The Enchanted Portrait: Love Beyond Centuries

(1) Poisoned

Murong suddenly wondered—how sweet it must feel to love someone with all your heart. Her soul had wandered the world for twenty-eight years, encountering countless outstanding men, yet her heart had always remained closed. But now, for the first time, she felt a faint twinge of envy toward Rujia. That feeling… it must be beautiful.

How should she live from now on? If she truly wanted to uncover the truth behind the Jiulong Exile incident, there were only two paths—Emperor Kangxi or the Fourth Prince. Only by staying close to them could she fully grasp the depths of the matter. But… could she really force herself to accept a man from this ancient world? Why had she come to the Qing Dynasty in the first place? What was her mission? And what if… she could never go back?

Murong shivered at the thought. Her days in the General's Manor had brought her a sense of familial warmth, and she had never once regretted traveling back in time. But now, in the imperial palace—a cage devoid of human rights or any real place for women—her only value seemed to lie in serving others with her beauty. The more she thought, the gloomier she became, oblivious to the concerned voices calling her name.

"Rong'er, are you alright? Rong'er?" The Fourteenth Prince's voice reached her through the haze.

Murong looked at him, a little dazed. So she did have moments of weakness after all. "I'm fine, just a little dizzy. Might've caught a chill. I'll be alright after some rest," she said quickly, seizing the chance to excuse herself and leave.

The Fourteenth Prince personally escorted her back but didn't dare disturb her rest and soon took his leave. Murong lay on the bed, troubled thoughts swirling in her mind. Suddenly, a young palace maid from the Imperial Household Department burst in.

"Xiao Zhu, the physicians from the Imperial Medical Bureau are here," the girl said quickly before rushing off again—clearly urgent matters awaited.

Murong had no choice but to lower the bed curtain herself, propping herself up as she extended her hand, inwardly cursing the Fourteenth for making a fuss. Moments later, she heard movement outside. Then came a voice, quiet but familiar.

"Miss."

Murong's eyes lit up. She popped her head out from under the curtain. "Doctor Zhou!"

To meet an old acquaintance in a strange land—it filled her with unspeakable joy.

"Doctor Zhou—no, I should say Lord Zhou now. What a coincidence! How is it you?"

Han Feng smiled gently. "I've just joined the Imperial Medical Bureau. I'm currently in charge of attending to the newly appointed young ladies."

Murong understood. Girls like her, without any official status yet, would never be seen by the senior imperial physicians.

Playfully, she added, "Lord Zhou, I'm not sick. Just a little dizzy earlier, that's all."

Han Feng chuckled. After waiting so long to see her again, he couldn't help but beam. "I can tell. You don't look like someone who's ill. You've gotten much stronger these past two years."

As he spoke, he opened his medicine case and whispered, "This group of court maidens isn't safe. A few have already had… incidents. The Internal Affairs Bureau hasn't investigated properly. You must be very careful—especially with tea, pastries."

He pulled out a delicate silver needle and urged Murong to carry it with her at all times. He repeated the signs of common poisons, taught her how to detect them by taste, color, and smell. Murong, clever as she was, committed everything to memory in no time.

Taking the needle in hand, she said, "Thank you, Lord Zhou. I'll remember everything you've said. I'm sure it'll come in handy someday. I hope you won't mind when I come asking for help then." She winked with a sly smile.

Han Feng didn't understand her full meaning, but seeing her accept the needle was enough. His mission accomplished, he took his leave. Later, he sent over a cooling tea and simply told the Fourteenth Prince that Murong had caught a mild cold—nothing serious.

As the selection day drew near, Murong felt enemies closing in around her. Xiaoyu, blissfully unaware, had no great ambitions—she only wished to live quietly and safely until her release. Rujia, however, seemed to have found a new source of motivation and began picking fights with Murong again.

Murong, not wanting Xiaoyu to suffer because of her, secretly instructed the girl to never get involved, no matter how sharp the words exchanged between her and Rujia. Rujia, unable to gain any upper hand, was humiliated yet again and spat bitterly, "Fucha Murong, just you wait. I'll make you pay!"

The very next day, Murong suddenly collapsed, vomiting blood in front of everyone—sending shockwaves through the gathered court maidens. Some eunuchs, tipped off, rushed to report to Consort Virtue. Others hurried to inform their own mistresses. Moments later, multiple imperial physicians arrived. One glance, and they knew—it was poisoning.

They carried her into the inner chamber. Han Feng rushed in, trembling all over. His hands shook too much to find a pulse.

Murong forced her eyes open and whispered, "Thank you for your trouble," before slipping into unconsciousness.

That single phrase brought Han Feng back to his senses. Her words echoed in his mind: "I'll remember everything you've said. I hope you won't mind when I come asking for help then." Now it all made sense. Murong—sharp and cunning as ever—hadn't been caught off guard. She was simply turning the tables.