Chapter Nineteen
Ping didn't understand why she felt this way. She had barely eaten since Ling left. Was it worry? Or relief that he was gone? Her thoughts were tangled, and her heart felt restless.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. It was Mei, carrying warm water and a towel.
"My lady, you haven't touched your food," Mei said softly.
"I don't have an appetite," Ping replied, her voice distant.
Mei helped her with a bath, gently combing her long hair afterward. Ping watched Mei through the mirror before finally speaking.
"Is the king always like this?"
A long silence stretched between them before Mei finally answered.
"He wasn't always like this." Mei's voice was quiet, almost sad. "He used to be a happy person before his parents died. Behind that cold face, there's still a good man."
Ping turned to face her. "Then why did he change?"
Mei hesitated before continuing, "It all started when Yuchen, his parents' adopted child, grew jealous of him. He wanted to be called the strongest. His hatred drove him to betray the king… He stabbed him with an enchanted knife given to him by a witch. That wound never truly healed."
Ping listened intently as Mei continued.
"The scar he carries—it's more than just a mark. Every full moon, he bleeds from the mouth and nose, and the pain is unbearable. No physician has been able to cure it. Some say he's infected, cursed."
Ping swallowed hard, feeling something unfamiliar stir inside her.
"You're lucky to have the king as your husband, my lady," Mei added with a small smile.
Lucky? Ping wasn't sure if that was true. But for the first time, she felt something other than fear for him—pity.
The next morning, the palace was filled with whispers.
"The king is back."
Ping's breath caught in her throat. She didn't understand why she felt relieved, but before she could think, her feet were already moving.
She rushed outside, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then she saw him.
Ling stood tall and firm, as imposing as ever, his silver hair flowing in the wind. But there was something different—his side was bleeding. He had been stabbed.
Ping felt her chest tighten.
Ling's cold eyes met hers for a brief moment, but he said nothing. He simply walked toward his chamber, his steps steady despite his injury.
Without hesitation, Ping followed.
When she reached his room, she didn't bother knocking. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Ling, who had been about to remove his bloodied cloak, looked up in surprise. He wasn't expecting anyone.
Ping held up the first aid kit. "I'm here to treat your wound."
For a moment, he just stared at her. The girl who once hated him was now standing in his chamber, willing to help him. He was used to tending to his wounds alone.
But this time, he let her.
She kneeled beside him, gently pressing a cloth to his side to clean the wound.
"Doesn't it hurt that bad?" she asked, glancing up at him.
Ling's expression remained unreadable. "What do you think?"
Ping was shocked. He showed no sign of pain, not even a flinch.
She carefully wrapped the bandage around him, focusing on her task. When she finished, she leaned back.
"Done. Get some rest."
Ling gave a slight nod.
Ping hesitated, her eyes lingering on him for a moment. She didn't want to leave. Not yet.
But the king needed rest.
Silently, she turned and walked away, closing the door behind her.