Once New Year’s Eve passed and the new year arrived, it was time for national celebration. Emperor Zhengyuan hosted a banquet for all officials, yet that very night, he had one of the medical directors from the Imperial Medical Bureau beaten to death.

“You incompetent physicians! All incompetent physicians!”

Liang Shenfu, the Chief Supervisor of the Palace Attendants Bureau, walked with his hands tucked in his sleeves, bowing as he climbed the white jade steps through wind and snow. He saw the medical directors from the Imperial Medical Bureau kneeling from inside the hall all the way outside. Between the crisp sounds of shattering porcelain cups inside the hall came Emperor Zhengyuan’s furious roars.

When the Son of Heaven grows angry, it’s like thunder descending from the heavens.

Both Liang Shenfu and the medical directors from the Imperial Medical Bureau prostrating outside trembled in their hearts. But Liang Shenfu had served beside the emperor for many years. He knew that if he didn’t go in now to console His Majesty, the entire Imperial Medical Bureau would likely end up like that medical director named Nie Xiang.

Liang Shenfu hurried into the hall, lifting the long curtain to enter. He saw Emperor Zhengyuan’s forehead covered in sweat, one hand supporting himself on the edge of the bed, his complexion ashen, coughing incessantly. Liang Shenfu immediately stepped forward to gently pat the emperor’s back: “Your Majesty, anger harms the body. Please take care of your sacred health…”

“Where is Nie Xiang?”

Emperor Zhengyuan’s voice was hoarse from coughing.

“Already beaten to death.”

As soon as Liang Shenfu said this, the Director of the Imperial Medical Bureau and the other medical directors outside the long curtain felt their hearts and gall bladders shatter, their bodies prostrating even lower.

“I only ask, do you all agree with what Nie Xiang said?”

Emperor Zhengyuan’s voice was heavy.

“Your Majesty…”

Everyone’s voices trembled, but they all remained prostrate on the ground. “This subject is terrified!”

None of them knew what Emperor Zhengyuan wanted to hear at this moment. They could only pray for the emperor’s mercy with this frightened demeanor, while cursing that Nie Xiang in their hearts. Words like “His Majesty can no longer have heirs”—as subjects, who would dare speak them? But Nie Xiang, having drunk a few too many cups of wine, had revealed the truth before His Majesty.

“Your Majesty, how can changes in the pulse be determined by man? This slave believes that Nie Xiang must have been drunk and made an incorrect diagnosis. The Imperial Medical Bureau gathers famous physicians from across the realm. Nie Xiang is only in his twenties—his temperament naturally carries some of the arrogance and rashness of youth… How could he compare to these esteemed gentlemen in the Imperial Medical Bureau with their deep experience?”

Liang Shenfu carefully offered his words. “Moreover, the new year has just begun, and Your Majesty is currently observing purification rituals…”

His words stopped at just the right point, yet made everyone from the Imperial Medical Bureau outside the long curtain weep with gratitude. They wished they could retrieve this life today and tomorrow send this Eunuch Liang ten complete great tonic pills or some such wonderful thing that could extend his years and prolong his life.

But Liang Shenfu wasn’t actually speaking on behalf of the Imperial Medical Bureau. Rather, when the emperor was in a rage, he needed a way out. Emperor Zhengyuan couldn’t truly execute everyone in the Imperial Medical Bureau at this time—otherwise, Nie Xiang’s diagnosis would become impossible to contain, further damaging His Majesty’s dignity.

Indeed, Liang Shenfu’s words made Emperor Zhengyuan suddenly fall silent. Seeing the emperor wave his hand, Liang Shenfu immediately turned back and said: “Gentlemen, why don’t you withdraw quickly?”

The emperor’s fury gradually subsided. Everyone immediately kowtowed heavily, then dragged their weak legs, wiping cold sweat while respectfully withdrawing from Qinghe Hall.

Silence fell in the hall. Emperor Zhengyuan lay back on the couch, rubbing his eyelids.

“What Nie Xiang said must not be spread.”

“This slave understands.” Liang Shenfu responded softly.

Whether Nie Xiang’s diagnosis was true or false—actually, when Emperor Zhengyuan saw the reactions of these medical directors from the Imperial Medical Bureau, he had already understood most of it in his heart.

He was now approaching sixty years of age.

