What was right, what was wrong, what was for the public good, what was for private gain — she had always been entirely clear on these things.

Her grandfather had been loyal even at the cost of his life; her father had left his bones buried on the frontier beyond the passes. She was a daughter of the Pu family. No matter how stubborn or obdurate one might be, one had only to look at her grandfather and her father, and one would understand.

But knowing and doing are two different things.

From the moment she had opened her eyes in this lifetime, she had told herself to act in accordance with her heart. Whether it was walking the same path as her previous life at the very beginning, or scheming against Li Xuandu afterward — it had all been thus.

Her heart revered her grandfather and her father, but it kept telling her, again and again, that she did not want to be a person like them.

Act in accordance with her heart, and her heart would be at peace.

So she had believed she was already prepared — prepared to pay whatever necessary price for what she desired. Including, for instance, her conscience.

She had quietly been anticipating the great plague of the sixth year of the Xiaochang reign for a long time now. But when this day truly arrived and it was about to come — her heart grew uneasy. This unease could not be resolved; no amount of reasoning could quiet it for herself. In the end, she had almost been unable to face her father’s cenotaph.

Just that very morning, when Tongzhou — that place — was about to be left behind her, she finally stopped.

Only when the moment arrived did she understand: in truth, this was very hard. Truly very hard. Her heart was not like what she had imagined it to be in those earlier days — calmly prepared to truly disregard all of this.

Not knowing was one thing. Knowing clearly, and yet turning a blind eye — this was a price she could not bear.

Watching the figure of Ye Xiao hurrying away, Pu Zhu suddenly felt something like the lightness of release.

Even if the hope was slim, she had to make every effort. Not for any other reason — this too was acting in accordance with her heart. Her heart, as it stood right now.

Seeking peace of mind. That was all.

She settled in at the relay station to wait for news from Ye Xiao.

Ye Xiao did not disappoint her. Within a few days he had found that physician Wu and brought him before her.

Wu Zhilin was younger than Pu Zhu had imagined — dressed in plain cloth with sandals of straw, his features lean and gaunt, his eyes bright and sharp. But when he was brought in, he was dusty from the road and his expression carried a trace of agitation. The moment he opened his mouth, he asked what matter the princess consort wanted with him. If it was to treat an illness, he was no more than a wandering physician and could not treat the ailments of noble persons; he asked her to please release him promptly, as he had another matter of vital importance to attend to and could not afford to be delayed.

Clearly, he had been tracked down by Ye Xiao and brought here by force. His tone was blunt.

His words made Pu Zhu’s heart grow suddenly apprehensive.

Could it be that the epidemic was coming faster than she had imagined, and had already begun?

Ye Xiao was displeased and was about to reprimand him for his boldness and disrespect, when Pu Zhu stopped him, and asked: “What do you mean by that? What important matter do you have?”

Wu Zhilin said: “I fear there will be a great plague in this area. If it spreads, the consequences will be too terrible to contemplate.” He pointed at the scarred, dark-faced man beside him. “But he forcibly abducted me and brought me here! I say the same thing again: if the princess consort needs treatment, please seek out a renowned physician. Do not let me delay matters!”

Pu Zhu’s anxiety deepened, and she pressed on: “You just said there will be a great plague in this area? Have you already encountered patients?”

Wu Zhilin was inwardly urgent, but the young and beautiful woman before him was a person of high status, and he dared not offend her too much. Seeing genuine concern in her expression, he nodded and, with patience, explained: “My family is originally from Jiangnan — for generations we have practiced medicine. When I was young, an epidemic spread through our home village. The patients showed symptoms similar to typhoid. My father treated it as typhoid, but the medicines had no effect and many of the villagers died. In the end, even my father unfortunately contracted the disease and passed away. Before he died, he said this was a pestilential illness — one person infects ten, ten infect a hundred; it cannot be treated by ordinary methods. I have never dared forget my late father’s dying words. In all these years wandering the land, I have made a special study of pestilential illness, and have personally lived through various large and small outbreaks. I have acquired some understanding of it. Hearing last year that Tongzhou had suffered severe flooding, I feared there might be an epidemic in its wake, so I hurried there a few days ago to investigate all around. Regrettably, it was exactly as I had feared — several villages in Gaoxian County already have sick people. For some inexplicable reason, a large group of people have fallen ill, and in just seven or eight days, ten-odd people have died…”

Once again his face showed urgency, and he cupped his hands: “I respectfully implore the princess consort to release me as quickly as possible.”

