Chapter 315: It Wasn’t Me Who Called You
Ji Qingwu took a few steps to the bedside, where an assortment of medicine bowls sat on a small table.
She picked one up and sniffed. There were tonics to replenish vitality, antidotes for poison, and concoctions to prolong life. But every medicine has its toxins, let alone when mixed together. This was a clear case of desperation—of trying anything and everything.
Ji Qingwu stood by the bed. "Did you summon me here to treat you?"
She set the bowl down. "But I’m not an expert in poisons. You should find a more skilled physician."
Su Daiyue looked confused. "It wasn’t... me who called for you."
But the messenger who came to the Wei Mansion had said that Madam Song wished to see her before she died, that she had something to tell her.
Ji Qingwu and Wei Tongyou exchanged a look.
Su Daiyue pressed against the mattress, trying to sit up, but her arms had no strength, and she slid back down.
Ji Qingwu lent a hand and helped her sit up, her eyes fixing on one spot.
A bitter scent emanated from Su Daiyue’s entire body. She noticed Ji Qingwu staring at the front of her robes, where a large, brownish-yellow stain had spread.
Now that she was sitting up, she could breathe a little easier.
"You must think me a sight. When one is on the brink of death, even staying clean and tidy becomes impossible."
Ji Qingwu’s expression turned grave. "Who has been forcing medicine down your throat?"
Su Daiyue’s collar was soaked with medicine. A closer look revealed pale bruises on her throat, clear signs that she hadn’t been taking the medicine willingly. Someone had pinched her jaw and forced it down.
A flicker of emotion crossed Ji Qingwu’s eyes. "Was it Song Wei?"
Before Su Daiyue could answer, the door was thrown open.
A man stumbled in, his steps unsteady, holding a bowl of steaming hot medicinal brew.
His right hand was stained with liquid that had sloshed over the rim, a testament to his haste.
Ji Qingwu quickly pulled Wei Tongyou aside.
Song Wei’s face was grim. "Drink this."
Su Daiyue turned her head toward the wall, revealing the sharp, protruding bone behind her emaciated ear.
"Is there any point to this?"
Song Wei shoved the bowl directly against her pale lips. The motion was so violent that the murky brown medicine splashed onto the side of her face.
Wei Tongyou started forward to stop his brutal behavior, but Ji Qingwu pulled her back by the sleeve.
"Don’t."
"He’s trying to force-feed her poison," Wei Tongyou said. "I can’t just stand by and watch."
Ji Qingwu spoke in a low, calm voice. "It isn’t poison. But even so, it can’t save Madam Song’s life." Hearing this, Wei Tongyou stopped.
Song Wei gripped Su Daiyue’s jaw and tried to pour the liquid in.
"I told you to drink! Didn’t you hear me?"
But Su Daiyue clenched her jaw, fighting him. Most of the medicine streamed down her neck.
The bowl was soon empty, but next to none of the medicine had made it into her mouth. The veins on the hand Song Wei used to grip the bowl stood out sharply.
Su Daiyue wiped the brew from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Though her breath was faint, her eyes were filled with disdain.
"I won’t... live much longer... For you to... to torture me like this... You’re an animal... worse than an animal..."
Song Wei ground his teeth, the sound grating in the quiet room.
"Even if I am an animal, I’m nothing compared to your cruelty! A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve to die! Death would be too easy for you!"
Su Daiyue started to speak but was overcome by a fit of gut-wrenching coughs. The bitter taste in her mouth was replaced by the metallic tang of blood.
She coughed up a great mouthful of dark blood. Song Wei, standing right in front of her, didn’t flinch. He wiped his face, only to find his palm slick with her blood.
Song Wei stared at his hand for a moment, then stumbled out of the room.
An unnatural flush rose to Su Daiyue’s cheeks from the coughing fit, making her seem more lucid than she had just moments ago.
"I have something I wish to say to you alone."
Wei Tongyou looked to Ji Qingwu, waiting for her nod before stepping outside.
Ji Qingwu pulled a stool to the bedside and sat down. Her tone was calm and even. "What did you want to tell me?"
Su Daiyue pulled the silver hairpin she had worn the day before from beneath her pillow, a spark of life returning to her eyes.
Ji Qingwu knew this wasn’t a sign of recovery. It was the final, fleeting burst of energy that comes when one is terminally ill—a last flicker before the end.
Su Daiyue stroked the object fondly. "This hairpin... it was my mother’s. Will you return it to her for me?"
Ji Qingwu took in the hairpin’s intricate pattern. "Why ask me to deliver it? We’ve only met once."
"Because the moment I saw you," Su Daiyue said, "I knew you were a good person."
"My mother is in an even more pitiful state than I am. If you see her, please tell her for me... that her daughter has been unfilial. This is all I can do."
Ji Qingwu didn’t take it. "Once he learns of your condition, Prime Minister Su will surely visit. It would be more fitting for you to give the hairpin to your father and let him deliver it to your mother."
Su Daiyue flinched, her shoulders drawing in. "I don’t want to see him," she pleaded. "I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Please, won’t you help me?"
Ji Qingwu took the silver hairpin from her. A dark, hidden emotion flickered in Su Daiyue’s eyes.
"You’re giving me this hairpin, asking me to deliver it to your birth mother." Ji Qingwu gently tapped the sharp end of the pin with her finger, seeing through the ruse. "But it’s not because you want to leave her a memento."
She recalled Ma Pozi mentioning that Su Daiyue’s birth mother had gone mad and was locked away in a rear courtyard. Su Daiyue herself had been locked in a woodshed as a child. It was clear mother and daughter had a difficult life in the Su Mansion.
Her mother was the only person Su Daiyue couldn’t bear to leave behind.
Ji Qingwu turned the hairpin over in her fingers. The head was carved into a crescent moon, inlaid with a pale yellow jade.
"You know exactly what kind of man your father is."
Su Daiyue tensed, her thoughts laid bare. She couldn’t meet Ji Qingwu’s gaze. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you won’t do it, then just forget it."
A smile touched Ji Qingwu’s lips. "The truth is, you want to send me to Su Fengyue. You want him to remember this ’favor’ you’ve done him, so that he might treat your mother kindly after you’re gone."
On the carriage ride to the Song family’s residence, Ji Qingwu had been mulling over why Su Daiyue would have summoned her. The two of them barely knew each other.
At first, Ji Qingwu had assumed Song Wei was continuing to torment Su Daiyue, and that the dying woman wanted to be saved.
But just now, she had dismissed that thought.
Regardless of who had actually sent the message, Ji Qingwu could tell from Song Wei’s reaction that he, too, was panicking over the sudden, sharp decline in Su Daiyue’s health.
The reason the poison had flared up so quickly was that Su Daiyue herself no longer wanted to live.
With a little deduction, Ji Qingwu understood the whole story.
She stated coolly, "The poison flared so quickly because you ingested a much larger dose. Only this time, the one who administered it was you."
Su Daiyue’s fingers clenched the bedding. This woman, with a face as delicate as a flower, was far more perceptive than she had ever imagined.
Ji Qingwu continued, "When you saw Prime Minister Su yesterday, you fought back the urge to be sick because it brought back old memories. You no longer wanted to see your father, so you decided to end it all. But you couldn’t rest easy, worrying about your mother, who is still in the Su Mansion, mad and in need of care."
"And so, you thought of me."