Even the greatest events are no more than passing things in the face of time.

Where rivers of blood had flowed, nothing remained after the washing save a stretch of dark red stain. Yet the Seven Lodges Division leader presiding over court gave the assembled ministers not a single moment to adapt — pursuing accountability one matter after another, officials were demoted, dismissed, and punished for their offenses, and empty positions were filled at once.

By now the assembled civil and military officials had no time to contemplate where those vacancies might fall. What they had to think about was how to hold on to their own positions.

But a few days were all it took for them to understand the difference between the Seven Lodges Division leader and the Emperor. The Emperor had a soft ear — a few entreaties from a venerable old minister, a plea from a favored consort of the inner palace, and great matters would be reduced to small ones and small matters dissolved entirely. There were also the princes, princesses, imperial relatives, and even long-serving figures with standing in the palace — there had always been pathways to work things out.

The Seven Lodges Division leader, however, stood alone. They did not even know who lay behind that mask — how were they to find any pathway? And when even imperial princes could be called to account without hesitation, they dared not make rash moves, for fear that in seeking a path they would instead accidentally grasp a tiger by the whiskers.

Every single person kept themselves tightly in check.

Throughout the entire court, the efficiency with which decrees were carried out, the speed at which affairs were handled, and the clarity and integrity of the atmosphere reached a level unsurpassed in all the history of the Great Qing Dynasty.

The Emperor watched the transformation of the court with feelings too tangled to put into words. He simply set everything aside and gave himself over with a clear conscience to his convalescence — after all, there was a capable nephew holding those demons and monsters in check. Especially after Elder Yu, Shao Yao’s master, arrived, and declared with a single pronouncement that he required rest and quiet to recuperate — using that as his authority, the Emperor no longer even left Hao Yue Hall.

The doors of the Imperial Study were firmly shut. Three people sat facing one another within, while Laifu stood personal guard outside the door.

Elder Yu was unshaven and unkempt, his robe marked with smudges of green and white from various medicines. He had no gift for mundane matters and had not given a thought to changing into fresh attire before coming into the imperial presence — yet his robes carried a fragrance of medicinal herbs, and his face, though crowned with white hair, had the complexion of a young man, which made it remarkably easy for people to take a liking to him.

“Do not look at me like that. I am only a physician, not an immortal. I have no elixir of life.”

This was a gourd grown on the same vine as Shao Yao — Gu Yanxi had grown accustomed over the years to the way the master and apprentice spoke, and simply nodded. “I have no expertise in the art of medicine. Whatever the case, I ask that Elder Yu do his utmost to think of a way.”

Elder Yu’s eyes shifted, and his speech became ever more offhand. “Actually, is this not quite a good arrangement — you can simply take that seat yourself.”

“What is good about it.” Gu Yanxi looked at the writing desk, from which the pile of memorials never seemed to diminish. “What is good about it — everyone covets it, everyone wishes you dead sooner rather than later, you cannot sleep a peaceful night, and you die young.”

Elder Yu sighed inwardly. It was precisely because he saw through it all so clearly — and precisely because the Emperor knew there was not a trace of such ambition in his heart — that the Emperor could entrust this whole sprawling matter to him with peace of mind.

“Shao Yao has attained seven-tenths of my skill. Her diagnosis was not wrong. That golden elixir is too forceful — it has already diminished his lifespan. Furthermore, what was consumed before continues to accumulate within his body even now, and will keep affecting him without cease. All of the methods Shao Yao attempted she has described to me — none were mistaken — and yet the elixir’s poison has still not been expelled.”

Elder Yu looked at Gu Yanxi, his expression grave. “Since all the cautious methods have proved useless, what I am able to attempt carries some risk.”

Gu Yanxi nodded. “Please speak.”

“Accelerate the activation of the elixir’s poison within the Emperor’s body…”

“Master!”

Elder Yu looked at his prized apprentice. “There is risk, naturally. But with both myself and Shao Yao present, any complications that arise can be kept under control.”

Gu Yanxi could sit still no longer. He rose and paced back and forth several times, then stopped and looked at Elder Yu with piercing intensity. “Is there no other method?”

