He had been on night watch duty until the latter half of the night before returning to his tent. He lay down and, perhaps due to exhaustion, fell asleep quickly.
Pu Zhu lay beside him, listening to his deep, steady breathing, turning over in her mind the few words he had said to her that evening. She drifted in and out of sleep, unable to find true rest, and rose with him at dawn to set out on the road.
The following day passed without any alarming incidents. After one night’s rest, on the second day of travel, they encountered a welcoming party led by Li Sida.
Li Sida was the second son of the old King of Que and Li Xuandu’s maternal uncle. Unlike Li Siye, Li Xuandu’s eldest maternal uncle who appeared to be a scholar, Li Sida was powerfully built — a man of martial bearing. Having successfully received his nephew, he was overjoyed. The moment they met, he looked Li Xuandu up and down, then gave him a heavy clap on the shoulder and laughed: “So many years without seeing each other — I was afraid I might not recognize the Fourth Prince. And yet I recognized you at a glance! How about it — does your uncle look older?”
Li Xuandu smiled. “Second Uncle is still as vigorous and valiant as ever — the foremost warrior of Que.”
Li Sida burst into hearty laughter and looked toward Pu Zhu, who stood behind Li Xuandu.
Pu Zhu had already discerned that this uncle and nephew pair shared a close bond, and that their reunion was free of stiff formality.
She stepped forward with a smile to pay her respects, addressing him as Second Uncle.
Li Sida gave a nod of approval. “A fine beauty — a perfect match for my nephew. Let us be on our way. Your maternal grandfather has been counting the days since he heard you were coming.”
The two parties merged their retinues and headed toward Que City. By dusk, they arrived before the city gates.
To call it a city gate was perhaps an understatement — it was more a formidable mountain pass, constructed between two soaring peaks that flanked it on either side. The terrain was supremely strategic, commanding the sort of position where one man could hold off ten thousand.
With such a natural barrier, it was no wonder Que had managed to survive and stand firm in the narrow space between the Di people and the Li dynasty.
The royal palace of Que had been built in imitation of the Li dynasty’s capital, positioned to the due north of the city. The old King of Que was of similar age to Jiang Shi — tall and imposing with sharp, bright eyes, yet gaunt and skeletal. The moment Pu Zhu saw him, she felt his color was not well; he had the appearance of someone gravely ill.
She dared not stare too long, and followed Li Xuandu in bowing respectfully before the Que King.
The old king strode forward quickly and raised Li Xuandu up himself, bidding Pu Zhu to rise as well. His two withered hands gripped his grandson’s arms with force, his eyes fixed upon him unblinking, murmuring “good, good” over and over while nodding continuously. Then he called loudly for a banquet to be prepared in welcome of his grandson. But before the words had fully left his mouth, a sudden violent cough seized him.
“Maternal Grandfather! Let your grandson escort you to rest first!”
Li Xuandu’s expression filled with worry as he turned to brace the old king.
On the road here, he had heard from Li Sida that his maternal grandfather’s old chest wound from past campaigns had flared up again, and that since last year his health had been deteriorating steadily.
“Father!”
Li Siye and Li Sida, standing nearby, cried out simultaneously and stepped forward to help support him.
The old king waved them away. He straightened his body and smiled at Li Xuandu. “It is nothing — just a few coughs. Your grandfather knows his own body. Do not let your uncles alarm you. Does a few coughs mean one must skip a meal? Besides, this is only a family banquet with no outsiders. Your grandfather wants to talk with Yuli’er.”
Li Xuandu had no choice but to comply and join the old king at the banquet.
Li Xuandu’s eldest maternal uncle, Li Siye, had lost his wife several years ago and had not remarried. It was the wife of his second maternal uncle, Li Sida — Madam Wu — who came to receive Pu Zhu. Madam Wu led her with a warm smile to a place of honor set especially for her. Before the row of maidservants, Pu Zhu noticed a beautiful woman dressed in green standing quietly, as though she had been waiting for some time. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with a smooth, delicate complexion, beautiful features, gentle eyes and brows, and a figure neither too slender nor too full. Pu Zhu immediately guessed this must be Li Xuandu’s cousin, Tanfang.
Indeed — the moment the woman saw Madam Wu leading Pu Zhu in, she came forward at once, called out “Aunt Wu,” then turned to Pu Zhu and bowed with a smile. “Are you the Princess Consort? My name is Tanfang, granddaughter of the King of Que. Knowing the Princess Consort would arrive today, I prepared this family welcome banquet together with my aunt. Please, Princess Consort, do come and take your seat.”
