Chapter 405
The Queen was seething. “Since when did that damned Athena become so sharp-tongued? I can’t believe she left me completely speechless.”
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes. “Seriously? The mighty Queen, the very ruler of the Six Palaces, was left utterly speechless by her sister-in-law? What’s the point of having such a mouth if you can’t even use it when it matters? Is it just for decoration?”
He was already in a foul mood, and seeing the Queen’s pathetic display only made him even more annoyed.
Arthur then announced, “Athena is expecting twins. She must take good care of herself upon her return. I hereby bestow upon her two aged medicinal roots, a thousand gold bars, ten thousand silver ingots, a vessel of pearls, ten strands of garnet jewelry, and a pair of silver inlaid hand mirrors.”
After a pause, he continued, “I hereby bestow upon Natasha a hundred gold bars, ten thousand silver ingots, a vessel of pearls, and ten bolts of royal brocade.”
As Arthur announced the string of rewards, Fermin’s expression turned dark with rage.
“Are these even rewards?” he fumed inwardly. “They’re nothing but humiliating slaps across my face!”
Desperate for an heir, Fermin took tonics daily and even married two concubines. Yet while even Natasha had good news, his two concubines hadn’t even conceived.
Right after the party, Fermin was summoned to the palace by the Queen.
The Queen frowned sternly at him. “What is going on? Neither of your two concubines has conceived, making me a laughingstock.”
Fermin stood there with his head hanging low, looking utterly defeated, his brows knitted tightly.
After a long, tense pause, he finally said through gritted teeth, “Mother, I’ve done my best.”
“Utterly useless!” the Queen snapped, her voice full of anger and contempt. Of course, she was not cursing Fermin, but his two concubines. “I’ll send the imperial physician to your residence to examine them and get their bodies in order. I refuse to believe that not a single one of them can conceive.”
Fermin mumbled a weak “okay,” his voice barely audible. Seeing his dejected state, the Queen relented and dismissed him from the palace, unwilling to pressure him further.
On his way back, Fermin grew angrier with each step. But as his initial fury subsided, a suspicion took hold of him.
“Could the problem be me?” he wondered.
Fermin grew more and more convinced. “Ever since Pamela gave birth to our daughter, there hasn’t been another pregnancy,” he thought. “I’ve tried all sorts of fertility tonics, but nothing worked. Both Viola and Athena are at their prime childbearing age, yet neither has conceived. Could it be that I’m the infertile one?”
Fermin broke out in a cold sweat, his legs turning to jelly.
“If I can’t produce an heir,” he panicked, “the crown prince’s throne will never be mine.”
“To the physician’s clinic,” Fermin commanded tersely.
There was a reputable clinic in town where an experienced physician practiced with great skill.
Fermin covered himself from head to toe, not even leaving his eyes exposed, before quietly slipping into the clinic.
The old physician nearly bolted at the sight of him. A fourteen-thousand-dollar cheque was slapped down on the table.
The old physician’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cheque, and he relaxed. “May I ask, my…” He paused, realizing that anyone so thoroughly concealed must not want their true identity revealed.
So, the words “esteemed guest” died on his lips, replaced with a more fitting address, “Sir, what brings you here?”
Fermin placed his hand on the table, deliberately lowered his voice, and said, “My wife hasn’t been able to conceive for quite some time…”
“I see,” the physician said. He didn’t need to wait for Fermin to finish. He’d already figured it out.
The old physician checked Fermin’s pulse. After a moment, his brows furrowed. He asked, “Sir, would you like the truth, or a white lie?”
“The truth,” Fermin managed, his heart pounding in his throat.
The old physician nodded. “Sir, your pulse feels deep and weak, suggesting internal depletion and low energy levels. It typically indicates a deficiency in vital resources and diminished metabolic function, likely due to chronic exhaustion or physiological imbalance.”
Fermin didn’t get it and growled menacingly, “Speak plainly!”
“Oh, you may have fertility issues related to low sperm quality or hormonal imbalance…” the old physician said bluntly.
Fermin was now sweating all over, not just on his forehead.
