Steam coiled out through the chamber as the maid prepared the bath, the water darkened faintly with herbs meant only to mask scent, not to heal. Wei Lan dismissed the girl with a curt nod, leaving the door barred. Alone at last, she unwrapped the small box of silver needles, the metal glinting cold beneath the lamplight.
Her hands were steady — the same hands that had once loaded rifles, set detonators, drawn combat blades. Now they hovered above her own flesh, surgeon and patient in one.
She pulled the silk from her shoulder, revealing skin pale and tinged with a faint bluish trace beneath the veins. The poison had settled deep, threading through her blood like an invisible net.
With a slow exhale, she pressed the first needle into the acupoint near her collarbone. A flash of pain shot through her nerves, sharp enough to blur her vision, but she didn't flinch. She drove a second needle into the point along her wrist, then another just below her ribs.
Her body shuddered, cold sweat breaking across her back. For a moment, she gripped the rim of the tub to keep herself upright, the water sloshing under her weight.
One by one, she manipulated the needles, directing the flow of her own qi with soldierly precision. Every press, every twist of her fingers was calculated — a battlefield tactic, but turned inward.
Black flecks of poisoned blood beaded faintly at one insertion point, dissipating into the hot water like smoke unraveling. Her jaw clenched as her muscles spasmed, but she forced her breathing into rhythm. Inhale. Exhale. Control.
Minutes dragged into an eternity until, finally, her pulse steadied, though faint. She withdrew the needle with trembling fingers, her strength nearly spent.
Wei Lan sank against the bath's edge, eyes closed, lips bloodless. Survival had always demanded sacrifice. Tonight was no different.
Behind the sealed door, silence reigned — no servant, no eunuch, no concubine would know that within the consort's pavilion, a soldier had fought another private war.
The hours dragged like centuries. Within the mist-filled chamber, Wei Lan forced her soldier's will upon a body too frail to endure such punishment.
Her blade flashed once more, carving shallowly into her wrist. The dark poison seeped out in slow, steady rivulets. Each time, her other hand pressed to the correct acupoint, locking the blood flow with the precision of one who had trained her body as a weapon. The silver needles gleamed faintly under the lantern light, marking her skin like a map of pain. Use the knife cut the wrist.
The bath grew hotter as the attendants outside replenished it in silence, unaware of the battle raging within. Scarlet threads spread through the water, coiling like smoke beneath the surface. Wei Lan's face had grown deathly pale, but her eyes remained sharp, her soldier's discipline holding her upright even as her strength dwindled.
The minutes became hours. Shadows lengthened across the lattice windows until evening's dim light bled into the chamber. The heat, the blood, the suffocating exhaustion—all pressed against her.
Her grip faltered. The knife slipped from her fingers with a hollow clink against the bath's edge. She forced one last press against her acupoint, but her arm trembled, and the world pitched violently.
With a sharp breath that broke into silence, Wei Lan collapsed backward into the tub. Water splashed over the rim, rippling red, her body sinking into the bath's embrace.
It was then that the door groaned open.
The Emperor stepped inside, the evening glow at his back, cutting his figure in gold and shadow. His gaze swept the chamber, and in an instant his composure broke — his new consort lay motionless in the water, her wrist marked, her body littered with silver needles glinting like cruel thorns.
For a moment, the chamber was silent, heavy with steam and the metallic tang of blood. Then his voice, low and thunderous, shattered the stillness:
"Summon no one."
He strode forward, robes trailing like a storm, and reached for her limp body in the fading light.
The Emperor's arm plunged into the water, pulling her fragile body into his grasp. Her skin burned with fever, her breath shallow, her wrist marked by careful incisions that spoke of discipline rather than despair.
His jaw tightened. This was no weak consort's whim—this was the work of someone who fought her own death.
He carried her out of the bath, setting her upon the couch draped in silk. Droplets streaked down her bare arms, dark water soaking the floor like spilled ink. His eyes flickered to the silver needles still piercing her flesh, and for a heartbeat, his controlled expression cracked with something perilously close to fear.
"Seal the doors," he commanded coldly.
The guards outside snapped to attention, the heavy panels shutting with finality. No one else would see this. No whisper of it would leave these walls.
The Emperor's voice dropped low, but the steel within it was unmistakable. "Summon Master Li. Only him. If another physician dares step inside, they will lose their head."
The maid who had waited faithfully at Wei Lan's side paled, bowing so low her forehead touched the floor. She dared not meet his eyes. "Yes, Your Majesty."
When she hurried out, silence descended again, broken only by the faint, ragged sound of Wei Lan's breathing.
The Emperor sat beside her, his hand hovering for an instant above hers before he drew it back into his sleeve. His gaze lingered on her face, pale but resolute even in unconsciousness.
By the time the sun had dipped low, shadows stretching long across the pavilion, the heavy doors opened once more. A single old man entered, his steps unhurried despite the guards' urgency. His robe was plain, his beard streaked with white, and his eyes sharp enough to slice through pretense.
Master Li — the Emperor's most trusted physician.
He bowed briefly, but the Emperor's hard stare brooked no delay. "See to her."
At once, the physician knelt by the couch. His practiced hands hovered over Wei Lan's wrist, where the neat incision still wept faintly against the pressed acupoint. He traced the line of the silver needles along her arm and chest, his brow furrowing deeper with every examined.