Can I still save this?
Min Xuefei?
How could he—
Before there was time for further thought, Ji Hong immediately ordered Duan Ming to prepare horses and planned to accompany the young eunuch. Just as he stepped out of the Sanyu Pavilion, a figure hurriedly caught up from behind, saying, “I’m going too!” Ji Hong turned his head and glanced at the youth, momentarily stunned.
Yu Jinnian adjusted his sleeves, fetched a medicine box from behind the counter, and gently grasped Ji Hong’s arm. “What are you standing there for? Let me come along; I might be of help.”
Ji Hong then instructed for a light carriage to be prepared instead.
The young eunuch was named Lian Zhi. Though he appeared youthful, he had already risen to the position of an imperial attendant, serving as a Junior Supervisor in the Palace Directorate—a favored figure second only to the Chief Eunuch Feng Jian. Feng Jian, an old schemer, enjoyed taking in godsons. Over the years, the Palace Directorate boasted not eighty but at least eighteen such sons. Whether truly close or merely distant, all called him “father.” Among them, Lian Zhi was Feng Jian’s most beloved, cherished like his own child. Feng Jian doted on him openly, frequently praised him to others, and consistently promoted him, wishing he could keep him tied to his waistband and take him everywhere.
Lian Zhi entered the palace at eight years old. Now in his twenties, he was considered a veteran in the court. His meticulous and thorough work, always three steps ahead in planning, had earned him a spotless record over the years. Four Corners City was a treacherous den where countless eunuchs and palace maids perished, many without ever catching a glimpse of the emperor. Lian Zhi, however, had a naturally attractive appearance. When he smiled, his eyes shone brightly, which drew some unsavory rumors suggesting an improper relationship with Feng Jian as the reason for his rapid rise.
Feng Jian’s covert collusion with powerful officials was an open secret among the court. As such, attitudes toward Lian Zhi varied—those seeking favor flocked to him, while those mindful of their reputations avoided him. He had spoken on behalf of corrupt officials and supported upright ones, leaving his character shrouded in mixed reviews, truths, and falsehoods. Even Ji Hong refrained from passing hasty judgment but believed Lian Zhi was not utterly irredeemable.
As Lian Zhi regained composure, the sharpness in his gaze softened, revealing a steadiness that belied his years. Not recognizing Yu Jinnian, he immediately grew cautious, hesitant to allow him to join and risk alarming the emperor. Suspiciously, he asked, “And this is—?”
Yu Jinnian had yet to receive the official jade token from the court and was technically an unlicensed doctor. As he opened his mouth to speak, Ji Hong interjected, “This is Mr. Yu Jinnian, a renowned healer from Jiangnan, recently invited to serve as my personal physician. I’ve been ailing for years, and it was this young gentleman who cured me. Rest assured, Junior Supervisor Lian Zhi.”
“…” Yu Jinnian glanced at him, wondering how he had suddenly been elevated to the status of a Jiangnan sage healer.
The heir of the Ji family, having stayed out of public view for years due to chronic illness, had recently gained attention for recovering under the care of a mysterious physician. Lian Zhi had heard rumors of Ji Hong’s sudden improvement and of General Lu’s matter. To his surprise, the famed healer was present before him. He scrutinized Yu Jinnian closely and gave him a slight nod.
Duan Ming arrived with the carriage—a fine steed capable of a thousand miles a day, now harnessed for labor with no one to lament its fate. In the urgency of the situation, Lian Zhi said, “Gentlemen, please board. We can speak further on the way.”
His voice bore the characteristic tone of an inner court eunuch, light yet not sharp or grating. It carried a subtle, youthful clarity, making it difficult for anyone to take an instant dislike to him.
Without unnecessary pretense, they boarded the carriage in succession and set off.
Lian Zhi hung his imperial token outside the vehicle. Every checkpoint they encountered waived inspection and allowed them swift passage. In no time, they left the capital, heading directly north. Duan Ming cracked his whip sharply, yet it was no match for Lian Zhi’s urgent commands. A carriage carrying three or four people raced like a lone rider breaking free.
Amidst the bumps, Ji Hong asked, “Junior Supervisor Lian Zhi, what exactly happened at the hunting ground?”
Lian Zhi, gazing nervously out of the carriage, turned back, loosened the curtain in his hand, clenched his fist, and said, “The Penglin spring hunt concluded a few days ago. On the return journey to the capital, the emperor whimsically decided to switch from carriage to horseback. It was uneventful until we passed Fengyao Gorge. Then, audacious assassins fired a cold arrow! As you may know, Young Master Ji, Fengyao Gorge resembles a wasp’s waist—narrow in the middle, wide at the ends, flanked by treacherous mountains and cliffs, making it near impossible to hide. Thus, when the arrow struck… no one anticipated it.”
Ji Hong frowned slightly. “Were the culprits caught? How is His Majesty?”
