Chapter 45: Picking Mulberries (Part 2)
After New Year’s Eve, the new year arrived. Amidst the national celebrations, the Emperor held a banquet for his officials, but that night, he ordered the execution of an imperial physician.
“You incompetent fools! All of you!”
Liang Shen Fu, the Chief Eunuch, his hands tucked in his sleeves, walked up the white jade steps, his head bowed against the wind and snow. He saw the imperial physicians kneeling outside the hall, the Emperor’s furious roars echoing amidst the sound of shattering porcelain.
The Emperor’s wrath was like a thunderstorm.
Liang Shen Fu and the kneeling physicians trembled. But Liang Shen Fu, a veteran of the imperial court, knew that if he didn’t intervene, the entire Imperial Medical Academy might suffer the same fate as Physician Nie Xiang.
He entered the hall and saw the Emperor, his face pale and his forehead damp with sweat, leaning on the bedframe, coughing violently. He hurried over and gently patted the Emperor’s back. “Your Majesty, calm yourself. Anger harms the body…”
“Where’s Nie Xiang?” the Emperor asked hoarsely.
“He’s been executed,” Liang Shen Fu replied.
The physicians outside the hall shuddered, bowing even lower.
“I ask you, do you agree with Nie Xiang’s diagnosis?” the Emperor asked in a low voice.
“Your Majesty…” the physicians trembled, kowtowing. “We’re terrified!”
They didn’t know what the Emperor wanted to hear, only hoping for mercy, cursing Nie Xiang inwardly. Who would dare say that the Emperor couldn’t have any more children? But Nie Xiang, drunk, had spoken the truth.
“Your Majesty, the pulse is ever-changing. I believe Physician Nie must have made a mistake due to his intoxication. The Imperial Medical Academy gathers the best physicians in the land. Nie Xiang is only in his twenties, still impetuous… he can’t be compared to the more experienced physicians,” Liang Shen Fu said cautiously. “Moreover, it’s the beginning of the new year, and Your Majesty is currently performing purification rituals…”
He stopped there, but his words earned him the gratitude of the physicians outside, who silently vowed to reward him with longevity tonics.
But Liang Shen Fu wasn’t truly defending them. He was giving the Emperor a way out. The Emperor couldn’t execute all the physicians. It would only confirm Nie Xiang’s diagnosis and damage the Emperor’s reputation.
As expected, the Emperor fell silent. Seeing him wave his hand dismissively, Liang Shen Fu turned to the physicians. “You may leave.”
Relieved, the physicians kowtowed and hurried out, wiping the sweat from their brows.
Silence returned to the hall. The Emperor lay back on the bed, rubbing his eyes.
“Nie Xiang’s words must not leave this palace.”
“Understood, Your Majesty,” Liang Shen Fu whispered.
The Emperor had already guessed the truth from the physicians’ reactions.
He was nearing sixty.
His only son with the Empress, Prince An, had died at the age of three.
He had used the new policies to consolidate his power, silencing his critics.
But now, even the imperial physicians were afraid to tell him the truth about his health.
The Qing He Palace was warm, but the Emperor shivered. “Liang Shen Fu, I’m… cold.”
Liang Shen Fu ordered more coals to be brought in, understanding the source of the Emperor’s chill. In previous years, Imperial Concubine Wu had been there to comfort him, but he had grown tired of her constant weeping and refused to see her.
“Your Majesty, Prince Jia has sent a letter,” Liang Shen Fu said, remembering something he had seen while organizing the memorials. He retrieved the letter and presented it to the Emperor.
Prince Jia?
The Emperor opened his eyes and looked at the letter.
Liang Shen Fu waited, his forehead damp with sweat, then heard the Emperor say, “Summon Pei Zhi Yuan and have him draft a decree summoning Prince Jia back to the capital.”
Pei Zhi Yuan, the Assistant Minister and Imperial Secretary, drafted the decree that night.
Prince Jia had been living in the Tongzhou Palace for fourteen years. Tongzhou wasn’t far from Yun Jing. Upon receiving the decree, Prince Jia and his wife immediately set off, arriving in Yun Jing on the Lantern Festival.
Imperial guards escorted their carriage.
