Lu Bing struggled to express himself, his speech slurred and the corners of his mouth twitching, drawing Emperor Jiajing’s attention.
“Your Maj…” Lu Bing reached out, placing his hand on Emperor Jiajing’s shoulder. He pulled at his lips with all his strength, but couldn’t utter a single word.
Lu Bing leaned against Emperor Jiajing, barely able to support himself. Huang Jin, who was attending nearby, quickly came over to assist Lu Bing, not allowing him to touch the emperor’s sacred body.
“Never mind that—quickly summon the imperial physicians!” Emperor Jiajing embraced Lu Bing with both arms, helping him lie down on the couch. Only when he held him did Emperor Jiajing realize that his milk-brother was actually thinner than himself. “Milk-brother, what’s wrong with you? Where do you feel unwell?”
It had always been Lu Bing who saved him—once rescuing him from a fire at his traveling palace, once saving him from palace maids’ white silk nooses in the harem. His milk-brother had always been his most solid armor, charging into battle for him, braving fire and water. But today, his milk-brother could no longer carry him on his back; instead, he held his collapsed milk-brother.
But Lu Bing could no longer answer him. His entire body began convulsing uncontrollably. Emperor Jiajing, fearing he would bite his tongue, urgently placed his fingers vertically in Lu Bing’s mouth, letting him bite them. “Milk-brother! You must hold on—the imperial physicians will be here soon!”
Lu Bing immediately bit Emperor Jiajing’s fingers until they bled, his body shaking violently, nearly falling off the couch. Emperor Jiajing couldn’t hold him down alone and roared at the stunned Lan Daoxing: “What are you standing there for? Quickly come help hold him down!”
Lan Daoxing knelt before the bed, tightly embracing Lu Bing’s legs, murmuring: “Your Majesty, this has nothing to do with this poor Taoist. I’ve refined pills for so many years without incident. Lord Lu’s sudden illness has nothing to do with me!”
This only made Emperor Jiajing immediately suspect Lan Daoxing. “You said you recently improved the pill formula—what exactly did you put in there!”
Lan Daoxing’s voice trembled as he said: “Just some yang-strengthening and kidney-tonifying substances, all good things! If Your Majesty doesn’t believe me, let this poor Taoist test the pills personally. Lord Lu ate two pills—I’ll also eat two.”
Lan Daoxing picked up two pills and swallowed them with water. “Your Majesty, see—nothing’s wrong with me. I only feel heat in my body, warmly comfortable.”
At this time, Huang Jin brought the Chief Judge of the Imperial Medical Academy along with several highly skilled imperial physicians. Upon seeing Lu Bing’s symptoms, the physicians unanimously determined: “This isn’t poisoning—he’s had a stroke.”
The imperial physicians quickly administered acupuncture treatment. Emperor Jiajing urgently said: “Milk-brother suddenly fell ill after eating these pills.”
The physicians exchanged glances. As doctors, they naturally knew that pills were chronic poisons, but the emperor insisted on believing in them—they dared not speak! Once they spoke out, they would offend the Taoist priests favored by the emperor.
The Taoists could easily slander them before the emperor, and the physicians would lose their heads.
However, seeing the usually ethereal Divine Immortal Lan kneeling on the ground trembling like a leaf, the physicians secretly rejoiced: You have this day too!
Imperial Physician Song knew Lu Bing had a history of strokes and said: “Let me see the pill formula.”
Divine Immortal Lan brought the formula, repeatedly explaining: “Lord Lu has taken pills refined by this poor Taoist several times before without incident.”
Imperial Physician Song examined the formula and saw ephedra, deer antler, dodder seed, and other forcibly stimulating yang-strengthening substances. He immediately found the problem: “These things are harmless to ordinary men, but giving them to someone with stroke is like feeding them arsenic—it will trigger a stroke.”
This stuff was even more potent than alcohol!
“Stroke?” Lan Daoxing stiffened. “This poor Taoist was unaware that Lord Lu had a hidden ailment. Had I known, I absolutely wouldn’t have dared give him the pills.”
Emperor Jiajing was also puzzled. Such a serious condition as stroke—how had he never heard his milk-brother mention it?
At this moment, Lu Bing’s personal guards arrived after hearing the news, kneeling and weeping: “Your Majesty, our lord has indeed suffered several strokes, but fearing Your Majesty would worry, he concealed his condition and forced himself to maintain his spirits while on duty.”
