Two months later. The end of the twelfth month.

The Winter Solstice had just passed. The moment the weather entered the Nine Cold Days, it turned sharply frigid — no snow fell, but the air was bone-dry.

The northwest wind blew without ceasing, cutting against the face, as if heaven had casually dealt one a slap.

Snow-white fur trim stood thick and high at the collar. Li Shu lowered her head, burying her face in the fur, and kept out of the cold wind as she stepped up the stone stairs outside Taiji Palace.

She had barely taken a step or two when she heard someone call from behind: “Pingyang!”

Then came the sound of a small quick run. Li Shu had just turned when her arm was warmly seized.

Princess Anle wore a snow-cape patterned with red plum blossoms and white cranes — a red base with a pure white snow-fox collar — and looked all the more vivid and pretty for it.

She laughed and said, “You’re here early.”

Her bright almond eyes swept over Li Shu. “Are you ill? You’ve lost even more weight.”

As she spoke she reached over, and through the winter layers of clothing caught hold of Li Shu’s arm. All she felt beneath her fingers were the grating angles of bone.

Li Shu had grown thinner and paler with each passing day, the hollows of her cheeks deepening, the arching bones faintly visible beneath the taut skin, which made her look ever colder and more unforgiving.

Li Shu offered an explanation: “I haven’t lost weight. The clothes are too thick and I can’t fill them out — it only looks that way.”

Anle’s sudden warmth was strange. The two of them were no longer enemies, but there was hardly cause for such close familiarity. Li Shu withdrew her arm without making it obvious, then answered Anle’s question about why she had come so early: “The imperial physicians say Father Emperor’s spirits haven’t been good lately, and I was afraid by the afternoon he might have fallen asleep, so I came early to have a few more words with him.”

With the onset of winter, Emperor Zhengyuan’s illness had grown steadily worse. Both Li Shu and Anle had come today to look in on him.

Anle’s expression turned to worry at that. “The cold has made Father Emperor fall ill.”

The two walked side by side up the stairs. A eunuch page led them into the warm inner chamber, where the air was dry and overheated, heavy with a smell of medicine that had nowhere to go.

Winter was the season that claimed lives — for the common people who lacked adequate clothes and food, and for the emperor enthroned above all of them alike.

Emperor Zhengyuan had caught a chill at the start of winter. The court sessions he had not missed in years were now convening irregularly, and later the three senior ministers from the Three Departments came to attend him not in Hanyuan Hall but in his sleeping chambers at Taiji Palace.

When Li Shu and Anle arrived, the imperial physician had just finished taking his pulse. “Nothing serious,” he said. “Only, His Majesty must not overexert himself, and his spirits must not be greatly agitated.”

Emperor Zhengyuan leaned back listlessly against the daybed and waved the physician away with a weary hand. It was clear he had grown tired of hearing those words.

He had consulted many physicians and none could diagnose a root cause, and yet he had no specific complaint that was particularly severe. He simply lacked energy day in and day out, coughing and getting headaches whenever the weather changed.

No physician had dared to say it plainly, but Emperor Zhengyuan knew the truth in his own heart — there was no particular cause. He was simply getting old.

Emperor Zhengyuan was in a poor temper when the eunuch page led the two princesses in. Before they could even bow, Anle rushed forward and threw herself into Emperor Zhengyuan’s arms. “Father Emperor, I’ve come to see you.”

Emperor Zhengyuan could not help but give a small laugh. “Such a grown person, and still so undignified.”

The words sounded like a scolding, but his face held a fond and doting smile.

And Li Shu, composed and proper, simply bowed to the emperor and seated herself on the low stool below, her demeanor toward Emperor Zhengyuan wholly unlike that of a daughter.

Li Shu asked: “How is Father Emperor feeling today? Has he eaten? Has he taken his medicine?”

Before Emperor Zhengyuan could answer, Anle pointed at the medicine bowl on the table and announced the complaint: “Father Emperor hasn’t drunk his medicine at all!”

She saw, too, that Emperor Zhengyuan still had a memorial in hand, and immediately took issue with that, snatching it away with a slap. She set it on the table and rounded her almond eyes at him, continuing her complaint: “The physicians said you need to rest properly. And here you are, still reading!”

Emperor Zhengyuan sighed. “All very well, but look how many memorials are piled on that desk — if I don’t read them, what am I to do?”

The emperor was unwell and much business had piled up unattended; the desk was stacked with perhaps close to a hundred memorials.

