Deng Ying helped Yang Wan to the bed, turned to move the lamp closer, and bent down to roll up her trouser leg. “Have you applied medicine?”

Yang Wan shook her head, “No, but I’ve applied cold water several times. I’m afraid of pain – this kind of injury hurts too much to rub medicine on it, I don’t dare.”

Deng Ying looked at Yang Wan’s knee in the lamplight. Though the compressed area hadn’t broken skin, an alarming patch of blue and purple had spread from the point of impact. He wanted to reach out and touch it but didn’t dare.

“Wan-wan.”

“What?”

“Let me help you leave the palace, while I still hold this position.”

“Who will take care of you if I leave?”

Yang Wan rolled down her trouser leg, cutting him off directly.

Deng Ying was stunned, momentarily speechless.

Yang Wan shifted her legs, inching closer to Deng Ying. “If I leave, what will you do when you pick up those messy books to read again?”

Deng Ying lowered his head, “Without you here, how would I dare read those books again?”

He paused, then continued, “Wan-wan, wherever you go, I will be but dust beneath your feet. Even without you, I will live a quiet life. But… knowing my reputation is tarnished, though I seek a peaceful end it cannot be attained. So, before I am completely ruined, I want to send you away.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Yang Wan curled her legs, her toes gently pressing against Deng Ying’s thigh. She propped her cheeks with her hands, giving Deng Ying a calm and gentle smile. “Deng Ying, don’t you dare be dust beneath my feet.”

“Am I not worthy?”

Yang Wan raised a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Deng Ying’s ear, and looked up, “No, it’s because I’ve always wanted to be your legacy.”

She withdrew her hand, folding it on her knee, and spoke sincerely: “Deng Ying, hundreds of years from now, people will gradually understand your life – your illnesses during the Zhenning years, your ups and downs, your contributions to the dynasty, and your sincerity toward the scholars of the realm – none of it will be erased.”

Deng Ying remained silent.

Yang Wan asked, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Deng Ying neither confirmed nor denied.

Yang Wan gripped Deng Ying’s slightly cold hand, “Deng Ying, even hundreds of years from now, people will still find you after searching through piles of old documents. How much more so now that I’m by your side – don’t send me away.”

Deng Ying still didn’t speak.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.”

As Deng Ying spoke, Yang Wan’s voice became lighter. She pulled the blanket over both their legs and asked, looking up:

“Then tell me, if people hundreds of years from now could hear your voice, what would you want to tell them?”

“Me?”

“Yes, say what you want to say.”

Deng Ying’s fingers gently squeezed, and he said softly, “I don’t know.”

“Think about it now?”

Yang Wan tugged at Deng Ying’s sleeve gently as she spoke.

Deng Ying obediently raised his hand, accommodating Yang Wan, and responded warmly, “Alright, I’ll think about it now.”

After speaking, he leaned back against the bedframe.

Yang Wan fell silent too. She released Deng Ying’s sleeve, turned to pull a pillow behind her waist, and leaned back opposite him, waiting quietly for his answer.

The lamp in the inner chamber flickered, and Deng Ying raised his head, clearing his throat softly.

“Have you thought of something?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

Deng Ying’s gaze fell tenderly on Yang Wan, “Though I bear a thousand sins and countless wrongs, with no way to defend myself, only my private longing for Yang Wan is true. For this sin alone, I have no regrets about any punishment I’ve received in life.”

Yang Wan’s throat caught at his words.

This answer was both sad and amusing.

Later studies of Deng Ying, whether praising or criticizing, would thoroughly cover his official career and social connections, but his romantic history would remain ethereally invisible. Yet Deng Ying himself wanted to fill in this part.

A thousand thoughts ran through Yang Wan’s mind, but all she could manage to say was “Fool.”

“Fool…”

In the final month of Zhenning’s fourteenth year, heavy snow fell for days. In Hebei, the snowstorm collapsed many homes, with countless people and livestock freezing to death on the roads. Days later, the south began reporting disasters too, with rivers and lakes in Jiangsu freezing over, closing the ports. Meanwhile, in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Emperor Zhenning lay on his deathbed.

Though the new year approached, none of the palace’s twenty-four departments prepared for the festivities.

The palaces were quiet, their gates tightly shut. Only the East Prosperity Gate saw constant traffic of coal-bearing carts, even busier than usual.

Chen Hua at the Fuel Conservation Office barely dared to close his eyes, working to heat the Hall of Mental Cultivation and other palaces.

That noon, Li Yu trudged through the snow into the office, finding Chen Hua pacing worriedly inside, with ten baskets of charcoal on the ground, none filled.

Seeing Li Yu enter, Chen Hua hurriedly said, “Quick, take a basket.”

Li Yu was carrying food and couldn’t free his hands.

“Why such hurry? Let me eat first before moving it. Sister spent all morning making this for you, and the coal’s so heavy – how can I move it without help?”

Chen Hua finally noticed the food Li Yu was carrying.

He quickly cleared the desk, saying, “There’s no one to help you today, everyone’s too busy. This is all the coal we have left, and we still need to pay respects to the Directorate of Ceremonial. They’ll be coming to collect soon – hurry and take some to your sister, or there won’t even be scraps left later.”

He washed his hands as he spoke and sat down to eat.

Li Yu sat down and said, “I’ve never seen your office in such chaos before.”

Chen Hua spoke with his mouth full, somewhat unclear. He jerked his chin toward the window, “Look at the snow outside, does it look like it’s going to stop? People are dying all over Hebei, and now even people in the palace are freezing to death.”

Li Yu said, “No wonder we can’t get any coal.”

Chen Hua put down his chopsticks, “Tell Yun Qing not to cook for me anymore. The master’s matter is about to come to a head, everything’s in chaos. Their Ceremonial Office has important connections – they’ll probably be even busier than us then. I can’t help them much, I shouldn’t add to their troubles here.”