Ye Xiao finally found an opening to interject with a cold snort: “When I tracked you down, were you not being chased away by the villagers? If I had not rescued you, you might well have been stoned by them!”

“What happened?” Pu Zhu asked in surprise.

Wu Zhilin showed a helpless expression: “The villagers believe it is the work of spirits and demons. They have called in a shaman to perform rituals and will not listen to me.”

“In your view, what should be done?”

“To suppress this epidemic, two things are indispensable: first, isolate the patients, cover mouths and noses with cloth, second, use the right medicines — one cannot do without the other.”

“Since you know this is a pestilential illness that may spread widely and cannot be stopped by your efforts alone — why have you not gone to report to the authorities? As long as the authorities issue orders, the villagers will naturally comply.”

Wu Zhilin said: “A few days ago I went and sought an audience with the local county magistrate, laid out the dangers clearly — but the county official was convinced it was an ordinary case of typhoid. Not only would he not listen, he also scolded me for spreading alarmist talk and acting with ulterior motives. I am rushing back because I want to go and seek an audience with the prefectural official, to make my case clearly. This illness is dangerous. Right now it is still confined to those few villages, but if it is not dealt with quickly, I fear it will not be long before it spreads beyond the county. Once it escapes the county, with the weather growing warmer, the consequences will be unimaginable!”

The expression on Ye Xiao’s face was gradually becoming grave as well.

Pu Zhu said: “I will go with you at once, and we will see the county magistrate together!”

Wu Zhilin was momentarily taken aback, then was overjoyed.

Pu Zhu made brief preparations, brought Ye Xiao and the rest of her attendants, and immediately set out for Gaoxian County, arriving the next day. The county magistrate, learning that Princess Consort of Qin had come on imperial orders to pay her respects at her ancestral grave, and had specifically come because of the illness afflicting villagers in his jurisdiction — though she was not his superior, he still dared not offend her. He hurried out to receive them.

Wu Zhilin once again laid out the situation in detail. Beyond the two measures he had proposed, he also put forward another concern: he believed it was very likely that among the other county residents, some had already fallen ill without yet being discovered. He proposed sealing the county town as well — not allowing anyone to enter or leave freely. Furthermore, the sick were growing in number daily, and he could not manage alone; he asked the county magistrate to quickly conscript as many physicians as possible to deal with the crisis together.

When the county magistrate heard that the town would need to be sealed, a look of difficulty immediately crossed his face. But seeing the princess consort watching him steadily, he hurriedly said: “It was an oversight on this official’s part beforehand. The matter of sealing the county — this official is also willing to comply, but it is no small matter. This official must first report upward to my superiors. I ask the princess consort to please be understanding.”

Pu Zhu understood the rules of official protocol and instructed him to report as quickly as possible.

The county magistrate agreed in a fawning manner, and then dispatched yamen runners to accompany Wu Zhilin to those few villages, ordering the villagers not to leave privately, and treating the sick on the spot according to Wu Zhilin’s methods.

No one understood better than Pu Zhu what the consequences might be if this matter got out of hand.

After coming out, she pondered the county magistrate’s manner: though he had agreed to first seal those few villages, and kept talking about strict precautions and waiting for word from above before sealing the county — his expression had clearly shown that he was indifferent about sealing the county. But Wu Zhilin was very insistent, believing it was absolutely necessary.

She trusted Wu Zhilin, and felt very uneasy about this county magistrate. But if she were to go directly to the prefectural authority to negotiate, her status was not appropriate for it.

She was no more than someone who had returned home on imperial orders to pay respects at an ancestral grave. The title of princess consort was prestigious and distinguished — but that was all it was. Those local high-ranking officials each had their own backing, and they could not be handled so easily as this county magistrate.

