Did he foresee that the person who replaced him would be wiser?
The night first brought a fierce wind, then a torrential rain, interspersed with deafening cannon fire.
People inside the inner city dared not sleep, instructing their families to guard the door tightly while anxiously waiting for news.
Probably the only place within the inner city with a different atmosphere was General Liu’s residence.
Mo Li entered the bedroom, removed his outer garment to prepare for meditation and breathing exercises, when suddenly he felt a premonition and just assumed a posture with his eyes closed, without actually channeling his energy.
After a moment, someone silently arrived by his side.
“Physician?”
Meng Qi tentatively called out.
Mo Li remained silent, intending to see what Meng Qi was about to do, when he felt the inner layer of his clothing being gently tugged open.
“……”
Such a skillful method of undressing, if Mo Li were an ordinary person, deeply asleep, he probably wouldn’t have noticed at all. But Meng Qi knew this little action would awaken Mo Li, so why do it?
——Could he be waiting for himself to become furiously embarrassed?
Mo Li remained still, eyes closed, wanting to see how Meng Qi would continue this act without him.
The hand slightly pulled open the garment and then stopped. Mo Li waited silently for Meng Qi to continue causing trouble, when suddenly a breath came very close, a warm exhalation seemed to directly brush against his chest, causing Mo Li’s body to stiffen instantly.
What is this?
He abruptly opened his eyes, and Meng Qi also stepped back in time, staring at Mo Li.
“What are you doing?”
“The clothing is torn; it needs to be mended,” Meng Qi paused, then seriously said, “After dawn, the city will be under martial law again. If Liu Dan runs away with his people, where will we find new clothes? Better to mend it, otherwise the tear will grow larger.”
Mo Li was at a loss for words, then finally said, “But you can’t just mend it like this!”
The clothing was still on him, coming up close to sew, what kind of situation was this?
Meng Qi casually said, “I did call for the physician, but you didn’t open your eyes, and upon further thought, this also counts as ‘do not look at impropriety…'”
“What kind of ‘do not look at impropriety’ is this?” Mo Li retorted, looking at the garment front with a thread still on it, the other end of the thread threaded through a needle, naturally held in someone’s hand.
Thinking back to Meng Qi quietly pulling open the garment then coming close to mend, Mo Li felt his whole body stiffen.
Not only women are skilled at mending clothes.
In rural families, regardless of gender, almost everyone can mend clothes, just like cooking, one cannot just not eat warm food or forever wear torn clothes because they can’t marry. In the towns where people have extra money, there are women who mend clothes for a living, so people don’t need to do everything themselves. However, for emergencies, every household has a sewing kit.
Meng Qi just now must have pilfered one from somewhere in Liu’s residence.
Now Mo Li was in a dilemma, neither pulling away the thread nor letting Meng Qi continue was an option.
“If it’s not seen, it’s not considered impolite.”
Meng Qi deliberately misinterpreted the meaning of ‘do not look at impropriety,’ speaking unhurriedly, “The physician adheres to the way of the gentleman, which I admire in my heart, but I don’t think being this close to someone counts as impolite, so it’s fine for me to look a few more times.”
“……”
This was already quite an unreasonable argument, but Mo Li could not find words to refute.
“Otherwise, should the physician remove his clothes first?”
“No need, Brother Meng can mend his own,” Mo Li steadied his spirit, then pushed the person out the door, using his internal energy to close the bedroom door at the same time.
This was not out of shame or annoyance, but because exposing one’s chest and abdomen was too impolite, no matter in front of whom.
Except for during a wedding ceremony.
Mo Li took off his clothes, looked at the thread, and couldn’t help but shake his head.
He removed the needle and thread, re-threaded it with a double strand, carefully aligned the fabric at the tear, and then began to sew.
As a physician, he had used catgut many times, and with the precision and steadiness of a martial arts master, sewing was both fast and of high quality, with fine, evenly spaced stitches. When he finished, a swipe of his hand made the fabric surface look as if it had never been torn.
Mo Li put his clothes back on and went out to find Meng Qi, indeed, sitting by the window sincerely sewing his clothes.
He quickly walked over to Meng Qi, looked down, and saw that only half of the tear was mended, without any semblance of sewing skill, it could only be described as “sewn,” with the fabric looking like it was scratched together by a line forming a worm.
Mo Li: “……”
Good thing he didn’t let Meng Qi sew his clothes.
“Stop.” Mo Li said with annoyance.
No skill, yet still pretending to be capable.
Meng Qi looked at Mo Li’s clothes and laughed. He handed over the clothing along with the needle and thread to Mo Li, casually exposing his chest, with only a robe draped over him.
The cool breeze blew, fine rain fell.
Leaning against the window, his hair inevitably got wet from the rain, but not much, sticking directly to his forehead and eyebrows, looking like a carefree young master.
Mo Li gave Meng Qi a peculiar look.
No other reason, Mo Li had just never seen him like this before, an ethereal being suddenly changing his appearance, it was novel.