“Your Highness, your hands are cold and clammy,” Princess Jia said, holding her husband’s hand. She was in her thirties, her face pale but still beautiful.
“Xi Zhen, I don’t know if I made the right decision, abandoning the peace I had,” Prince Jia said, his expression troubled, despite his fine clothes.
“Was it truly peaceful, Your Highness? Your heart was never at peace,” Princess Jia said, patting his hand. “I heard your teacher has returned after fourteen years of hardship, his health failing. He’s willing to come back. Do you still wish to remain in seclusion?”
The mention of his teacher made Prince Jia’s heart ache. “Yes, I must see my teacher.”
The carriage entered the palace and stopped at the Yongding Gate. Liang Shen Fu, accompanied by eunuchs and palace maids, was waiting. He bowed to the Prince and Princess. “The Emperor has been waiting for you, Your Highness.”
He only addressed the Prince, indicating that only he was summoned.
“Go, Your Highness. I’ll be waiting for you,” Princess Jia said, her gaze gentle.
Prince Jia, his throat dry, followed Liang Shen Fu silently. Although he hadn’t been to the palace in fourteen years, he knew his way around. He realized Liang Shen Fu was taking a detour and looked up, seeing a building through the snow-covered branches.
The Zhao Wen Hall.
Prince Jia’s pupils contracted. He quickly looked away, his body stiffening, a chill running down his spine. He understood the Emperor’s intention.
He ascended the white jade steps and entered the Qing He Palace, bowing deeply. He saw his own anxious face reflected in the polished floor and quickly composed himself. “Your servant greets Your Majesty.”
“Why don’t you call me ‘Father’?” the Emperor’s calm voice came from behind the curtain. “Are you still blaming me for sending you to Tongzhou?”
“I wouldn’t dare, Your Majesty. My wife’s health is delicate. I’m grateful for your consideration in sending us to Tongzhou to recuperate,” Prince Jia said, kneeling down.
He heard a rustling sound, then light footsteps. A hand lifted the curtain, and the Emperor, dressed in a red robe, looked down at him.
Prince Jia saw the Emperor’s robes reflected on the floor, then his feet approaching, stopping before him. He looked up.
“I have no other heirs. You showed great promise as a child. And when your father, my brother, Prince Gong, passed away, I heeded the court’s advice and adopted you, bestowing upon you the title of Prince Jia…” The Emperor seemed to be reminiscing, then his tone changed abruptly. “Back then, you and Xu He Xue studied together in the Zhao Wen Hall. Did you see it today? Has it changed?”
Xu He Xue. The name had finally been spoken.
Prince Jia’s fingers clenched beneath his sleeve. He lowered his head, feeling the Emperor’s gaze on him. “The scar on your forehead… it’s still there,” the Emperor said casually.
The scar was near his hairline, barely visible unless one looked closely.
“Father!” Prince Jia cried, not daring to look up.
He had received the scar fifteen years ago, kowtowing repeatedly outside the Qing He Palace, begging for Xu He Xue’s life. And a year later, he had kowtowed again, pleading for his teacher, Zhang Jing, and for Meng Yun Xian.
The scar was deep and wouldn’t fade.
“Yong Geng, it doesn’t matter if the scar remains. But tell me, what are your thoughts on him now?”
It was clear who “him” referred to.
Prince Jia knew the Emperor wasn’t just asking about his feelings towards Xu He Xue, but whether he still resented the decree from fifteen years ago.
His fingers clenched, his face reflected on the floor contorted with suppressed emotions. He bit his lip, his throat tightening.
“You said he cared only for his family, not for the nation, that he was a traitor, a threat to the Great Qi… deserving of death by slow slicing.”
“He and I… are no longer friends.”
The words were like knives twisting in his heart. He trembled, the Emperor’s hand on his shoulder making him stiffen.
“Yong Geng, don’t return to Tongzhou yet. Stay in the palace for a while.”
**
Xu He Xue sat on the porch, the wind rustling the pages of the book on his lap. He held it down with a finger and looked up at the fading sunlight on the eaves.
“Ni Su, it’s getting dark,” he said.
“Can’t you see? I’ll light the candles,” Ni Su said, biting off a thread as she sewed. She stood up, leaning on the table.
