In the depths of winter at the Forbidden City, snow covered the yellow glazed tiles of the rooftops. The magnificent buildings looked as if they wore pure white snow caps. The rice fields of the Western Park had long been harvested, with clusters of withered yellow stalks stubbornly poking their heads out of the snow, awaiting spring plowing and rebirth.

News of Lu Bing’s sudden illness was sealed, but the emperor’s sudden imprisonment of the revered Divine Immortal Lan Daoxing in the Eastern Depot still cast a shadow over the palace’s Laba Festival celebrations.

The three walking from West An Gate to the Western Park could all feel the seemingly frozen tension in the air.

Lu Ying’s expression was grave. Father wasn’t the type to neglect his family. The sky had darkened, yet father hadn’t returned home. Lan Daoxing had been imprisoned—could it be that Lan Daoxing had plotted against the sovereign, and father was injured after catching him red-handed?

After the Qionghua Island incident, Lu Bing had strictly forbidden Lu Ying from entering the palace to cause trouble. Now Emperor Jiajing was specifically summoning her to the palace—why?

Wei Caiwei calculated the days. In her previous life, Lu Bing had died suddenly after a banquet, triggered by alcohol-induced stroke. In this life, Lu Bing should have abstained from alcohol completely and shouldn’t have followed the same path. So she consoled Lu Ying:

“I suspect His Majesty suspects the black demons haunting the palace are connected to those at Prince Yu’s mansion. Lord Lu secretly investigated Lan Daoxing—Lan Daoxing was a demon-Taoist who deceived the sovereign under the guise of being an immortal. That’s why Lan Daoxing’s property was confiscated today and he was imprisoned.” The implication was that if anyone was in trouble, it was Lan Daoxing—your father was fine.

Wang Daxia also comforted Lu Ying: “Exactly so. Commander Lu participated in the entire process of solving the Prince Yu’s mansion black demon case, so His Majesty summoned Commander Lu to the palace for confrontation.”

Lu Ying knew the two meant well, but the moment she entered the palace, her heart inexplicably pounded wildly. She forced herself to appear calm and hummed in acknowledgment.

But when the three arrived at the sleeping palace, a strong medicinal smell mixed with the scent of moxa from acupuncture assaulted them. All three hearts suddenly leaped!

Lu Ying disregarded etiquette and began running quickly. Wang Daxia followed closely behind. Wei Caiwei’s steps faltered slightly—what was happening? Had His Majesty forced Lu Bing to drink alcohol?

Huang Jin urged: “Dr. Wei, this way please.”

Wei Caiwei hurried to catch up. Entering the sleeping palace, she saw Lu Ying half-kneeling beside the dragon couch, but it was Lu Bing lying on it.

Lu Bing’s face was ashen, with acupuncture needles stuck in several major acupoints on his body. He lay motionless, rigid as a wooden figure. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he would have been a corpse.

Wei Caiwei quickly went over, first pulling back his eyelids to check his pupils, then taking his pulse.

Lu Ying tightly gripped her father’s hand, saying to Wei Caiwei: “You must save him quickly. When father had that stroke before, you rescued him in time. You can do it.”

Wei Caiwei looked at the prescriptions the Imperial Medical Academy had administered to Lu Bing—all were excellent remedies targeting the symptoms, beyond reproach. With things as they were, she could only assist with bloodletting and acupuncture therapy. The rest depended on whether heaven would claim a life today.

After this series of procedures, fine beads of sweat appeared on Wei Caiwei’s forehead.

Lu Ying felt something like ants crawling in her palm. She opened her hand and discovered her father’s fingers moving slightly.

Looking at her father’s face, his eyelids were also fluttering slightly, his eyelashes seeming to move in a breeze. “Father is responding!”

Emperor Jiajing rushed over to call to Lu Bing: “Milk-brother! You’ll be fine! Lu Ying is here—your most beloved daughter. You’ll be fine!”

