When Physician Chen Shiyu entered the palace, he rode in an old, rattling carriage piled high with medical texts and surgical tools. The ride was so bumpy it jolted his bones, yet the old man didn’t seem to mind.
When he left the palace, he rode a brand-new carriage, a gift from Yu Wang. Its wheels bore the seal of the Heavenly Works Institute. Fitted with newly developed rolling bearings and hollow tires, its floor layered with thick cotton padding, the ride was smooth as silk. Yet Chen Shiyu still fretted about the bumps, constantly reminding the experienced coachman: “Slower. Steadier.”
He wasn’t returning to his clinic, nor to his home, but to a secluded manor on the outskirts of the city, its owner unknown. The estate was serene and elegant: streams and trees winding between pavilions and terraces, all in graceful balance. The plaque above the main gate read: Residence of Wind and Lotus After Rain.
The carriage entered through a side gate and stopped before the steps. Several medical apprentices emerged from the house, skillfully setting up stools and a stretcher, then carefully carried the unconscious patient inside.
Sitting on the driver’s seat, Chen Shiyu looked around at the estate where he would be staying for quite some time. The unease and apprehension in his heart slowly eased.
He was already in his seventies. If, in the final stretch of his life, he could take part in a plan that concerned the fate of the realm, and even help achieve an unprecedented medical feat, to be recorded for posterity and benefit future generations, it would not be a life wasted.
He did not know how this plan began, but he was willing to aid its architect.
Two days earlier, during the craniotomy he performed on Emperor Jinglong, four hours of continuous operation had exhausted his aging body. So he handed over the physically demanding task of securing the cranial screws to the martial expert Jinghong Zhui, and went out for a cup of ginseng tea, and to finally relieve himself after holding it far too long.
Then he was stopped at the privy door by Lord Shen of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
“How is His Majesty?” Shen Qi asked.
Chen Shiyu answered cautiously, “The malignant thing has been removed. During the procedure things were fairly stable, and it’s thanks to Guard Jinghong Zhui’s constant protection of His heart channel with his qi. Next is only the closure of the cranial sutures.”
“So that means it succeeded?”
“Too soon to say. There is still a dangerous postoperative period. We must see whether he can regain consciousness, whether movement and speech functions are preserved, and more importantly whether the wound will develop infection or abscess. If fever develops, it will be perilous. To be honest, I have no confidence whether His Majesty will wake. All we can do is do our utmost and leave the rest to Heaven.”
Shen Qi said, “Whatever the result, Master Yingxu after the surgery must publicly tell everyone the operation failed, even tell the Crown Prince that. The imperial physicians will certainly come to inspect the Emperor’s body, but don’t worry: the bureau director Wang Chunfu will corroborate your report and publicly announce the Emperor’s passing.”
Chen Shiyu turned ashen with shock. “W-what? Why…”
Shen Qi took a small box from his bosom and handed it to him. Chen Shiyu opened it; inside lay a small piece of silk-script, not large, only a few lines written and without even a seal at the end.
It was indeed Emperor Jinglong’s own handwriting. The content was simple: he would pass away after the craniotomy; Shen Qi was to arrange the specifics; all involved were to obey without disobeying the order.
Chen Shiyu read it, his face changing several times. In the end he sighed, “The Emperor’s act is far-reaching. There must be a great plan behind it. I will follow the command.”
He would obey, but Jinghong Zhui might not. Jinghong Zhui knew how deeply Lord Su loved the Emperor, how could he bear such a blow? No secret decree could override that.
Chen Shiyu could not persuade him; helpless, he went out and appealed to Shen Qi: “Lord Shen, I am clumsy with speech. You should be the one.”
Shen Qi used the pretense of helping with the work to enter the treatment chamber. To Jinghong Zhui he said, “Do you think I don’t worry about the same things? But think it through: if we tell him now that the operation succeeded, and a few days later he does not wake, or wakes briefly then dies of an abscess, having given him hope only to utterly crush it, would that not be an even greater blow?”