But there was surely nothing of great urgency, Li Shu thought. With the onset of winter, everything had settled into its course — the Yellow River flooding, the disaster management, all of it was gradually finding its rhythm.

So Li Shu joined in the persuasion: “The physicians have said you are not to tire yourself — you must follow their orders.”

Anle quickly agreed. “Exactly — don’t read them. There are so many memorials, you couldn’t finish them even if you read until nightfall. When would you ever rest?”

Two daughters urging him at once, and Emperor Zhengyuan found himself hard pressed to resist. He gave in. “All right, all right. I’ll stop for now.”

He let out a sigh. “I know I need to rest. But with all these matters piling up, how can I not deal with them?”

Surely there was the Crown Prince elder brother to carry some of the burden — a son relieving his father is only right. Li Shu had already composed Anle’s next line in her head: that’s exactly what Anle would say.

If Anle actually said it, she would be walking right into a trap. The emperor had only just fallen ill, and the next moment she was trying to push the Crown Prince into power to take over — what would that look like? The older a man grew, the tighter he held onto the power in his hands.

But Anle, to Li Shu’s surprise, did not steer the conversation toward the Crown Prince at all. She only said: “But you can’t push your health aside for the sake of those officials either. They’re all useless — they can’t handle anything on their own and just pile everything onto you in their memorials.”

She grumbled for a while in her characteristically childish way, then reached over for the medicine bowl on the table. “The medicine’s nearly cold. Father Emperor, drink it quickly.”

Emperor Zhengyuan took it and drank it down.

Li Shu’s eyebrows lifted slightly. She lowered her gaze, concealing the flash of surprise that crossed her face.

Anle was different from before. She seemed sharper now, more aware of what ought and ought not to be said. The spoiled willfulness had been somewhat reined in, and she had, improbably, grown more sensible. These past two months she had been coming to the palace frequently to keep Emperor Zhengyuan company and cheer him up, but she had not once breathed a word about seeking clemency for the Crown Prince.

Perhaps all those hundreds of copied volumes of the Classic of Filial Piety had taken effect — her unruly temperament had been curbed, and she had actually become more reasonable. In the past two months, she had been coming frequently to the palace, lifting Emperor Zhengyuan’s spirits — yet she had not said a word about asking him to pardon the Crown Prince.

Anle asked: “Father Emperor, has the cough been better lately? Have you been drinking the fritillary and snow pear broth?”

Emperor Zhengyuan nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ve been drinking it. Broth after broth of this thing or that.”

Noticing that Anle’s cheeks were red from the cold, Emperor Zhengyuan said: “Cold as it is, you must take care not to catch a chill yourself.”

Anle sighed. “Ever since Father Emperor fell ill, I haven’t been eating or sleeping well, fretting about you all the time. Sometimes I feel like I could keep watch outside your palace day and night.”

She lowered her gaze, a shadow of worry in her eyes, and gently rested her head against Emperor Zhengyuan’s arm. “I wish with all my heart I could be ill in your place. So Father Emperor — if only for my sake — you must get well quickly.”

This tender, devoted display set Emperor Zhengyuan’s paternal heart overflowing. He reached out and patted her head.

He was about to speak when the sound of hurrying footsteps came from outside the warm chamber. Liu Cou moved quickly to intercept, and the footsteps stopped. Hushed voices followed — though the content could not be made out — which only made the urgency all the more palpable.

Without warning, Emperor Zhengyuan erupted in sudden fury. He slammed a hand on the table, startling Anle so badly she jolted upright.

“Insolent servants! Whispering behind my back the moment I’m ill! What kind of ill-natured talk are you spreading!”

His voice was full of rage, though tinged with phlegm. The force of it triggered a coughing fit.

The room full of attendants immediately fell to their knees, begging forgiveness.

Sick people had volatile tempers. A sick emperor even more so — what he feared most was that someone would take advantage of his illness and stop showing him respect.

Li Shu rose quickly to her feet. Together with Anle, she reached out to support Emperor Zhengyuan. Anle patted his back; Li Shu soothed him with a steady stream of reassurances: “Father Emperor, please calm yourself — those servants aren’t worth ruining your health over.”

Her eyes flashed with authority. “Whoever was speaking out there — come in at once!”

Anle passed him the cup and helped him drink a mouthful of water, then gently rubbed his chest to ease his breathing. In her heart, she was simply relieved — thank heaven she had not tried to speak up for the Crown Prince just now.