Previously, he and the Empress had given birth to a son who was enfeoffed as Prince An, but unfortunately, the child had died before reaching three years old.

In those years, Emperor Zhengyuan had painstakingly used the name of new policies to actually consolidate power, precisely to prevent remonstrating officials who loved to stir up trouble from daring to coerce the sovereign in pursuit of a reputation for uprightness.

Yet in his twilight years, even these medical directors from the Imperial Medical Bureau no longer dared to honestly report his condition.

Qinghe Hall was warm and cozy, yet Emperor Zhengyuan suddenly sighed: “Liang Shenfu, I… feel a bit cold.”

Liang Shenfu immediately ordered people to enter the hall and add charcoal. Yet in his heart, he understood where His Majesty’s cold came from. In previous years, at least there had been Consort Wu by His Majesty’s side showing care and concern. Now His Majesty had grown weary of Consort Wu’s constant weeping and refused to see her.

“Your Majesty, Prince Jia has submitted a memorial inquiring after your health.”

Liang Shenfu recalled something he had seen while organizing memorials. He walked to the imperial desk, picked up a memorial, and carefully presented it before Emperor Zhengyuan.

Prince Jia?

Emperor Zhengyuan slowly opened his eyes. His gaze fell upon that memorial.

Liang Shenfu waited for a long while without seeing His Majesty reach out to take it. Cold sweat gradually formed on his forehead, but then he heard His Majesty say abruptly: “Summon Pei Zhiyuan to the hall to draft an edict—tell Prince Jia to return to the capital.”

With one sentence from Emperor Zhengyuan, Pei Zhiyuan, Secretariat Drafter and Editor of Imperial Edicts, entered the palace that very night to draft the decree.

Prince Jia had resided at the Tongzhou palace for fourteen years. Tongzhou wasn’t too far from the capital. After the imperial edict was rushed to Tongzhou by fast horses, Prince Jia and his wife set out on their journey. When they arrived in the capital, it happened to be the Lantern Festival.

Imperial guards provided escort, carriages rumbling.

“Your Highness’s palms are covered in cold sweat.”

Inside the carriage, Princess Jia, approximately thirty-some years old with a sickly appearance that didn’t diminish her refined elegance, held her husband’s hand.

“Xizhen, I don’t know if abandoning our former peace was right or wrong.”

Prince Jia wore fine brocade robes, yet his expression was confused.

“Was that former peace truly peace? Your Highness’s heart has never been at peace.” Princess Jia gently patted the back of his hand. “I heard your teacher has wandered for fourteen years and is now covered in injuries and illness, yet he’s still willing to return. Could it be that Your Highness still wishes to remain content in your corner?”

When Prince Jia heard her mention his teacher, his heart filled with even more mixed emotions. “Yes, no matter what, I should return to see my teacher.”

The carriage entered the palace and stopped outside Yongding Gate. Liang Shenfu, accompanied by palace attendants and maids, had been waiting here for some time. He first bowed to Prince Jia and his wife, then said: “His Majesty has been waiting for Your Highness for quite some time.”

Only mentioning “Your Highness” and not mentioning Princess Jia meant he would only see Prince Jia.

“Your Highness, go. I’ll wait for you.”

Princess Jia gazed at him with gentle eyes.

Prince Jia’s throat went dry, but he said nothing and followed Liang Shenfu’s lead forward. Though he had been away from this imperial city for fourteen years, Prince Jia was not unfamiliar with the routes. When he realized Liang Shenfu had taken a detour, he looked up through the snow-covered branches and saw a pavilion.

Zhaowen Hall.

Prince Jia’s pupils contracted. He immediately withdrew his gaze, his entire body tensing up. The cold in his heart intensified, and in that instant, he understood that this route must have been by imperial decree.

Walking up the white jade steps and entering Qinghe Hall, Prince Jia bowed, but on the mirror-bright floor, he saw his own face showing some panic. He immediately composed his expression: “This subject pays respects to Your Majesty.”

“Why don’t you call me Father?”

From within the long curtain came Emperor Zhengyuan’s flat voice. “Or do you blame me for sending you to Tongzhou?”

“Yonggeng wouldn’t dare. Yonggeng’s princess consort has a weak constitution. When Father sent Yonggeng and his wife to Tongzhou to recuperate, Yonggeng was grateful in his heart.” Prince Jia immediately knelt down.