This matter was of no small consequence. Since she had decided to intervene, she would rather prepare as thoroughly as possible. Moreover, with her previous life as a reference — even with Wu Zhilin running about and crying out the alarm early, the epidemic had still escaped containment. Now, rather than sitting and waiting for these local officials of mixed quality to take action, it was better to trust in the court itself.

Throughout history, there had only been local areas that bungled a response to a pestilential illness — never a court that turned a complete blind eye. Her previous life was proof of this: the court had relied on the court’s full-force intervention to gradually bring that plague under control and finally end it.

What she could do on this end, she had already done her utmost.

She came out and made her decision: she would rush back to the capital as quickly as possible and report the situation there.

Wu Zhilin’s face lit up with emotion: “The princess consort is magnanimous and generous. I had truly no eyes to see before, and my words were disrespectful in many ways — I beg the princess consort’s forgiveness!”

Pu Zhu said: “It is you who, disregarding your own safety, came to save lives — that is what is truly generous and magnanimous. I have done no more than lend my small effort. Please, Physician Wu, do your best to maintain the situation here first, to prevent the epidemic from spreading rapidly. I will set out immediately.”

Wu Zhilin bowed deeply: “I respectfully send the princess consort on her way! Wu will devote every last effort, and await the princess consort’s news!”

Pu Zhu set out that very day, traveling almost day and night without rest. In just seven or eight days she had covered half the journey. On this particular night, deep in the night, the group stopped to rest at a relay station along the way.

The station master, upon learning her identity, was deeply respectful. He personally led her through a long corridor and arranged for her to stay in a small courtyard at the back — saying this was a quiet place specially reserved for distinguished guests.

After Ye Xiao had inspected the place and arranged the night watch, Pu Zhu settled in simply.

The daytime travel was exhausting. She sent Luo Bao and the others to go rest at the front of the station and get some sleep — they would need to set out early again in the morning.

She lay on the relay station’s bed, massaging her own calves — which had grown sore and swollen from riding in the carriage for hours on end without a break — mentally calculating how many more days it would take to reach the capital, also worrying about the situation on Wu Zhilin’s side, wondering if Gaoxian County had been sealed as he had recommended. Her thoughts turning, they came to Li Xuandu.

Under his escort, Huaiwei had rushed home in haste. By now, had they arrived at Yinyue City?

Thinking of Yinyue City, she thought again of that hidden and profound love between the Grand Princess and Jiang Yi.

Though her body was exhausted, she could not fall asleep for a long time. She tossed and turned for a good while, and only in the second half of the night did she begin to drift off fitfully.

All was still. The relay station was pitch dark, and nearly everyone had fallen into deep sleep. The night seemed like an enormous, gaping maw, ready at any moment to devour everything.

Pu Zhu’s sleep grew more and more restless.

She felt as though the surroundings were growing gradually hotter, and her breathing seemed to grow difficult. Already sleeping lightly, she woke up quickly from her dream. In a daze, she saw a red glow beyond the window, and the room was filled with smoke — more smoke was continuously seeping in through the gaps in the doors and windows.

Fire!

She was greatly alarmed and snapped fully awake. She wrapped a garment around herself, climbed down from the bed, covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, rushed to the door, reached out and pulled at the bolt — only to find the door would not open, as though something outside were blocking it.

She tried the window — the window would not push open either.

“Help —”

She called out toward the outside. Just as she opened her mouth, she inhaled a mouthful of smoke and was sent into a violent fit of coughing.

In the next room slept Nanny Wang and a few maidservants. They must have been too exhausted from the day’s travel and sleeping too deeply — at this moment there was still not the slightest sound from them.

Pu Zhu could not make a sound, but she knew she had to get out as quickly as possible, otherwise — even if she was not burned to death — she would very soon be suffocated by this thick smoke.

She held her breath, her eyes streaming tears the smoke had wrung from them, seized a stool, and with all her strength slammed it against the window again and again. After seven or eight blows, she finally smashed through the window frame, and scrambled out with hands and feet, tumbling to the ground outside — and the pain was considerable.

But at least she could finally breathe. She raised her head, and saw that the entire courtyard was on fire.

