Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 112

The Prince Consort had been struck by an arrow and was at death’s door. No one believed she would survive.

Those who had witnessed it firsthand, in particular, knew the extreme danger of the situation.

Imperial Physician Zhou lost his composure on the spot. It was as if a heavy hammer was pounding inside his head, leaving a constant ringing. He could not even walk steadily, stumbling as he knelt before Wei Xiu. He reached a hand under her nose, and his heart sank. He then quickly took her hand to search for a pulse.

Puyang was on the verge of collapse. Wei Xiu rested in her arms, her eyes tightly shut, devoid of any sign of life, as if she would never again open her eyes to look upon this world.

Puyang clung to her sanity by a single thread of hope. She stared at the imperial physician, her eyes bloodshot, yet she dared not even ask a single question.

After checking her pulse and examining the wound, Imperial Physician Zhou said in a low voice, “There is still a pulse…”

Puyang felt as if she had suddenly been granted a new life. A light burst forth from her reddened eyes as she urged, “Quickly, quickly, save her!”

After speaking, she remembered that to treat her, they could not remain here; A Xiu needed to be laid down. With a strength she did not know she possessed, she lifted Wei Xiu and walked inside.

She completely missed the pale expression on Imperial Physician Zhou’s face.

Although the Prince Consort had a pulse, it was extremely weak, like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment. Even for an ordinary person, an arrow to the chest was more often fatal than not, let alone for the Prince Consort, who had always been of weak constitution.

However, at this point, all they could do was try their utmost to save her.

Imperial Physician Zhou gritted his teeth and followed closely, instructing the servants to prepare the items needed to remove the arrow.

Wei Xiu lay flat on the couch. Aside from her exceptionally pale face, she looked as if she were merely asleep. Puyang stood guard by the couch, clutching that slim chance of survival like a point of light about to be swallowed by the dark night.

The necessary items were brought in one by one. The servants moved with wind at their feet, none daring to slow their pace.

Once everything was ready, Imperial Physician Zhou did not dare ask Her Majesty to leave. Seeing a maidservant nearby, he said, “Close the door.”

The maidservant was A Ye. She immediately went to close the door, then turned back to await instructions. At a time like this, she could no longer afford to be afraid of Her Majesty; her only fear was that something might happen to her Young Master.

The arrow had entered her chest. Fortunately, the archer had been obstructed by the Feathered Forest Guard, which had lessened the force of the shot; otherwise, the arrow might have passed straight through. Even more fortunately, the wound was slightly high, located above the heart and below the shoulder, so it had not pierced the heart itself.

But even so, the outcome was still uncertain.

Imperial Physician Zhou first took a pair of shears and cut the arrow shaft. Puyang stepped aside, remaining silent so as not to disturb the physician’s work.

Winter clothing was thick, and the bl00d had not yet soaked through to the outer layers. The physician cut away the fabric around the wound, tearing it open layer by layer. When he reached the innermost layer, he suddenly sensed something was wrong, and a look of horror spread across his face.

He subconsciously looked up at Puyang, who stated with only two firm words: “Save her.”

Imperial Physician Zhou quickly composed himself and paid no mind to anything else.

The arrow had barbs and could not be pulled out by force; the wound had to be cut open. Imperial Physician Zhou took a knife and sliced open the wound. Fresh bl00d gushed out ceaselessly. His forehead was beaded with sweat as he focused on his hands, continuing to cut away the flesh around the wound.

A Ye kept handing him clean cloths. A basin of hot water quickly turned into a basin of bl00d. The room filled with the nauseating, metallic smell of bl00d.

Puyang’s heart turned to ice. To have one’s flesh cut open alive—who could endure such excruciating pain? Yet Wei Xiu showed not the slightest reaction. She remained with her eyes closed, her face devoid of pain, not even a furrow in her brow. It was as if only a body remained, her soul having long since departed.

The flesh of the wound was cut away bit by bit, revealing glistening white bone dotted with fragments of meat. The arrowhead gradually came into view. The physician put down the knife, pulled out the arrow, and in that instant, bl00d gushed out like a torrent.