Prince Jia heard some rustling sounds from inside, followed by very light footsteps. A hand lifted the curtain, and Emperor Zhengyuan, wearing a crimson inner robe, looked down at him.

Prince Jia watched the floor reflect the emperor’s robes. Then those legs drew closer and closer to him before suddenly stopping. Prince Jia immediately looked up.

“I have had difficulty with heirs. You displayed exceptional talent even as a child. When your father—my own younger brother, Prince Gong—passed away, I listened to the court officials’ counsel and adopted you into my line, enfeoffing you as Prince Jia…” Emperor Zhengyuan seemed to be reminiscing about the past, but his words suddenly took a sharp turn. “At that time, you studied with Xu Hexue in Zhaowen Hall in the palace. Today, did you see Zhaowen Hall? Has it changed at all?”

Xu Hexue—this name was finally mentioned.

Prince Jia’s knuckles curled beneath his sleeves. He immediately lowered his head, but felt Emperor Zhengyuan’s gaze constantly falling upon him. Then came a casual remark: “The scar on your forehead is still there.”

The scar was close to his hairline. Unless one looked closely, it actually wasn’t very obvious.

“Father!”

Prince Jia cried out, not daring to raise his head.

How had the scar on his forehead come about? Fifteen years ago, outside Qinghe Hall, he had kowtowed again and again to protect Xu Hexue’s life. A year later, he had kowtowed again outside Qinghe Hall for his teacher Zhang Jing and Vice Chancellor Meng Yunxian.

That’s why this scar was so deep, difficult to fade even after many years.

“Yonggeng, it doesn’t matter if this old scar can’t fade. But tell Father—how do you think of him now in your heart?”

Who “he” was went without saying.

Prince Jia knew that at this moment, the sovereign wasn’t merely asking how he thought of Xu Hexue, but whether he was willing to acknowledge that imperial decree from fifteen years ago.

His fingers curled tightly. His own face reflected on the floor seemed about to be twisted by emotions difficult to contain, but he bit down hard on his teeth, enduring the dense needle-like pain in his heart, his throat tight:

“Father, you once said he put family before nation, was a treasonous corrupt official, a calamity for Great Qi… his crimes were unforgivable and deserved the death of a thousand cuts.”

“Yonggeng and he—are no longer close friends.”

These words cut to the heart and pierced the bone. Prince Jia’s muscles and bones trembled beneath his robes and cap. Emperor Zhengyuan’s hand lightly patted his shoulder, immediately making Prince Jia’s entire body stiffen.

“Yonggeng, don’t return to Tongzhou just yet. Stay in the palace for some time.”

——

Xu Hexue sat beneath the eaves corridor. The pages of the book on his lap were blown into disarray by the wind. He pressed down with one finger and raised his head to look up at the roof tiles above. The twilight sunlight was very faint.

“Ni Su, it’s getting dark.”

He said.

“Can’t you see clearly? I’ll go light the lamps.” Ni Su was sewing clothes. She bit off a thread at the sleeve cuff, and hearing his words, supported herself on the table corner to stand with one hand.

Xu Hexue was startled. His clear, cold eyes moved slightly as he turned his head back: “No.”

“I can still see clearly. It’s just that you’ve been sewing for a long time—it will hurt your eyes.”

“Ah,”

Ni Su glanced at the courtyard—the light wasn’t too dim yet, so she wasn’t in a hurry to light the lamps. She simply took out the garment from the winnowing basket and shook it out. Smooth satin, snow-white color. “Look, I’ve finished it.”

“When I was making this garment, I was thinking what color inner robe you should wear underneath to look even better. I thought about it for a long time and still feel red would suit you very well.”

Ni Su turned over the fabric scraps and pulled out a cinnabar red inner robe from underneath—a very simple crossed-collar style with almost no decorative patterns.

“Go try it on quickly.”

The injuries on Ni Su’s body hadn’t fully healed yet, but she had refused Cai Chunxu’s kind offer. Before New Year’s Eve, she had sent Yumen and the others back to the Grand Commandant’s residence. Only she and Xu Ziling remained here, so she pushed him toward the room across the way.

After stuffing him into the room, Ni Su closed the door. Looking at the snow in the courtyard that had been neglected in cleaning, she picked up a broom and shuffled down to sweep back and forth.

