Chapter 40: The Monster

After watching Wu Neng leave, Zhao Xianzhi did not immediately pay attention to the curious gazes around him. Instead, he looked toward Meng Zhenyue, who had remained silent throughout.

Could it be that she knew? Had she intentionally let someone deliver the rouge to Cousin Qianxue to make him anxious, all in order to force him to reveal his true colors? Yet, when the servant reported that Meng Zhenyue wanted his people to help deliver the rouge, he had checked the boxes thoroughly before giving his consent. Furthermore, Meng Zhenyue had only recently returned to the estate and had lived in Xiaozhou previously; she had never been to the capital. How could she possibly know of his secret affection for Cousin Qianxue? Every interaction he had with his cousin was orchestrated by their grandmother; even Zhao Zhizhi had not perceived his feelings.

Of course, he could play along and claim that Meng Zhenyue, seeking to eliminate a rival in the embroidery workshop, had framed Cousin Qianxue. But how could he let the woman he loved pay the price of a ruined face just to help him succeed? That would be beastly. Besides, he had not planned this step in advance; the risks were far too high.

As chaotic thoughts swirled in his mind, he saw Meng Zhenyue looking at his anxious behavior with a bewildered expression, her eyes fixed on the rouge boxes on the table with a wary gaze. Then, she scolded her maid in a cold voice: "Manzhi, you were the one who handed the items to my elder brother’s servant. How could such a blunder occur?"

"I thought the boxes looked the same, and not having heard of any particular avoidances for Cousin Qianxue, I simply picked one. I never imagined it would cause such a disaster. Please punish me, Miss," the maid said, already full of anxiety as she knelt down.

"Go, go back and receive your lashes!" Meng Zhenyue commanded sternly.

Zhao Zhizhi and Meng Yanyue paid no mind to their elder sister punishing the maid. They were, however, increasingly puzzled. Indeed, Cousin Qianxue had no known sensitivities to cosmetics, so why was their elder brother so nervous? They couldn't help but stare at Zhao Xianzhi, trying to discern the truth.

Sensing their burning gazes, Zhao Xianzhi tightened his grip, pulled his gaze back, and offered a self-deprecating smile. "I am not well-versed in women’s cosmetics; I hope my sisters will forgive my embarrassment. I was merely worried that if something happened to Cousin Qianxue, Grandmother would blame you all."

Having regained his composure, he had already prepared his excuse. Zhao Zhizhi and Meng Yanyue looked convinced and turned their attention away, not forgetting to praise Zhao Xianzhi a few times. The matter seemed to have reached an end.

"That's settled then." Meng Yanyue picked up the rouge and looked at Zhao Xianzhi with sparkling, expectant eyes. "Second Brother, are you ready?"

The water droplets on Zhao Xianzhi’s face had already been wiped away by a servant. Wu Neng had already rushed off; with his exceptional light-foot skills, he would surely arrive before Beilie could deliver the rouge. Even if he didn't, Cousin Qianxue wouldn't use it right away. Therefore, he only needed to wait in peace.

Thinking this, Zhao Xianzhi nodded. Seeing this, Meng Yanyue hurriedly put on her sleeve guards, washed her hands, and had a bronze mirror brought over. After much fussing, she began to apply makeup to Zhao Xianzhi. Perhaps she was too excited to finally be able to groom a face as celestial as his—which looked even better than her own brother’s stern face—or perhaps the scent of the medicine her sister had applied to her hands that morning still lingered. It wasn't until she had finished applying the powder that she realized something was wrong.

She froze, sniffed the rouge she was holding, and looked at Meng Zhenyue with regret. "Sister, this is the rouge meant for Cousin Zhao!" She was frantic. "It seems I need to order new rouge boxes!"

Another blunder had occurred, but this time no one was startled. Zhao Zhizhi was amused by Meng Yanyue’s frantic state, and Meng Zhenyue wore a similar expression. Only Zhao Xianzhi, who had been enjoying Meng Yanyue’s technique while calculating her value, froze as if the sky were collapsing upon hearing this.

What did she say?! This was the rouge meant for Zhizhi? Then the one on his face was the rouge that had been tampered with?

Zhao Xianzhi stopped for only a half-breath, then rose abruptly without a word, grabbing the basin of water Meng Yanyue had used to wash her hands. But just as his face came within half an inch of the water, an itch flared, followed by a searing pain. After a moment of struggle, he finally remembered to wash his face first.

Meng Yanyue, still holding the powder brush in mid-air, looked at him in confusion, then let out a shriek. "Ah—"

Zhao Zhizhi also cried out, "Elder Brother! Second Brother! Your face!"

By then, Zhao Xianzhi had washed off a portion of the powder. Hearing their cries, he instinctively turned his head and caught his reflection in the bronze mirror. In the distorted image, there appeared to be a pig—no, a creature even more horrific than a pig: his face was swollen, uneven, and covered in shocking, crimson spots. If he were to appear at tomorrow’s masquerade lantern festival, he would certainly draw all eyes and terrify many.

Tortured by both pain and itching, and seeing himself in such a state, Zhao Xianzhi nearly fainted, stumbling as he fell to the floor. Was the effect of the poison really this… this terrifying? It was a dual assault on both body and mind!

Amidst the renewed exclamations in the room, the servants rushed forward to help Zhao Xianzhi up. The first thing the agonizing Zhao Xianzhi did upon being lifted was to search for Meng Zhenyue. He forced his swollen eyelids open, barely catching a glimpse through the slit of a view as Meng Zhenyue ordered someone to call for a doctor with a look of slight surprise.

So it wasn't orchestrated by Meng Zhenyue? Regardless, he had no heart left to think; he only wanted to get the antidote as quickly as possible. Yet, he would still try his best to push the blame onto Meng Zhenyue. He grabbed Meng Yanyue, who was calling out to him in worry, and said with great difficulty: "Y-Yanyue, the medicine on your hand smells so good—"

Meng Yanyue was full of confusion, straining to listen, but she couldn't make out his meaning. The servant supporting Zhao Xianzhi understood his master’s intent and quickly translated: "The Young Master says the medicine on Miss Meng’s hand smells very unique and fragrant. He wishes to ask if you have any other miraculous medicine he might borrow."

"This is the medicine my sister applied for me," Meng Yanyue said quickly, then looked toward her sister, about to ask if she had any, when she heard her second brother speaking with what sounded like great agitation: "H-how, how, tell her, beg for the medicine, beg for the medicine!"

The servant translated again. He had Zhao Xianzhi helped to a small daybed and knelt before Meng Zhenyue. "Eldest Miss! The Eldest Young Master begs for medicine from you!"

Meng Zhenyue looked full of concern. "I do have some medicine for rashes, but I don't know what has happened to him; I dare not use it indiscriminately."

The servant turned to look at Zhao Xianzhi, waiting for his master’s instructions. Zhao Xianzhi, struggling with every breath, said, "No, no matter, bring it all here."

The servant received the order and said to Meng Zhenyue, "The Eldest Young Master says it doesn't matter; please bring it all." He then hurriedly turned to two maids and commanded, "You two, go to Yuehua Courtyard and fetch the Eldest Miss’s medicine chest."

At the mention of the medicine chest, Meng Yanyue froze. Zhao Zhizhi, who had been terrified and dared not look at Zhao Xianzhi, also stopped in her tracks, feeling a sense of having narrowly escaped disaster. Both of them couldn't help but recall what their elder sister had said that morning:

"Let us see who brings this matter up."

"Since he has released it, he will surely find a way to expose it to everyone."