When Chen Shiyu was treating Commander Shen’s injuries, he saw the wound was inflamed and festering, with a persistent high fever that neither medicine nor acupuncture could alleviate. In his heart, he concluded the patient had no chance of survival but couldn’t bring himself to say it outright, only promising to do his best.
Unexpectedly, overnight, the patient’s fever subsided, his body temperature stabilized, and his consciousness returned. Now, in just two or three days, the festering had stopped, the inflammation had receded, and the healing process had progressed at an astonishing rate rarely seen in Chen Shiyu’s lifetime.
Chen Shiyu, who had devoted decades to surgical medicine, had never witnessed such a miracle. Curious, he inquired with Shen’s household staff, learning that Commander Shen had been saved by his friend, Su Yan, who used a miraculous medicine called “penicillin.”
Chen Shiyu, dedicated solely to the path of medicine to help the world, was utterly captivated upon hearing of such a wonder drug. Unable to resist his curiosity, he lingered outside the Shen residence daily until he finally encountered the man himself, Su Yan.
Chen Shiyu earnestly begged Su Yan to let him see the formula for the medicine, expressing guilt and self-reproach as he spoke. He knew it was an unreasonable request to ask for someone else’s secret formula, yet he couldn’t suppress his desire to uncover the secret behind the miraculous cure and potentially use it to save countless lives.
Su Yan listened, feeling a twinge of guilt himself.
He fully understood how deadly wound infections were to people in ancient times—how a mere small cut could cost someone their life. If penicillin could be brought to this era a few centuries early, it would undoubtedly be a boon to humanity.
Penicillin was a culmination of human ingenuity, one of the greatest breakthroughs in medical history. To monopolize it for personal use was unthinkable.
However, Su Yan also had his reasons for not disclosing the extraction method yet.
First, the traditional method of extracting penicillin was fraught with impurities, had a low success rate, and required highly stringent environmental sterilization standards. Even if others meticulously followed his process, there was no guarantee they’d be able to save lives. Shen Qi’s recovery was a stroke of luck—an act of desperation that happened to succeed.
Second, not everyone would be as fortunate as he was in obtaining a sufficient quantity of high-yield strains. To produce penicillin on a large scale, a relatively advanced laboratory for cultivating bacterial strains would be necessary. This, in turn, required the support of other scientific technologies—something far beyond what any individual could achieve alone.
Back in the war years, government officials studying abroad painstakingly introduced three strains of penicillium mold. After much hardship, they managed to produce the first batch of penicillin, amounting to only 50,000 units. Each drop was as precious as gold.
In the present era, even with the combined resources of the entire country, achieving industrial-scale production might not be feasible.
Given these circumstances, handing over the formula lightly would be an act of irresponsibility toward human lives.
Su Yan tried his best to explain his thoughts and intentions in a way that someone from ancient times could understand, conveying them earnestly to Chen Shiyu.
The elderly physician was deeply disappointed and dejected but still sincerely thanked Su Yan for being willing to explain so much to him.
He had prepared himself for the possibility of offending a court official and being scolded, driven away, or even imprisoned. To his surprise, Su Yan was so approachable and forthright that the explanation felt utterly genuine. Chen Shiyu realized that Su Yan’s words were not mere excuses; the production of this medicine indeed posed significant challenges.
In the end, Chen Shiyu bowed deeply and said, “I hope that one day, Lord Su will bring this medicine to mass production and benefit all under heaven.”
How could Su Yan not hope for such a day? He returned the bow and replied, “This official will keep the lives of the people in mind and do everything within his power.”
As his carriage rolled away, Chen Shiyu stood watching it disappear into the distance. He sighed, “To possess a divine cure for the ages but be constrained by worldly limitations—is this truly a case of heaven’s will that cannot be revealed?”
The young apprentice at his side, puzzled, asked, “Could this medicine come from the heavens? Will revealing it bring divine retribution?”
Chen Shiyu regretfully shook his head. Despite himself, he couldn’t let the matter go. Finally, he declared, “Disciple, accompany your master on another journey.”
“Master, where are we going now?”
“To seek out a noble patron. If he is willing to lend his support, perhaps Lord Su’s plans for selecting ‘material sciences’ talent nationwide and investing vast financial and material resources in ‘strain cultivation’ and ‘extraction techniques’ might yet be realized.”
***
Su Yan arrived at the Dali Temple just before noon.
The officials he had assigned yesterday were diligently working in the records office. Each sat at their desks, poring over open wooden crates filled with documents, carefully cross-referencing and noting key information about suspects and the critical aspects of each case.
He made a circuit around the room, offering guidance here and there, and finding little else of immediate urgency, he awaited progress reports due in the next five to seven days.
