Seeing Wei Jun collapse, the Marquis family stewards were at a loss. Though they wanted to transport him for medical treatment, his injuries were too severe to permit moving him. Even sending for a doctor would take over an hour; by then, it might be too late.
The abbot of Lingguang Temple, Ji Yao, arrived with the monastery’s medical monks upon hearing the commotion. Upon examining Wei Jun’s wound, they suggested cauterization with boiling oil to staunch the bleeding. Though effective, the process would be unimaginably painful.
With no other options, the head steward reluctantly agreed. During the treatment, Wei Jun awoke briefly from the excruciating pain, screamed in agony, and then passed out again, as though trapped in a personal h*ll.
In another guest room, Zhu Helin, now cleaned of blood and dressed in fresh robes, sat listening to the agonized cries coming from the next room. He muttered, “The old b*stard—let him die.”
Turning to see Su Yan deep in thought at the table, he jabbed him in the chest and called, “Su Qinghe!”
“…Huh?”
“When did you take a concubine? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
The boy’s face was taut with displeasure, his lips turned down and his eyes clouded with frustration and resentment. His attempt to maintain a façade of composure was betrayed by his youthful petulance.
Looking at Zhu Helin’s immature yet earnest expression, Su Yan suddenly softened. With a faint smile, he explained, “I panicked in the moment. It’s not true—I lied about her being my concubine. I hope Your Highness and Wangye can forgive my deception.”
“Not true?” Zhu Helin’s eyes brightened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “Then why protect her? Why forbid Fourth Royal Uncle from taking action or me from issuing a capture order?”
“He’s a pitiable person and has some ties to me. He sees me as a benefactor—how could I let him die?”
Yu Wang sat nearby, rewrapping his injured palm with gauze. At the mention, his gaze grew distant as he recalled the masked man in black he had clashed with that night at the royal residence. The man’s movements were light and elusive, his swordsmanship swift as lightning—eerily similar to the female assassin they faced today. They were likely from the same school or connected to the same person. The masked man had spoken to him, clearly a male, and his words had conveyed deep concern and respect for Su Yan. It must have been him.
What might Qinghe think of him? To joke about “concubines” suggested the two had quite a close relationship. Yu Wang’s thoughts churned, but his expression remained neutral. He tied the gauze knot with his teeth and hands, inwardly scoffing: People say I’m the one who dallies with many. But you, Su Qinghe—are you so different?
Not to mention that nameless assassin—just look at the little crown prince. He’s so besotted it’s as if his forehead is plastered with a poem declaring his infatuation. If even I can see it, do you think my sharp-as-a-blade royal brother wouldn’t notice?
This whole court, top to bottom, inside and out—was there anyone truly easy to deal with? In politics, one could dance gracefully through the chaos. But in matters of the heart, trying to play all sides would eventually lead to disaster. Mark my words, Su Qinghe, one day you’ll capsize your boat!
Mockery aside, an unexpected flicker of irritation rose within Yu Wang. If only you’d accept me and stop entangling yourself with others, I’d devote myself to protecting you entirely. Then, none of this trouble would have happened!
…But so be it. The trouble had already occurred. Let’s see how you handle it when the Wei family retaliates in fury. When that royal brother of mine, who values the state above all else, has to make a choice—will he still shield you from the storm?
Yu Wang cast a deep, brooding look at Su Yan, then tucked the bloodied cloth he’d removed into his robe, with no intention of returning it.
Meanwhile, the Crown Prince seemed to have made up his mind, smiling at Su Yan with newfound confidence. “Fine, let’s say we saved him. It’s no big deal. When the Wei family starts making a fuss, the three of us will just claim we knew nothing about it. What can they do? I’ll even publicly curse that old b*stard for bringing this upon himself by sowing chaos and dragging us into it! Isn’t that right, Fourth Royal Uncle?”
He turned to glare at Yu Wang, his eyes full of threat, radiating the air of a petty tyrant: If you don’t cooperate with my story, I’ll make you regret it.