Jinghong Zhui snapped, “Then tell him nothing at all! Say we’ll wait and see for a few days.”
Shen Qi said, “But who knows how long ‘a few days’ will be? This plan is like an arrow on the string. If we do not let it fly now, rumors will spread and there are many mouths in the palace; once word leaks, all will be lost.”
Jinghong Zhui sneered, “I thought you cared more Lord Su than merit. It seems I was wrong?”
Shen Qi’s eyes flashed red in an instant, as if about to bleed. He bit down on his tongue, tasting a metallic sweetness, and forced himself calm. In a hoarse voice he said, “This isn’t my merit. It is his merit, and it is his wish. The sins made now I will take on later, but what he wants I will give him without losing a fraction.”
Jinghong Zhui seemed to understand something. He furrowed his brow and thought for a while, then reluctantly agreed, though still unwilling: “Then hide it for a few days. If he cannot wake, there’s no need to tell His Lordship the death twice. If he wakes, he must be told immediately.”
Shen Qi said, “Exactly.”
When the three of them stepped out of the treatment chamber, Shen Qi could not look directly at Su Yan’s anxious, expectant eyes and had to avert his gaze.
Outside the door were not only the Crown Prince and Su Yan, but a whole hall of palace servants. On the steps beyond the courtyard stood many palace guards and the nervously waiting imperial physicians.
Openly and in secret, countless eyes were fixed on them, waiting for a result.
“His Majesty… has passed to the heavens!”
At the Wind-Lotus villa, Chen Shiyu entered the carefully prepared and disinfected inner room, bowed deeply to the figure on the bed, and said, “The late Emperor has departed. From now on, you will be the patient to whom this old man devotes his utmost care.”
—
After leaving the Su residence, Shen Qi rode hard through the darkening streets, not back to the palace, but to a wonton stall in the marketplace.
This stall was set in a secluded alley in the west of the city; the proprietress was a woman still with charms of middle age. Shen Qi ordered a bowl of pork wontons without filling. The proprietress coaxed him into the room; as soon as the door closed her expression changed.
“‘Is this your knocking gift? Lord Shen, you disappoint me. Know that those who hedge their bets will end worse than mice.’” the proprietress said.
Shen Qi knew these were not her own words but words from the person behind the door relayed through her for his ears.
“‘In Nanjing you said you did not want to work with others and drove off Mister He, yet you only killed Eunuch Yan. On the road back from Nanjing you had countless chances but still did not move against the Crown Prince, you even risked your life to escort him. I think you never truly intended to cooperate; you were trying to play both sides. If so, don’t blame me for turning my back on you.’”
Shen Qi smiled bitterly. “You wanted me to present the ‘Deposed Crown Prince’ as my knocking gift. Now Zhu Helin is no longer Crown Prince, so perhaps saying I broke my word isn’t quite right?”
…Indeed he was no longer the Crown Prince; he had become the heir-emperor. The proprietress felt a deep hatred and contempt for this embroidered-guard, but as a mouthpiece for the person behind the door she could not let her temper loose. She gritted her teeth and passed the message along.
Shen Qi continued, “I was joking. Mr. Player need not be angry… By the way, the person behind the door, is that the correct title?”
This had been arranged beforehand; the proprietress answered, “‘I love the game of chess. I take rivers and mountains as my board, influence as pieces, hence I call myself the Player.’”
“Mr. Player,” Shen Qi said after thinking, “I feel the ‘Deposed Crown Prince’ is not a weighty enough calling gift. Without Zhu Helin, there is still the Empress Dowager the Regent, and the ambitious Yu Wang. Either of those two would be a more fitting match for my tastes. If they come to power, will there be any juicy returns for me? I’d rather keep Zhu Helin, I guarded him for a thousand li, I bled for him; Zhu Helin is simple-minded and hot-tempered and will remember my service, giving me more room to scheme later.”
