After Li Xuandu left, Pu Zhu gave herself over without distraction to the care of Li Tanfang. Remembering what the physician had said about these next few days being critical, she moved her from the front of the building to an inner room in the back quarters for more convenient treatment. She had the physician brought in blindfolded to remain on standby. Since Li Tanfang was unconscious and could not swallow on her own, Pu Zhu personally, together with A’mu, Nanny Wang, and the others, found ways to feed her the medicine a little at a time. Without interruption, they wrung out cold water-soaked cloths and wiped Li Tanfang’s body and pressed them to her forehead, to help bring down her temperature.

In agonizing suspense, three days passed — and Li Tanfang was still unconscious.

Pu Zhu grew increasingly anxious. That day, she stayed at the bedside for the entire day without moving, until deep in the night, when A’mu and Nanny Wang came to take over for the next shift and Nanny Wang quietly gestured toward the inner room.

Pu Zhu followed her gaze and saw it was Pu Zhu herself who was still sitting there, refusing to leave. Nanny Wang, full of concern, hurried over and gently patted her hand, signaling her to go rest, saying she would take the night watch herself.

Luo Bao had been keeping her company throughout, wanting to speak up long ago but not daring to. Seeing this, he nearly begged. “A’mu is right — the Princess Consort has been here since early this morning, and it is almost midnight. The Princess Consort is not made of iron either. This servant begs the Princess Consort — please go rest quickly!”

She was not unwilling to rest — only in a time like this, even if she were to lie down, she would not be able to sleep.

The physician had said the next day or two would be the most critical. In the evening, Li Tanfang’s high fever had seemed to come down a little — but she was still unconscious.

She was afraid. If Li Tanfang did not wake up and simply… passed away, how would she explain it to Li Xuandu when he returned?

She looked at the figure on the sickbed, rose, walked over, and was just about to reach out and feel her temperature again when she suddenly saw her lashes tremble faintly.

At first Pu Zhu thought she had imagined it. She fixed her gaze and looked again — and found that Li Tanfang’s eyelids were moving as well.

It was real. She was responding!

Li Tanfang, who had been asleep and unresponsive for three or four days, was finally reacting!

An almost ecstatic feeling swept rapidly up from the depths of Pu Zhu’s heart. She immediately told Luo Bao to go fetch the physician at once, then turned — and saw Li Tanfang on the pillow, brows faintly creased, head shifting slowly from side to side. She seemed deeply distressed, her whole being at ill-ease; one of her hands moved as well, as though she were trying to lift it — but in the end it fell back onto the bed, lacking the strength. Yet her fingers still grasped at the air, as though in the grip of a nightmare, desperately trying to seize hold of something.

Pu Zhu quickly leaned over and took hold of her hand.

Li Tanfang, as though sensing something even in her dream, immediately grasped Pu Zhu’s hand and let out a breath. Then her lips parted, and a low, murmuring, weeping sound came forth. “Elder Brother… Elder Brother… you have finally come to save me… I knew it… I knew you would not abandon me…”

Two glistening teardrops spilled from the corners of her eyes, tracing their way slowly down her gaunt cheeks.

The murmur was very low and faint, and somewhat indistinct — but in the deep stillness of the night, everyone in the room, including A’mu close by and Nanny Wang a little farther away, as well as the maidservants, all heard it clearly, and looked over with varying expressions.

Luo Bao had already reached the doorway, and abruptly stopped as well, turning his head quickly to glance at Pu Zhu.

Pu Zhu stilled, and tried to withdraw her hand.

The hand being held was hers — not the person in Li Tanfang’s dream.

But Li Tanfang was gripping her with tremendous strength. Those thin fingers, delicate as dried twigs in their frailty, somehow harbored such force that Pu Zhu could not pull free for the moment.

She quickly let it go. She allowed Li Tanfang to hold her hand, turned to look at Luo Bao, and signaled him to go summon the physician at once.

Luo Bao came back to his senses and rushed out.

Pu Zhu sat down naturally at the edge of the bed.

The room was very quiet. Apart from the sound of Li Tanfang’s rapid, labored breathing on the sickbed — which was clearly audible — Nanny Wang and the others all held their breath and kept silent.

After a moment, Li Tanfang’s nightmare seemed to have passed, and she finally came to herself. She slowly opened her eyes. After a period of vacant blankness, her gaze gradually came into focus, and at last landed on Pu Zhu’s face. She stared at her for a moment, then seemed to recognize her, and called out in a hoarse voice, “Princess Consort?”

