Xing Muzheng’s mind buzzed blankly. He lost composure, firing questions like arrows: “When did this happen? Who sealed the city? Where is Madam? When did she leave?”
The others in the room all stood up, tense. They noticed his evasive way of asking—this was not the calm, collected Marshal they knew.
Li Qingquan, knowing all too well what Qian Jiaoniang meant to him, dared not meet his eyes. “They say it broke out five days ago. It was… Madam herself who ordered the city sealed. She… she… she is still inside…”
Xing Muzheng slammed a palm down on the solid desk with a thunderous crack.
“Ready the horses!” His mind went utterly blank. Before he could think, he had already roared the command, striding toward the shelves.
The others hurried after him. “Marshal, plagues spread easily. You are about to ascend as Emperor—we beg you to take care!”
But Xing Muzheng heard nothing. Like a storm wind, he vanished from sight.
Xing Pingchun had just been summoned and happened to run into Xing Muzheng in the corridor. At first, he thought it was some clumsy palace servant—but when he looked up, it was his father, face terrifying in its panic. Xing Pingchun’s heart lurched. He had never seen his father look so stricken.
“Father, what’s happened?”
Xing Muzheng, brows locked tight, looked at him. “You’re coming too!”
Bewildered, Xing Pingchun mounted with him and rode out of the palace. On the way, he learned that his mother might have contracted the plague. His whip lashed the horse harder than even Xing Muzheng’s.
Father and son, together with a group of imperial physicians, rode day and night. On the third day, they reached the outskirts of Pingchuan. Soldiers left behind by Xing Muzheng had already set blockades five li out, forbidding anyone from entering or leaving.
The commander there, Jiang Shuzhi, along with his soldiers, wore cloths over their faces to cover nose and mouth. Seeing Xing Muzheng’s whirlwind arrival, he knelt before him, guilt written all over his face.
Xing Muzheng had no time for pleasantries. “Report—briefly!”
Jiang Shuzhi hurried to recount the outbreak.
A few days earlier, a group of refugees had flooded in from nearby villages. Their land had suffered drought for two years, the relief silver embezzled by corrupt officials. On top of that, war conscriptions had taken away the young and strong. The old, weak, women, and children had nowhere left to turn and came to Pingchuan to beg.
Qian Jiaoniang immediately arranged shelter for them, personally inquiring after their situation. Learning that many were sick, she summoned physicians to treat them free of charge. But soon it was discovered that the refugees all suffered from aching joints, severe headaches, burning fevers, parched throats, and constant thirst. One elderly doctor, upon taking their pulses, turned pale on the spot—declaring that these patients were afflicted with epidemic disease. He said the plague spread extremely easily and was nearly impossible to treat.
Qian Jiaoniang acted decisively. She ordered Ah Da to seal the inner city, sent word for Jiang Shuzhi and the outer troops to blockade the outer city, and commanded that any soldier who had contact with the refugees must be quarantined. Any showing fever were to be sent immediately into the inner city.
Jiang Shuzhi said: “Marshal, the doctors say this illness spreads readily and is cunning. Some who catch it show no symptoms, yet still pass it on! That’s why we all wear masks. But this place is too dangerous—Marshal, you and Young Lord must leave at once!”
Xing Muzheng ordered Xing Pingchun to summon the imperial physicians, and declared that whoever volunteered to enter the plague city would be heavily rewarded. Xing Pingchun accepted the command, but still could not restrain himself—he turned back and demanded gruffly: “General Jiang, my mother—what of my mother?”
Jiang Shuzhi replied: “Young Lord, be at ease. The Madam is unharmed. Only, since she had contact with the refugees, she both wished to lead by example and to steady the people’s hearts.”
Xing Pingchun burst out impatiently: “Ai, Mother’s health is not good—why insist on showing off like this!”
Jiang Shuzhi said: “We all tried to dissuade her, but Madam said: The Marshal has only just taken the realm; she will not allow anyone to use Pingchuan’s plague to stir up trouble and undermine the people’s faith in the Marshal.”
Xing Muzheng’s eyes darkened with anger.
Just then, a carrier pigeon flew out from the inner city. The signaler whistled it down and retrieved the paper tied to its leg, hurrying over to present it with both hands. Xing Pingchun snatched it open, and his eyes bulged in shock.
“Father—Mother, she… she has a fever!”
The thing Xing Muzheng most dreaded had at last come to pass. He charged forward in a rush, Xing Pingchun following close behind. Jiang Shuzhi, Li Qingquan, and the others scrambled to block them.
“Marshal, Young Lord—do not be rash, do not be rash!”
Li Qingquan pleaded earnestly: “Marshal, you are not a physician. Entering the city will do no good—only give Madam more to worry about. If you go in, it will grieve her all the more!”
Jiang Shuzhi also urged: “Yes, Marshal, you are about to ascend as Emperor. You are the Son of Heaven, your body is the dragon’s body! For the sake of the people, you must not risk yourself!”
Xing Pingchun, coming back to his senses from his frenzy, also spoke to Xing Muzheng: “Father, the uncles are right. You cannot put yourself in danger. Let me go in and attend Mother instead!”
Li Qingquan said: “Young Lord, Madam loves you deeply. If she were here, she would never allow you to enter such danger. Besides, you would only make her sad, and it would be of little help. Ah Da and Suier are both inside caring for her. Perhaps Madam has only collapsed from exhaustion, not the plague at all. The two of you must not lose your composure!”
“Marshal, Young Lord—you cannot go in!”
Xing Muzheng and Xing Pingchun turned. Behind them, a dense mass of soldiers had already dropped to their knees.
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