“So I plan to replace that gift with something more valuable, the life of Emperor Jinglong, Zhu Jintang. Is that weighty enough?”
The shopkeeper was utterly shocked, this time she couldn’t just play the role of a mouthpiece, and blurted out, “The Emperor died of a brain seizure that couldn’t be cured, what does that have to do with you?”
Shen Qi bared his teeth in a wolfish, cold smile. “Your network of informants spans everywhere. Don’t tell me you don’t know I entered his treatment room midway?”
“…So it was you who tampered with it!” The shopkeeper felt a chill creep up her spine but forced herself to ask, “Do you have proof?”
Shen Qi produced half of a mechanical cylinder. The woman understood that he only wished to hand the evidence over to the player, not let a third person see it, so she too took out the other half of the cylinder and received its contents.
“Now that Emperor Jinglong is dead and Zhu Helin has ascended the throne, I will surely rise with the tide. When that happens, my standing and influence at court will be far greater than today’s.”
The shopkeeper stared at Shen Qi as though looking at a jackal or viper, wary and full of dread. After rummaging through her memory for the proper response, she finally said, “‘I have heard that although Zhu Helin is young, he too has a fondness for beauty and youth. Back in Nanjing, he and Minister Su were inseparable.’”
A deep, greenish murderous aura swept across Shen Qi’s face. The frost-edged blade at his waist sprang from its sheath, the gust of his strike split the table and chairs clean in half, and even gouged a deep crack into the floor.
“Anyone who dares to set their sights on him will die!” Shen Qi’s tone was frigid, his eyes glinting with cruelty, and beneath it, a hint of desperate madness. “That includes you!”
The shopkeeper was so terrified by his frenzy that she stumbled backward. As she fled, she managed to toss out a single line: “Awaiting further word.”
Shen Qi stood amid the wreckage. The faint shadow of Feng Qu’e appeared once more behind him, chuckling softly. “That line at least was true. But you, so full of lies and truths, black and white all jumbled, who can say what’s real anymore? Be careful you don’t end up scheming your way into nothing.”
“—Get out!” Shen Qi snarled through gritted teeth, swinging his blade backward to cleave apart the phantom.
Panting, he finally sheathed the sword, strode out the door, mounted his horse, and galloped into the night, toward the Imperial Palace.
—
A nation cannot go a single day without a sovereign. The late Emperor’s funeral rites were grand and prolonged, lasting more than ten days. The new emperor, Zhu Helin, dressed in mourning garb, presided over all matters.
One decree after another was issued from the young emperor’s hand and carried out through the Imperial Cabinet:
The Five Army Camp of the Capital’s three main forces was ordered south to Shandong to meet Mei Changxi’s Xiaoling Guard.
The navy was dispatched along the Grand Canal to locate Wei Liangzi’s Eastern Palace guards and escort them back to the capital.
By imperial grace, the late Emperor’s concubines who bore no heirs were spared burial rites, promoted to Dowager status, and assigned their own palaces.
The Wei clan, however, had accumulated too many crimes, repeatedly punished by the late Emperor yet never repentant, even raising private troops and attempting to assassinate the Crown Prince. Their crimes were unforgivable. Wei Yan and Wei Que were beheaded in the marketplace; all male kin above the age of seven were exiled to Lingnan. Consort Weizhao was stripped of her title and ordered to shave her head and take vows; Madam Qin, condemned for failing to raise her daughter properly, was likewise sent to a temple. Thus the once-mighty family of outer relatives was wiped from history in a single stroke.
The cabinet was instructed to sort through memorials delayed over the past two or three months, classify them by urgency, and submit them, along with their drafts, to the royal study for the new emperor’s review.
All documents previously ratified under the Empress Dowager’s forged decrees were to be reexamined by the new emperor himself.
The more the nation grieved its wise ruler’s passing, the more it needed a successor who could not be crushed by sorrow or fear, someone to serve as the people’s new pillar.
