Chapter 87: Not Doing So Well

Shen Qingyun’s actions served two purposes: on one hand, she wanted Yicui to be exposed to these hidden matters and mature quickly; on the other, it was a test—if Yicui couldn’t steel her heart, there was no point in keeping her close.

Fortunately, Yicui seemed quite resilient.

To prevent any slip-ups, Shen Qingyun summoned Hanyu. “Go help keep an eye on things today. If there’s any danger, warn her.”

Hanyu nodded, glanced up at Shen Qingyun, then silently left the room—only to find Yicui waiting at the door.

“Thank you for today,” Yicui said. It was her first time dealing directly with her mistress’s secret guards. Remembering how Hanyu had covered her mouth and dragged her behind the rockery, she recalled the youth’s cold, resolute gaze that left her feeling flustered and a little flushed.

“No need. It’s all for the lady’s sake.”

With that, Hanyu slipped away in a blink. Yicui blinked in surprise, glanced around and found no trace of him. She tightened her grip on the little packet of medicinal powder in her hand and headed back to her room.

Zhenzhu was curious. “Miss, what powder did you give Yicui?”

Shen Qingyun leafed through her book, her tone languid. “Just croton powder. It works quickly and leaves no trace.”

Let Shen Zhifeng have a proper purge—better that her father be so exhausted he has no energy for his tiresome schemes.

Zhenzhu burst out laughing, finding her mistress’s tactic both ruthless and effective.

Sure enough, that night the study’s lamps burned until dawn. The family physician was summoned twice. The old madam and Shen Sisi went to check on him, but were refused entry.

Shen Zhifeng was so drained from diarrhea he didn’t even have the strength to curse.

When Yicui heard the news, her eyes sparkled, her face full of expectation for her mistress’s praise. Shen Qingyun patted her head and rewarded her with a jeweled hairpin, making Yicui so delighted that she fell asleep clutching it, a smile on her lips.

She thought she might finally enjoy a few quiet days, but Shen Qingyun had underestimated Shen Zhifeng’s capacity for mischief.

He rested only a day before, on the third day, leaving the manor under the pretense of visiting an outside clinic to check his health.

Zhenzhu spat, “Is he really concerned about his own health? More likely, he’s interested in someone else’s.”

Crude words, but not without truth.

A servant was sent to inquire at the Marquis Jiang’s residence, and sure enough, Lady Jiang had also left her home that day.

Yicui hadn’t expected such shamelessness from the pair, consorting behind their spouses’ backs. “Miss, shouldn’t we do something about them?”

Shen Qingyun was engrossed in her painting, her expression focused as she dipped her brush in ink. With a single stroke, a petal appeared on the paper. Adding a touch of ochre, she completed a flower in one fluid motion, dotting its center with rouge and ink. In moments, a graceful ink orchid bloomed before their eyes.

Zhenzhu couldn’t help but exclaim, “Miss, you’re truly remarkable—almost like a master already!”

Shen Qingyun smiled and washed her hands. “Don’t exaggerate. I’m still far from it.”

She noticed Yicui’s worried gaze but remained composed. “Don’t worry. I’m prepared. For now, let’s keep this hidden. When the time is right, we’ll reveal everything.”

If Shen Zhifeng and Lady Jiang insisted on disgusting her, she might as well let them pay the price.

Since Jiang Lin was set to marry Shen Sisi, this would make the perfect wedding gift—the spectacle would surely be entertaining.

Perhaps Zhenzhu hadn’t thought that far, but Yicui, more perceptive, understood. She was concerned that Lady Jiang might conceive Shen Zhifeng’s child.

However, Shen Qingyun had long used medicine to weaken Shen Zhifeng’s health, making him incapable of fathering more children. She had no desire for any more siblings.

As for Shen Zhifeng, his supposed clinic visits weren’t entirely an excuse.

He genuinely wanted to consult a doctor privately.

He sought out a secluded, reputable old pharmacy. Upon entering, he saw a doctor sorting herbs.

The doctor set aside his work and greeted him. “Sir, what seems to be the trouble? Where are you feeling unwell?”

Shen Zhifeng swallowed, composed himself, and awkwardly gestured to his lower body.

The doctor, well-versed in such matters, calmly led him to the inner chamber and took his pulse. Stroking his beard, he said, “Sir, your pulse is weak and thready, almost imperceptible. This is called a deep pulse—a sign of kidney yang deficiency. Do you often experience frequent urination, lower back pain, cold limbs, insomnia, vivid dreams, or issues in that regard?”

Shen Zhifeng nodded in embarrassment.

Then, with some urgency, he asked, “Doctor, how can this be treated? How long until I recover?”

He had noticed something was wrong during his recent encounters with Lady Jiang. Despite their prolonged intimacy and flirtatious exchanges, when it came down to the crucial moment, he found himself powerless and limp. Otherwise, he would have long since taken things further with her.

In the past, with Yueniang or Fu’an, he’d always risen to the occasion without fail. Even when he’d had diarrhea, the family physician had subtly hinted at this problem after checking his pulse.

Impossible!

He was in the prime of his life!

Shen Zhifeng was so shocked he abandoned all thoughts of investigating his bout of diarrhea, desperate now to seek another doctor’s advice. He even arranged another meeting with Lady Jiang.

He needed to prove himself once more.

The old physician deliberated and wrote a prescription. “Your symptoms aren’t severe. Take this daily, maintain a bland diet with more nourishing foods, keep a regular routine, and you should recover slowly.”

“And what about bedroom matters?”

The old doctor gave him a look and shook his head. “Naturally, you must abstain.”

Shen Zhifeng left the pharmacy, dazed, a bag of medicine in hand, fleeing as if chased. Remembering his planned rendezvous with Lady Jiang that day, he felt both apprehensive and eager.

Unconvinced, he sought out a second, smaller pharmacy.

This time, the doctor gave him some special medicine, promising a temporary restoration of vigor.

Shen Zhifeng took the drug, brimming with confidence, and went to the inn where he’d arranged to meet Lady Jiang.

He found her already waiting. Today, she wore a begonia-red dress with a touch of makeup. Unlike the younger girls, she exuded a mature, alluring charm.

As soon as Shen Zhifeng embraced her, her body melted into his arms. Lady Jiang blushed deeply, burying her face in his chest, her hands restlessly tracing circles on his back, soft moans escaping her lips.

As he fumbled with her clothes, murmuring endearments, Shen Zhifeng’s desire flared—only to be met with fresh embarrassment.

He realized, to his horror, that the medicine’s effect hadn’t kicked in at all!