MCSCPM -Chapter 95 Developing a New Formula

In the Yangwei Palace, He Minmin lay on her bed, pale and lifeless.

“Your Majesty, please have some tea first,” a small eunuch whispered, his eyes filled with fear.

The atmosphere in Yangwei Palace was suffocating; several people stood silently by the Empress’s bed.

“Who dares commit such a crime in my palace?” Nangong Lin’s brows were tightly furrowed. He had thought this matter would be easily resolved, yet such a thing had happened right under his eyes.

“Your Majesty, please take care of your health,” He Minmin said softly, her weak voice barely audible.

“How could I not care if my beloved consort is poisoned?” Nangong Lin said, gently holding He Minmin’s hand, his face full of tenderness.

“Your Majesty…” He Minmin’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She clutched the Emperor’s hand tightly, wishing to hold onto this moment forever. She knew she was only one among many women in the harem, yet she wanted his devotion to remain constant—but she knew that was impossible.

Outside the room, Consort Sun approached in a pale pink robe, her face showing slight concern, her phoenix-like eyes deepening her autumn-like allure.

“I was just thinking about my sister’s illness, so I came,” she said softly, her gaze lingering on the hands of Nangong Lin and He Minmin. Though she appeared calm on the surface, inwardly she was furious. He Minmin’s treatment was a result of the Emperor’s favor—how could she not feel angered? Though she was only a minor consort, Consort Yu had long considered herself the Emperor’s one and only.

“Beloved consort, you’ve arrived,” Nangong Lin turned and smiled.

“I was worried about my sister’s health and came to see her… didn’t expect the Emperor to be here as well,” Consort Yu said, feigning surprise.

Of course the Emperor would pay attention to the Empress’s critical illness. He would naturally come to Yangwei Palace. He Minmin thought to herself that, as the Empress, she knew the intentions of these consorts—they merely sought attention in the palace.

“How is that divine physician’s medicine coming along?” Consort Yu changed the subject, her soft voice tinged with worry.

Nangong Lin shot her a deep glance. “I only hope this divine physician can quickly cure my beloved consort.”

In the Xiyang Garden, Yin Qingyue locked herself in her room, her mind repeatedly returning to that powder.

Her brows furrowed slightly. Such substances were rare even in the palace, so why should they appear in the Empress’s body?

She slowly retrieved the powdered substance from a paper packet in her sleeve. It seemed ordinary, yet it might be the very agent that triggered the Empress’s poisoning.

“Qingyue, are you in?” Nangong Mei’er’s voice called from outside. Yin Qingyue set the powder aside and opened the door. Nangong Mei’er entered, holding a bundle of flowers and herbs.

“Miss Qingyue, what do you think of this?” Nangong Mei’er asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Consort Lian, what is this?” Yin Qingyue examined the flowers. They seemed ordinary, only slightly fresh.

Lianfei, a quiet minor consort, loved medicine and got along well with Yin Qingyue.

“Ha! It’s nothing special. I saw it in my chambers, freshly picked from the imperial gardens, so I brought it here for you. Don’t let yourself get bored cooped up inside all day,” Lianfei said cheerfully, her expression endearing.

“Come in. These days the palace is turbulent. Your body is delicate, so you should rest more inside,” Yin Qingyue said, smiling as she took the flowers from Lianfei, feeling a twinge of pity.

Just as she set the flowers on the table, the part touching the surface instantly withered.

“What? How did this happen?” Lianfei exclaimed, inspecting the flowers in disbelief—they were truly wilting.

“Consort Lian, don’t touch them. Give them to me,” Yin Qingyue said firmly. The powder they contacted had caused this immediate decay.

“Qingyue, be careful,” Lianfei said with concern. After spending time with Yin Qingyue, she considered her a close friend.

Yin Qingyue examined the flowers carefully. That they withered instantly indicated the powder’s potency was extraordinary.

She searched her memory. She had never heard of a poison that could instantly kill plants.

