Chapter 114: The Abandoned Little Emperor (18)
Su Mingxiu’s cough worsened.
The imperial physicians who had accompanied the army naturally didn’t dare to neglect the Prince of Zhenbei, both because of her power and the emperor’s personal instructions before their departure.
If anything happened to the Prince of Zhenbei, they wouldn’t be able to retire peacefully.
They would all lose their heads in this remote border city.
Upon learning of Su Mingxiu’s cough, they were worried, rushing to her side with their medical kits, not even bothering with protective masks.
But after examining her and confirming that she hadn’t contracted the plague, they first breathed a sigh of relief, then felt even more despair.
—Even if it wasn’t the plague, this consumption (tuberculosis) was also a death sentence.
Su Mingxiu, however, seemed to be well aware of her own condition. After hearing the diagnosis, she waved them away silently. After the physicians retreated, she said calmly: “I want to move to the isolation zone and stay with the patients.”
“This disease is incurable. If the palace inquires about my condition, simply report it as the plague. This matter must not be leaked. If anyone disobeys, they will face my wrath.”
Her tone was still calm and unhurried, as if she had even calculated her own death.
But the imperial physicians didn’t dare to take her words lightly. The Prince of Zhenbei hadn’t wielded her sword much since defeating the Turkic forces, but that didn’t mean she had become gentle.
No one in the Xiao Zhou court had forgotten how she stormed the palace and turned the previous emperor into a gruesome spectacle.
In a way, they feared this unpredictable Prince of Zhenbei even more than the current emperor, despite the emperor’s growing power.
So the physicians kept their silence, only reinforcing the isolation around Su Mingxiu’s room, having servants disinfect the area daily with boiling water, hanging multiple layers of curtains, and bringing her mostly palliative medicines to ease her pain and help her sleep, preventing her vital energy from being consumed by the disease.
Although Su Mingxiu’s condition didn’t improve, ever since she moved into the isolation zone, the anxious patients and their families felt a sense of relief. They prayed more fervently, followed the physicians’ instructions more carefully, and cooperated with the officials, no longer causing trouble.
They saw a glimmer of hope in overcoming the plague, however small.
Su Mingxiu grew thinner by the day.
But she still received reports from her subordinates about the happenings in the court, such as how a certain governor had embezzled grain meant for disaster relief.
And how, after this matter reached the capital, the emperor had appointed capable officials to handle the situation, resolving it successfully…
Or how, after she had dealt with the Marquis of Linyang, his remaining forces had started a rebellion in other regions, and how the emperor had sent troops to quell the unrest.
One by one, the little emperor’s political skills matured, surpassing the previous incompetent ruler, even showing the qualities of the founding emperor of the Xiao Zhou dynasty.
After reading these reports, Su Mingxiu would burn them, then sit by the window, shrouded in layers of curtains, staring at the hazy light outside, lost in thought for the entire day.
The news from the palace gradually decreased.
This meant that the emperor’s influence was growing, her reach extending further, her eyes and ears becoming more acute… The power of the Great Zhou was finally transitioning peacefully from the Regent to the emperor.
This was something the entire court and the common people welcomed.
The last message she received was that the little emperor had secretly met with several generals. After that, no more notes were delivered to her room.
One day, Su Mingxiu, dozing in a fur-lined chair, felt someone enter and asked casually: “Is it autumn now? I feel colder… cough, cough, cough…”
Her voice was hoarse, perhaps from the frequent coughing, making it difficult to speak.
But the maid who entered was timid, not daring to respond, only silently draping a thin wool blanket over Su Mingxiu.
Su Mingxiu didn’t sense any malice, so she didn’t bother opening her eyes. But the maid was clumsy, struggling to arrange the blanket, one side slipping off, the other untucked. Su Mingxiu endured it for a while, waiting for the system’s warning about OOC behavior before reprimanding her. Just as she was about to speak, her hand, resting on the armrest, twitched as she felt a warm drop of liquid land on it.
At the same time, she smelled a faint floral fragrance.
The scent of peonies.
Su Mingxiu’s eyes snapped open. She saw the person half-kneeling beside her chair, their cloak still on, a white silk cloth covering their face, yet it couldn’t hide their clear, doe-like eyes, filled with tears.
She instinctively reached out to catch the falling tears. But when the teardrop landed on her palm, she realized…
Xiao Miyun’s tears didn’t turn into pearls.
“Don’t cry,” she whispered, her voice gentle.
The little emperor, who had been consumed by anger during the journey, now, seeing Su Mingxiu’s frail and gaunt appearance, had forgotten all about their cold war. She only felt an overwhelming fear.
Fear of losing this person before her.
And a sense of grievance. Why had Su Mingxiu become like this, yet refused to tell her? The thought of one day receiving news of the Prince of Zhenbei’s death without knowing the truth made her feel cold, her heart trembling.
“Where are the physicians?”
The person kneeling beside her, their lips moving soundlessly for a moment, finally uttered these words. As if regaining her senses, she quickly stood up and called out: “Summon the physicians! All of you—”
Her voice cracked, almost breaking. Before she could finish speaking, Su Mingxiu grabbed her sleeve and interrupted her gently: “Lower your head.”
Xiao Miyun heard the hurried footsteps outside, knowing that the physicians, aware of the emperor’s arrival, were already waiting. She lowered her head as instructed, then felt Su Mingxiu’s sleeve brush against her head. Looking up, she saw a delicate yellow peony petal between Su Mingxiu’s fingers.