The bedside was crowded with people. Wei Caiwei tactfully withdrew. Just now she had been both exhausted and tense. Wang Daxia asked if she wanted to eat something. She shook her head: “I need to go outside and calm down.”

Wang Daxia draped a cloak over her and brought a hand warmer. The two walked out of the great hall together to stand in the corridor. Outside, heavy snow was falling again, but the north wind had stopped.

Snow fell silently. Wang Daxia asked: “Lord Lu… has he been saved?” Lu Bing had shown him kindness in recognition, and Lu Ying was an excellent superior. Wang Daxia couldn’t accept reality and fantasized about Lu Bing’s recovery.

Wei Caiwei was a doctor and deeply understood what four consecutive strokes meant. Many people died after their second stroke. She watched the snow for a while and said: “I fear this is a final rally before death. You should prepare yourself mentally.”

“Then—” Wang Daxia said in a low voice: “If Lord Lu isn’t here, Commander Lu probably can’t stay in the Embroidered Uniform Guard. She’s always been so dedicated to her work, and her ability and character are unique in the Guard. She even swore she would definitely destroy the White Lotus sect. What can be done?”

“So you must prepare.” Wei Caiwei said: “When parents die, civil officials of the Great Ming must resign and observe mourning for three years, unless His Majesty issues an edict compelling them to remain in service. But military officers must defend the homeland—they don’t need to observe mourning. After handling funeral matters, they can continue their duties. You’ve been in the Embroidered Uniform Guard for half a year—you must rally around Lu Ying to prevent anyone from taking advantage of the void to seize power and position. Destroying the White Lotus sect would be a great achievement. If someone suddenly emerges midway wanting to pick the peach, Lu Ying won’t have a foothold in the Embroidered Uniform Guard office.”

Wang Daxia clenched his fists until they cracked: “They wouldn’t dare! I’ll fight anyone who comes.”

In her previous life, Lu Ying should have left the Embroidered Uniform Guard shortly after Lu Bing’s death. After observing three years of mourning for her father, she married and was widowed within months. Rumors called her an unlucky star who brought doom to father and husband. At that time, Wei Caiwei had only heard of the pitiful Miss Lu but didn’t know her personally, so she couldn’t appreciate Lu Ying’s pain and struggle at being forced to leave her beloved career.

In this life, Wei Caiwei had tried her best to save Lu Bing, repeatedly reminding him not to drink alcohol. Yet because imperial commands were like mountains, she still couldn’t change Lu Bing’s fate of sudden death—instead, it happened more than ten days earlier.

Wei Caiwei felt deep powerlessness, yet was unwilling to give up! She couldn’t predict or prevent the emperor’s bestowing of medicine, but Lu Ying’s career could still be salvaged!

Such a brilliantly dazzling thorny rose should bloom gloriously, not wither rapidly in brief marriage after losing Lu Bing as her protector, suffering repeated devastation.

Wei Caiwei said: “Calm down and think carefully about how to preserve her position during Lu Ying’s mourning period. Don’t let anyone covet it.”

Wang Daxia said: “Don’t worry. Currently, the most important thing Commander Lu is doing is the White Lotus sect matter. This can’t be completed overnight. All the planted agents, arrangements for informant contacts are in Commander Lu’s hands. Only we few trusted subordinates and Commander Lu know the communication codes and informant rosters. By controlling core secrets, even if outsiders want to insert someone, we can find ways to sideline them…”

Wei Caiwei’s reminder meant Wang Daxia had no time to dwell on the impending loss of Lord Lu as protector. Preserving Lu Ying’s position was urgent.

In the sleeping palace, Lu Bing’s hands and feet were responding, and he occasionally made roaring sounds from his mouth. This filled Lu Ying and Emperor Jiajing with hope.

That night, Lu Ying stayed fully clothed beside her father, talking to him, hoping he would open his eyes. Emperor Jiajing rested clothed in a grand chair. The imperial physicians bustled about, either administering life-sustaining medicines or performing acupuncture and massage.

After midnight, when people are most drowsy, Lu Ying’s voice was nearly hoarse from talking, Lu Bing finally opened his eyes.