“Qingyue, do you have poison in your room? Did the plants accidentally touch it?” Lianfei asked, scanning the table. She saw only ordinary herbs.

“Please close the door, Consort Lian. I don’t want any leaks,” Yin Qingyue said cautiously. In the palace, intrigue and treachery were constant; if someone intended to poison another, even the imperial physicians might not detect it.

Fortunately, it was only because of the Empress He Minmin’s poisoning that Yin Qingyue noticed the powder’s effect.

“Have you discovered anything?” Lianfei leaned closer, curious about the medicinal herbs. She had never seen flowers wither instantly.

“Not yet,” Yin Qingyue said, setting down the flowers, subtly covering the powder. She couldn’t be certain whether one of the consorts had poisoned the Empress, or if it was Nangong Mei’er’s mother—she had to be careful. For now, she would not tell Nangong Lin. In the palace, suspicion was survival; Yin Qingyue remained cautious.

“Oh, it’s getting late. I’ll leave first,” Nangong Mei’er said softly, stopping her questioning. The palace had been chaotic these past days, and the Empress’s poisoning had worn her out. In the labyrinthine palace, constant vigilance was necessary.

“Qingyue, remember to eat. Don’t forget,” Lianfei said, smiling. Her eyes curved like a crescent moon, adorable and innocent—more like a child than a consort.

“Yes, Consort Lian,” Yin Qingyue replied, then refocused her attention.

After Lianfei left, Yin Qingyue felt a pang of pity. Such innocence would be swallowed by the palace’s intrigues—it was truly a shame.

She sighed softly and continued her work, retrieving the powder, brows furrowed as she examined it.

“Could this really be poison?” she whispered, sprinkling some powder onto the flowers.

In an instant, even the parts that hadn’t yet withered turned yellow, then pitch black. If she hadn’t handled it through the paper packet, her skin might have been affected.

“Could it be…?” she murmured suspiciously.

In the medicine furnace, she poured a small amount of powder, watching it turn slowly black as the already-wilted flowers reacted. This powder didn’t seem lethal itself—it acted as a catalyst.

The furnace emitted no strange odor, merely enhancing the effect of other substances.

A faint smile appeared on Yin Qingyue’s lips. The powder had likely existed within the Empress’s body for some time. Had it not been for the “Three-Day Death” poison, she might never have noticed it.

The Empress’s weakened body, combined with this poison and the powder, had allowed the effect to manifest. Yet before the “Three-Day Death” poison, the powder’s effect had been dormant.

Yin Qingyue frowned, observing the darkened medicine. There was no smell or color—classic hallmarks of a top-tier, invisible poison.

She realized someone in the palace was a true master of toxicology—she had underestimated them.

She carefully rewrapped the powder and hid it in her sleeve. Squinting slightly, she acknowledged that helping the Empress remove the poison would not be simple.

All the women in the palace schemed and deceived, though many turned a blind eye. Yin Qingyue wanted to discover who was behind this powder. Such mastery demanded respect.

Suddenly, she thought of something. If the powder could make the flowers brought by Lianfei wither, it could have the same effect on humans—it accelerated aging.

Someone in the palace had applied it to the Empress in secret, accelerating her decline without detection. Youth and beauty were crucial assets in the harem; an older Empress would lose favor.

Yin Qingyue smiled coldly. Such malice was purely to acquire what one desired.

Her mind flickered to the familiar scene from the banquet, the Prince of Jing’s words lingering in her memory. She blushed slightly, recalling his shameless visit and the strange words he had whispered—she hadn’t been able to read his mind. He was unfathomable, nearly drawing her in.

“Yin Qingyue,” she called her own name to focus, feeling the warmth on her cheeks.

The harder she tried not to think of him, the more his image filled her mind.

Yin Qingyue sighed. Perhaps the deadliest force in the world was not poison itself, but emotions. A single feeling could ensnare the heart, binding it in ways no toxin could match.