Blood in the Fragrance

Cheng Yi and Huan Tishui hadn't even finished their meal when the maid's urgent words reached them. "Young Lord, there is trouble at the Lui residence!" she cried. Like wind chasing a collapsing storm, they burst out the door, hearts pounding in a discordant rhythm of dread and determination. Tian Ke trailed silently behind, his calm exterior belying the storm within. Meanwhile, at the inn, Yun Yuhua and Qian'ai struggled to calm a panicked Ruqi, their voices barely audible amid the rising tension.

They arrived at the Lui residence gasping for breath. Without hesitation, Cheng Yi barreled into his mother's chambers. His heart hammered against his ribs—each beat echoing hope and despair—until the sight before him stopped him cold. Madam Lui lay trembling on the bed, her pallid face and wide, terror-stricken eyes speaking of horrors unseen.

"Ma!" Cheng Yi cried, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief.

At that moment, Madam Lui's gaze snapped toward the doorway. The sight of Tian Ke standing silently behind Tishui sent her into a shriek of panic. "Get away from me! I don't know anything—I swear I don't know anything!" Her arms flailed as if caught in invisible chains.

Tian Ke froze, his steady gaze betraying shock. Tishui stood rooted to the spot, watching the scene unravel. Cheng Yi rushed to her side, taking her trembling hands. "Ma, it's me. It's Cheng Yi—it's just me."

Yet Madam Lui squeezed her eyes shut as if warding off a nightmare too vivid to bear. "Please don't hurt her… I won't say anything… I won't go near her again…" Her voice emerged raw and broken, each word a stab to his heart. A sudden, searing pain tightened Cheng Yi's chest as he tried to gently pull her hands away, but she struggled as if caught in a violent current. "Ma—please! You're safe! No one's going to hurt you!"

From the shadowed corner, Lulei wept silently, her hands covering her mouth. In a trembling whisper, she said, "It's the Young Lord… please, Madam… come back to yourself…"

Inside, Tishui fought a battle between duty and despair. His sister—once the very image of composure—was unraveling before his eyes. Finally, he demanded in a strained voice, "Where is my father?"

Lulei's ashen face said all that needed to be known. "The Minister… collapsed not long after Madam. The physician came at once—he said his condition is critical."

Cheng Yi's eyes widened in shock, guilt and confusion blurring his vision. "I was only gone a short while… How did this happen?"

Lulei could only shake her head. Stepping forward, Tian Ke's calm tone cut through the mounting tension. "Where's your grandfather?"

After a pause, Cheng Yi hesitated before Lulei replied, trembling, "In the guest room."

Without a moment's delay, Cheng Yi charged from the room with Tian Ke close on his heels. Moments later, after managing to soothe Madam Lui's panic, Tishui followed. In the guest room, the air was thick—a suffocating mix of antiseptic sterility and the copper tang of fear. Tian Ke knelt beside Jiang, feeling for a pulse, his face hardening as he assessed the symptoms.

"What is it?" Tishui demanded, anxiety dripping from each word as Cheng Yi's eyes darted between hope and despair.

"Did he have any health problems on the way here?" Tian Ke asked in a tone that was clinical yet edged with concern.

"No," Tishui replied softly, "he was fine… just worried about jiejie."

Tian Ke's eyes narrowed as he pressed on. "Did he consume the same things as Madam Lui?"

Cheng Yi blinked, the implications crashing into him. "She asked the servants to prepare her favorite tea… Grandfather loves her tea as well."

"And what kind of tea?"

"Aged green tea."

Tian Ke drew a slow, deliberate breath before speaking, "Your mother's hallucinations are violent. And your grandfather's trembling, sweating, and fever—it's likely they were both poisoned."

Cheng Yi's eyes widened in stark disbelief. "Servants!" he bellowed.

Immediately, the kitchen staff hurried in. Tian Ke's gaze swept over them until one girl—her fingers trembling like fragile leaves—caught his attention. "Why are your hands shaking?" he demanded in a low, intense tone.

The girl bowed her head and replied softly, "It started after I brewed the tea for Madam."

Cheng Yi's glare sharpened as his anger surged. "What exactly did you serve her?"

"Aged green tea, as requested…" came the stammered reply.

In an explosion of fury, Cheng Yi slammed his hand on the table. "Liar! Did you poison them?!"

His voice echoed off the walls—a raw mixture of grief and disbelief. Tian Ke quickly intervened, pulling Cheng Yi back as the girl sank to her knees, sobbing.

"Youth Lord, I swear—I've served the Lui household for years…" she pleaded desperately.

"She's showing symptoms," stated Tian Ke firmly. "Had she known, she would have washed her hands clean. The datura is affecting them too."

Tears glistened in the servant's eyes as she admitted, voice cracking, "I just chopped the leaves myself to improve the fragrance."

"Where are the brewed leaves?" Tian Ke demanded.

"In the kitchen… I saved them."

She led him away. In the kitchen, every detail assaulted the senses—the stale steam from the boiling kettle, the murky scent of over-brewed leaves mingled with a bitter tang. When the leftover tea was revealed, Tian Ke examined the leaves closely.

"These are darker than the others. Why?"

"I… I thought that was normal," she stammered, wringing her hands. "I usually serve soup. Tea isn't my duty."

"Who usually prepares it?"

"Pinyang. She felt unwell and asked me to take over."

"Bring her to Cheng Yi. Now."

Moments later, Tian Ke returned to the guest room cradling the tainted tea. The two servants followed, with Pinyang shielding her eyes in reluctant shame. One of them explained quietly, "She's having trouble seeing."