Her manner was respectful yet warm and natural. From the moment she opened her mouth, from her every gesture and movement, Pu Zhu sensed in her a kind of dignified grace.
This was a quality Pu Zhu could not acquire in two lifetimes. Because of what had happened to her after the age of eight, she had grown up warped.
When occasion demanded, she could put on such a manner — but it was always false. Not like Li Tanfang before her, whose bearing flowed effortlessly from every glance and gesture.
To be honest, on the road here today, Pu Zhu had harbored a quiet hope — that all the praise she had heard about Li Xuandu’s cousin was Luo Bao’s exaggeration or merely an offhand remark from Jiang Shi.
But now, having only just come face to face with Li Tanfang, she felt a deep sense of her own inadequacy rise up within her.
As the evening wore on, this feeling only grew stronger, and the meal became something of a torment.
She observed Li Tanfang covertly, straining to find some flaw.
There was none. Not the slightest.
Li Tanfang did not say a great deal — most of the time she simply followed Madam Wu’s lead in conversation — but when she did speak, her words were refined and carried a graceful, natural ease.
Before the welcome dinner had even ended, Pu Zhu found herself enveloped by a heavy gloom. She even had the feeling that Li Tanfang and Li Xuandu had been destined for each other from the beginning, and that she herself was a cuckoo who had stolen another bird’s nest.
No wonder Li Xuandu, in his fury that day, had said she was not even fit to carry Li Tanfang’s shoes.
Words spoken in a moment of lost control often reveal what lies truly in one’s heart. Take herself, for instance — she had called him petty and useless.
She had genuinely felt that way.
Li Xuandu must have felt the same. Those had been his true thoughts.
Even though he had later apologized for those words, the shadow in Pu Zhu’s heart had never fully lifted. And now, having seen Li Tanfang in person, that shadow in her heart grew even larger.
Her expression remained untroubled, but her spirits sank lower and lower. When the banquet ended, she thanked the two women, pleaded fatigue, and excused herself to rest.
Li Tanfang personally escorted her to her lodgings. She did not enter, but paused outside the courtyard with a smile. “Though Que is a small place — just this one city — there are a few spots with scenery worth seeing. Tomorrow is Grandfather’s birthday, so of course you will have no time. But afterward, if the Princess Consort has nothing pressing, you may call on me to serve as your guide. I would be glad to accompany you on a tour.”
Pu Zhu thanked her and invited her inside to sit and talk.
Li Tanfang smiled and declined gently. “It is already late, and besides the Princess Consort must be weary from the journey — I would not dare intrude further…”
She hesitated slightly, then added: “There is one last thing I wished to ask the Princess Consort — my elder brother’s heat illness, has it improved at all these past two years?”
Pu Zhu was startled.
The “elder brother” she referred to was naturally Li Xuandu. As Li Tanfang had no elder brother of her own, and the son of her uncle Li Sida was still only in his teens — younger than her.
But what was this “heat illness”? Did Li Xuandu have a heat illness?
Seeing that Pu Zhu had not responded, Li Tanfang quickly explained: “Please do not misunderstand, Princess Consort. When Elder Brother was imprisoned, he developed a heat illness and required snow toads as a medicinal ingredient. Our Que produces excellent snow toads — which is how I came to know of this. I was simply wondering whether Elder Brother’s condition has since recovered. I naturally hope he is well, but if he still needs snow toads, please do not hesitate to ask — I have a good supply on hand.”
Pu Zhu had no wish to let Li Tanfang know she was entirely ignorant of this matter. She responded vaguely, saying there was nothing serious.
“That is good.” Li Tanfang smiled and nodded. “I shall not disturb the Princess Consort further then. Please rest well.”
Li Xuandu had not yet returned.
Pu Zhu went inside, her energy completely depleted. She sat in a daze for a long while before lazily beginning to remove her makeup and bathe. At long last Li Xuandu returned, and she hurried to greet him.
He appeared to have drunk quite a bit — somewhat drunk — and was supported by Luo Bao as he stumbled in, then immediately collapsed and closed his eyes.
Luo Bao explained to Pu Zhu that his second uncle had plied him with a great deal of wine.
Pu Zhu waited until Luo Bao had finished removing Li Xuandu’s shoes and covering him with bedding, then immediately called him to the outer room and asked: “Did His Highness previously suffer from a heat illness? Has it healed?”