Lian Zhi sighed, paused for a moment, and then said, “The emperor is unharmed, and the thirty-two bandits have already been executed. They were merely mountain bandits who had taken to a life of crime. Hearing rumors of a wealthy merchant caravan passing through the area, they decided to try their luck. Who would have thought it was the imperial entourage? Before they were even tortured, they were so terrified they wet their pants and confessed everything without a shred of dignity.”
Ji Hong asked, “Was this investigated thoroughly?”
“Yes, it has been verified. They truly were bandits from a nearby hideout,” Lian Zhi replied. “General Lu led troops to wipe out their den, but…”
He looked up, his brows furrowed with worry and guilt as he continued, “Minister Min took an arrow to protect His Majesty. At the time, it seemed fine. He pulled the arrow out himself and fought valiantly, even riding his horse for several miles afterward. He seemed fine, so we assumed it was just a superficial wound. But not long after leaving Fengyao Gorge, he suddenly fell from his horse and never got back up…”
Yu Jinnian sat upright, listening intently, fearful of missing any detail.
Ji Hong asked anxiously, “How is he now?”
Lian Zhi’s voice lowered as he answered, “The minister has been gravely ill for days. Despite the use of various medicines, his condition has not improved. Yesterday, he struggled to breathe, almost unable to draw a single breath. Even the restorative medicine was vomited out. It seems as though… as though…”
He pressed his lips together, his face shadowed with a faint sorrow that he couldn’t bring himself to express. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “Sigh… The imperial entourage is currently stationed at the Hot Spring Palace. The emperor summoned imperial physicians overnight, but they were powerless as well.”
“The minister’s mind remains clear. It seems he has some lingering concerns he wishes to address. In his semi-conscious state, he repeatedly called your name, Young Master Ji. I took it upon myself to come and fetch you to see him.”
Lian Zhi clenched his hands tightly, unwilling to delve further, but he couldn’t help thinking—this meeting might very well be the last. Since the minister, in his critical state, was still thinking of Ji Hong, he felt he had no choice but to bring him.
Ji Hong closed his eyes briefly. From what Lian Zhi had described, Min Ji’s illness had reached a stage where medicine was no longer effective. Anxiety churned within him, but the carriage was already speeding along. The rough terrain made any faster pace perilous, risking both passengers and vehicle tumbling off the mountain.
He could only suppress his growing unease and wait silently.
The Ji and Min families shared a long-standing alliance, primarily driven by political interests. However, Ji Hong and Min Xuefei had genuine personal bonds. Despite their often cold and curt interactions, hearing such dire news about Min Ji from others left him deeply unsettled.
Yu Jinnian could naturally perceive Ji Hong’s distress. He didn’t concern himself with who Min Xuefei was saving or how valiantly he sacrificed himself for the nation. His sole focus was that a sick person needed treatment and an injured person required care. Despite Min Xuefei’s frequent scorn for him and his dubious schemes to marry Ji Hong off to some princess, he was still Ji Hong’s childhood companion, practically inseparable. No matter his bias, Yu Jinnian couldn’t sit by and watch him die. Thus, as soon as the others fell silent, he asked, “Master Lian Zhi, you said Minister Min was struck by an arrow. Where exactly was the wound?”
Lian Zhi glanced at him and, without any pretense, raised his hand to gesture above his shoulder, hesitating before pointing to a spot on his upper chest. “Roughly here.”
Judging by the location, it was unclear whether the injury was superficial or involved deeper tissues, such as the muscles or even the heart membrane. After a moment’s thought, Yu Jinnian pressed further, “Since it’s an external wound, was there significant bleeding? Has it stopped? Does he cough or wheeze? If he coughs, what kind of cough? Does he cough up blood or have phlegm? If he doesn’t cough or wheeze, is his complexion pale or purplish?”
His series of rapid-fire questions, asked with such precision, seemed almost impossible to remember in full.
Yet somehow, Lian Zhi managed to answer every question. Whether it was his remarkable memory—perhaps the reason he served in the emperor’s presence so flawlessly at such a young age—or his deep concern for Min Xuefei’s condition over the past days, he recalled the details with clarity. “The bleeding has stopped. His complexion is somewhat dark. I’ve heard faint coughing, but there’s been no blood. There is wheezing, but I haven’t observed phlegm closely. I would need to ask the palace maids and eunuchs attending to Minister Min for further details.”
Yu Jinnian silently ruled out several unlikely diagnoses. Yet narrowing down the remaining possibilities proved challenging without seeing the patient in person. As his thoughts raced, he noticed Ji Hong’s furrowed brow. Reaching out, he lightly patted Ji Hong’s hand on the back of the fingers. Then, using his wide sleeve to shield their movements, he covertly held Ji Hong’s hand, offering comfort.
Lian Zhi noticed the gesture, his expression briefly surprised. However, he said nothing, turning his head away slightly as though he hadn’t seen anything.