“Your Majesty came all the way from the capital, and even brought a gift?”
Su Mingxiu teased her playfully.
But the little emperor didn’t laugh, only staring at the peony petal silently. Just then, the physicians entered and waited respectfully beside them. Xiao Miyun ordered them to report on the Prince of Zhenbei’s current condition.
Hearing this, one of the physicians wiped his forehead with his sleeve, whether from the morning’s journey or from fear of the emperor’s question, it was hard to tell.
Clearly, they couldn’t afford to offend either of these two.
But with the Prince of Zhenbei present, they didn’t dare to tell the truth. They could only list the symptoms of the plague that were similar to Su Mingxiu’s. But before they could even finish, they were interrupted by the emperor.
During her journey, Xiao Miyun had heard the accompanying physician explain the symptoms of the plague. She knew that once infected, it was extremely difficult to treat, especially in severe cases. And the physicians were describing severe symptoms. But severe cases progressed to death quickly, how could Su Mingxiu have waited for her arrival?
Deceiving the emperor was a capital offense.
The little emperor sneered, reminding the physicians of this fact. Su Mingxiu sighed softly and, before Xiao Miyun could lose her temper, said: “You may all leave.”
Xiao Miyun glared at her, then, seeing her pale, bloodless face, she suppressed her anger and said, her voice strained: “Leave.”
The physicians quickly retreated.
When only the two of them remained in the room, the little emperor looked around, noticing the simple furniture.
Apart from the warm fur coverings, the crude craftsmanship was unworthy of the Prince of Zhenbei’s status.
Her heart ached, her eyes stinging. Her voice choked with emotion as she finally asked, her usual imperial authority gone, replaced by a plaintive tone: “Why did you hide it from me?”
She was heartbroken, not irrational. She knew that without Su Mingxiu’s permission, these physicians wouldn’t dare to deceive her.
She simply didn’t understand why she wasn’t even allowed to know the truth.
Su Mingxiu was still searching for the right words, but Xiao Miyun had already answered her own question: “Because you don’t care, so it doesn’t matter, is that it?”
“Su Mingxiu, although Zhen is the emperor, Zhen’s heart is also made of flesh and blood, just like any other mortal. Zhen also has feelings, Zhen also feels pain.”
I know.
With each word, Su Mingxiu felt the same pain in her chest. She couldn’t help but cough again, her vision darkening. She steadied herself and said: “This place is filled with disease, Your Majesty shouldn’t be here.”
“Please return to the capital.”
A feverish blush appeared on her face. She wanted to arrange for an escort to take the little emperor back, but before she could speak, the person who had just accused her of being heartless interrupted her.
“It’s been a long time since the Right Chancellor hugged Zhen.”
Xiao Miyun didn’t see the fallen peony petal on the floor. She only stared at Su Mingxiu’s half-closed hand, her eyes fixed on those pale, slender fingers, the bones almost visible beneath the skin.
She continued: “Hug me one more time, and I’ll leave.”
The little girl, who had learned how to be an emperor, now, in this small, shabby room, lost her composure, forgetting her imperial address.
The most esteemed person in the world, facing unrequited love, was as humble as dust.
The person sitting in the chair didn’t move, didn’t open her arms, as if she hadn’t heard Xiao Miyun’s words.
Until the little emperor suddenly leaned closer, her shadow falling over Su Mingxiu, making her realize—
The little girl had grown taller.
Xiao Miyun stayed at this distance, waiting. Seeing no reaction from Su Mingxiu, she pressed further: “Are you… afraid, or unwilling?”
Su Mingxiu didn’t answer.
Xiao Miyun, emboldened, hugged her. The moment their bodies touched, Su Mingxiu shivered.
Having been constantly cold, being embraced by someone with a normal body temperature, she felt a warmth spread through her.
The little emperor hugged her tightly, her body sliding down, her head resting on Su Mingxiu’s shoulder. She listened to the heartbeat in Su Mingxiu’s chest. Just as Su Mingxiu was about to push her away, Xiao Miyun’s clear eyes looked up, meeting Su Mingxiu’s gaze.
“The Right Chancellor’s heartbeat seems faster.”
“Is your illness worsening?”
Su Mingxiu looked down at her. After a moment, she suddenly smiled. But the smile quickly turned into a coughing fit, much more violent than before, making Xiao Miyun pat her back anxiously.
She saw Su Mingxiu raise a handkerchief to her lips, its edges quickly stained red.
But the person who was coughing so violently didn’t seem as worried as Xiao Miyun. As she wiped her lips, a streak of red remained, like a deliberately drawn lip line, or like a seductive ghost from the mountains. She replied with a smile: “Yes.”
Yes, my illness is worsening, not because of your presence.
Hearing her answer, the light in Xiao Miyun’s eyes dimmed. She stared at Su Mingxiu’s lips for a long time, then said slowly: “Su Mingxiu, you can’t do this.”
“How to face the future is for Zhen to decide, you only need to answer, love, or not love.”
“But you can’t just extinguish everything at the source, making all the decisions for Zhen, not even giving Zhen a chance to choose.”
She looked at the woman before her intently, the Great Zhou’s God of War, the most valiant general on the battlefield, the most cunning strategist in the court.
In her eyes, those titles suddenly faded away, but this woman still made her heart flutter.
Tears welled up in Xiao Miyun’s eyes as she pleaded, her voice soft and almost coquettish: “You can’t be so cruel to me.”
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