Li Yu nodded and was about to speak when the office door suddenly opened. An attendant eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial entered, and Chen Hua hastily put down his chopsticks and stood up. “Attendant Zhao…”

Attendant Zhao glanced at the coal baskets on the ground and immediately slapped Chen Hua, “You’re getting better at this, aren’t you? The elder is sick and graciously gave you three days, and this is all you prepared?”

Though struck, Chen Hua didn’t dare argue, but he instinctively stood in front of the table, using his body to protect the food Li Yu had brought.

Li Yu couldn’t help saying, “Even this much was difficult. Attendant Zhao, surely the elder doesn’t want to drive the Fuel Conservation Office to death? Besides, the elder only has one room and one person – even for ten people and ten rooms, this would be enough.”

“Heh…”

Attendant Zhao rolled up his sleeves and walked toward Li Yu. Chen Hua quickly grabbed him, “Attendant Zhao, he’s young and doesn’t understand. For his godfather’s sake, please don’t hold it against him. I’ll gather more coal for the elder right away.”

Attendant Zhao stopped and asked those nearby, “Who’s his godfather?”

A servant replied, “This is Li Yu, who works at the gates. He’s the brother of the Ceremonial Office’s Assistant Director and was accepted as a godson by Secretary Li, who kowtowed before the elder.”

Hearing this, Attendant Zhao lowered his sleeves, “In that case, let it go.”

He turned to Chen Hua, “We’ll take these first and come back tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes… let me see you out…”

“See what?”

Attendant Zhao glanced at him, “You’re bad luck.”

“Yes, yes.”

The group emptied the office of coal.

Chen Hua watched them leave, then wiped his face, went outside to wash his hands again, returned to the table, and silently picked at his food.

Seeing him eating in silence, Li Yu couldn’t help saying, “Let’s tell Supervisor Deng.”

Chen Hua shook his head, “Don’t say such useless things. Deng Ying isn’t the Eastern Depot Chief just for our sake.”

His voice caught as he finished speaking. Li Yu quickly handed him a bowl of soup. Chen Hua took a big gulp, finally catching his breath, and looked up with red eyes, “It’s good you have a godfather in the Directorate of Ceremonial, otherwise your sister would hate me to death today.”

When Li Yu left, his heart was heavy with frustration. He didn’t follow Chen Hua’s advice – after leaving the Fuel Conservation Office, he headed straight for the Eastern Depot, only to find Deng Ying had gone to the prison and wasn’t in the office. Li Yu then turned back toward the Hall of Mental Cultivation to find his godfather.

The snow was heavy and the wind fierce, its edges cutting like knives against faces. Palace servants hunched their limbs, walking unsteadily.

Before the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the Palace Service Department had dispatched over forty servants, divided into four shifts, taking turns sweeping snow from the imperial path. In the vast imperial city, this seemed to be the only clean road.

Li Yu shivered as he climbed the stone steps behind the Hall of Mental Cultivation to the moon terrace.

Li Bi was standing at the door and immediately said when he saw him, “Quick, go back. Whatever you have to say, tell me at my quarters after my shift.”

Only then did Li Yu notice that besides Li Bi, several other senior scribes from the Directorate of Ceremonial were standing outside, and eight imperial physicians from the Imperial Medical Academy stood with lowered hands in the snow below the moon terrace.

The snow-laden wind whipped their clothes and hats, making sounds like tearing silk and brocade. Under the eaves, the carved golden dragon with its six claws extended seemed about to come alive.

The wind and snow drove Li Yu’s words back. He turned to look at the brocade windows of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, where lamps were lit but no shadows could be seen.

Inside the hall, Emperor Zhenning sat alone behind the imperial desk. He wore a goose-yellow damask inner robe covered by a large bearskin coat. Paper and brushes lay on the desk, with freshly ground ink that hadn’t yet been touched by a brush.

He Yixian knelt beside the Emperor, massaging his knees.

His punishment wounds hadn’t healed, and he hunched his back, occasionally using his hands to support himself against the ground.

“Has the swelling and pain in Your Majesty’s legs improved?”

The Emperor looked down at He Yixian’s back and suddenly replied, “Much better.”

He Yixian froze, then suddenly prostrated himself, “This old slave doesn’t know how much longer he can serve the master.”

“Heh…”

The Emperor gave a hoarse laugh, “You can serve me until I return to the west.”

“Master mustn’t speak so. This is a digestive illness, it can’t harm your divine body. Look, weren’t you much better when you woke this morning?”

“Is that so…”

The Emperor coughed once, raising his hand to pull up the coat that had slipped to his shoulders.

“I am divine, but what are you?”

He Yixian buried his head at the Emperor’s feet, “This old slave is still like when he was young, just a ball of dung and dirt. When the master had nothing to do and didn’t mind the filth, you’d let this slave roll on the ground and kick him for fun.”

“Yes…”

The Emperor lowered his hand to rest on He Yixian’s shoulder.

“You raised me from childhood, you were my close companion. Whenever I had headaches, fevers… sores or illnesses, you worried more than my mother consort, I saw it all…”

“Master…”

He Yixian’s whole body trembled. The Emperor suddenly pressed down hard on his shoulder with such force that He Yixian’s shoulder collapsed, and he sprawled on the ground unable to rise.

The Emperor raised his voice, “In my youth, there were many things I couldn’t tell my ministers, but I told my companion. Later when I took power, you were still my most intimate confidant, and now…”

The Emperor paused, “What do you think you are?”

He Yixian lifted his neck slightly, “Master, this old slave knows that while the master has been ill these days, this slave has done many wrong things, angering master. Even if beaten to death, it would be deserved.”