Pu Zhu felt the fingers gripping her hand slowly loosen their hold. She drew her hand free, and smiled. “You are awake? You must be thirsty?”

She stood up and had someone bring water to give her to drink.

A’mu took the bowl from a maidservant’s hands, came to the bedside, and had the maidservant gently support the patient upright enough to make it easier to give her water.

But Li Tanfang did not respond.

She seemed to come fully to her senses. She pushed the maidservant away and tried to struggle into a sitting position herself, then, bracing herself, attempted to pay her respects to Pu Zhu. She breathed with effort. “Thank you, Princess Consort. It is because of me that the Princess Consort has been put to such trouble!”

Pu Zhu stood where she was and did not move. After A’mu had stopped her from paying her respects, she smiled. “You are Prince Qin’s cousin — like a younger sister to me. Looking after you is what I should do. The fact that you are awake is wonderful. Now you must rest your mind and recover from your illness. Getting your body well is what matters most.”

A’mu tried to feed Li Tanfang water, but she still did not respond. She turned to look around the room, as though she had remembered something; her eyes grew red and she seemed to want to say something but held back.

Pu Zhu continued, “Rest easy — Prince Qin set out several days ago to rescue your father and the others after bringing you back.”

Li Tanfang slowly lowered her head. At this point the physician came hurrying to the doorway and waited outside. A’mu finally managed to feed Li Tanfang a few sips of water, helped her tidy her clothes, and supported her as she lay back down, pulling the quilt over her. Then she called the physician in.

After examining her pulse and her appearance, the physician’s eyes showed relief. He said that the young mistress waking was already half the battle won; he advised her to continue taking the medicine and convalesce properly, resuming food gradually — she should have no further grave danger.

Pu Zhu, hearing this, let out a long, slow breath of relief.

Li Tanfang’s spirits were very low. The corners of her eyes were visibly dry then wet again, wet then dry again — she was clearly forcing back tears, unwilling to let them fall — a sign of a person who prided herself on her strength. Having fallen to such a state, she would not want to show too much weakness and distress in front of Pu Zhu. So it was better not to linger.

Pu Zhu offered her two more words of comfort, told her to rest and recover, and then left.

A’mu had stayed up with her for several nights running and was not young; she could not endure as Pu Zhu could. Pu Zhu did not ask her to keep the night watch. She personally walked her back to her room, told her to rest well, then sent Luo Bao off as well, and finally returned to her own quarters. She cleaned herself up briefly and lay down.

She too was utterly exhausted — yet this exhaustion still could not send her immediately to sleep.

She lay in the darkness, her heart still heavy, wondering where Li Xuandu was now, whether the road was safe and without incident.

The more she thought, the more she could not sleep. Finally she told herself to stop worrying and get to sleep quickly — but her thoughts would not obey, drifting again to the scene just before Li Tanfang had awoken.

She had meant nothing by it — it was just the unwitting revelation of a nightmare.

Pu Zhu felt that the pang in her heart at that moment had not been especially sharp. A dull, half-hidden ache within the numbness — as though a needle had swiftly jabbed her and then was gone, passing quickly.

Recalling it now, she did not feel it aching again either. Only a few threads of something like envy.

Li Tanfang trusted Li Xuandu so completely.

And Li Xuandu — he had indeed not let her down.

In the darkness of the night, she closed her eyes, pushed back the wave of stinging warmth that had risen in her own eyes, turned over, and fell asleep.

…

Under everyone’s careful attention, the wound on Li Tanfang’s neck and her gravely ill body gradually improved day by day. On this particular day, the physician was also sent away. Pu Zhu, as usual, came to the front hall to handle the day’s business.

After she sat down, the first thing she did was search through the letters at the head of the desk.

Ye Xiao, who had been ordered to stay behind and hold down the fort, would each morning place whatever messages and correspondence had arrived at the Protectorate here for her to review.

In order to receive timely news about Li Xuandu’s rescue operation, when he had departed she had dispatched a team of scouts to accompany him, with instructions to send at least one scout back every other day to relay the progress of that day’s developments.

For several days now, she had still not received any new information from Li Xuandu’s side.

The most recent report she had received had said he had led his forces out of the western regions and was entering the Kunling King’s territory.

Counting the days — if all went well, he should have passed through by now?

Pu Zhu searched through everything once and did not find the letter she was hoping to see. Her mood grew somewhat restless. She forced her mind to settle, dealt with the matters at hand, then stood and went out, intending to find Ye Xiao and ask him to dispatch another quick-moving scout to ride ahead and get news.

