Favored concubine deposed empress? I'll seize your throne and marry you to a powerful minister.

His sentences were clear and logical, calm and measured, completely unlike someone who had just experienced the excruciating pain of being poisoned by Gu and had vomited blood.

Only Wei Rong, standing beside him, could see clearly that his fingers, hanging by his side, trembled slightly, his face was pale and he could not hide it, and every breath he took was slightly sluggish, as the lingering pain from the Gu worm's backlash never stopped.

The next three days will be national mourning days.

When I stepped out of the Ankang Palace gate, it was already dawn.

Ling Xianru held Wei Rong's hand and carefully examined the bandage. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found no other injuries.

Now that things have come to this, her identity can no longer be hidden.

But no one dared to say a word.

"We'll take you back to the East Palace to rest first. You've had a long journey and spent the whole night here; you've lost weight."

Ling Xianru tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Before he could pull away, Wei Rong grasped his hand.

The first time, she took the initiative to reach out and hug Ling Xianru, burying her head in his chest.

For some reason, she knew that the old king's death might not mean much to Ling Xianru, but she just felt that Ling Xianru needed comfort.

She knew all too well the pain of losing a loved one.

Even though Ling Xianru had no feelings for this father, it was even more painful for someone like him, whose closest relatives were now mixed with hatred.

The body in front of her stiffened for a moment, and then Wei Rong's waist was wrapped around her.

Ling Xianru buried her face in her neck and took a deep breath.

His breath trembled slightly, indicating that Wei Rong was right; he was actually not as calm as he appeared.

But at this point, any words of comfort would be futile.

The two embraced quietly for a few moments on the long steps of Ankang Hall.

Until a cry was heard.

The old nanny knelt beside Ling Xianning, who was crying incessantly, and said fearfully, "Your Majesty, the Ninth Prince seems to be frightened; he just can't stop crying."

She was also in a dilemma.

The Ninth Prince can be considered Ling Xianru's enemy, but now he is the only prince left in the capital.

She could only turn to Ling Xianru for help.

Listening with envy, Wei Rong relaxed.

Ling Xianning sobbed, instinctively moving closer to him and reaching out her arms for him to hug her: "Crown Prince Brother, I... I'm scared."

His chubby face was swollen from crying, and both his eyes were swollen.

It seems he was really scared.

Ling Xianru bent down to hug him, while holding Wei Rong's hand with her other hand: "Let's go back to the East Palace."

Perhaps it was truly because blood is thicker than water, but Ling Xianning became strangely quiet as soon as she was in his arms.

Within the palace, white banners fluttered like clouds, and the fragrance of incense wafted day and night. Princesses of the imperial family and former concubines of the harem knelt and paid their respects according to etiquette, while officials took turns keeping watch at night. The entire imperial city was immersed in solemn grief, yet there was not a trace of disorder.

The Eastern Palace was also very well-organized.

Ling Xianru's main hall was even more luxurious than he had imagined, with dragon carvings everywhere and many painted decorations inside.

Upon seeing Wei Rong, the nanny who had cared for Ling Xianru since childhood couldn't help but take a few more glances at her.

However, nothing was actually said.

This person probably holds a much higher place in Ling Xianru's heart than the old king.

Wei Rong took the initiative to greet her, saying, "Granny."

"This must be Miss Wei."

Women who have lived through bloodshed and violence should be somewhat cold and ruthless, and Wei Lingxian was no exception.

But the old woman smiled kindly and said, "You're really handsome."

Wei Rong glanced at Ling Xianru in surprise.

"I've already spoken to the old woman about you."

it turns out.....

Wen Ran stepped forward: "Your Highness, Your Majesty, please return to your bedchamber first. I will administer acupuncture for you."

If this poison is not suppressed, Ling Xianru will have to endure excruciating pain indefinitely.

It's inconvenient to have many people disturb the acupuncture, especially since Ling Xianning started crying as soon as she got off Ling Xianru.