However, after a while, Mo Li diverted his gaze, as propriety dictates.
Meng Qi wasn’t disheartened, after all, the physician did look at him for a while.
Mo Li was halfway through mending his clothes when he suddenly realized!
The fat mouse scratched the clothes, and to cover the mistake, Meng Qi pretended the fabric was bad and tore his own clothes. Now both pieces of clothing were torn, and the instigator was Meng Qi, so why was he the one mending the clothes? Where was the logic in that?
How did he fall into this trap?
Mo Li fell into deep thought with the needle in hand.
Seeing his scheme exposed, Meng Qi flipped open the window and jumped out, disappearing without a trace.
“Wait, you…”
Mo Li exclaimed and stood up, then silently swallowed the words “not wearing an undergarment.”
Let it be, might as well mend it.
If Meng Qi were to mend the clothes, Mo Li would still find the mended spot an eyesore!
In fact, most men have such skills; after all, they’re not embroiderers and don’t need any sophisticated sewing techniques, as long as the clothes can be worn. Meng Qi probably learned this in his early years before he sought refuge with Li Yuanze. Later, as an Imperial Teacher, there was no need for him to personally mend clothes, probably only after Li Yuanze purged his followers did Meng Qi return to Shangyun Mountain and pick it up again.
Mo Li had mixed feelings, but his hands didn’t slow down.
Soon, the garment was mended, Mo Li wound the thread and put it away with the needle.
He left the window open as usual, leaving a crack, went back to the bedroom to consider whether to practice internal skills or pretend to do so until Meng Qi sneaked back, when he suddenly saw something peeking out from under the pillow.
He reached out and found it was a storybook with illustrations by Mr. Jinshui.
Mo Li silently stared at the storybook for a while, and seeing no one around, calmly opened it.
The storybook was titled “The Tale of the Golden Lotus.” Those of a more depraved nature would see the title and think of bound feet, thus imagining the allure of these women, but this was a gimmick created by the storybook sellers. In reality, the book talked about the golden lotus fairy in the celestial Jade Pool, with no mention of the delicate feet bound in embroidered shoes.
The Chu Dynasty once issued an edict forbidding the binding of women’s feet, and though many secretly defied this order, such stubborn customs did not prevail in Pingzhou, especially in remote and impoverished areas like Zhushan County. There, the villagers toiled daily, and every household needed all hands on deck; who would then choose to cripple their daughters through foot binding?
Mo Li, upon seeing the book title, did not grasp the subtle hint about the golden lotus because many storybooks were titled with phrases like “Tales of Golden Hairpins” or “Jade Lotus Tales,” leading him to assume it was about tokens of love between scholars and beauties, such as golden lotus accessories.
He was quite surprised to find that the storybook was actually about a fairy of the golden lotus.
This golden lotus fairy, though exquisitely beautiful and graceful, was only an inch tall.
On the night of the full moon, blessed by the celestial energies, she could revert to her normal form, becoming an elusive female immortal. Today, she had an encounter with the prime minister’s son in the spring breeze, then vanished without a trace, only to seek out a top scholar next month.
The storybook does not delve into why the golden lotus fairy comes to the mortal realm or seeks pleasure, merely focusing on describing her indulgences in luxuries and joys.
Ordinary readers might feel their pulses quicken, wishing to grow a lotus and await the full moon night for a beauty to embrace.
Mo Li: “……”
This storybook must have been commissioned by a flower vendor in the capital city using a destitute scholar, right?
Otherwise, how could it detail so accurately the sons of nobles buying flowers? Even specifying which street and which shop in detail!
Continuing to read, the third flower buyer was a roguish hero, and the fourth, a poor scholar who tutored others, it was indeed strange that the scholar brought home a dead flower to mend, moved by pity when the flower at the eastern house died.
Why would anyone bring home a dead flower?
Moreover, lotus flowers are kept in pots. Could a scholar, weak enough to not be able to truss a chicken, lift an entire pot? Or did he pull the flower out, roots and all, from the water pot? Wouldn’t that hasten the death of the lotus?
If he took only the flower and its roots, without the pot, where in the house did he keep it?
Full of doubts, Mo Li skimmed through the pages until he saw that the poor scholar had placed the flower in an inkstone filled with clean water to nourish it, he couldn’t help but rub his forehead and then closed the book with a thud.
Such a ludicrous storybook was unworthy of Mr. Jinshui’s fine illustrations!
Meanwhile, Mr. Jinshui of Yuegui Alley sneezed heavily, wrapping himself tighter in his blanket, tremblingly listening to the noises outside, wishing for nothing more than for the capital to return to tranquility, regardless of who was plotting treason.
“Enough, I’ll settle my account at Fengxing Pavilion another day and move to the countryside,” Mr. Jinshui murmured to himself, finding the capital far too perilous.
***
“Where is everyone? Someone come here!”
Lu Zhang struggled to rise from his bed, feeling pain all over, but the royal physician merely said it was superficial, which greatly angered Lu Zhang, who had just awakened.