She crossed through the courtyard and was nearly at the doorway when she heard Luo Bao outside talking with someone. By his voice, that person was Zhang Zhuo.

Not long ago, after Zhang Zhuo had returned from fighting the Fox Chieftain, he had just learned that Prince Qin had already ridden out again with his forces, and he had missed going along. He was furious, and demanded to give chase.

In his own words, resting for two days left him with aching back and sore legs — only fighting kept him truly sharp. He could not miss any opportunity.

Pu Zhu had not allowed it, and so he came around every two or three days. He must be coming again now about the same matter.

Sure enough, Pu Zhu heard him ask whether she was in.

Luo Bao said outright that the Princess Consort was not in, and told him to leave. Zhang Zhuo did not believe it, tried to push inside, and was blocked by Luo Bao. “What is wrong with you? Did the Princess Consort not say — let you rest! Hurry up and leave, do not irritate the Princess Consort! She already has plenty on her mind!”

His tone was full of complaint.

Zhang Zhuo hesitated and stopped, muttering that he was so idle he was practically rotting.

Luo Bao said with a straight face, “If you’re rotting from idleness, go to the drill field! If not that, go help with the land reclamation! Stop bothering the Princess Consort!”

Zhang Zhuo glared at him, gave a grunt, and turned to leave. After a couple of steps, he suddenly remembered something, and turned back.

Luo Bao, seeing him return as though still unwilling to give up, was about to drive him off again when Zhang Zhuo pulled him into a corner.

Luo Bao let out a startled exclamation, shook off the hand gripping his arm, and said in displeasure, “You still will not leave? What is this? Acting all furtive!”

Zhang Zhuo’s expression was a little ambiguous. He quickly glanced around, and seeing no one, lowered his voice and asked, “What is the real relationship between that Que Kingdom young mistress and Prince Qin?”

Luo Bao immediately became guarded. “Naturally they are cousins. Why do you ask — what is your meaning?”

Zhang Zhuo shook his head. “I have also been hearing people talk these past two days. Everyone feels a great deal of sympathy for her. They say she is a woman of fierce spirit — that the day Prince Qin arrived, she had just barely escaped being violated, and she grabbed a knife herself and slashed her own neck. The blood was pouring out freely; afterward she clung to Prince Qin weeping, and he comforted her and bandaged her neck himself — all very moving. And not only that — they also say she and Prince Qin had an informal betrothal before? If Prince Qin had not been imprisoned later, she would already have been his woman. Now she has suffered such a close brush with disaster, and it just so happens that it was Prince Qin who rescued her — what a coincidence. Everyone is whispering privately that once Prince Qin rescues his uncle this time, good things will probably be close at hand — Prince Qin will be gaining Que Kingdom’s soldiers besides, and after that the situation would be like… I cannot quite make out all the terms — something about a flock of geese, I did not quite understand. But anyway, that is the general idea. The Princess Consort is understanding and magnanimous, so presumably she would also be willing…”

“Stop right there!”

Luo Bao’s expression had grown uglier and uglier. Before Zhang Zhuo had finished, he cut him off, and said angrily, “Zhang Right Commander, what are you — going around gossiping behind people’s backs like everyone else? You are always looking down on me, saying I am a woman. I think you are the one who is a gossip! Listen to what you are saying! And she would be willing! When Prince Qin comes back, go say one word like that in front of him and see what happens!”

Zhang Zhuo’s dark face instantly went red, and he defended himself. “I heard everyone talking like that and did not quite believe it — and I also felt it was unfair to the Princess Consort, working so hard to follow His Highness all the way here, and then out of nowhere another woman appears. So I came to ask you. If you do not want to tell me, forget it — I am leaving!”

He turned around, ready to leave in a huff. After two steps, he was pulled back.

“Come here!”

Luo Bao grabbed him. “Listen to me carefully. His Highness and the young mistress of the Li family are cousins — just cousins. What was there before was not a betrothal! There was no betrothal. It was only the late Emperor’s wishes — nothing more. I have served His Highness for many years and know everything clearly. His Highness and the young mistress of the Li family have no private feelings between them whatsoever. If there were any, he would have married her long ago — why would it wait until now? In His Highness’s eyes and heart, there is only the Princess Consort. Understood?”

Zhang Zhuo suddenly understood. He fumed, “So that is how it is! I understand now! Those gossips — they are clearly just idle and getting into trouble! Next time I hear them, not a single one will be left out — I will send every last one to go farm the land!”

Luo Bao urged him, “Go, go! Go give them a proper dressing down quickly, so they stop their wild talk and the Princess Consort does not have to hear it.”

