Chapter 564: Chapter-564
As the grand doors of the Great Hall slowly creaked open, the suffocating political tension was instantly broken. Everyone’s attention shifted toward the entrance as a troupe of dancers gracefully stepped onto the jade floor, their colorful silks flowing like liquid with every elegant movement.
The performers were divided perfectly into two groups—men on the left, women on the right. They were the absolute finest courtesans selected from the capital’s most renowned brothel, trained in music, dance, and etiquette from childhood. Their dazzling smiles and synchronized, breathtaking movements instantly captured the attention of every guest.
But what truly shocked Heena wasn’t the performance itself. It was who the performers were.
She squinted her eyes, peering past the golden chandelier light, and her eyes widened slightly. Damn.
Standing at the lead of the musicians, holding a beautifully painted fan, was the Master of the brothel she had secretly purchased just weeks ago. As he caught Heena’s eye, the Master casually lowered his fan and shot her an unmistakable, cheeky wink.
Then, the dancers formally greeted the Emperor and the music swelled.
Heena realized with a jolt that the male performers were the exact same "ten fox spirits"—the dangerously handsome men who had practically chased her around the establishment the last time she visited.
To be fair, Heena was usually hard to impress. But this dance was something else. It was a dual dance, a fierce, beautiful competition between the male and female courtesans. The men truly looked like the fox spirits Heena always called them—ethereal, otherworldly beauties descended straight from the heavens. Every sharp, fluid movement they made caused the noblewomen in the hall to silently swoon, completely forgetting their manners.
On the other side, the female courtesans moved like goddesses, capturing the unblinking stares of every single male official and general in the room. It was a perfect, intoxicating distraction.
While the entire court was completely mesmerized by the fox spirits, Heena’s sharp eyes caught a slight movement near the front tables.
The Prime Minister’s Third Wife was quietly standing up. Accompanied by a single maidservant, she slipped out through a side door.
Heena immediately stood up. She looked at Samuel, who was currently pretending to be fascinated by the male dancers, and simply muttered, "I am going to the washroom."
Normally, an official could not just casually leave the Emperor’s presence. But imperial banquets often lasted upwards of eight hours; the strict protocol allowed for necessary breaks, provided one was discreet.
As Heena stepped out into the cool night air of the palace corridors, a palace maidservant immediately tried to follow her to show her the way. Heena simply raised a hand, stopping the girl in her tracks with a single, authoritative shake of her head.
She walked down the quiet, lantern-lit corridor, her champagne-colored robes sweeping across the stone. As she passed by one of the small, secluded imperial rock gardens, she paused.
She pulled her head back, looking past a large ornamental stone to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
There, sitting heavily on a decorative garden rock, was the Third Wife.
The pristine, flawless illusion she had presented in the Great Hall was completely shattering. She was covering her face with her trembling hands, silent, agonizing tears sliding out from between her fingers and ruining her thick makeup.
She was so incredibly tired. Her entire body felt like it was being crushed in a vice. The terrifying, life-draining tonic the matriarch had forced down her throat was fiercely warring with the agonizing pain of her shattered ribs. She felt violently nauseous. Her stomach was churning, and her chest burned like she had inhaled hot coals.
Suddenly, her body seized. She hunched forward, violently dry-heaving until a sickening splash of dark blood coughed up from her lips, splattering onto the pristine white pebbles below. It felt as if she were coughing up her own internal organs.
She gasped for air, her throat completely parched and burning.
Suddenly, a smooth, jade cup filled with clean water was quietly passed into her field of vision.
The Third Wife jumped slightly, taking the cup with trembling hands. She desperately took a few sips, the cool water washing away the horrific metallic taste of blood. As she paused, trying to catch her breath, she slowly, painfully turned her head.
Standing right beside her, cloaked in the shadows of the garden, was Heena.
"Drink calmly," Heena said, her voice soft and entirely devoid of judgment. "Drink slowly."
Panic instantly flooded the Third Wife’s eyes. She forcefully swallowed the water and tried to scramble to her feet to properly greet the Vanguard Madam, wincing as her broken ribs screamed in protest.
"Greeting... Madam Vanguard," she choked out, swaying slightly on her feet.
"Greetings, Mrs. Prime Minister," Heena replied calmly, her face an unreadable mask. "But how about finishing the water first?"
The Third Wife trembled, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the cup. She quickly placed the glass on a nearby stone ledge. "No... it is okay. I should go inside. My husband will notice my absence."
She forced herself to turn around, taking a desperate step toward the corridor.
Heena reached out and grabbed her wrist.
It wasn’t a tight grip, but the moment Heena’s fingers wrapped around her arm, the Third Wife let out a sharp, agonizing wince, her knees almost buckling from the deep, hidden bruises beneath her heavy silk sleeves.
Heena immediately let go, her eyes darkening as the horrific extent of the girl’s injuries became undeniable.
The Third Wife pulled her arm to her chest, looking back at Heena with a mix of fear and desperate pride. "Yes? What type of behavior is this, My Lady?"
Heena didn’t look at her face. She casually turned her gaze toward the dark grass near the rock where the girl had been sitting.
"Something has fallen on the ground over there," Heena said calmly, her tone completely conversational. "It might be yours."
The Third Wife paused, bewildered. She looked at the grass, and then quickly patted her heavy hairpins and touched her earrings. Everything was perfectly in place. She looked back at Heena, confusion overriding her pain.
"I did not see anything fall," she whispered.
"No, no," Heena insisted smoothly, taking a step back toward the corridor. "There is definitely something that has fallen there. Please, look carefully."
Without waiting for a response, Heena turned around, her black cloak billowing slightly as she prepared to leave the garden.
"Wait," the Third Wife called out softly.
Heena paused, looking over her shoulder.
The Third Wife had bent down and picked up a small, exquisitely carved wooden box from the grass. It was a high-grade, incredibly potent Vanguard medicinal healing balm—the kind that instantly relieved deep tissue trauma and bone fractures.
The Third Wife looked at the expensive medicine, and then up at Heena. Her dark eyes were swimming with fresh, complicated tears.
"It’s... it’s not mine," the Third Wife whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
Heena looked at her, a completely serene, unbothered expression on her face. "Well, it was on the ground right there, and you were sitting there. So, it must be yours."
The Prime Minister’s wife stared at her. She knew perfectly well that it wasn’t hers. She knew the Vanguard Madam had just deliberately dropped a priceless military medicine to save her life. But looking at Heena’s calm, resolute face, she didn’t know what to say. She simply clutched the wooden box to her chest, a silent, desperate gratitude washing over her.
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