Imperial Physician Zhou quickly rinsed the wound with decocted water, stitched it with a needle and thread, then sprinkled medicinal powder over it and wrapped it with a silk bandage, barely managing to stanch the bleeding.

The arrowhead was out, but Imperial Physician Zhou felt no sense of relief, and Puyang’s expression was just as grim.

With the excessive bl00d loss on top of the arrow wound, it would be incredibly difficult to survive.

Wei Xiu’s pulse grew even weaker, yet the mere fact that it still existed was enough to be grateful for.

Imperial Physician Zhou said respectfully, “This place, after all, is not the palace, and the necessary medicinal herbs are not all here. Tomorrow, if the Prince Consort… if,” he glanced up at Puyang, then lowered his head again, swallowing the words “is still with us,” and said tactfully, “if there is improvement, we should return to the palace as soon as possible.”

Puyang nodded, forcing herself to remain calm. “You may use your discretion in prescribing medicine.”

The assassin had not been caught. The mountain was covered in deep snow, which made escape difficult, but also made searching difficult. Moreover, with only a dozen or so Feathered Forest Guards on the mountain, a full search was impossible. Puyang did not get angry. For the moment, she could not spare a thought for the assassin. Her mind was entirely filled with Wei Xiu, single-mindedly wishing for her to live.

Wei Xiu did not hear her prayers. Her pulse continued to weaken, as if it might fade away silently at any moment. But having reached this point, all they could do was resign themselves to fate; even a divine physician would be helpless.

Puyang kept watch by the couch, not leaving for a single step.

The wound could not be exposed to drafts, and the metallic smell of bl00d still lingered in the room. Puyang felt no discomfort. A single breath felt as long as a lifetime. Puyang endured it alone, holding Wei Xiu’s hand, checking her pulse from time to time.

After nightfall, the pulse became extremely faint, almost undetectable, and Puyang grew frantic along with it. Imperial Physician Zhou also kept watch in the room. The long night was so quiet it was unnerving. Fear was a constant shadow. Only Wei Xiu, lying there, was oblivious. She felt no fear, no anticipation. She felt no joy, no disappointment. She did not know the dread in Puyang’s heart; she just lay there, peacefully and quietly.

“A Xiu…” Puyang called softly, but said no more. She just held her hand and called her name in a low voice.

Wei Xiu, of course, did not respond. So Puyang called her again, her expression gentle, her tone full of lingering affection.

Watching this, Imperial Physician Zhou had a preposterous thought: perhaps even if the Prince Consort were to pass away, Her Majesty would not have her buried. She would keep her. Even if it were just a corpse, she would keep her forever.

The thought sent a chill down his spine, but Puyang was completely unaware. Her eyes saw only Wei Xiu. She thought, A Xiu, wake up. As long as you wake up, in this life or the next, whatever you want to do, I will let you.

Compared to her being alive, whether she was loved or not seemed so insignificant. As long as she lived, Puyang was even willing to never see her again, to never seek out news of her.

By dawn, Wei Xiu still had not opened her eyes. There were no signs of improvement, but what brought joy was that she had not passed away either. Her heartbeat, though faint, was still beating tenaciously.

Puyang had sent someone back to the palace for medicine the day before, so today they could replenish the few missing herbs. Although the palace was more suitable for recuperation, Wei Xiu was in no condition to be moved. After discussing it with Imperial Physician Zhou, Puyang decided to wait a few more days before considering a return to the palace.

News that Her Majesty had been attacked naturally caused a great uproar in the capital. The Middle Generals of the Feathered Forest and Tiger Warrior Guards, under the Chancellor’s orders, led thirty thousand troops toward Mount Mang. Several key ministers and imperial relatives, led by Chancellor Wang, also rushed over.

The main body of troops was stationed at the foot of the mountain. Only the ministers and the two Middle Generals, each leading a hundred men, went up the mountain to protect the Emperor.