Yu Wang, with a faint, inscrutable smile, replied lightly, “Right.”
The Crown Prince, feeling like his punch had landed on cotton, withdrew sulkily and stood up. “Qinghe, let’s go! Whoever wants to clean up this mess can deal with it.”
“You snuck out of the palace again today, didn’t you?” Su Yan reminded him. “You’ve still got archery and wrestling lessons this afternoon.”
The Crown Prince deflated like a proud balloon suddenly losing air, pouting miserably. “You’re even more nagging than my tutor…”
***
Upon returning from Lingguang Temple to the inner city of the capital, Yu Wang refused to let Su Yan return home. Instead, he dragged him along to Chen Shiyu’s medical cottage, stating, “I got injured because of you. How can you just leave me to fend for myself?”
Feeling somewhat guilty, Su Yan didn’t object.
At the medical cottage, Chen Shiyu examined Yu Wang’s injury and concluded that, fortunately, the tendons and bones were unharmed. However, given the depth of the wound, external ointments wouldn’t suffice—it needed to be stitched.
Su Yan watched as Chen Shiyu took out a crescent-shaped silver needle and a fine, silky thread. The thread, initially stiff, softened after being steamed over a pot of boiling water. Curious, Su Yan asked, “Master Yingxu, what kind of thread is that?”
“Mulberry bark thread. You strip the outer bark of the mulberry tree, select the coarser inner fibers, tear them off, and wrap them back in the original outer bark. Then, you repeatedly coat it seven times, and it’s ready,” Chen Shiyu explained in detail.
Seeing Su Yan’s interest in surgical techniques, Chen Shiyu, recalling the priceless value of penicillin, enthusiastically elaborated: “This thread is convenient to make, difficult to break, and its natural properties help to clear heat, detoxify, and promote tissue regeneration. It’s very suitable for wound stitching.”
After cleaning Yu Wang’s wound, Chen Shiyu brought out a bowl of boiled mandrake soup for pain relief. However, Yu Wang waved it away. “Master Yu, you know I don’t use anesthesia—it dulls the mind. I didn’t use it in the past, and for such a minor injury, I certainly don’t need it now.”
Knowing Yu Wang’s temperament, Chen Shiyu nodded. “Mandrake does have toxic properties. If Wangye can endure the pain, it’s better not to use it.”
Yu Wang sat on a bench, rolling up his sleeve and placing his injured left hand on a boiled, thick cloth pad. As he opened his palm, the gaping wounds oozed fresh blood. Chen Shiyu deftly disinfected the needle and thread, then began stitching, the silver needle darting in and out of the flesh like weaving fabric, tying knots and trimming the thread.
Stitch after stitch, he endured without a sound. The inner muscle layer was sewn first, followed by the outer skin. The procedure took 70 to 80 meticulous stitches in total.
Su Yan, unable to bear the sight, averted his eyes. Yu Wang chuckled and waved him over. “Come here.”
“What for?”
“Come sit next to me.”
After two rounds of urging, Su Yan reluctantly scooted closer, perching on the far end of the bench.
Yu Wang turned his head, quietly observing him as though using Su Yan’s presence as anesthesia. Feeling uneasy, Su Yan redirected his attention and asked Chen Shiyu, “Does mulberry bark thread need to be removed later? And what about the inner stitches?”
“No need to remove it. The mulberry thread dissolves naturally into the flesh. However, it does have a drawback—it often triggers inflammation,” Chen Shiyu replied.
“So, you mean that while mulberry bark sutures are absorbable, they have a significant likelihood of causing a rejection reaction in the body, leading to wound inflammation?” Su Yan frowned as he glanced at Yu Wang’s hand. Then he asked, “What about catgut sutures?”
“Catgut sutures?” Chen Shiyu echoed, puzzled.
It was only then that Su Yan realized catgut sutures had not yet been invented in this era. More precisely, five centuries earlier, Western surgeons had already begun using gut sutures for wound closure, but this technology had yet to reach the Great Ming.