Zhang Zhuo nodded, and left in a hurry, his footsteps pattering away into the distance.

Pu Zhu heard Luo Bao seem to walk back, and fearing an awkward encounter, quickly hid herself behind the door. She saw him peek his head in and scan the main hall, apparently assuming she was still inside working. He then tiptoed back out and resumed his post outside.

Pu Zhu stood in the corner, her back against the wall. She closed her eyes, drew in a long, slow breath, and waited for her composure to return. She was just about to go out and continue with her affairs when she heard the sound of footsteps again — this time it was Ye Xiao arriving. He asked Luo Bao whether she was in.

She immediately walked out. She saw that Ye Xiao’s expression was grave and he seemed to be struggling with something he was not saying. Her heart gave a start, and she asked, “What is it? Is there new information?”

Ye Xiao hesitated a moment, then nodded. “His Highness has been blocked on the road. The situation is somewhat unfavorable.”

The latest information that had been sent back said that after Li Xuandu entered the Kunling King’s territory, he encountered a force sent by the Kunling King up ahead, using the terrain to hold a pass and block him. In order to reach his uncle and the others as quickly as possible, Li Xuandu had temporarily changed plan and taken another route.

It was a treacherous route. He would have to lead his men over a snow-capped mountain range that stretched across their path. There the snow lay year-round; the dangers were numerous — avalanches, altitude sickness — and even a slight miscalculation could cost lives. Even the locals all spoke of it with dread and would not dare attempt the crossing lightly.

Pu Zhu called together everyone in the Protectorate from squad commander rank and above to meet in the main hall and discuss whether to immediately dispatch reinforcements.

When crossing the snow mountain, some people would suffer from “snow sickness” — meaning that at a certain altitude, breathing became difficult and movement became impossible, and if one pushed further on in that state, death was a possibility.

Li Xuandu, in making this decision, had also anticipated this situation, and had ordered those who could not make it through to turn back and return the way they had come.

That meant that in the end, if he successfully crossed, the forces he would have at his disposal would necessarily be somewhat diminished.

Zhang Zhuo was the first to stand up, saying he would select some men and ride ahead as a rear support force. Uychisu Shende, who had not been chosen by Li Xuandu before, also volunteered. The two were in mid-dispute when a young soldier standing watch at the door poked his head in and said that the young mistress of the Li family had come.

Pu Zhu was startled. She walked out and saw Li Tanfang standing at the foot of the steps in the courtyard.

Her body had slowly been improving these past days, but her illness was not yet fully healed. She stood at the base of the steps now, the wound on her neck — though covered as much as possible by her collar — still showing somewhat at the edge. Her neck was slender and fragile; her complexion pale with illness; and from that pale skin ran a livid, jagged scar. Yet rather than looking frightening, it stirred in the onlooker a feeling of tender pity.

She was also extremely thin now — thin as a willow branch, as though a breath of wind might topple her — but she refused to lean on a maidservant for support. Her eyes were bright, filled with determination. Seeing Pu Zhu come out, she greeted her, apologized for coming unannounced, and then asked directly, “Princess Consort, is there new information about my elder brother? What is the situation over there now?”

In the preceding days, progress had all been normal, and for her peace of mind during recovery, Pu Zhu had been having someone promptly relay the updates to her. After several days with no news, she had clearly not been able to lie still any longer, and had come over in person.

The people inside — Ye Xiao, Zhang Zhuo, Uychisu Shende, and the others — heard her voice and came out as well one by one.

Ye Xiao and Zhang Zhuo looked on without speaking.

Uychisu Shende felt deeply sympathetic toward her. Seeing her arrive, he quickly stepped up to persuade her. “The young mistress should go back and rest — the body comes first!”

Li Tanfang gave him a slight smile and thanked him softly, but did not leave, and looked toward Pu Zhu again.

Pu Zhu hesitated briefly, then relayed the news she had just received.

Li Tanfang, after hearing it, grew even paler. Her body swayed slightly; Uychisu Shende quickly steadied her with a hand.

After she regained her footing, she gently pushed aside Uychisu Shende’s hand and fell silent.

Pu Zhu was just about to have someone take her back, when she suddenly saw her raise her eyes and say, “Princess Consort — if the Protectorate is sending reinforcements, I must be counted among them! The Kunling King seeks to take our Que Kingdom’s forces, and he wants me to marry him — does he not? Once I return, if necessary, I am willing to agree. When the time comes, I will find an opportunity to act, and if I can help my elder brother even a little, that is worth something.”

