Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 64

Although the Chancellor was the Emperor’s father-in-law, had navigated the court for decades, and was deeply trusted by the Emperor, he was, in the end, an external minister. There were always matters that could not be spoken of plainly. Once he left, only Puyang remained in the hall. The Emperor glanced at the doors; the princes and ministers were all waiting in the front hall. He lifted his chin, signaling for Dou Hui to go and dismiss them.

Seeing this, Puyang knew the Emperor had instructions for her. She gave a nearby young eunuch a look, gesturing for him to serve tea. The young eunuch was very perceptive and immediately withdrew to brew a fresh pot.

The Emperor’s expression was cold as he slowly took a sip. The tea warmed his body, but his face showed no sign of softening.

This incident had thoroughly enraged His Majesty. To maintain the court’s dignity, the new dynasty’s image, and stability in the capital, he had been forced to concede. For an emperor, this was a great loss of face.

A palace attendant had already brought a stool and set it for Puyang. She knelt and sat back on her heels, quietly awaiting the Emperor’s command without saying a word.

The Emperor’s icy gaze shifted, landing on Puyang, and only then did a trace of warmth appear. But when he spoke, his tone was heavy with suppressed anger. “Since we’re putting on a show, we must see it through to the end. When you leave the palace later, go to the Prince of Runan’s residence to offer condolences.”

The news of her role in changing the posthumous title would spread throughout the capital by tomorrow at the latest. If Puyang was to be portrayed as a virtuous and wise person, she had to go before the news broke. That way, it would seem natural. If she waited until everyone knew, it would appear insincere.

Puyang understood and bowed respectfully. “Your child humbly obeys the imperial command.”

The Emperor curled his lip. “Let them be smug for a while. The day will come when they deeply regret it.”

Puyang remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, offering only a smile.

The Emperor waved his hand, dismissing her.

She rose to her feet and slowly withdrew.

The princess’s carriage was waiting at the Vermilion Bird Gate outside the Imperial City. She left the palanquin and boarded the carriage. Qin Kun approached and asked through the window, “Your Highness, where shall we go now?”

Puyang settled herself in the carriage and said in a soft voice, “Back to the residence.”

The carriage soon began to move smoothly.

Puyang sat in the carriage and closed her eyes. The palace maid attending her assumed Her Highness was resting and instinctively sat still, afraid of making the slightest sound.

But Puyang was thinking. She had been out for about two hours. Sir should have taken her medicine by now. She wondered about its efficacy, whether it was working. She naturally trusted Sir’s medical skills; when she had been hovering between life and death, it was Sir’s several doses of medicine that had saved her, preventing her from perishing again just after her rebirth.

But a physician cannot heal themself. There was truth in that saying. Puyang was conflicted and restless, unable to sit still.

They soon arrived at the princess’s residence. The moment she stepped out of the carriage, Puyang headed straight for Wei Xiu’s quarters.

When she arrived, Wei Xiu was fast asleep.

Her eyes were shut tight, her brow was deeply furrowed, and beads of sweat dotted the tip of her nose. She seemed to be sleeping very restlessly. Puyang saw a porcelain bowl on the table by the bed. It was empty, save for a few dark dregs of medicine, so she knew Wei Xiu had taken it.

Feeling somewhat relieved, she sat down by the bed. She took Wei Xiu’s right hand, which lay by her side, and with her other hand, she gently smoothed her brow, whispering, “Sir…”

Her fingertips stroked Wei Xiu’s brow, and the tightly knitted brows slowly relaxed with her touch. Wei Xiu’s long, slender willow-leaf brows were beautiful. Her brows alone, paired with those deep phoenix eyes, were utterly captivating.

Puyang gazed at her face and sighed, calling out again, “Sir…”

Wei Xiu’s breathing steadied, no longer rapid but slow and deep, as if she had drifted into a pleasant dream.