"What's going on?" Cheng Yi asked, his voice laced with a growing panic.

Tian Ke crouched, revealing the altered leaves with a steady gaze. "Datura was mixed in with the green tea."

A chorus of gasps filled the room as the betrayal struck like lightning. Tishui lunged at the servants, his raw outburst shaking the air. "You poisoned my sister and the Minister?!"

Tian Ke quickly restrained him. "They didn't know. Had they known, they would have washed their hands clean. The datura is affecting them too."

The servants could only sob as their collective plea rose, "We didn't know! Pinyang said it was the same as always—I just helped after her!"

Cheng Yi stormed out. Moments later, he returned with his sword drawn, the cold steel reflecting the turmoil in his eyes.

"Youth Lord, mercy!" the servants pleaded, their voices trembling with desperation.

Tian Ke stepped in, his presence steady. "Your mother and grandfather need help now. Punishment can wait."

How could it be true? How could they have harmed his mother? Cheng Yi's mind whirled with chaotic fragments—memories, promises, and betrayal. For a long, agonizing moment, he stared at the trembling servants before his anger gave way to deep, hollow despair. With a voice as cold as it was sorrowful, he commanded, "Guards! Take them to their quarters. No one in or out. Watch them closely."

The guards obeyed, dragging the servants away as their cries faded into a heavy silence.

"Inform the doctor," Tian Ke said, his tone calm but urgent.

Cheng Yi nodded, though his face remained a mask of barely contained rage and grief. Every fiber of his being felt paralyzed—as if caught in a dark nightmare with no escape.

"You should return. Your people will worry if you disappear," he murmured softly.

Tian Ke placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll always be here if you need me."

For a brief moment, Cheng Yi managed a faint smile—a fragile beacon amid the surrounding darkness. As he watched Tian Ke depart, he sank down beside Huan Tishui. Tishui closed his eyes, the unbearable weight of their loss threatening to crush him.

"I'll send word to the Emperor," Tishui said quietly, his voice tinged with duty and resignation.

Cheng Yi's brow furrowed with sorrow and confusion. "Why?"

"If Father doesn't make it… the Emperor must know."

The dread in Cheng Yi's chest deepened as Tishui stood and headed for the stables. "I'll return before tomorrow," Tishui vowed, his words echoing into the oppressive night as he rode off—leaving Cheng Yi alone with a heart as dark as the consuming night.

Time blurred.

Madam Lui's fevered cries faded into shallow, labored breaths. Her body trembled, pale and unresponsive, as Lulei pleaded helplessly for aid.

Jiang's fever broke, but he remained mute and frail—more ghost than man.

Cheng Yi stayed by his mother's side, refusing food and sleep, afraid that even a blink might steal her away.

Morning came with no sun.

Madam Lui's chest rose with effort. Cheng Yi held her hand, whispering her name, but her eyes saw only distant terrors.

Then—

Her gaze locked onto Lulei.

"He must have done it…" she breathed. And then she was still.

Lulei froze, her knees buckling under the crushing weight of loss.

"Madam—!"

It was too late. The woman who had been a guiding light—a second mother—was gone.

Cheng Yi burst into the room, his heart shattering at the sight of his mother's lifeless form. His legs gave way as he staggered to her side, grasping her cold hand as grief tore through him. In that moment, his mind swirled with a single, desperate thought: Where is Father? Why wasn't Hao Jian here? His inner chaos was a maelstrom of confusion and pain. He hadn't even thought to look for his father—absence had long ago become the man's most reliable trait.

Soon, Tishui arrived accompanied by another man, dignified in fine silk. They stormed into the room, their eyes drawn immediately to the tragic stillness of Madam Lui. Tishui's gaze fell upon his sister—the woman who had instilled in him the noble Confucian values—now lifeless and hauntingly still.

"No…" Tishui trembled, his voice raw with regret. "This can't be happening… I just arrived… I…I didn't spend enough time with her…"

Before more words could form, Cheng Yi's cry tore through the silence:

"Bring those murderers here! Now!"

His voice, raw with anger and despair, left no room for negotiation. As the guards rushed to seize the servants responsible for the poisoned tea, Tian Ke and Yun Yuhua arrived just in time.

Tian Ke scanned the room, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Stay here…" he murmured, his voice low. "Something feels off."

Yun Yuhua nodded, her instincts matching his unease, but said nothing.

The servants were dragged into the Mistress' room. Cheng Yi stepped forward, his face twisted with grief and rage, his voice shaking with fury as he pointed at the trembling servants.

"You two… murdered my mother!"

His accusation, filled with pain, rang through the room like a thunderclap. The servants stood paralyzed, unable to defend themselves against the weight of Cheng Yi's words.

Tian Ke moved swiftly between the servants and Cheng Yi, his voice commanding, but laced with sorrow. "Cheng Yi, stop this madness! Your grandfather still needs you!"

The servants' cries and pleas were drowned out by Cheng Yi's rising fury. His chest heaved as his fists clenched.

"My mother is dead!" Cheng Yi's voice cracked, his tears falling freely. "You don't know what that feels like!"

Tian Ke stepped in closer, his hand going to Cheng Yi's shoulder, grounding him with a steady grip. His voice softened, filled with grief. "She's gone," he whispered.

Cheng Yi's legs buckled beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his mother's cold, lifeless hand. His sobs wracked his body, his grief an uncontrollable wave crashing over him.

"Take them back," Tian Ke ordered, his voice soft but firm. The guards moved quickly to drag the servants away, their cries echoing in the still room.