Fang Qi could still feel the lingering taste of the medicine at the back of his tongue—bitter, with an unnatural numbing sensation.
In his previous life, he had lived among numbers and logic. He was used to recognizing patterns. Medicine meant to treat a body "weak since birth" should have restorative properties. Yet what he felt now was systematic sabotage. His heart was beating rapidly, but in an inefficient rhythm, while his muscles felt even weaker, as if his strength was being siphoned straight into the ground.
"Weak since birth?" he muttered. His sharp eyes studied his pale reflection.
"Or deliberately crippled?"
He stepped toward the wooden table and dipped a fingertip into the remaining black liquid at the bottom of the bowl. He brought it close and inhaled its scent. Beneath the sharp herbal bitterness, there was a faint metallic stench—like rusted iron covered in moss.
If this body had failed to improve for years despite constant treatment, there were only two possibilities:
Either the medicine was useless—
or the medicine itself was a prison.
First Step: Testing
Fang Qi poured the remaining liquid into a basin filled with clear water. Instantly, the water turned into a thick, murky brown.
A few seconds later, a small insect that had been resting on the edge of the basin and briefly touched the water suddenly flipped onto its back. Its legs twitched violently in a brief spasm before going completely still.
Dead.
Fang Qi's eyes narrowed.
"Someone wants this 'Young Master Fang' to rot in bed until he dies."
The Puzzle of Identity
Fragments of memory began to spin through his mind like data being loaded.
A cold-faced father who looked at him not as a son, but as a stain that couldn't be erased.
A stepmother whose lips smiled while her eyes hid blades.
And his half-siblings—especially the favored child, Han Yue—whose name was praised throughout the entire residence.
One detail stood out.
The name.
Everyone in this household carried the surname Han. Everyone except him.
His mother had insisted on naming him Fang Qi. The name "Fang" was the only thing she had left him before disappearing without a trace. Within the Han Family estate, the surname Fang was a label for an "outsider"—a mark that he was never truly acknowledged as part of their bloodline.
Fang Qi sat back down on the floor, steadying his shallow breaths. He knew that abruptly refusing the medicine would only raise suspicion. The old servant from earlier would surely report it if the bowl was returned full.
An Emergency Plan
Outside the window, the sun was beginning to set, bathing the curved rooftops of the Han Residence in a blood-red glow. If he wanted to survive, he needed to do three things:
1. Fake Consumption — He had to continue pretending to be a compliant patient so the one administering the poison wouldn't escalate their methods.
2. Detoxification — He needed a way to manually expel the poison from his body.
3. Find a Pawn — In a house full of wolves, he needed at least one person he could control.
Suddenly, his ears caught the sound of footsteps.
Light. Hesitant. Completely different from the heavy steps of the old servant earlier.
Knock, knock.
"Young Master Fang? This is Xiao Lan. I brought you some warm water."
The voice was soft, carrying a hint of anxiety. Fang Qi immediately adjusted his posture, leaning his body against the wall to appear frail, his face carefully arranged into a flat, emotionless expression.
"Come in," he said, deliberately making his voice hoarse, as if speaking alone drained his strength.
The door opened. A young maid in worn servant's clothes entered, carrying a wooden bucket. When her eyes met Fang Qi's, she froze for a moment. A flicker of fear crossed her face—along with something that resembled genuine pity.
Xiao Lan.
The only name in his memories that wasn't associated with contempt.
"Put it there," Fang Qi ordered coldly.
As the girl bent down to set the bucket aside, Fang Qi casually threw out a question—his tone relaxed, yet piercing.
"Xiao Lan, who prepared my medicine this afternoon? The smell… was a little different than usual."
Xiao Lan's movements stopped instantly.
Her shoulders stiffened, and the wooden bucket in her hands trembled slightly.