A gentle smile formed on Puyang’s lips, her eyes filled with a tenderness as vast and gentle as a spring breeze.

A Rong watched from the side, somehow reminded of last night when Sir had called out for Her Highness again and again in her delirium, with no one to answer. Yet now, even in a deep sleep, she could respond to the princess’s call.

Her eyes reddened, and she turned away, unable to bear the sight.

One of them would always have to bear the burden of guilt. Either Sir was indebted to the princess, or the princess was indebted to Sir—a debt that could not be reconciled except by death.

Puyang sat with Wei Xiu for a while, then instructed A Rong and the others to take good care of her before rushing off to the Prince of Runan’s residence without a moment’s rest.

Fortunately, her attire today was not overly ornate and did not need changing. In the carriage, she simply ordered her attendants to remove the particularly dazzling dangling hairpins and ornaments to achieve a more somber appearance.

Upon reaching the Prince of Runan’s residence, she found the entrance bustling with scholars and even a few commoners. It was laughable, really. When the Prince of Runan was alive, his gates were so deserted one could catch sparrows there. For this grand scene today, he had Chen Du to thank.

Puyang alighted from her carriage and had Qin Kun present her calling card.

A young man at the gate opened the card, saw the name on it, and hurried forward, bowing low in extreme humility. “Your Highness. I was not aware of Your Highness’s arrival. I apologize for not coming out to greet you.”

Puyang looked at him closely and recognized him as the Prince of Runan’s heir. The Prince of Runan himself had rarely appeared in public, let alone his heir.

“I have come to mourn the Prince’s passing. I know your heart is heavy, but I hope you will restrain your grief,” Puyang said.

The heir forced a smile and, bowing, made a gesture of invitation. “Your Highness, please follow me to the mourning hall.”

As they entered the residence, the sound of weeping could be faintly heard. The closer they got to the mourning hall, the clearer and more sorrowful the crying became. Puyang saw that although there were dozens of people coming and going, not one was a scion of a powerful family. She also noted that while there were many servants attending to guests, they were all assistants sent by the Ministry of Rites. An official from the Ministry of Rites recognized Puyang, his face instantly paling with shock. From this, Puyang knew that a complete list of all daily visitors was being delivered to His Majesty’s desk.

Kneeling and weeping bitterly before the coffin was the consort. She too was a daughter of a noble family and had once been Empress for a year. Now, kneeling before the coffin, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were red and swollen, as if she could cry no more. Yet everyone knew her grief.

Puyang bowed before the coffin. Several people around her showed strange expressions upon seeing her, but she said nothing. After paying her respects, she offered a word of condolence to the consort and left. Throughout her visit, the heir had tried to speak several times, his face showing a mix of misery and fear, but Puyang remained silent. She had come quietly and left quietly, not wishing to draw attention.

Only after the heir explained did the people in the mourning hall realize who the woman who had just visited was. Upon hearing it was the princess, speculation abounded. Some called her hypocritical, others said she had come to intimidate them.

It was not until the next day, when the news spread that the Emperor had changed the posthumous title because of Princess Puyang’s earnest persuasion, that these people felt they had misjudged a good person. With much embellishment and coordinated storytelling from designated people about the princess’s past good deeds for the country and its people, the virtue of Princess Puyang spread throughout the capital in a matter of days. It would surely not be long before her fame was known throughout the land.

Puyang was unaware of the details of all this. After returning from the Prince of Runan’s residence, a cloud of gloom lingered and would not disperse. She simply shut her doors and devoted herself to caring for Wei Xiu.

Having just finished her medicine, Wei Xiu was leaning against the pillows on the bed, watching Puyang sit beside her, engrossed in a book. Five days had passed, and her fever had subsided, though she still had a slight cough. Puyang forbade her from moving about, only allowing her to walk in the garden for a few turns during the sunniest hour of the day.

Wei Xiu, not wanting her to worry, complied. She was no longer physically exerting herself, but whether her mind was still toiling was another matter.