Luo Bao paused. He said nothing.
“Tell me quickly! What exactly is going on?” Pu Zhu pressed.
Unable to resist, Luo Bao finally spoke: “Does the Princess Consort remember the last autumn hunt, when you asked this servant to bring a charcoal brazier and this servant did not immediately comply? It was not that this servant deliberately showed disrespect to the Princess Consort — it is that His Highness has a hidden ailment: an internal fire that smolders and agitates. Even in the depths of winter, there is never a fire lit in his room — only thick bedcovers. Nothing more.”
“A few days ago when we set out, the inn room had a fire burning and the heat was excessive. His Highness was no doubt uncomfortable — which is why he went to sleep in the outer room.” He added this last part in a low voice.
Pu Zhu was astonished: “Such a thing? Why did you never tell me before?”
Luo Bao shrank a little: “The Princess Consort never asked… Besides, His Highness forbade this servant from mentioning it in the Princess Consort’s presence…”
Pu Zhu exhaled. “Why? When did he develop this ailment?”
Once started, the words could not be stopped. Saying one sentence was no different from saying ten. Luo Bao steeled himself and finally continued: “It was during the two years Prince Qin was imprisoned in Wuyou Palace. This servant is no physician, yet even I know that His Highness’s strange illness must be connected to that imprisonment. Surrounded by high walls on all sides, day after day, night after night — with his deep resentment and grief having nowhere to go. Consider what manner of free and passionate person His Highness had been before — to force him to swallow suffering no human being could endure — naturally the internal fire erupted. Once the fire erupted, external evils invaded the body. These past two years he has been better — only occasional discomfort. But before, it was true torment. Every time it flared up, it felt as if needles were piercing every inch of his body, the pain unbearable. He even ran barefoot through the snow at times to relieve the suffering…”
Luo Bao’s voice grew slightly choked.
Pu Zhu was stunned.
She had truly never imagined, not even in her wildest dreams, that Li Xuandu — always so proud and imperious in her presence — harbored such a strange hidden affliction and such a wretched past. She stood motionless for a moment. Then a thought struck her, and she pressed further: “If he was wrongfully accused, how did the Crown Prince Liang implicate him in the first place?”
Luo Bao wiped his eyes and was about to answer when a voice came from behind them, sharp with anger: “Insolent slave! What are you saying behind my back?”
Luo Bao turned — Prince Qin had actually awakened and was standing in the doorway, gripping the door frame, staring at him with a face full of fury. Alarmed, Luo Bao immediately fell to his knees: “Your Highness, please forgive this servant! This servant spoke out of turn just now — it will never happen again!”
Li Xuandu seemed genuinely furious — one could even hear the sound of his heavy breathing. He suddenly closed his eyes, appearing to feel ill. He bent over and retched violently.
Luo Bao scrambled up from the floor to attend to him. When the retching was done, he handed over a handkerchief and reached out to support him. He watched as His Highness wiped his mouth, threw the handkerchief aside with a grim expression, and without accepting Luo Bao’s help, turned and made his way unsteadily back inside. Luo Bao knew he had indeed provoked Prince Qin’s wrath by yielding to the Princess Consort’s questions, and was filled with both alarm and fear. He could only cast a pleading look toward the Princess Consort.
Pu Zhu composed herself, sent someone to clean up the mess on the floor and bring hot water, dismissed everyone, then returned to the inner room. She found Li Xuandu sprawled back on the bed, his back to her, his figure perfectly still.
She stood before the bed and gazed at him in silence for a moment.
When she had first heard, she had felt shock, felt pity for him. But now, thinking it over again, she felt regret. She blamed herself — since she had from the very beginning harbored the intention of drawing close to him, the sort of daily detail that she could have noticed with just a little more attention was something she had only learned here, through Li Tanfang’s lips.
She truly had been careless.
No wonder in his eyes she was not even fit to carry Li Tanfang’s shoes.
“Your Highness, are you feeling better?”
She composed herself and asked him softly. Seeing no response, she wrung out a warm towel and walked to his side, saying gently: “Let me wipe your face—”
She reached out to help him wipe his face, but then his hand suddenly flicked out and knocked the towel from her hand, sending it to the floor.
He turned over and sat up, fixing her with a stare, his eyes threaded with red. His tone was cold: “Pu Zhu, remember this from now on — my affairs are not your business to inquire into!” With that he put on his wooden sandals, got out of bed, and stumbled away on unsteady feet.