Imperial Physician Song, seeing the situation could no longer be concealed, also knelt and said: “Lord Lu’s first stroke occurred in early summer. This subject has been treating Lord Lu’s stroke continuously. He recovered well, and I repeatedly warned him not to drink alcohol, not to stay up late, not to worry too much. But despite all precautions, who could have expected Lan Daoxing to change the pill formula and add so many tiger-wolf medicines forbidden to stroke patients.”
Upon hearing this, Emperor Jiajing first flew into rage, kicking Lan Daoxing away with one foot, then was overwhelmed by guilt and fear. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like without his milk-brother.
He grabbed Imperial Physician Song by the collar, dragging him beside the sickbed: “You’ve saved him several times before—you’ll certainly save him this time too, right?”
Imperial Physician Song was terrified, cold sweat covering his head: “This subject dare not guarantee it.”
Emperor Jiajing: “Don’t say ‘no’ in my presence! Save him quickly!”
“As for you…” Emperor Jiajing looked at Lan Daoxing cowering in the corner. However much he had trusted him before, even revered him—this Taoist who claimed he could help him achieve immortality—now looked so weasel-headed and rat-eyed, utterly detestable.
Emperor Jiajing said coldly: “Huang-companion, take him to the Eastern Depot prison, confiscate his property, and interrogate him severely. He must have added some forbidden substances to the pills—definitely more than what’s on the formula.”
Milk-brother absolutely cannot die from medicine meant to strengthen my yang.
It’s not that I killed milk-brother—no!
Huang Jin also served as Eastern Depot Director. Seeing Emperor Jiajing’s distraught state, he was very worried. Fearing something might happen to Emperor Jiajing, he didn’t dare leave his side, so he instructed his subordinates to handle it: “…Find several reliable people and dig three feet deep, searching thoroughly.”
In the span of morning to evening, Lan Daoxing fell from his divine pedestal to become a prisoner.
When the Eastern Depot went to confiscate his property, they indeed found treasures at Lan Daoxing’s home!
Two “black demons” smeared with phosphorescent powder were kept in the basement, nearly scaring the Eastern Depot agents out of their wits. They also found black intoxicating smoke in his pill-refining room—this substance often accompanied black demons.
So the black demon in Yunde Palace had been Lan Daoxing’s inside job—staging a performance of subduing demons and eliminating evil.
With ironclad evidence, Huang Jin quickly interrogated Lan Daoxing. After just a dozen lashes, before even using branding irons, Lan Daoxing couldn’t endure the pain and confessed everything about how he used artificial black demons to frighten Shang Zhaoyi and others, begging for a quick death.
These two demons had been kept for release in the capital during New Year to frighten the people, after which he would emerge to slay demons and eliminate evil, deceiving people into worship and enhancing his reputation as an “immortal.”
By now it was dusk. Emperor Jiajing hadn’t eaten a grain of rice all day, just sitting beside the imperial physicians as they tried to save Lu Bing.
Huang Jin handed the confession to Emperor Jiajing.
Every word was so glaring, all mocking Emperor Jiajing for trusting the wrong person, causing his milk-brother to take the wrong medicine, even causing his favored consort to be frightened.
Each word was like a slap across Emperor Jiajing’s face, the pain reaching straight to his heart.
Emperor Jiajing angrily crumpled the confession in his hands: “After doing all these things, he still wants a quick death? Have this demon-Taoist subjected to lingchi—cut him exactly one thousand and one times. Don’t let him die until the final cut.”
Emperor Jiajing vented all his rage and guilt onto Lan Daoxing.
Lan Daoxing was like a cultivator who took evil shortcuts to rapidly advance his practice, ultimately suffering qi deviation, being devoured by evil consequences, and torn to pieces. Just like in his previous life, he was executed by death of a thousand cuts.
Three years earlier than before.
Lan Daoxing was dragged away for lingchi execution, his death offered as sacrifice to heaven, but it was useless for Lu Bing’s condition—this was already his fourth stroke.
In the bitter cold, with blood stagnation, stroke patients naturally fear cold and often suffer attacks in winter. For health maintenance, Lu Bing usually stayed in spring-warm indoor rooms, but a few days ago Emperor Jiajing had ordered Lu Bing to select two thousand strong men to serve as guards for Prince Yu’s mansion.
Lu Bing always worked conscientiously and responsibly. Despite his illness, he went to the training ground to personally observe the twelve guard units compete. The training ground was buffeted by north winds—no matter how thick his clothes or how many hand warmers he carried, they weren’t very effective. Lu Ying repeatedly urged him to warm up in the tent.
After being exposed to cold, Lu Bing’s body was already somewhat unwell. Swallowing Lan Daoxing’s tiger-wolf medicine immediately triggered his fourth stroke.