At this moment, Wei Xiu leaned against a pillow, watching Puyang with a smile. Seeing her so absorbed in her reading, she grew curious and leaned over for a glance, only to discover she was reading a medical text.

Wei Xiu couldn’t help but laugh. “Why is Your Highness reading this?”

Puyang didn’t look up. “It’s never a bad thing to learn more.” Sir’s identity could not be revealed, and there was truth to the saying that a physician cannot heal themself. In that case, she might as well learn.

Wei Xiu fell silent, moving closer to read a few pages with her. Then, she reached out and plucked the book away. Caught off guard, Puyang let her take it.

“Your Highness is a beginner. This book is too profound for you,” Wei Xiu said calmly. “The path of medicine cannot be mastered in a few days. Your Highness bears great responsibilities and should not be distracted.”

Puyang looked at her, completely undaunted. “I will find some suitable books to read.” She had set her mind to this and would not be easily swayed. “I’m not seeking quick success. If I learn a little every day, there will come a day when I am proficient.”

She naturally understood the principle that haste makes waste.

Wei Xiu couldn’t help but smile. “I have some in my study. Your Highness may go and take them.”

Puyang was taken aback. Wei Xiu’s tone was gentle as she said slowly, “Rather than have Your Highness struggle to study alone, it would be better if I taught you.” It would also allow her to control Puyang’s progress, teaching her in their spare time so as not to delay important matters.

Having a teacher was far better than fumbling in the dark. Puyang was delighted, her eyes seeming to sparkle with light. She moved closer to Wei Xiu and asked, “Sir, where do you think I should begin?”

Wei Xiu recalled her own progress when she first studied medicine, integrated her experience, and then said, “It is best to start by learning to take the pulse. Come, Your Highness, first try to find the pulse on your own wrist.”

Puyang did as she was told, using the pads of her right index and middle fingers to search for the pulse on her left wrist. She was a quick learner and found it in a moment.

Wei Xiu instructed further, “Place your fingertips on the pulse and feel its strength.”

Pulses varied in speed, strength, and depth; the slightest difference could mean a world of change. Puyang calmed her mind and felt it for a long time before saying, “It seems to be sometimes strong, sometimes weak. There is something… like an echo, lingering endlessly.”

Wei Xiu listened attentively and nodded. “Your Highness describes it clearly. Let me take your pulse.”

Hearing this, Puyang extended her right hand. Wei Xiu rested her wrist on the quilt and expertly placed her fingers on her pulse. Puyang looked a little uneasy, her lips slightly pursed as she watched Wei Xiu, seemingly very worried she had been wrong.

Her Highness was in good health. Last year’s injuries had healed completely, thankfully without leaving any lasting problems. Thankfully, she had treated her with care back then and had not entertained any other thoughts. Wei Xiu was immensely relieved.

Puyang felt a little uncomfortable and asked, “How is it? Does it match my description?”

Wei Xiu did not speak. The wrist was as white as jade, delicate and fair. The blue veins were clearly visible beneath skin so pale it was almost translucent. Wei Xiu released her fingers. Puyang naturally started to pull her hand back, but Wei Xiu gently took her fingers and lifted her hand. She lowered her head and placed a kiss on Puyang’s wrist.

Puyang’s eyes widened as she watched Wei Xiu lower her head, her eyes and brows filled with gentleness. Her soft lips touched her wrist, and the spot burned hotly, her heartbeat accelerating uncontrollably.

She was speechless, only daring to watch. Wei Xiu paused for a moment before pulling away. She looked up and smiled. “Your Highness’s description was correct. After reading the Pin Hu Mai Xue for a month and memorizing the dozens of pulse types, you will have grasped the basics.”

Author’s Notes:

Puyang: Annoying ( ╯-_-)╯┴—┴ I thought we were supposed to be learning how to take a pulse.

Wei Xiu: This way, it will be more memorable.

Puyang: (//▽//)