Her voice was not loud, but her tone was resolute, and her gaze was fearless.

Uychisu Shende was rather taken aback. “The young mistress must not! That would be too dangerous — how is it any different from walking into the tiger’s mouth?”

Li Tanfang looked at Pu Zhu. “I am not afraid of death. In these past days I have felt a deep sense of regret. I should never have left my father to come here. If this time our father and the others cannot be rescued, and my elder brother is also dragged into it because of me — what face would I have to go on living alone?”

“I beg the Princess Consort to permit this!”

There was a glimmer of moisture in her eyes as she spoke, and after she had spoken, without a moment’s hesitation, she lifted her skirts and knelt down before everyone.

A hush fell over the surroundings.

Everyone looked at that figure kneeling at the foot of the steps — frail, yet unyielding — and could not help but show admiration in their eyes. Even Ye Xiao and Zhang Zhuo were somewhat moved.

Pu Zhu looked at Li Tanfang kneeling before her, and had Luo Bao go up to help her rise. Then she herself walked over to stand before her, and said, “You cannot go.”

Li Tanfang seemed about to argue further, but Pu Zhu cut her off.

“Your intention — His Highness will certainly understand it. But since he has risked everything to rescue you, how could he allow you to go and take a second risk?”

“Rest easy. Reinforcements will be sent from here. His Highness is under heaven’s protection, and will certainly turn every danger to his advantage and go forward without obstacle, bringing your father and your people back safely.”

“As long as he wills it, in this world, there is nothing he cannot do!”

She held Li Tanfang’s gaze — those eyes shimmering with unshed tears — and spoke with unwavering certainty.

Li Tanfang had no choice in the end but to accept this arrangement. She was sent back to the inner quarters. That evening, Zhang Zhuo also selected his men, prepared provisions, and rested for one night before setting out at the fifth watch the next morning.

That night, once again it was deep in the night, and Pu Zhu still had no desire to sleep.

She sat behind the desk in the front hall, facing a newly received urgent dispatch that had been made legible by holding it near a flame so the hidden characters slowly emerged. Her mind was in turmoil — a turmoil unlike anything she had felt before.

This was an urgent secret dispatch she had just received, sent from the Imperial Gardens Attendant in the capital. The news it contained was catastrophic.

Jiang Shi was critically ill and had little time left. The Imperial Gardens Attendant, fearing that after her death Emperor Li Chengyu might move against them, had taken the risk of sending someone to secretly relay this letter to them day and night, urging them to prepare and guard against trouble.

The letter was dated over a month ago.

That meant by now, Jiang Shi was very likely on the verge of death — or might already be gone.

Though the day she and Li Xuandu together had paid their farewell to Jiang Shi at the Penglai Palace and departed, Pu Zhu had known deep in her heart that this parting might be forever — that in this lifetime they might never meet again. But now, when such a catastrophic piece of news had truly arrived, when her mind’s eye conjured that moment of looking back as they left — Jiang Shi standing in the doorway at the back of the hall, smiling as she watched them go, raising her hand to wave them on their way — she could not hold back the tears. They fell, unstoppable, like broken strings of pearls, flowing unceasingly from her eyes.

First his maternal grandfather had been lost, and now — close on its heels — his grandmother too.

The passing of those dearest to him, and yet he could not be there to see them off in their final moments. Separating them was the distance of ten thousand rivers and mountains — and yet more than ten thousand rivers and mountains, there was also suspicion and hatred.

What could be sadder and more painful than this?

If Li Xuandu knew of this news, his grief and pain would cut far more deeply than hers.

In the beginning, it was only under compulsion that Li Chengyu had allowed Li Xuandu to leave the capital. Once Jiang Shi passed away, Li Chengyu could use the pretext of summoning him back to the capital to observe mourning as an excuse to send someone to replace Li Xuandu — and in doing so, not only seize Li Xuandu’s achievements and accomplishments in the western regions, but also place a tether around his head.

This was a shackle that bore the name of righteousness and justice.

They could not refuse to return. To refuse was to be unfilial, to be suspect in one’s intentions — grounds for a charge of harboring ambitions to be leveled against them at any time.

But if they returned, it would be walking straight into the trap. Li Chengyu had countless means with which to deal with him.

No matter how she looked at it, it was a dilemma — and moreover, now that Jiang Shi was gone, whatever her funeral rites — unless they were refused permission to return to the capital — as the grandson Jiang Shi had loved most dearly in her life, Li Xuandu’s heart would compel him: even knowing the road ahead was a trap, how could he bring himself to decisively not return?