Despite the Imperial Medical Academy’s full efforts, Lu Bing’s condition showed no signs of improvement. He no longer convulsed but lay quietly there like a corpse without sensation, his hands and feet beginning to swell.
Emperor Jiajing used a handkerchief to wipe away Lu Bing’s unconscious drool. His milk-brother’s mouth was slightly askew to the left. The man who had once been formidable and always stood silently behind him for protection now lay before him as helplessly fragile as a baby.
“Your Majesty, please eat something. Only when you’re well-fed will you have strength to care for Lord Lu.” Huang Jin offered bird’s nest porridge for the sixth time.
Emperor Jiajing was, after all, fifty-three years old. Now dizzy and seeing stars, he mechanically finished the bird’s nest porridge and said: “Milk-brother still won’t wake up. When I speak to him, he has no reaction. Summon Lu Ying to the palace—she’s milk-brother’s most beloved child. Have her come try.”
Huang Jin agreed, saying: “Your Majesty, according to Imperial Physician Song, during Lord Lu’s second stroke, thanks to Dr. Wei’s timely treatment, he lasted this long. Should we also summon her to the palace to try?”
In desperate illness, one tries any cure. Emperor Jiajing normally looked down on female doctors, but seeing Lu Bing now like a living corpse, let alone a female doctor—even if he heard a dog could cure illness, Emperor Jiajing would bring the dog. He said: “Summon her to the palace as well.”
Today was Laba Festival—families reunited, sharing Laba porridge. “Children, children, don’t be greedy—after Laba comes the New Year.” After the twelfth month, people would begin preparing New Year goods.
For Lu Ying, every holiday was a marriage-urging day. During every festival, she faced marriage pressure. Today Father had entered the palace early and hadn’t returned home. The family was waiting for the male head to return for the holiday. With nothing else to do, everyone came to urge her marriage. Just as Lu Ying was finding this unbearable, palace messengers arrived, summoning Lu Ying to the palace.
Why wasn’t Lu Bing coming home and also calling his daughter in? The Lu family felt vaguely uneasy. Despite generous tips to the message-bearing eunuch, they couldn’t extract any information.
After all, Lu Bing was a pillar of the nation, commanding the Embroidered Uniform Guard. News of his sudden illness was top secret and couldn’t be spread.
Lu Ying suspiciously entered the palace.
North city, Sweetwater Alley.
Wang Daxia had hastily consumed a bowl of Laba porridge at his family banquet, then ran to his neighbor’s house for the holiday. Wei Caiwei had set up hot pot for hospitality. The beef in the pot had just been cooked when people from the Ceremonial Directorate arrived to summon her.
Wang Daxia put down his chopsticks: “I’ll escort you there.”
After the Qionghua Island incident, Wang Daxia was known throughout the palace as a “disaster-bringer.” The eunuch quickly said: “Without summons, outsiders cannot enter the palace. The Ceremonial Directorate has only summoned Dr. Wei.”
“I won’t go in—I’ll just escort her to the West An Gate.” Wang Daxia insisted on escorting her. On this major holiday, he didn’t want Caiwei to go alone. Her entire family had died so tragically—he hoped he could warm the rest of her life.
At the West An Gate entrance, they happened to meet Lu Ying arriving at the Forbidden City. Seeing Wang Daxia, Lu Ying’s anxious heart began to calm. Fellow comrades who had faced life and death together gave her inexplicable peace of mind: “He’s my subordinate. I want him to accompany me into the palace.”
Lu Ying still had more face, so the Ceremonial Directorate could only turn a blind eye and agree. The three companions headed together toward the Western Park.
Author’s Note: For readers drinking at Beijing Sanlitun bars, please toast Uncle Bing when you have time. Uncle rests eternally there, amid nightly revelry, never lonely. Everyone can’t bear to part with Uncle Bing, and neither can I. Writing about his fourth stroke reminds me of writing about Advisor Ji Shao’s death in “The Great Jin Is So Charming” earlier this year. Everyone also pleaded for Advisor Ji, but first, the great historical process doesn’t change arbitrarily, and second, both their deaths were foreshadowed and hinted at early in the text—like the first chapter of this novel describing Lu Bing’s gravesite. Their endings fit their character development and story logic. So “This is Advisor Ji’s blood—do not remove it” must ultimately happen, and Lu Bing’s sudden death is the same—different process, same result.
Young eagles must ultimately learn to fly alone through stumbles and falls. No one begins to face growth fully prepared—growth usually happens when we’re caught off guard.