The emperor, the more he was ill, the more he feared anyone saying he was ill. The more he feared others taking advantage of his illness to go and flatter the Crown Prince.

If a moment ago, when Emperor Zhengyuan had complained of too many matters to handle, she had immediately followed up with “the Crown Prince elder brother can help share the burden” — regardless of whether she had truly meant it in the emperor’s interest, he would very likely have taken offense.

Anle thought to herself: Cui Jinzhi had been entirely right to tell her not to breathe a word about the Crown Prince before the emperor. Otherwise she would be making things worse again.

In the past, she had said whatever came to mind. Now she was beginning to think before she spoke.

Liu Cou bent himself nearly double as he edged in, bowing and scraping as he stood there, saying: “Your Majesty, forgive this servant. Your servant should not have kept it from you — it is… it is a eunuch page from the Eastern Palace who has come.”

Li Shu, with a sense that something was about to unfold, looked over.

Liu Cou bowed low and continued: “The page says the Crown Prince has also fallen ill, and was hoping to ask permission to call a physician — requesting to know if it would be permitted.”

Anle sprang to her feet with a start. “Why has the Crown Prince fallen ill? Is it serious?”

Liu Cou hastened to answer: “Your Highness need not worry. It is only said that there is some fever, and that combined with these recent days of not eating, of troubled spirits, of sleepless nights — then he left a window open and took a chill during the night, and woke this morning not feeling well.”

Li Shu, hearing this, pressed her fingertips lightly together.

What could have left the Crown Prince unable to eat, troubled in his spirits, sleepless — what was it all over?

A moment ago, Anle had just mentioned to Emperor Zhengyuan that ever since his illness she had not been eating or sleeping well, fretting constantly. And now here was the Crown Prince, presenting with the very same symptoms.

A double approach — striking straight at the father’s doting heart.

With things at a dead end in the arena of open politics, it was time to play the sentimental card. And yet what could one do? The emperor was simply susceptible to such appeals.

Emperor Zhengyuan, who had just been in a rage, seemed now to go very quiet at the news. A moment of silence passed, and he let out a sigh. He raised his hand and said: “If he’s ill, he should call a physician — I gave him house arrest, not a prohibition against seeing physicians. Let the physician in.”

His tone had already softened.

Liu Cou promptly bent in acknowledgment, reading the emperor’s intention clearly. “This servant will go and summon a physician at once.”

He withdrew, and Anle’s eyes followed him all the way. She looked as though her very soul wanted to go with the physician, all the way to the Eastern Palace. Only when Liu Cou had retreated out of the palace hall did she reluctantly pull her gaze back. The worry on her face had not lifted, and yet she pressed on regardless, forcing a cheerful expression. “Father Emperor, have some tea. You’ve just had a coughing fit — wet your throat.”

She lifted a cup of hot tea and offered it.

Li Shu’s brow twitched again.

This was nothing like Anle’s usual manner at all. Anle was the sort to say whatever was in her heart, to let everything out the moment she felt it. She had never in her life had the look of forcing back words, of struggling to hold herself in.

And yet here she was — the worry written so plainly across her face, and still she refused to speak of it, straining against herself. And Father Emperor was not blind; he could see it all.

The effect, in fact, was all the more endearing.

There was clearly a shrewd mind guiding Anle from behind the scenes.

How to charm Emperor Zhengyuan. How to move him with family feeling. How to lay the groundwork — before the Crown Prince was ever pardoned — for the emperor to develop a store of goodwill toward the Crown Prince.

Li Shu pressed her fingers together again. And sure enough, she watched Emperor Zhengyuan take the offered tea but not drink it, watching instead as Anle struggled with visible effort to contain her worry. Emperor Zhengyuan finally sighed: “If you’re truly that worried, go after and take a look yourself — there’s no reason for the two of you siblings not to see each other. Go and keep your Crown Prince brother company; he’s been confined for nearly three months with no one to talk to. A visit from you will cheer him up, and that alone should help him get well sooner.”

Anle froze for a moment. Then she threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Emperor Zhengyuan’s arm, shaking it hard. “Thank you, Father Emperor!”

She pressed her face into the fabric of his sleeve, muffling her voice so that it came out low and thick, carrying in it something that sounded almost like weeping from overwhelmed joy.

She had waited so long, had coaxed and planned for so long, and at last Father Emperor had relented.