“What I can think of is what Shao Yao has already attempted. She has seven-tenths of my skill — the three-tenths she lacks is experience. Anything else I know, she has largely mastered as well.”

Shao Yao raised her chin with a proud expression.

A smile surfaced in Elder Yu’s eyes. He patted her cheek — which looked alarming to anyone else but which he found perfectly endearing. “There is only one last medicinal ingredient still needed. I already know where it is — once Master finds it, your face can be treated as well.”

Shao Yao wrapped her arms around her master’s and begged prettily, “Take me with you.”

“The people the Shizi has dispatched will be more than enough.” The destination was a land of extreme cold, where ice and snow never melted year-round. Even he would have to think carefully about guarding against the cold when he got there — it would not be good for a young woman’s body.

Gu Yanxi’s gaze too turned gentle. He hesitated no longer and made his decision. “We must still ask you to explain the risks to my Imperial Uncle.”

“But of course.”

The Emperor raised no objections whatsoever. When Elder Yu had finished speaking, he gave his consent on the spot.

Gu Yanxi’s mouth opened, but in the end he said nothing. He led the master and apprentice out to make their preparations.

“Laifu, stay and keep Us company for a talk.”

Laifu quickly stepped back in. Gu Yanxi’s footsteps paused for a moment.

The Emperor walked to the writing desk and sat down. He selected the imperial yellow silk, took up his brush, and in one sustained motion wrote out three edicts. Then he sealed them himself, sat quietly for a moment, and looked toward Laifu. Laifu knelt prostrate upon the ground.

“Laifu, in all this palace, We trust only Yanxi and you.”

“This old servant is willing to be shattered to dust for Your Majesty.”

The Emperor smiled gently and reached down to help him up himself. He placed one of the edicts in his hands. “Keep it safe. If the day comes that We are gone, then bring it out.”

Laifu’s hands shook. He trembled, and made to kneel again — the Emperor held him back and said with an affectionate scolding, “Look at you — such faint-heartedness. Go and put it away.”

Laifu felt as though his very heart and liver were trembling. His back was soaked through with cold sweat. He received it with both hands and withdrew with a bow.

When Laifu had gone, the Emperor addressed the empty air. “Shadow One. Shadow Two.”

Two figures flickered into view, kneeling before the Emperor.

These were the Emperor’s personal shadow guards — they did not belong to the Seven Lodges Division.

“One copy goes to the Lord of Ding Guo. One copy — goes to the Empress Dowager.”

The shadow guards withdrew. The Emperor sat upright for a long while. Then abruptly he rose and swept everything off the writing desk with a single motion.

Gu Chengde! Gu Chengde!! Gu Chengde!!!

Gu Yanxi learned of where the shadow guards had gone not long afterward. He held himself back and did not have the Seven Lodges Division pursue the matter further.

He knew what sort of arrangements his Imperial Uncle was making. It was not his place to say a word.

After several days apart, Hua Zhi had just come out of the clan school when she spotted Master Lu. In the drifting, pattering rain, he stood in a light traveling outfit, holding an umbrella — as though he had stood there since time immemorial.

She greeted him from a distance with a bow. Then she took an umbrella from her maid and walked toward him, lifting her gaze to look at the Seven Lodges Division leader, whose commanding presence had grown more formidable and whose bearing had grown more solitary.

“Master Lu looks as though he needs rest.”

Hua Zhi had persisted in calling him by this name, and Gu Yanxi had never thought to ask her to change it. This form of address, belonging exclusively to the two of them, was rather pleasant. The expression on his face gradually warmed. “I have come to beg a cup of tea.”

Hua Zhi gestured in graceful welcome and led him to the study. After asking Master Lu to be seated, she went first to the wooden box and placed a dish of incense, lighting it — a calming incense Shao Yao had blended for her. She was very fond of this scent.

She did not call for any maids to help. She brought out the tea set that had been put away, along with the tea leaves — several more varieties now than before. Once all of that was arranged, she went to wash her hands.

Gu Yanxi’s gaze followed her wherever she moved. He watched her bustle back and forth like a diligent little ant, taking out this and arranging that, not once glancing over at him through all of it — and yet it made him feel, somehow, like a little wife busy tending to him.