“Me? Fertility issues? How could that be?” he thought. “This has to be a joke! I’ve been chugging tonics like crazy. How could I possibly have fertility issues?”
He let out a scornful, bitter laugh.
The old physician nodded firmly and said to Fermin, “I never misdiagnose. Most patients who come to me refuse to believe they have fertility issues, but facts prove them wrong. To put it plainly, you’re all show and no substance.”
Fermin was seething with murderous rage. “Is there a cure?” he asked.
The old physician paused before saying, “Stay away from women for a year, take this herbal medicine, and you might see improvement.”
Truth be told, Fermin had worn himself out from overindulgence. But hoping to make more money off Fermin, the physician deliberately made it sound more serious than it was.
Fermin clenched his jaw. “A year without women… Well, maybe I can manage that,” he thought.
“Prescribe it for me…” Fermin said, “Money’s no issue for me.”
Another thirty-five-thousand-dollar check thudded onto the table.
The physician could see Fermin was wealthy. And thirty-five thousand dollars wasn’t enough for him.
With a sly smile, he pushed the check back and said, “Sir, my herbal medicine doesn’t come cheap, and thirty-five thousand dollars might barely cover a few herbs.”
Fermin gave a cold, mocking laugh, pulled a thick wad of banknotes from his robe, and slammed them onto the table. “Just write the damn prescription,” he commanded.
“Well, well! My eyes must be failing me. I didn’t realize you were such a wealthy merchant. Let me get your prescription ready right away, sir,” the old physician said.
Grinning from ear to ear, he eagerly snatched up the prescription and practically skipped off to the back to prepare the medicine.
Soon, he handed dozens of carefully wrapped medicinal packages to Fermin.
Grabbing the medicine, Fermin stormed out without another word.
By the time Fermin got back, the imperial physician was already gone.
Viola and Blanche, the two concubines, stood anxiously at the doorway, their eyes glued to the entrance.
When they saw Fermin return, their eyes lit up like hungry cats spotting a fish.
“Your Highness,” Viola and Blanche cooed in unison, their sickly sweet voices making Fermin’s skin crawl.
Just as Viola and Blanche moved to cling to him again, Fermin coldly stepped back, his gaze icy. “Stay right there,” he commanded.
Viola and Blanche were both stunned. Ever since their marriage, Fermin had been intimate with them every night.
“Why has he suddenly changed his tune? What on earth is going on?” they wondered.
“Your Highness,” Viola pouted with hurt eyes. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”
“Yeah, Your Highness,” Blanche said, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “Have I done something wrong to displease you?”
Blanche’s teary-eyed look had always been Fermin’s weakness. He could never resist it.
But today, Fermin seemed like a completely different person. He deliberately ignored her pleading gaze.
“So, what did the imperial physician say?” Fermin asked coldly.
Blanche shook her head gently and replied, “The royal physician said I’m in perfect health, nothing wrong at all.”
Viola eagerly stepped forward to boast, “The imperial physician said I’m highly fertile, guaranteed to give you a son!”
Fermin used to love hearing such assurances, but today he just sneered coldly. “If you were fertile like you claim, how come you can’t even pop out a single damn baby?”
Both women stood frozen in shock. Fermin had always carried himself with noble refinement and spoken with cultured elegance.
Yet today, he spoke to them so crudely.
“Popping out a single damn baby? How can he say that? No matter what, we’re still his official concubines,” they thought aggrievedly.
Viola’s eyes reddened, her face wearing a deeply wronged expression. Blanche, meanwhile, was sobbing this time, tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks.
Fermin was utterly exasperated. He snapped, “Natasha is already pregnant, and Athena is carrying twins, a boy and a girl. How dare you two have the audacity to stand here shedding tears before me?”
Both women gasped in unison, their faces a picture of shock. “Boy-girl twins? How is that even possible?” they exclaimed.
Fermin snapped, “It’s an imperial physician’s diagnosis. How could it possibly be wrong?”
Fermin’s expression was icy beyond words. He sneered, “Instead of wasting time crying before me, you might as well reflect on whether the problem lies with yourselves.”