After a while, he slightly turned his body and gave Ji Hong an ambiguous glance, his lips parting as if to speak but stopping short. Before long, the scenery around them changed. Ahead, there were increasingly more soldiers standing guard, and bright yellow imperial flags fluttered in the depths of the valley. It was clear they had reached the boundary of Re Valley.
Lian Zhi shut his lips and said no more.
What should have taken a full day’s journey was completed in half under Duan Ming’s relentless pace. By the time they arrived at the entrance to Re Valley, the horses in front were so exhausted that they couldn’t lift their hooves, neighing and refusing to move even a step further.
They had no choice but to dismount, and Lian Zhi called for a small sedan chair to quickly carry them to the imperial lodge.
Re Valley was named for its defining characteristics—its climate and terrain. The area was surrounded by low mountains that formed a natural embrace. The view was lush and green, with verdant mountains and clear waters. It wasn’t overly cold; instead, a faint, inexplicably warm and humid breeze brushed past their faces. Above, the sky was an immaculate blue, so clear it looked like it had been plucked straight from a painting of mountains and rivers. There was a poetic grandeur to it.
It was utterly refreshing.
The Re Valley lodge had been built during the previous dynasty. After enduring wars and natural disasters, it had fallen into disrepair, yet abandoning such a beautiful and strategically advantageous location would have been a waste. The current emperor ordered it to be rebuilt, transforming it into a secure yet scenic imperial retreat.
Yu Jinnian trailed closely behind Ji Hong as he exited the sedan chair, curiously observing his surroundings. The lodge wasn’t particularly majestic, but it was splendid—gilded and radiant, with ornate eaves, glazed tiles, and vermilion walls that gleamed brightly under the sun. As he walked through the pavilions and corridors, colorful flowers lined the walls on either side. His eyes darted about in fascination, nearly causing him to forget why he was there.
It wasn’t until a few palace maids hurriedly approached and bowed to them that Yu Jinnian snapped back to reality, realizing he had entered the inner court of the imperial lodge.
Matters of life and death took precedence over ceremony, so Lian Zhi made a bold decision not to report to the emperor first. Instead, they bypassed the back garden and went straight to a pavilion in the southeastern corner—the current residence of Min Xuefei.
As soon as they entered the courtyard, a strong bitter scent assaulted their noses. Yu Jinnian pinched his nose and coughed heavily twice. Only when the air cleared slightly did he notice the people bustling about—mostly low-ranking eunuchs in gray-blue robes. Some were sweeping, some carried basins of water, and others tended to brewing medicine. Although they worked urgently, they moved with remarkable order. Only when they noticed Lian Zhi did they pause, bowing respectfully and addressing him as “sir.”
Yu Jinnian, having guessed from Lian Zhi’s attire that he held some authority, hadn’t realized just how influential he was. From the moment they entered the lodge, almost everyone showed him respect. A few patrolling soldiers appeared somewhat impatient but didn’t dare reveal their disdain openly.
Falling a few steps behind, Yu Jinnian overheard one of the soldiers muttering with contempt, throwing out phrases like “eunuch,” “abusing power,” and “serving others with their looks.”
He glanced at Lian Zhi’s tall and upright back, puzzled for a moment before quickening his pace to catch up.
In the courtyard, a few stoves were set up with medicine simmering on them. Yu Jinnian approached and lifted the lids of two pots, recognizing the ingredients inside. One contained herbs for relieving wheezing and reversing adverse symptoms, while the other was a prepared decoction for critical recovery—a sign they were prepared for the worst.
While he was examining the medicine, a voice suddenly cried out from inside the house: “Minister Min! Minister Min, this is bad—!”
Yu Jinnian immediately turned and rushed into the room. The interior was dim, with the doors and windows tightly shut. Though the person on the bed was still alive, the air was heavy with a sense of death, unsettling and oppressive. A young eunuch stepped forward to stop him, but Yu Jinnian shoved him aside and barked, “Move.”
Taking quick strides, he reached the bedside and glanced at the patient—Second Young Master Min—gasping for breath like a stranded fish. Ignoring the imperial physician beside him, Yu Jinnian turned to the group of panicking, confused eunuchs and said sharply, “Bring me a length of new cloth—long, thick, clean, and breathable.”
The eunuchs hesitated, unsure who this young man was or why he had authority to give orders. Just as they were about to seek instructions from their overseer, Lian Zhi entered the room. The sweep of his robe brought a faint breeze into the stifling chamber. He tilted his head slightly, looked at Ji Hong, then cast a distant glance at the pale, gasping Min Xuefei.
His calm voice cut through the chaos, immediately suppressing any objections. “Go to my quarters and bring the *yunling* cotton.”
One of the eunuchs, startled, whispered anxiously, “Supervisor Lian, but that cloth is—”
Lian Zhi frowned and shot him a sharp look. “Why so much nonsense? Hurry up and go.”