Su Yan proceeded to explain to Chen Shiyu about the Western practice of using catgut sutures. The process involved taking the innermost mucosa of sheep or cow intestines, soaking and cleaning it in an alkaline solution, and then spinning it into threads, which could be twisted into cords of varying thickness depending on their intended use. The thicker the suture, the more pronounced the inflammatory reaction at the wound site, but overall, it was less likely to cause rejection than mulberry bark sutures.
To further minimize wound reactions, chromium could be used to treat the catgut sutures, though Su Yan admitted he wasn’t sure about the exact process. He suggested consulting Western missionaries for more information.
Chen Shiyu marveled at the ingenuity and declared he would seek out Western doctors the following day to compare and explore the method’s efficacy.
Yu Wang’s gaze at Su Yan grew contemplative. “There’s a rumor in the Cabinet that you are a polymath, versed in astronomy above and geography below. Others say you indulge in frivolous tricks and unorthodox methods. Which is true?”
Su Yan gave an awkward laugh. “Neither… I just read a lot of miscellaneous books.”
***
Although the medical monks at Lingguang Temple used rather crude methods, they proved effective, and Wei Jun ultimately managed to cling to life.
However, his advanced age and frail body, already weakened by years of indulgence in alcohol and women, had left him hollowed out. Though he appeared robust and capable of entertaining three women in a single night thanks to tonics, his body was already riddled with unseen cracks. This sudden ordeal overwhelmed him like a flood breaching a fragile dam, leaving him utterly ruined.
Even after surviving, he was gravely debilitated, bedridden, and reduced to a near-lifeless state.
Wei Jun wept bitterly to his elder brother—the father of Imperial Concubine Wei, Xianan Marquis, Wei Yan—lamenting that he had been victimized by vile schemers and would die with unresolved grievances.
The “schemers” he referred to were not only the relentless assassin who pursued him like a rabid dog but also Su Yan, Su Qinghe, who had deliberately interfered, preventing Yu Wang and the Crown Prince from capturing the culprit and allowing the assassin to escape.
He also recalled the incident when the Crown Prince had secretly left the palace at night. There were two others in the carriage: Su Yan and a woman whom Su Yan had referred to as his “concubine.” Despite Wei Jun’s insistence, Su Yan had refused to let him search the carriage. It now became clear that the woman was the assassin, and Su Yan had been colluding with her all along.
No, the assassin was most likely sent by Su Yan to kill him! From the very day of the imperial exam, that young upstart had harbored ill intentions, targeting him at every turn. After ingratiating himself with the Crown Prince, Su Yan now sought to achieve unspeakable goals, intending to bring down the entire Wei clan and clear any obstacles from Zhu Helin’s path to the throne. This boy was a dire threat to the Wei family’s survival and must not be allowed to live!
Wei Jun’s words became increasingly incoherent, spiraling into a hysterical rant. In his agitation, he nearly fainted.
Wei Yan, who had always looked down on his younger brother’s debauched lifestyle, had long since given up trying to correct him after years of ineffective advice. He chose to ignore Wei Jun’s self-destructive ways. But now, seeing him leave the house healthy only to return at death’s door, the shared bond of blood stirred Wei Yan’s fury to the surface.
He strongly agreed with the speculation and slammed the table, cursing: “That brat Su Yan, rising quickly in youth, relies on the emperor’s favor, seduces the ruler, and flatters his superiors while harming the noble ministers of the state. If we let him run rampant, where is the rule of law? If we don’t eliminate him, how can the Wei family ever have peace again?”
Leaving Fengan Marquis’s residence, he returned to the Xianan Marquis’s estate and said to his wife: “Your husband and family have been humiliated, and your younger brother-in-law was nearly killed. Besides the Emperor, who else can we appeal to for justice?”
Madam Qin, having just heard the details from the servants, angrily responded: “Then there’s also my elder sister, the Empress Dowager! I’ll head to the palace now and pay her a visit.”