He wasn’t always unconscious these days; occasionally, he would regain consciousness and could hear people talking around him, though he couldn’t open his eyes. He vaguely sensed changes within his sleeping quarters; the sweat from his pain wasn’t wiped away immediately, the eunuchs became increasingly distracted when administering medicine, and none of the concubines who should be tending to his illness appeared.
He wasn’t dead yet, and these people dared to disregard him?
Lu Zhang failed to realize that, due to the palace being sealed, those concubines couldn’t have come even if they wanted to.
The officials of Wenyuan Pavilion didn’t dare mention matters related to the concubines, and the Third Prince simply ignored the issue. The palace servants, adept at reading situations, saw that the officials and the Third Prince were only making superficial efforts and understood what that meant. They immediately began seeking other patronages or backup plans.
Even those without ambitions or concern for their future feared they might be forced into a sacrificial burial upon the emperor’s death.
The Chu Dynasty did not practice sacrificial burial, and it was rare in the Chen Dynasty, but the Qi Dynasty had just set a precedent. The decision rested with the succeeding emperor, and no one was certain of the outcome.
Even if the new emperor was benevolent and did not order a sacrificial burial, being sent to guard the imperial tombs was a terrifying prospect. Whether a forty-year-old eunuch or a young palace maid under twenty, they would be trapped there, their lives effectively over with no hope of change.
Under such pressure, it was inevitable that the servants attending to the unconscious emperor would neglect some duties.
They did what was required, just not as diligently. For instance, the number of candles in the sleeping chamber remained the same, but no one trimmed the wicks in time, leading to insufficient lighting in the palace, giving the impression of a dimmer, less populated space.
“I’m not dead yet!” Lu Zhang bellowed with rage.
He called several names of his personal attendants, but no one responded.
Glancing at the royal physicians, they were all present but knelt on the floor, glancing towards the door.
Lu Zhang, barefoot and furious, wished he could grab a sword and kill.
The servants before him knelt down, trembling, “Your Majesty, please calm down. There were sounds of cannon fire outside just now, and the overseers went to investigate… and haven’t returned!”
Lu Zhang’s expression changed abruptly as he asked subconsciously, “Cannon fire? Not thunder?”
Indeed, during his periods of consciousness amidst his coma, he had heard loud noises, waking to the sound of rain, and had assumed it was thunder.
The palace servants dared not respond, leaving Lu Zhang with a chilling sensation in his heart.
The Firearms Battalion would never act without imperial orders, so whether it was the battalion’s betrayal or someone using orders under false pretenses to mobilize them, neither scenario boded well.
“Where is the third?” Lu Zhang gritted out through clenched teeth.
The second and third princes had colluded with rebels, defying and offending authority. After the fact, the third prince pretended to be unaware and, along with several ministers, hypocritically escorted him back to the sleeping chamber.
“Reporting to Your Majesty, the Third Prince is also missing,” the servants trembled.
Lu Zhang abruptly stood up, only for the trace of true energy deliberately infused into his meridians by Meng Qi to act up again, causing him excruciating pain and making him fall back, face up.
The servants hesitated to assist him, and at that moment, the doors were kicked open, letting in a gust of cold air.
Lu Zhang was in too much pain to speak, his eyes wide with shock.
A palanquin was carried in, covered on all sides until it was opened in the warmth of the chamber, revealing the Crown Prince holding a cat, looking complexly at the emperor writhing in pain.
“You—”
“Father is unwell, best rest well.”
The Crown Prince couldn’t continue to stay hidden in the Eastern Palace; he had to make his presence known here.
He needed the ministers, soon to be brought before him, to see whether it was the emperor who seemed closer to death, or himself.
Although the Crown Prince had gained a significant advantage overnight, many had switched sides believing in his recovery. If he couldn’t conceal the fact of his imminent death, loyalties might shift again.
It’s all about getting people on board before the ship sinks, regardless of when it might happen.
The Crown Prince silently calculated how long he might live and what he could achieve in that time:
—Utterly crush Prime Minister Zhang’s faction, retain Prime Minister Jiang who was planning to retire.
—Purge not just the Outer Court but also the Inner Court. The head of the Imperial Household must be a visionary and capable eunuch.
—Retrieve the Sixth Prince and teach him how to be an emperor.
Having done all he could, the fall of the Qi Dynasty thereafter would be beyond his control.
Lu Zhang stared intensely at the Crown Prince, as if wishing to tear his son to pieces.
The Crown Prince, pale yet spirited, simply watched the emperor coldly.
At that moment, an imperial guard reported that the ministers from Wenyuan Pavilion had been summoned.
“Rebel, don’t expect me to issue a decree of succession!”
Lu Zhang cursed through clenched teeth. The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow and said indifferently, “I am the Crown Prince; I do not need a decree of succession. When Father ascends to the dragons, the throne naturally becomes mine. No need for Father to trouble himself writing anything.”
