Chapter 16: The Scapegoat Princess Sentenced to Death (16)

Seeing Dong Huaide so cooperative, Zhou Hui naturally began to push for more details without hesitation. Dong Huaide, having already decided that there was no point in continuing the deception, felt indifferent and answered almost every question asked.

Of course, this was assuming he actually knew the answers. If he did not, there was nothing to be done.

After a quarter-hour of such exchange, Imperial Physician Wang emerged from the bedchamber. His crown was askew, his robes disheveled, his face deathly pale, and he looked utterly exhausted. "The Prince of Lu has fallen asleep, but you must assign people to watch over him carefully. Monitor his breathing constantly; if it becomes obstructed, you must provide manual assistance. Otherwise, given the current state of his tongue blocking his throat, he could easily suffocate in his sleep!"

Too much had happened today. Even though the Prince could not speak and his hands and feet had transformed into swine trotters, he remained restless. His inability to speak or vent his anger, combined with his limited mobility, had made his temperament increasingly irritable. Feeding him medicine, meals, and broth required assistance, and a large portion of items he could not yet ingest. He was essentially restricted to liquids.

To prevent him from choking to death, the task could not be left to ignorant serving maids; Imperial Physician Wang had to do it himself. Consequently, the physician had been put through the wringer. By the end, much like Dong Huaide, he had abandoned all caution, no longer fearing the Prince's wrath, and simply forced the sedative broth down the Prince's throat. After all, the damage was already done.

Later, while feeding him or performing examinations, he had been kicked several times by those trotters. Had the Prince been able to speak or move with agility, the physician would likely have been executed or beaten to death already. Since he expected no good outcome once the Prince recovered, what was there left to fear?

He had intentionally used the most bitter and astringent herbs for today's sedative broth. Surprisingly, pouring it down the Prince's throat felt rather satisfying. If not for the sake of his entire clan, there were moments he truly longed to kill the Prince with a single needle.

"Is it that troublesome? Imperial Physician Wang, I am afraid you must instruct the maids who serve the Prince personally. Once they are trained and can take turns watching over him and assisting his breathing, you will be relieved of the burden. This is Mr. Zhou, a strategist for Governor Zhai. He is here on the Governor's behalf to observe the situation."

Dong Huaide certainly would not take on such a tiring and risky task himself, so he naturally continued to issue orders to the physician, taking the moment to introduce Zhou Hui and explain his purpose.

"Sent by Governor Zhai? So, the matter is no longer being kept secret? That makes sense; how could it be hidden any longer? With the medical, Taoist, and Buddhist arts all failing, seeking outside help is the only way to avoid further catastrophe."

"Very well, Mr. Zhou, come with me."

Despite his exhaustion, Imperial Physician Wang remained professional. With a murmur and a wave, he signaled for Zhou Hui to follow. Moments later, they arrived at the Prince's bedside. The Prince's face was turning a deep, suffocating purple, and his breathing was clearly labored. The physician had no choice but to step forward and assist.

Of course, this did not involve mouth-to-mouth resuscitation; it was primarily about adjusting the position of the Prince's tongue. Meanwhile, Zhou Hui watched, stunned. He had assumed the green, black, and purple spots on the Prince’s body were merely small patches—perhaps the size of a bean or, at most, half a palm. Only now, seeing it with his own eyes, did he realize they covered his entire body. Furthermore, the tongue was not just slightly swollen; it had grown so large that it could no longer fit inside his mouth and was protruding.

While Zhou Hui was still in shock, the physician adjusted the tongue. Seeing Zhou Hui’s hesitation—wanting to reach out but not daring to—the physician said, "Do you wish to touch the Prince's hand?"

"Go ahead. The sedative I gave him contains a high dose of lead-based compounds and other drugs, all at the maximum safe limit. It will be very difficult for him to wake up."

"At first, we suspected it might be a sleight of hand. But after touching it ourselves and confirming it was truly the texture of a swine's trotter—not just an illusion cast upon human skin—we were unsure. We even invited monks and Taoist priests to draw talismans and apply black dog blood and rooster blood, but there was not the slightest change. Only then did we become convinced that this was a genuine transformation, not some street performer's trick."

With the physician’s reassurance, Zhou Hui ceased his hesitation and knelt to examine the limb. "Sleight of hand" usually referred to illusions; no matter how real they appeared to the eye, a physical examination would reveal the truth, or even expose the props used to create the trick. Zhou Hui had encountered such tactics often while assisting Zhai Hongxia at the Ministry of Justice, and he had personally debunked many such cases. Yet, this time, even after prodding the Prince from head to toe until his skin was nearly raw, he found nothing out of the ordinary.

The physician eventually could not help but mutter, "Mr. Zhou, is that enough? If you keep touching him, I fear you might wake the Prince. My sedative is effective, but it is not a paralytic or a magical trance-inducing drug."

"Apologies, my apologies! When I worked with Governor Zhai at the Ministry of Justice, I was accustomed to examining corpses, not the living. I momentarily forgot myself. My apologies!"

Zhou Hui quickly withdrew his hands, offering an apologetic explanation before remarking with deep emotion, "This is truly miraculous. The spots on the Prince’s body look exactly as if they grew there; there is no difference. The changes to his hands and feet are equally natural. It is a pity the Prince is still alive, or I would truly like to dissect the transition between the trotter and his wrist to see what lies beneath."

"It *did* grow there. We watched it grow with our own eyes. It is certainly not painted on." The physician felt like rolling his eyes. What a daring fellow—thankfully, the Prince could not hear him. Or so he hoped...

After speaking, the physician cautiously glanced at the Prince’s head, specifically his eyes, to ensure they were still closed before letting out a sigh of relief. Good, he was still asleep; there was no cause for concern.

"I am now fully convinced that the Prince has truly been hexed or cursed. However, Imperial Physician Wang, you must be careful. Once a case of witchcraft erupts, the first people to be investigated will be those closest to the Prince, as well as those he encountered before the strange events began. I fear for you... please, take care of yourself."

Although the physician had only begun his acupuncture treatment after the spots appeared and the Prince had already fallen into a coma, the subsequent changes occurred right after his treatment. Even if he were innocent, he would inevitably face rigorous interrogation. Whether he could keep his head was hard to say.

As he spoke, Zhou Hui scrutinized the physician's every expression and micro-gesture. It was clear his concern was not born of pity, but was a calculated probe.