Sorting through case records in the imperial prison would take at least ten days. Once completed, he would need Shen Qi’s assistance for cross-referencing, on-site investigations, finalizing the list, and drafting detailed reports, which would take another seven or eight days. Altogether, it would take nearly a month to wrap up this task.
Although slightly slower than expected, such a comprehensive and systematic investigation was more than just rooting out the “Feng faction.” If that were his sole objective, Su Yan could simply have Feng Que and his cronies interrogated under torture to extract the names.
This, however, was a full-scale purge of the middle and upper ranks of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, aiming to rid it of corrupt and abusive elements and retain those who were relatively loyal, upright, and dedicated to serving the nation. These remaining seeds could then be placed in appropriate positions to support a new structural framework, with fresh talent promoted from the grassroots to fill the gaps.
The ultimate goal was to transform the Embroidered Uniform Guard, known for its bloody and dark reputation, into a vital tool for state governance under the emperor, rather than a poisonous blade used solely for factional strife.
As Su Yan reflected on these matters while seated in the grand hall, sipping a cup of Liuan Guapian tea, a group of Dali Temple officials entered, flanking a eunuch dressed in a python robe. They were all smiling obsequiously and offering compliments.
“Ah, Lord Su, enjoying your tea? No need to rise—just sit and pour a cup for me too.”
Lan Xi picked the Taishi chair beside Su Yan and sat down, waving the others away. “You all don’t need to linger. Lord Su and I have official business to discuss.”
The hall quickly emptied. Su Yan poured Lan Xi a cup of tea and said with a smile, “Uncle, you oversee the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs, managing countless court matters. Why trouble yourself to personally visit the Dali Temple? If you need updates on the case or documents, just send someone, and I’ll deliver them.”
Lan Xi, sipping the tea and seemingly in good spirits, responded, “Though I supervise the investigation, I can’t just sit idle and watch. I came to see if you need any assistance.”
Not one for unnecessary politeness, Su Yan replied, “Everything is running smoothly for now. Should I require Uncle’s coordination later, I’ll certainly seek your help.”
Pleased by Su Yan’s composed demeanor and pleasant words, Lan Xi felt an unexpected sense of familial affection. Remembering his purpose for visiting, he said, “Uncle wants to discuss family matters with you. This bustling hall isn’t the place—let’s find a quieter room.”
Surprised but thoughtful, Su Yan quickly understood. This likely involved a private matter or some significant advice. He graciously led Lan Xi to a quiet room.
Once seated, Lan Xi sighed contentedly, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed Wuyi Da Hong Pao tea. “Ah, tea from my homeland—so comforting! Were it not for the endless court obligations, I’d retire to the mountains and springs for a carefree life.”
Su Yan, not believing for a moment that this powerful eunuch would relinquish his influence for quietude, chuckled. “Uncle must be joking. At forty, you’re in your prime. Besides, even the emperor cannot do without you.”
Lan Xi circled around the topic for a while before finally mentioning the Emperor. Only then did he say, “His Majesty cannot do without me because I can guess his thoughts and desires. It’s just as I told you before—the art of ‘divining the imperial will.’” A touch of worry appeared on his brow as he spoke.
Su Yan asked, “What kind of difficulty has troubled you, Uncle?”
Lan Xi replied, “It’s not me, but His Majesty who has something on his mind. When the Emperor’s concerns go unresolved, his health suffers. In the long run, this is detrimental to both the nation and its people!”
“The Emperor has concerns? Is it about the Yellow River flooding, the bandit problems in Shanxi, Shandong, and Henan, or perhaps the spring raids by the northern Tatars?” Su Yan listed what he thought were the three major issues most likely to trouble Emperor Jinglong.
Lan Xi shook his head repeatedly. “These great matters of state naturally have the civil and military officials to share His Majesty’s burdens. But the concern on His Majesty’s mind now is one that only you, dear nephew, can resolve for him.”
Su Yan blinked at him, seemingly confused.
Lan Xi smiled, patting the young man’s hand. “Since the day of the palace examination, everything has gone smoothly for you—step by step, you’ve risen higher. Even when disaster loomed, you managed to avert it just in time. Don’t you have any idea whose favor you’ve been under?”
Su Yan replied, “I am well aware. The emperor’s boundless grace has elevated me. As a subject, it is my duty to serve with unwavering loyalty, even at the cost of my life, to repay this heavenly favor.”
Lan Xi sighed inwardly. How could such a clever boy be so blind to this matter?
He tapped Su Yan on the forehead in frustration. “What’s all this talk of sacrificing your life? Is anyone asking you to fight bandits or face the Tatars? Haven’t you figured it out yet? The emperor favors you. This is a fortune you wouldn’t find in a hundred lifetimes!”