After sweeping for just a while, she felt somewhat warm and her lower back hurt more. Straightening her body, Ni Su turned to look at that door: “Xu Ziling, are you done?”

Almost as her words fell, that door opened.

When cutting the fabric, Ni Su had imagined what that satin would look like on him—like clear frost and white moon. Yet imagination could never compare to this one glance.

The round-collared robe’s light gold hidden patterns shimmered faintly like fish scales in the sunlight. The cinnabar red collar at his neck was brilliantly colored. A silk sash of the same color bound his narrow, trim waist, adorned with a few golden beads that swayed in the wind.

Clean, refined bone structure. Bearing like clear wind and bright moon. Yet compared to elegant scholars, his form seemed more upright and straight, revealing a kind of firm coldness fused into his very bones.

It was a sharpness that contradicted the subtle, profound elegance of scholars.

But Ni Su couldn’t discern where exactly this sharpness of his came from.

Ni Su tossed down the broom and wiped the loose hair by her cheek with the back of her hand. “Though this gift is somewhat late, at least it’s now on you.”

Indescribable emotions roiled in his desolate chest. Xu Hexue was grateful that being a ghost spirit meant he couldn’t easily display emotions like ordinary people. He could even sound calm while saying very seriously:

“Thank you.”

“How will you thank me?”

Ni Su shuffled slowly, walking to the bottom of the steps.

Xu Hexue heard her voice and lightly raised his eyelashes. Perhaps because she had swept snow for a while, her fair cheeks had taken on a faint pink. Now looking up at him, her eyes were clear and bright.

“There’s a lantern festival for the Lantern Festival. Would you be willing to go see it with me?”

“Didn’t you say you needed to write medical case notes at night?”

Xu Hexue was stunned for a moment, recalling that this morning at the clinic entrance, she had used this very excuse to refuse Deputy Commander Zhou Ting of the Night Patrol Bureau who had come to invite her.

“You also know that right now, only Miss Zhang has sought my medical treatment. How many case notes could there be to write?” Even though Ni Su was now known for her petition on the Double Ninth Festival, practicing medicine and seeking justice were ultimately two different things. People’s concerns and prejudices couldn’t be dispelled in a short time.

But Ni Su wasn’t discouraged.

What Xu Hexue couldn’t ignore was that he had developed a yearning for the Lantern Festival she mentioned, like a moth drawn irresistibly to flame.

Wind and snow entered his sleeves, revealing a section of cinnabar red inner sleeve edge. The white and red colors were intensely striking. He nodded gently, temporarily compromising with the delusion in his heart: “All right.”

As night fell, Xu Hexue wore a veiled hat and carried a lantern. Just as he stepped out the clinic’s main door, he saw Ni Su walking ahead had just descended one step when she was startled by firelight wildly exploding and bouncing on the ground and turned around.

She crashed right into his embrace.

A cool, faint scent, smooth fabric. Ni Su was dazed by the impact. Looking up, she could only see the hazy outline beneath his veiled hat.

Ni Su turned back to look at that thing scurrying wildly across the ground. The several children who had lit it were all stunned, frantically dodging in panic.

“What is that thing…”

Ni Su wrinkled her brow.

“It seems to be called a ‘ground mouse.'”

Xu Hexue’s memory was awakened somewhat by this leaping firelight.

“Zhao Yonggeng, look what this is?”

His young, childish self leaned against the roof tiles, lighting something and tossing it down. The firelight exploded, scurrying wildly in the courtyard, running to the feet of that brightly dressed young boy below, scaring the boy into falling onto his bottom in a pile of snow that servants had swept together. The boy shouted angrily: “Xu Ziling, you’re teasing me again!”

And he laughed heartily on the roof.

“How do you know?”

Her voice called Xu Hexue back to himself.

“Long ago at my teacher’s home, I used a ground mouse to tease a good friend.” He said.

“You would actually tease people?”

Ni Su found this quite novel.

“I was young then—my actions were somewhat absurd.” Xu Hexue’s voice unconsciously added a note of reminiscence.

“That must be that very good friend, right?”

Ni Su walked forward while speaking.

“Mm.”

Xu Hexue raised his eyes. Through the veiled hat, he gazed at the fireworks blooming on the eaves, their multicolored shadows quickly falling. He said softly: “It was him.”

Regarded as a kindred spirit, companions for half a lifetime.