Puyang only made a brief appearance, ordering the Prince of Zheng and Chancellor Wang to temporarily oversee state affairs. The Emperor could not return to the capital, and major affairs still needed someone to preside over them. Both were reliable ministers, and the Prince of Zheng had experience in assisting with governance, so the arrangement was quite sound.

Grand Tutor Wei had intended to visit the Prince Consort to show his loyalty, but seeing Her Majesty’s perfunctory and weary expression, he thought it over and ultimately did not dare to speak up. Chancellor Wang, on the other hand, was more direct, his anxiety plain on his face, and he asked a few more questions.

After that morning, once the ministers had departed, the thatched cottage finally grew quiet again.

Afterward, Puyang continued to watch over Wei Xiu without leaving her side, calling her name softly from time to time. Every moment Wei Xiu remained in a coma was an agony for her.

Puyang constantly questioned herself. Why did she have to come? The assassin was clearly after her. If she hadn’t come, she wouldn’t have implicated A Xiu. She regretted letting Wei Xiu leave the capital two years ago; even imprisoning her in the palace would have been better than this, her life hanging by a thread. She even regretted ever meeting Wei Xiu. Since they had met, Wei Xiu had saved her numerous times, while she had repeatedly put her in peril.

Puyang cared for Wei Xiu with ever-increasing diligence, refusing to let anyone else help, to the point that she did not close her eyes for several days. Imperial Physician Zhou tried to persuade her a few times, but as one might expect, he could not move her.

However, Puyang eventually came to a realization herself. If she collapsed from exhaustion, how could she take care of Wei Xiu? Puyang no longer dared to push herself. She gradually calmed down, a true calm, as if she feared nothing anymore. But for some reason, this calmed-down Her Majesty became even more terrifying.

By a stroke of heaven’s luck, after more than ten days, Wei Xiu’s wound did not worsen. If it did not worsen, it could heal. Her condition miraculously stabilized.

Puyang wept with joy. At Imperial Physician Zhou’s request, she brought Wei Xiu back to the palace.

The palace was naturally more comfortable than the mountain. The palace chambers were warm and cozy, and completely sealed from drafts, so there was no worry of the wound getting cold. The palace had countless precious medicinal herbs, all available for use.

Wei Xiu’s wound was healing. Though it was very slow, she was getting better day by day.

Puyang continued to care for her personally. The Prince of Zheng and the Chancellor handled court affairs, and someone would only come to ask for the Emperor’s decision on major matters that were difficult to resolve.

However, Wei Xiu still did not wake up.

By the time spring arrived the following year, she was still in a coma, as if she had fallen asleep and forgotten to wake up.

Puyang, after all, could not avoid court forever. Although the court was stable, it was not without hidden dangers. If the Emperor’s power were to fall into other hands, the court would become perilous.

She had no choice but to set aside a part of each morning to attend court and handle political affairs, and she had the memorials moved to Wei Xiu’s room to review.

The ministers would report major affairs to the Emperor each morning, and then work in their respective offices in the afternoon. Puyang would review memorials late into the night every day and discuss important matters with the ministers the next morning.

In this way, it almost became a habit.

However, no one knew how anxious Puyang was.

The assassin had long been identified: it was Jiao Yong, the Grand Herald. Puyang had him locked in prison but had not yet dealt with him. She hated him to the bone, wishing she could personally subject him to death by a thousand cuts. But then she remembered that Jiao Yong was a student of Lord Zhong, and A Xiu would surely show him leniency. So she kept him alive for now, intending to wait for Wei Xiu to wake up and hear her opinion.

Wei Xiu lay with her eyes closed, as if sleeping peacefully in a dream. Her complexion had improved greatly and was no longer so pale, but she had inevitably grown thinner. Puyang was terrified; if she did not wake soon, she feared Wei Xiu would waste away to nothing but bones.

No matter how busy she was each day, she would talk to Wei Xiu. Perhaps A Xiu simply did not wish to wake, but could still hear her. Perhaps one day, A Xiu would take pity on her suffering and finally awaken.

She did not know when that day would come, but she looked forward to it every day.

And so it went until one afternoon in late February, when Wei Xiu finally woke up.