His pupils were already slightly dilated. Everything before him was blurry, as if looking at people through window paper. Moreover, everything had lost color, becoming an impressionistic black and white ink painting with pale ink, like a painting hung on a wall for a thousand years.

He also couldn’t hear clearly, as if submerged underwater listening to voices on shore.

Even so, half-deaf and half-blind, he still instinctively recognized Lu Ying, his fingers gently scratching at his daughter’s palm.

Emperor Jiajing suddenly stood up from the grand chair, nearly fainting from dizziness. Huang Jin and Wang Daxia, who were keeping vigil, supported him from left and right. Reaching the dragon couch, he called loudly: “Milk-brother!”

Lu Bing could only see blurred figures. He recognized Emperor Jiajing and struggled to make roaring sounds. His tongue was stiff—he couldn’t say “Huang” (emperor), but his roars sounded somewhat like “Huang,” so Emperor Jiajing still heard Lu Bing calling him and quickly said: “I’m here! I’m here!”

Lu Bing used all his strength, his entire body’s power concentrated in the right hand Lu Ying held, flexing and extending—only his right hand could move.

Emperor Jiajing choked with emotion: “I understand milk-brother’s meaning. Milk-brother can’t rest easy about her. I will treat Ying’er as my own daughter, caring for her well, indulging and spoiling her just like you did.”

Lu Bing actually couldn’t hear clearly what the pale ink-colored figure before him was saying, but his heart inexplicably calmed, and his fingers stopped moving.

Lu Bing closed his eyes, but miraculously, he could “see.” The world before him changed from pale ink to rich ink, then slowly regained color. Everything became clear.

Many scenes flashed quickly before his eyes, time moving from recent to distant. During the Gengwu Rebellion, he begged the emperor to open the city gates to let disaster victims enter.

Lu Ying, grown into a young woman, sparring with him—the first time she defeated him.

Disregarding etiquette, he charged into the harem to rescue Emperor Jiajing, who was nearly strangled to death, cutting the white silk. The emperor’s throat was already injured and he couldn’t speak. He tightly grasped his hand, sobbing and crying in his arms like a weak, pitiful, helpless child.

He held month-old Lu Ying, kissing his daughter’s plump, cute little feet.

Enduring searing pain, he charged into the burning traveling palace, dragged out the young emperor cowering under a table, carried him on his shoulders, and rushed out of the fire.

In full armor as a guard, he watched the young man in dragon robes ascend to become emperor, kneeling with all the officials, shouting “Long live” three times.

He became smaller, turning into a fifteen-year-old youth. He held the hand of a twelve-year-old boy, wearing commoner’s clothes, secretly sneaking out of little Anlu city to play in the big city of Jingzhou. Vassal kings couldn’t leave their fiefs without permission, or it would be considered rebellion. He was uneasy, but the little boy found everything fresh and magical, so happy that he felt the risk was worth it.

He became even smaller, turning into a three-year-old boy. He nursed until three years old, still unsatisfied and wanting more, but was forced to wean. This developed his habit of sucking his fingers—his index finger was gnawed out of shape. He cried and fussed day and night, looking for mother.

His birth mother was forced to bring him into Prince Xian’s mansion. Like a little tail, he followed behind his mother to a wonderfully beautiful place like a fairy’s nest. A small baby slept in a cradle. Sucking his fingers, he approached and smelled the little baby—so fragrant, exactly like mother’s scent!

It was a scent he loved. He finally pulled his delicious finger from his mouth and gave the chubby-cheeked baby a loud kiss.

Mother told him: “He’s your milk-brother. Look, he can’t talk, can’t walk, even needs help urinating—he can’t do anything. You must protect him well.”

Still sucking his fingers, he nodded.

The little baby in the cradle woke up, neither crying nor fussing, even smiling at him, babbling while waving milky white little fists at him.

The scenes in Lu Bing’s mind stopped flashing at this moment and remained forever frozen here.

Author’s Note: Farewell, Uncle Bing.