humble status in the palace—one a maid, the other a slave. Neither held any sway. Their courtesy from others was only due to their constant presence beside Feng Yewu. Now that Feng Yewu had been wounded by Lu Jue, the petty-minded would certainly obstruct them.

If Han Yue rushed to save Lu Jue now, Feng Yewu would be unattended, and the consequences uncertain. The two might simply end up imprisoned together, losing even their last hope.

"What... what?" Hearing Han Yue’s words, Feng Yewu felt a dull pain in her chest, her injury threatening to bring up another mouthful of blood.

"Your Majesty, please take care!" Han Yue, seeing Feng Yewu flushed and agitated, quickly tried to calm her. "Only you can save Young Master Lu now, so you must be careful with your health."

Han Yue poured water, helped Feng Yewu sit up, and gently fed her. Feng Yewu was keenly intelligent; she understood Han Yue’s reasoning at once. Still, hearing Lu Jue’s fate, she had been so concerned that her emotions had stirred her injured body.

"Go and deliver my command—I wish to see Lu Jue, immediately," Feng Yewu said, lying back after drinking, her cold eyes fixed on the threads above her bed, her voice icy.

Han Yue was stunned for a moment, then quickly accepted the order. "Yes!"

She ran all the way to the entrance of the Ministry of Justice’s death cell. "Make way! This is an imperial command—His Majesty wishes to see Lu Jue!" Han Yue, panting, produced her badge to prove her status as Feng Yewu’s personal maid, urging the wardens to let her pass.