Though weary in both body and soul, Zhu Helin felt he could bear it, because he still had Su Qinghe.
Su Yan, as Left Shilang of Rites in Nanjing, jointly oversaw the late Emperor’s state funeral with Minister Yan Xing. During the mourning period, he forced himself to stay busy every waking hour, as if only by exhausting his body could he dull the pain and longing in his heart.
Jinghong Zhui couldn’t stand watching it and wanted to tell him the truth. But news came from the secluded manor that the patient had not yet awoken. His vital signs had been stable, but in recent days fever had set in, and Chen Shiyu was doing all he could to save him.
If they told him now, and the patient didn’t survive, wouldn’t that be a double blow? Jinghong Zhui had no choice but to suppress the thought.
Only when the funeral ended, the late Emperor’s coffin departed the palace, and was buried in the imperial mausoleum, the moment the taut bowstring finally snapped, did Su Yan collapse.
Low fever, unending cough, dizziness, weakness all over, unable even to move.
The physician diagnosed a wind-induced cough, worsened by long-standing frailty and pent-up grief damaging the lungs, erupting all at once, hence the severity.
As soon as Zhu Helin heard, he left the palace incognito in the middle of a snowstorm to visit him.
When Su Yan coughed awake, he dimly saw one man sitting at his bedside, another at the foot, and a third on the step before the bed.
The three men who usually clashed and sneered at each other now crowded together over him; when there wasn’t enough space, they even shifted aside for one another. Su Yan thought he must be dreaming, dazed and bewildered.
“Qilang, Ah Zhui, Young Master…” he murmured between coughs, “ah, I shouldn’t call you Young Master now, it should be Your Majesty… but there’s only one Emperor…”
Zhu Helin clasped his hand. “Yes, yes, only one. No matter what others call me, you can still call me Young Master, or just Helin.”
Su Yan, feverish and half-delirious, followed the thread of his words. “Helin, Helin… has the Emperor gone?”
Zhu Helin’s eyes instantly grew wet. “He’s gone…”
Jinghong Zhui blurted out, “He hasn’t, he’s still here.”
Shen Qi shot him a look. Jinghong Zhui clenched his jaw and said no more.
Su Yan murmured again, “I must have dreamed it, I could smell the imperial incense on his sleeve, felt as if he were still here… Helin, could you fetch me one of his robes, please?”
All of the late Emperor’s garments had been buried with him. Zhu Helin hesitated, then thought of a solution, he ordered a guard to rush to the palace and bring back the incense the Emperor used to scent his robes.
The bedding was perfumed with Emperor Jinglong’s familiar Qingyuan fragrance, and Su Yan was changed into it.
Half in a trance, Su Yan whispered, “Qilang, Ah Zhui, don’t go… Young Master, you go handle your work… I’ll just sleep for a bit…”
Zhu Helin nearly broke down in tears.
Shen Qi said, “Young Master, go tend to your matters.”
Jinghong Zhui echoed, “Young Master, go tend to your matters.”
Zhu Helin grew annoyed. “I’m done with my matters! I’ll keep watch here tonight and return to the palace tomorrow!”
The scent of Qingyuan incense was elegant and ethereal, like clouds adrift in the ninth heaven, faint yet lingering, deep as the mountains and forests, and slow to fade. Wrapped in this familiar fragrance, Su Yan sank into slumber.
He was borne along by the scent, like a leaf in the wind, a blossom drifting on water, floating, weightless, at the mercy of the current.
When the wind stilled, he found himself walking along a winding gravel path surrounded by bamboo groves dusted with snow. Not far ahead, veiled by the bamboo leaves, stood a secluded courtyard of white walls and blue tiles.
The courtyard was serene and refined, with streams, pavilions, and towers set gracefully amidst the trees. Hanging above the main gate was a plaque that read: “The Residence of Lotus After Rain.”