Su Yan blinked again, finally picking up on the subtext. His face paled in shock. “Fa… favors? What does His Majesty see in me? My diligence and eloquence? Please, Uncle, convey my utmost gratitude to the emperor and assure him that I will devote myself to my duties and give my all in service!”
Lan Xi was annoyed. He poked Su Yan’s forehead again. “Stop playing dumb! Do I really need to spell it out? The emperor is a man of extraordinary grace and dignity. Those close to him are treated with warmth and care. What’s there not to like? Worst case, think of it as gaining the most powerful foster brother in the realm. How bad could that be?”
“I mean… I…” Su Yan stammered, utterly flustered. “In my impression, His Majesty wouldn’t…”
“Watch your mouth!” Lan Xi snapped, his tone sharp. “The emperor is the Son of Heaven, the supreme sovereign. Whatever he is or isn’t is not for you to judge. Do you want to lose your head?”
The rebuke sobered Su Yan. He thought to himself: The emperor is recorded in history as a wise and virtuous ruler; it’s impossible for him to develop any improper desires. He’s not like the notorious Yu Wang! And from what I know of him, there’s no evidence of any such tendencies. Didn’t Imperial Concubine Wei recently bear him a son? Clearly, this is all Lan Xi’s overzealous flattery gone awry.
Steeling himself, Su Yan wiped the sweat from his brow and calmly responded, “Uncle, this is a misunderstanding. Such matters, if misinterpreted, can harm both His Majesty’s reputation and my own peace of mind. Let’s let these words dissipate like the wind, unspoken and forgotten.”
“Younger nephew feels this matter may not be as Uncle describes—it must be some misunderstanding. If His Majesty and I can maintain a harmonious relationship as ruler and subject, it would be beneficial both privately and publicly, for you and for me. Why stir up trouble unnecessarily, imitating the so-called ‘chicken rib’ act?”
Lan Xi, being in charge of the Directorate of Ceremonial and having studied in the inner eunuch academy, naturally understood the “chicken rib” reference. If Yang Xiu had not been so arrogantly clever, recklessly interpreting Cao Cao’s intentions and broadcasting them for self-promotion, he might not have met his fate at Cao Cao’s breaking point.
Lan Xi was rendered speechless by Su Yan’s series of firm yet persuasive “loyal words.” He simmered with suppressed anger, irritated by Su Yan’s ingratitude and insulted by his impolite tone. No matter what, he believed he bore no fault in the matter.
Su Yan thought to himself: Throughout history, eunuchs often developed psychological issues due to their physical condition—narrow-mindedness, paranoia, and obsessive behavior. If I don’t confront him directly and instead give vague responses, there’s no guarantee he won’t come back with an even more outrageous suggestion, or worse, drag me onto the imperial bed outright. It’s best to lay everything bare now. As a straight man, protecting my dignity is paramount. I’d rather offend a powerful eunuch than compromise myself.
With a deep sigh, he spoke earnestly: “Uncle! It’s not that I don’t appreciate your kindness, but such a thing is simply impossible for me to accept. It would tarnish His Majesty’s reputation, be utterly devastating for me, and serve no benefit to you. I would rather die than use my appearance to serve others. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened and let it vanish like the wind.”
Having spent many years in the palace, Lan Xi quickly reined in his emotions despite his initial outburst. Though displeased, he managed to wear a faint, insincere smile. “I only mentioned it in passing, lest one day you offend His Majesty and not know the reason. Since you are completely unwilling—vehemently so—I can hardly force you, can I? In any case, one piece of advice: fortune or misfortune, take care of yourself.”
With a flick of his dust whisk and his hands tucked into his sleeves, Lan Xi walked away.
The conversation between the pseudo-uncle and nephew ended on a sour note, leaving Su Yan feeling helpless. No wonder scholars throughout history loathed eunuchs, despising their shamelessness and lack of principles. To please the Emperor, they would resort to any means necessary. No wonder emperors throughout history relied so heavily on them—when you ask for one, they deliver ten, doing whatever it takes to cater to your desires, figuratively plucking stars and offering the moon to win favor.
Now, Su Yan could only hope that Lan Xi had truly misunderstood and acted on his own initiative. Otherwise… how would he face the Emperor next time?
Recalling his earlier actions—clinging to the Emperor’s leg and sobbing for effect not once but twice—Su Yan covered his face with his hand, belatedly (and painfully) realizing the shame of it all.
And then he remembered—the Emperor had touched his face, rubbed the back of his head, and even pinched his earlobe. Twice!
If these were subtle signals or hints…
Su Yan shivered violently: Oh no, I’m doomed!
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