Having no other choice, Wei Rong took over and led him to sleep in a side hall.

"My mother—" Ling Xianning said, each word accompanied by a sob.

But he was so cute and innocent-looking that even when he cried and fussed, it still made people's hearts melt.

"Your mother is still in the palace. Because you are young, your brother will not do anything to her. In the future, if you miss her, you can go to see her."

Ling Xianru is a man who neither touches women nor kills young children.

He is essentially soft-hearted.

Even for such a rebellion, the Su family was only sentenced to exile.

He had no intention of abandoning Ling Xianning.

Wei Rong lay on her side on the couch, gently and rhythmically patting Ling Xianning as she tried to lull the child to sleep for the first time.

A calming incense was lit in the room, and soon the sobbing beside her stopped. She herself unknowingly drifted into a drowsy state.

When she woke up again, Ling Xianru was no longer in the East Palace.

As the crown prince, Ling Xianru oversaw all matters related to the national mourning, attending to the late emperor's spirit day and night, managing the rites, appeasing the imperial clan, stabilizing the court, and pacifying the troops stationed in the capital region. He attended to every detail, big or small.

For three days in a row, Wei Rong barely saw him.

Even Ling Xianning had to be taken to the mourning hall during the day and sent back to the East Palace at night.

However, he refused to sleep in the side hall by himself, and upon returning to the East Palace, he began to look for Wei Rong.

The three-day national mourning period ended peacefully.

Night fell, the stars were sparse, and the evening breeze, carrying the chill of late autumn, swept across the eaves of the East Palace.

After seeing off the last group of important ministers who had been discussing matters, and dismissing all the eunuchs and palace servants, the vast sleeping quarters finally fell silent.

The heavy palace gates slowly closed, shutting out all the solemnity and noise of the outside world.

Midnight.

After taking a bath, Ling Xianru went to the side hall to look for someone.

After the national mourning period ends, the registration ceremony will be held tomorrow.

In the gaps between his busy schedules, he would ask himself whether it was the right thing to have tricked Wei Rong into coming to Donglin.

For several days in a row, he left early and returned late, only able to visit the sleeping Wei Rong in the side hall when he returned to the East Palace to rest at night.

For Wei Rong, it had been several days since they last met.

Tonight is unusual; she didn't sleep.

Wei Rong, who was half-lying on the couch reading a book, heard the noise at the door, put down the book and went to greet them.

She felt that Ling Xianru had lost some weight.

Despite living under the same roof, his jawline was more pronounced, and he had a noticeable dark spot under his eye.

"If you can't hold on, don't force yourself." Her voice was gentle and tender as she reached out to smooth his half-dry hair.

His long, black hair cascaded over his shoulders, stripping away all imperial majesty; he was just an ordinary man.

A very handsome man.

Ling Xianru leaned against her shoulder, his warm breath falling on her neck, carrying a faint, bitter medicinal scent. He no longer hid his vulnerability; his shoulders trembled slightly, and his voice was low, hoarse: "So sleepy..."

Those two short words stripped away all the hard pretense of the past three days.

Everyone saw him as a strategist, decisive and ruthless, but only Wei Rong saw him in pain, vomiting blood and feeling cold all over, and saw his most vulnerable and helpless side after he took off his armor.

Wei Rong helped him walk slowly to the bedside and sat down. She reached out and touched his forehead, the burning heat making her heart tighten.

Although the Gu worms had all died, the remaining toxins burned his internal organs and meridians. After three days of mental and physical exhaustion, he suffered from physical weakness and high fever.

She skillfully fetched the warm water and calming pills that Wen Ran had prepared, and held them to his lips: "Take your medicine first."

Ling Xianru obediently opened her mouth and swallowed, her thin lips dry and pale, her jawline taut.

The medicine slowly took effect, but it could only slightly relieve the pain; the deep, bone-chilling soreness still lingered.