Xu He Xue blinked, his cold eyes softening. “No,” he said, turning to her. “I can still see. But you’ve been sewing for a long time. It’ll strain your eyes.”
“Oh,” Ni Su glanced at the courtyard. It wasn’t completely dark yet. She picked up the garment from the basket and shook it out, the smooth, white satin shimmering. “Look, I finished it.”
“While I was sewing, I was thinking about what color robe would look best with it. After much deliberation, I decided red would suit you,” she said, unfolding a piece of cloth and revealing a vermillion red robe, a simple cross-collar design with minimal embroidery.
“Go and try it on,” she said, pushing him towards his room.
Ni Su’s wounds hadn’t fully healed, but she had declined Cai Chun Xu’s offer to stay and sent Yu Wen and the other maidservants back to the Grand Commandant’s residence before New Year’s Eve. Now, with only Xu Zi Ling here, she pushed him into his room and closed the door. Seeing the unswept snow in the courtyard, she picked up a broom and began sweeping.
After a while, she felt warm, the pain in her lower back intensifying. She straightened up and looked towards the door. “Xu Zi Ling, are you done?”
The door opened almost as soon as she spoke.
While sewing, Ni Su had imagined how the satin would look on him, like frost under the moonlight. But reality surpassed her imagination.
The light gold embroidery on his round-collar robe shimmered like fish scales in the fading sunlight, the vermillion red of his inner robe a vibrant contrast, the matching sash, adorned with gold beads, accentuating his narrow waist.
His refined features and elegant demeanor, yet his posture was straighter, more imposing than that of a scholar, a certain coldness in his bearing.
A sharpness that contradicted the usual gentleness of scholars.
But Ni Su couldn’t pinpoint its source.
She dropped the broom and brushed her hair from her face. “Although this gift is late, it finally fits you.”
Unspoken emotions churned within him. Xu He Xue was grateful that as a ghost, he couldn’t easily express his feelings. He managed to speak calmly, his voice sincere. “Thank you.”
“How will you thank me?” Ni Su asked, walking slowly towards the steps.
Xu He Xue looked up. Perhaps it was from sweeping the snow, but her pale cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright as she looked up at him.
“There’s a lantern festival on the Lantern Festival. Would you like to go with me?” she asked.
“Didn’t you say you had to write medical reports at night?” Xu He Xue asked, remembering her excuse for declining Zhou Ting’s invitation this morning.
“You know I only have one patient, Lady Zhang. How many reports can I possibly write?” Although she was now known for her appeal at the Dengwen Drum Court, practicing medicine and seeking justice were different matters. People’s prejudices wouldn’t disappear overnight.
But Ni Su wasn’t discouraged.
Xu He Xue couldn’t deny the anticipation he felt for the lantern festival, like a moth drawn to a flame.
The wind blew snow into his sleeve, revealing the vermillion red of his inner robe, a stark contrast against the white. He nodded, giving in to his desire. “Alright.”
As night fell, Xu He Xue, wearing a veiled hat and carrying a lantern, stepped out of the clinic and saw Ni Su, startled by the exploding firecrackers on the ground, turn and bump into him.
She stumbled into his arms, the scent of snow and spring flowers faint around him. Disoriented, she looked up, seeing only the hazy outline of his face beneath the veiled hat.
She turned and saw the firecrackers scattering across the ground, the children who had lit them scrambling away.
“What are those…?” she asked, frowning.
“They’re called ‘ground rats’,” Xu He Xue said, the flickering lights triggering a memory.
“Zhao Yong Geng, look!” A young Xu He Xue, perched on the roof, had lit a firecracker and thrown it down. It exploded in the courtyard, startling a richly dressed young boy, who fell into a pile of snow, shouting angrily, “Xu Zi Ling, you’re teasing me again!”
And he had laughed, carefree.
“How did you know?” Ni Su’s voice brought him back to the present.
“I used to tease my friend with ground rats at my teacher’s residence,” he said.
“You teased people?” Ni Su asked, surprised.
“I was young and foolish then,” Xu He Xue said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
“Was it that good friend you mentioned?” she asked as they walked on.
“Mmm,” Xu He Xue looked up at the fireworks exploding above the rooftops, their colorful reflections quickly fading. “Yes,” he whispered. “It was him.”
His closest friend.
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