When hurried footsteps sounded outside the porch, Duke Jin’an was carefully checking and organizing the New Year’s gifts sent from home.
The gifts from the Prince Xiu’s Mansion in Qu-zhou were quite plentiful, filling an entire chest. They consisted mainly of brocade garments, calligraphy, paintings, brushes, inksticks, paper, and inkstones—items typically intended for boys.
Duke Jin’an sorted through them with great care, examining each item personally. The eunuchs beside him did not need to intervene; they only had to take notes.
Several rows of shelves were arranged in the room, each marked with dates and neatly filled with gift boxes. Two eunuchs bustled about, carrying the gift boxes and fabrics handed to them by the Duke Jin’an, arranging them in their proper places.
“This can be used to make a new robe,” said Duke Jin’an, handing a roll of brocade to a eunuch.
The eunuch smiled in agreement and praised the fabric’s beauty before carrying it toward the shelves. The shelves designated for fabrics were uniformly filled with this type of brocade.
As soon as he turned around, the smile vanished from the eunuch’s face, replaced with an expression of indifference as he placed the fabric on the shelf.
It was at that moment the door was suddenly pushed open.
“Your Highness!”
A trembling voice rang out.
Duke Jin’an turned to look and saw a eunuch, his face pale and expression panicked. After calling out “Your Highness,” the eunuch fell silent, though his lips continued to quiver uncontrollably.
“What is it?” asked Duke Jin’an, glancing away as he picked up a gift box and opened it.
Inside was a clay doll—certainly no ordinary toy. Upon examining the inscription, it was revealed to be the work of the renowned artisan Yang.
This can be given to the Second Prince to play with, he thought.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“Your Highness… His Royal Highness, the Second Prince, has been in an accident!”
The eunuch fell to his knees with a thud, his voice choked with sobs.
Duke Jin’an froze. The clay doll slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a dull thud before shattering into pieces.
…
“Come, Doctor Li! It’s been a while since you last visited!” Old Master Chen said with a laugh.
Doctor Li sat down with a stern expression.
“What’s the matter? Are you feeling unwell too, waiting for me to diagnose you so you can call in a miracle doctor if I can’t cure you?” he remarked.
Old Master Chen burst into hearty laughter.
“Look at you, all sulky,” he chuckled. “Brought down by a simple joke! Aren’t you ashamed?”
Doctor Li snorted, took out his pulse-taking cushion, placed it on the side table, and extended his hand.
Still smiling, Old Master Chen offered his wrist for the examination. After checking both pulses for a moment, Doctor Li withdrew his hand.
“What a pity,” he said.
Chen Shao, who had been sitting nearby, grew tense at once.
“Not dying anytime soon,” Doctor Li added.
Chen Shao was stunned, while Old Master Chen roared with laughter.
“You old rascal,” he said, grinning.
Chen Shao also shook his head, unable to hold back a wry smile.
Amid the laughter, a commotion erupted outside the door, and suddenly someone rushed in—it was a palace eunuch.
Chen Shao quickly rose to his feet, but the eunuch paid him no mind. Instead, he hurried forward and grabbed Doctor Li’s arm.
“Hurry, hurry, Sir! His Majesty summons you to the palace at once,” he said, his voice trembling.
At these words, Chen Shao’s face instantly paled. He immediately glanced around, and the servants in the room withdrew like receding tidewater without a word.
Without asking a single question, Doctor Li picked up his medical kit and strode out immediately. In the blink of an eye, the courtyard was empty again, as if nothing had happened.
Old Master Chen and Chen Shao stood with grim expressions.
“That eunuch’s face was as pale as a ghost…” Old Master Chen murmured.
“Was it His Majesty, the Empress Dowager, or the Empress?” Chen Shao asked.
Old Master Chen shook his head, his gaze fixed in the direction of the imperial palace, his expression heavy.
“Let’s wait. News will likely come soon. What happens inside the palace can never stay hidden for long.”
Doctor Li did not deliberately ask the eunuch what had happened in the palace. As an imperial doctor, he knew exactly what to ask and what not to ask. Besides, just one look at the eunuch’s face was enough to understand.
The situation was undoubtedly serious.
They proceeded all the way into the palace complex and then into the inner court. When Doctor Li realized they were not heading toward the Emperor’s palace, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
As long as it wasn’t the Emperor’s sudden death, the impact on the court and the realm would not be too severe.
After a few more turns, they arrived at another palace hall. Doctor Li felt even more relieved—it was the residence of one of the imperial princes.
It was widely understood that royal children were often difficult to raise, and everyone had grown accustomed to such news. Compared to other members of the imperial family, people were psychologically prepared.
Yet, even with this slight relief, Doctor Li’s heart remained heavy. The loss of a young prince was always a tragedy, especially when it was the Second Prince.
Doctor Li glanced toward the palace entrance and immediately noticed the slender, tall figure of a young man standing outside the door. Under the shadows of the winter palace, he looked particularly lonely and fragile.
Without pausing or speaking, Doctor Li walked straight past Duke Jin’an and entered the palace.
Duke Jin’an seemed not to notice him either. He remained standing rigidly in place. The cold wind sweeping across the spacious courtyard occasionally lifted the hem of his robes, revealing that he was wearing only socks—no shoes.
