Chapter 61
LIN QINGYU SPENT the entire day at home, and no news came from the palace. He had Huantong visit Hu Ji’s residence for information, but Hu Ji had yet to return; he was very likely still on standby in the Eastern Palace.
The next night, Lin Qingyu headed to the Department of Imperial Physicians for his shift. Some of the physicians who had dashed over to the Eastern Palace returned, only to hurry to their next destination with strained faces, refusing to divulge much about the crown prince’s condition. His several attempts to get answers from them all yielded the same response—that the crown prince had fallen acutely ill and needed to recuperate for a few days.
They were taking Lin Qingyu for a fool. He didn’t get to read the prescriptions they made out, but a look at which herbs had been taken from the inventory told him that Xiao Cheng had suffered severe external injuries—most likely on his chest or abdomen—and continual blood loss.
Hu Ji finally returned the next day, so worn out that he was practically in a trance. His robes had gone unwashed for the past three days, and his sleeves were bloodstained.
Lin Qingyu offered to give Hu Ji a ride. In the carriage, Hu Ji told Lin Qingyu that the crown prince wasn’t sick; rather, he’d been incapacitated by a sword wound.
“When I hurried over to the Eastern Palace that night, the crown prince had already been carried to his bed, wearing only his nightclothes. Blood streamed down his body from a gaping wound on his chest, and his eyes were wide open. He was conscious, but he couldn’t speak.” Hu Ji grew fearful as he recalled the scene. “I rushed forward to try and staunch the bleeding, but His Highness grabbed the collar of my robes. I heard him say ‘Come back here!’ before he passed out. When I left, he was still unconscious.”
Lin Qingyu didn’t care what Xiao Cheng had said before he fainted. He just wanted to know when the crown prince would die. “What are the odds that you can help him regain consciousness?”
Hu Ji shook his head, grimacing. “Less than one in three.”
One in three… That probability was still too high.
“His Highness’s left lung was punctured,” Hu Ji added. “Even if he somehow survives this, he’ll probably have to take medicine for the rest of his life.”
Still, Lin Qingyu felt dissatisfied. So what if the crown prince’s left lung was punctured? If Shen Huaishi had thrust his sword just a bit to the side and pierced Xiao Cheng’s heart, that would’ve been good news.
After a brief pause, Lin Qingyu asked, “Hu Ji, do you always treat your patients to the best of your ability, whoever they may be?”
“Of course. I abide by that tenet as a physician,” Hu Ji answered without hesitating.
Lin Qingyu said nothing more. Hu Ji had learned medicine to save lives and help the injured. Even if he had accepted a patient who’d committed unforgivably evil crimes, he’d probably save the criminal’s life before handing them over to the authorities.
On the other hand, Lin Qingyu was studying medicine, and learning the arts of poison-making and gu breeding, simply because those things interested him—and he wouldn’t hesitate to use the knowledge he’d gained to do harm. Despite that, he respected Hu Ji’s ideals and didn’t want to tarnish them.
More to the point, the other imperial physicians would certainly notice if Hu Ji did anything to the crown prince. Every bowl of medicine in the Eastern Palace would be tested for poison, and the slightest misstep might implicate Hu Ji. Conspiracy to murder the crown prince was a crime punishable by death—even the perpetrator’s family would be executed. Thus, Lin Qingyu decided he must not strike thoughtlessly, if just for his family’s sake.
Have I no choice but to let fate run its course?
Hu Ji was so exhausted that he couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he remembered to remind Lin Qingyu, “By the way, the emperor issued an absolute command: This attempt to assassinate the crown prince must be kept confidential. You mustn’t tell anyone else what I’ve told you, Imperial Physician Lin.”
Lin Qingyu nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word of it.”
Despite having said that, he immediately relayed the news to Gu Fuzhou.
Gu Fuzhou came over all the time these days—even their relationship as godbrothers couldn’t justify the frequency of his visits. Lin Qingyu didn’t have the wherewithal to care about that for the moment, though.
When Gu Fuzhou heard that Xiao Cheng had a one-in-three chance of survival, he didn’t seem optimistic. “If Hu Ji says that, then he actually has at least a nine-in-ten chance.”
“How so?”
“Xiao Cheng was one of this novel’s main characters, and all main characters have something we call ‘plot armor,’” Gu Fuzhou explained. “Let me put it this way—even if you shot ten thousand arrows at Xiao Cheng at once, none of them would damage a single hair on his head.”
“So he has excellent luck, to put it simply?”
Gu Fuzhou laughed. “You could see it that way.”
“Shen Huaishi was also a main character. Does he have armor too?”
“Of course. He seems pitiful, but I’m sure he won’t die easily,” Gu Fuzhou said. “If anyone else attempted to assassinate the crown prince, the best-case scenario would be that they succeeded but got killed afterward. Shen Huaishi managed to escape, though, even after plunging his sword into Xiao Cheng’s chest. Isn’t that an example of his plot armor?”
Lin Qingyu seemed dubious. “Didn’t he escape the palace because he’s stealthy?”
As they chatted, Huantong ran up, bearing a slip of paper. A child he didn’t know had knocked on the residence’s door, and after Huantong opened it, pushed the slip of paper into his hand and scampered off before Huantong could register what had happened.
“It’s this paper?” Lin Qingyu asked. “I’ll take a look.”
It was a note bearing a scant few words, and after reading it, Lin Qingyu had Huantong arrange for a carriage immediately. “I’m heading to Changsheng Temple.”
Lin Qingyu changed into everyday robes before leaving for the temple with Gu Fuzhou. When they arrived, he told Gu Fuzhou, “Maybe you ought to wait for me here.”
“Hm? Why?”
“Numerous pilgrims from different places visit this temple. Do you want them to see you arrive and leave with a male widow?”
Gu Fuzhou pretended to think about it. “Kind of.”
Lin Qingyu couldn’t suppress his chuckle. “Well, let’s go together, then.”
The autumn rain sprinkled them, beginning to dampen their robes. Gu Fuzhou stepped down from the carriage and opened an umbrella before extending his palm to Lin Qingyu, who placed his hand on it as he disembarked and steadied himself. Right after he let go of Gu Fuzhou’s hand, someone harrumphed behind them. “How improper!”
Lin Qingyu turned back to see an elderly man glower at them, apparently disgusted. It was as though he’d been subjected to the sight of filth.
“Who’s that?” Gu Fuzhou asked in a low voice.
“Deputy Censor-in-Chief Yang Geng.”
“Despite his age, he’s still fifth rank—the same as you,” Gu Fuzhou drawled. “If I were him, I’d have written ‘pathetic’ on the hem of my trousers in my own blood.”
As they whispered to each other, sharing an umbrella, Yang Geng covered his face with his sleeves, as if the sight of them physically pained him.
“Lord Yang,” Gu Fuzhou called to him.
All the Imperial Censorate’s members were stubbornly stodgy, and Yang Geng was no exception. He walked toward Gu Fuzhou and bowed, his displeasure evident. “Greetings from this minor official, Great General.”
“Who were you calling ‘improper’ just now?” Gu Fuzhou asked.
“Not you, of course, General.” Turning to Lin Qingyu, Yang Geng said reproachfully, “If I remember correctly, Imperial Physician Lin, Young Marquess Lu passed away less than a year ago. You should still be mourning him. How could you be so intimate with another man?”
“Imperial Physician Lin is my godbrother,” Gu Fuzhou said.