Gusts of wind fanned towering tongues of flame over a dozen feet high, devouring everything around, the scorching heat pressing in on her.

There was no time for fear. Pu Zhu steadied herself against the wall — already hot to the touch — stood up, rushed to the neighboring room, and beat frantically at the door and window, which was also bolted from the outside.

The people inside seemed to finally wake up one by one, letting out a burst of cries and coughs. One maidservant seemed to have already fainted in her sleep.

At that moment, Ye Xiao and several other guards came crashing through the burning courtyard gate from outside, and rushed to her side. One kick and the door flew open.

Nanny Wang and the maidservants, coughing, came stumbling and staggering out. One maidservant’s clothes had already caught fire — she cried and screamed for help.

Ye Xiao commanded the guards to lead everyone to safety, while he himself wrapped a wet cloak over Pu Zhu’s head and face, covering her completely, and led her at a run to break through the fire gate, dashing forward.

Once outside, Pu Zhu realized that the rear courtyard of the relay station seemed to have caught fire at multiple points simultaneously — in every direction, they were trapped in a sea of flames. Many people who had just woken from sleep were fleeing in disarray, their clothing in disorder. The sounds of weeping and screaming were incessant; chaos reigned all around.

Passing through that corridor ahead — already ablaze — was the front hall.

Ye Xiao once more told her to keep her head and face covered, and then with a wet garment shielding himself, he led her forward again through the burning corridor. Just as they were about to break through the fire corridor, suddenly, a crossbeam above their heads came crashing down.

“My Lady, watch out!”

Ye Xiao gave a great shout, shoved her aside with both hands, and with his own shoulders and back took the full force of that crossbeam — thick as a man’s thigh. Pu Zhu heard him give a muffled grunt; his figure swayed, and he collapsed to the ground.

The back of his head seemed to have been struck. Blood was flowing freely. The burning crossbeam rolled further and came to rest on top of his back.

Pu Zhu was horrified. She called his name several times, saw him struggle weakly, as though trying to push the burning beam off his back, but unable to budge it. Finally he only raised his head, looked at her, and said: “My Lady, go quickly! Get to the front! I won’t die…” His voice trailed off before he finished, and he lost consciousness.

He had been injured precisely because he was protecting her. The man was still lying there pinned under the burning beam, his head split and bleeding, his clothes already catching fire. If she simply left him, he would most likely be burned alive.

Pu Zhu scrambled to her feet. She tore off her wet cloak, wrapped it around her hands, rushed over, and with all her strength tried to lift the burning beam. But it was far too heavy. With her strength alone, she could not budge it at all — the beam remained on top of Ye Xiao, completely unmoved.

Very quickly, even through the wet cloak, her hands began to feel the searing heat.

She was forced to give up.

“Help —”

She looked around in all four directions and cried out in despair — called out several times. Then suddenly she saw, from the direction of the front hall, a figure come running toward her.

That person rushed swiftly through the surrounding sea of fire toward her, threw a wet garment he was holding over her head, and then grabbed her by the arm and walked forward.

Firelight blazed all around, illuminating that person’s face.

It was Shen Yang!

Pu Zhu had no idea how he came to be here at this moment, but no matter who had come at a time like this — it was like a lifeline.

She cried: “Save him quickly —”

Shen Yang at first seemed not to hear, and continued dragging her forward, moving steadily ahead.

Pu Zhu was being dragged along, forced to stumble forward several steps. She turned her head and looked at Ye Xiao, whose entire back was by now almost entirely engulfed in flames, and screamed in a hoarse voice: “Please save the man for me! I beg you —”

Shen Yang finally stopped. He looked at her, frowned, pulled her to a place where there was no fire, told her not to come near, turned and looked once more at the fire behind them, hesitated for a moment, then, his expression dark, wrapped himself in a wet garment, and with clenched teeth ran back toward that burning beam. When he reached it, he bent down, clasped the burning wood in his arms, and with a tremendous effort heaved it aside. He then dragged the already unconscious Ye Xiao clear, and said, gasping for breath: “Move quickly! Get to the front! This whole place is about to burn down!”