He had rushed over like this, without the slightest delay… without the slightest delay.
A eunuch standing nearby, holding a heavy cloak and a pair of shoes, looked on the verge of tears as he stepped forward once again.
“Your Highness, please put on some warmer clothes,” he pleaded, his voice choked with emotion.
“Get out,” Duke Jin’an uttered woodenly, his tone devoid of feeling.
The eunuch withdrew, his face etched with despair.
The wind howled and rattled against the window lattices, muffling the sounds from behind the tightly shut palace doors. Suddenly, the sound of weeping swelled.
It can’t be… It can’t be!
Duke Jin’an took two steps back, his face deathly pale without a trace of color, making his dark eyes appear even more intense and piercing.
He retreated another two steps, then halted abruptly before surging forward. He reached out and pushed open the palace doors.
The sound of the doors swinging open drew the attention of everyone inside.
But almost immediately, all eyes turned away—as though he hadn’t been seen at all.
Duke Jin’an did not adhere to the usual etiquette and decorum he was known for. Instead, he walked slowly toward the bed as if no one else were in the room.
This palace was not unfamiliar to him—on the contrary, he knew it well and had often stayed here overnight.
“…Brother, let’s play a game of chess…”
A child on the bed grinned at him and waved.
Duke Jin’an quickened his pace, but the image of the seated child vanished, replaced by the Second Prince lying on his back.
His complexion remained rosy, the dirt and blood on his face already wiped away. His nostrils flared slightly as he breathed, emitting soft snores. If not for the bandage wrapped around his head, he would have looked no different from any ordinary sleeping child.
He’s still breathing!
Overwhelmed with relief, Duke Jin’an stumbled slightly as he sat down at the edge of the bed and reached out to check the boy’s breath.
“He’s alright, he’s alright,” he cried out, his voice trembling with emotion. He turned to look behind him. “Doctor! Doctor! He’s still alive!”
Doctor Li looked at him with a hint of pity.
“…It’s still uncertain whether he will wake up. And even if he does, he will never be the same as before,” he continued, picking up from what he had been saying earlier.
“What do you mean, ‘never be the same as before’?” the Emperor asked.
Doctor Li bowed his head.
“Since the injury is to the head, his spirit has suffered severe damage. Even if he regains consciousness, his soul will no longer be whole,” he explained.
“What exactly will happen then?” the Emperor demanded, his voice rising sharply.
“He will be mentally impaired—a living death,” Doctor Li said.
Mentally impaired.
The atmosphere in the hall grew heavy and still.
“You’re lying!” Duke Jin’an shouted, rising from the bedside. His expression twisted as he glared at Doctor Li. “You’re lying! He’s clearly still fine!”
Doctor Li looked back at him, his own expression grave yet unwavering as he met the Duke’s gaze.
Duke Jin’an stared back defiantly, as if his intensity alone could force the doctor to reconsider his diagnosis.
Silence once again fell over the hall.
The Emperor trembled slightly, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath before turning to the other imperial doctors in the room.
“What do you all say?” he asked.
The other doctors kneeling in the corner bowed their heads. At his words, they pressed their foreheads to the floor in unison.
“Your subjects… are of the same opinion,” they murmured in disjointed, hushed voices.
The Emperor slumped back, closing his eyes wearily as he leaned against the daybed.
The Empress Dowager and the Imperial Consort once again covered their faces and wept.
“How did the Second Prince get injured?”
Duke Jin’an’s voice cut abruptly through the sorrowful silence.
His words made everyone present hold their breath.
Doctor Li looked at Duke Jin’an, his face filled with disbelief.
This boy… Does he have any idea what he’s saying? Has he lost his mind?
But that wasn’t all. As if worried others hadn’t heard or understood him clearly, Duke Jin’an spoke again.
“Why did the Second Prince fall from the hill?” he said, his gaze shifting toward the Imperial Consort. “And what does the First Prince have to say about it?”
As these words fell, both the Imperial Consort and the Empress Dowager stopped weeping and turned to look at Duke Jin’an. Even the Emperor, who had closed his eyes, snapped them open abruptly.
Though only three pairs of eyes—six gazes—were fixed upon him, everyone in the hall felt as though countless arrows were flying toward them.
The doctors huddled in the corner inwardly wailed in despair: Heavens, why did we have to come to the palace today? Why weren’t we bedridden at home, too ill to move? Or why didn’t a carriage run us over or a horse break our legs on the way here?
They truly had no desire to know why the Second Prince had fallen from the hill. Glancing at the eunuchs and palace maids nearby who could barely stand, it was clear they didn’t want to hear it either.
In the imperial court, hearing what shouldn’t be heard and knowing what shouldn’t be known was never something to boast about—it was a death sentence.
Especially since Duke Jin’an had even brought up the First Prince. Asking about the First Prince at a time like this—even a fool would understand what he meant!
The mere thought of understanding such implications made everyone wish they could immediately crawl out of the palace.
Looking outside, the bloodstains of the eunuchs who had just been beaten to death hadn’t even dried yet. Were they now destined to follow those eunuchs on the road to the afterlife?
The hall fell into a deathly silence, as though devoid of any living presence. Despite the warmth from four braziers and the underfloor heating, a chilling cold seemed to seep relentlessly into the room.
