Chapter 53: Seven Days in the Netherworld

“Girl, where is Prince Chun? Let me see him at once.” As soon as Meng Tao saw Zhan Yan, he spoke anxiously. On his way here, he’d heard rumors of what had happened, but he could not understand why his prized Great Elixir had failed to bring Zhongli Yu back from the brink.

“Grandpa Meng, he’s right here. Please, take a look at him,” Zhan Yan said eagerly, leading Meng Tao straight to the bedside, her face filled with hope.

Meng Tao sat down at the edge of the bed, took Zhongli Yu’s hand, and carefully felt for his pulse. After a moment, he began stroking his beard and chuckled softly.

“How is he, Grandpa Meng?” Zhan Yan, seeing his smile, let out a breath of relief yet could not help but ask, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“This young man, it turns out he took a feigned death pill. No wonder his pulse had vanished entirely,” Meng Tao replied with a light laugh.

“A feigned death pill? But it’s already been three days—why hasn’t he awakened?” Zhan Yan remembered the last time she had taken such a pill, she had revived within three days.

“The one he took is not the same as yours, child,” Meng Tao explained, reading the confusion on her face. “He took something called ‘Seven Days to the Underworld.’ This medicine is rare in the martial world, invented a hundred years ago by a famous physician, and believed to be lost now. I wonder how this boy managed to get his hands on it. After taking this pill, one appears dead for seven days—no breath, no pulse, no sign of life. Ordinary doctors cannot tell the difference, so everyone assumes the person has indeed passed on. I only know of it because my master once mentioned it to me, otherwise I would never have guessed such a thing existed.”

“Seven Days to the Underworld? So he needs seven days before he’ll wake up?” Zhan Yan finally felt her heart settle.

“Yes, three days have already passed. He should awaken in four more,” Meng Tao nodded. He loosened Zhongli Yu’s clothing, examining his wounds carefully. Peeling back the bandages Zhan Yan had wrapped, he pressed gently near the heart and nodded with a smile. “Fortunate indeed—just missed the heart by a hair. The boy judged his position well.”

“So my husband planned this all along,” Zhan Yan exclaimed in delight.

“Madam, the young master is safe, isn’t he? He used the feigned death pill to deceive the enemy, exchanged himself for the people of Dongling, and didn’t have to die in the end?” Lihun asked excitedly, admiration shining in his eyes as he looked at Zhongli Yu. The young master’s strategy was indeed brilliant.

“Lihun, no one must know of this. Tell everyone outside that the Great Elixir worked, but because His Highness lost too much blood, he hasn’t woken up yet,” Zhan Yan said gravely.

“Understood,” Lihun replied respectfully. Nothing brought him greater joy than knowing the young master was still alive.

“Your Grace, King Lan, King Jin, and several generals are here,” Li Ying announced from outside. Apparently, the news of the divine physician's arrival had spread, and they wanted to confirm whether Zhongli Yu was truly alive or dead.

“Let them in,” Zhan Yan said, now much relieved knowing Zhongli Yu was out of danger.

“Divine Physician Meng, how is Prince Chun? Is he still alive?” Zhong Yijin was the first to speak upon entering.

“Of course he is! The boy has a strong fate—he won’t die so easily. With my Great Elixir, how could he succumb so readily?” Meng Tao boasted with pride.

“His Highness is truly blessed. It is fortune for all of Dongling,” General Liang Ruhai stroked his beard, speaking with satisfaction. He remembered having wanted to persuade Zhan Yan to lay Zhongli Yu to rest, thinking him gone—now his face reddened with embarrassment at the memory, and he lowered his head in shame.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, though many gazed at Zhan Yan with guilt. Their previous rash judgments now seemed foolish, and they could barely meet her eyes. Yet with Zhongli Yu alive, joy prevailed. Zhan Yan, in high spirits, saw no reason to take offense.

“Now that you know His Highness is safe, there’s no need to worry. Everyone, return and let him rest,” Zhong Yilan declared, glancing at Zhan Yan before taking the lead out the door. The others quickly followed.

“Grandpa Meng, you should rest as well. I’ve had rooms prepared for you all. Please have supper and get some well-earned sleep—anything else can wait until tomorrow,” Zhan Yan said once the crowd dispersed, knowing they must be exhausted after traveling day and night to arrive so soon.

“Very well, I’ll go rest now. I really am getting old; these bones aren’t as nimble as they once were,” Meng Tao sighed, allowing himself to be led away.

“Qingyun, you and the others should go rest too. I’ll keep watch here,” Zhan Yan said to her maids, seeing how travel-worn they looked.

“Yes, miss.”

After three days keeping vigil at Zhongli Yu’s side, Zhan Yan’s heart could finally be at ease. That night, she slept soundly beside him. Since leaving the capital, she had traveled two days and nights without pause, and even after arriving, had scarcely rested. Except for the one night when Li Yan had pressed her sleep acupoint, she’d hardly known a proper night’s rest—and even then, her dreams had been haunted. Now, at last, peace found her, and she slept until the sun was high in the sky. By the time she awoke, Qingyun and the others were already waiting outside to serve her.

“Miss, you’re awake. Are you hungry? Should I bring in your meal?” Qingyun asked, her heart aching at how thin Zhan Yan had become.

“Yes, I am hungry,” Zhan Yan replied—she hadn’t eaten well for days, and was famished.

After her meal, Zhan Yan went in search of the divine physician. One matter still weighed on her mind: Yan Kuan. She couldn’t make sense of it—she didn’t know if she was truly Yan Kuan’s daughter or the real daughter of the Prince of Zhen Nan.

“Grandpa Meng, I’m sure you’ve heard what happened these past few days. I had Yan Kuan’s body brought back, along with the insect that crawled out of him. Please take a look—can you tell when Yan Kuan began impersonating the Prince of Zhen Nan?” Zhan Yan’s tone was grave.

“Alright, quickly, take me to see,” Meng Tao replied with urgency.

“Lihun, where did you put Yan Kuan? Take us there at once.”

“Madam, I placed him in a separate tent and set guards to watch over him. Please, follow me.”

Soon they arrived at the tent where Yan Kuan’s body was kept. His corpse had grown stiff, and it being summer, the stench could have been overwhelming, but Lihun had placed ice nearby, so he was still presentable.

Meng Tao stepped forward, carefully examining the body. Confirming that the face was indeed Yan Kuan’s true one, and after inspecting the disguise parasite Zhan Yan had collected, he determined that Yan Kuan had been in disguise for sixteen years.

“Sixteen years? I’m only fifteen and a half—so he must have started impersonating the Prince of Zhen Nan before I was even born.” Zhan Yan was stunned. Sixteen years living under another’s identity—she could not decide whether to admire or despise such a person.

“Child, you are most likely the true daughter of the Prince of Zhen Nan. You look nothing like this man, and when he began impersonating the prince, you should already have been in your mother’s womb,” Meng Tao said thoughtfully.

“I’ve always believed I couldn’t be Yan Kuan’s daughter—otherwise, how could I feel no connection to him at all? Fifteen years together, and they say blood is thicker than water. However distant I might have felt, it’s impossible not to feel anything for one’s own father. Now I understand why—he was never my father to begin with,” Zhan Yan shook her head, finally comprehending the root of her sense of estrangement.

“But then where is the real Prince of Zhen Nan?” she voiced the question that had been haunting her.