As soon as she heard that the Emperor had woken up, Zhu Qingyu's instincts as a physician outran her thoughts. With a piece of meat still clamped between her chopsticks, she had already dashed to the Emperor's bedside, wasting no time in examining him—observing, listening, questioning, and feeling his pulse. She asked,
"Your Majesty, how do you feel? Are you still cold? Or still in pain? Where does it hurt?"
Although the Emperor had regained consciousness, his mind seemed still foggy. He paid no attention to Zhu Qingyu's questions, staring blankly instead at the meat on her chopsticks. In a voice as faint as a silk thread, he said,
"So hungry."
Well, unlike the previous times when he complained of cold or pain, now he was complaining of hunger?
Zhu Qingyu couldn't help but suspect that the Emperor, having eaten almost nothing proper during his days of illness, had been lured awake by the aggressively fragrant flavors of Sichuan-style dishes.
In this imperial palace, the Emperor was the highest authority. It could be said that the entire palace's provisions existed solely to serve him.
Unlike Gu Zhao, who had to bribe people in the Imperial Kitchen to snatch dishes for Zhu Qingyu, the moment the Emperor uttered the word "hungry," the Qianqing Palace's small kitchen had already sent up prepared meals. Not only was the timing perfect, even the temperature was just right.
Nothing in Heaven or on Earth mattered more than eating. If a patient could eat, half the battle was won.
Zhu Qingyu stepped back a few paces, leaving the bedside service to the attendants of Qianqing Palace, and then, right in front of the Emperor, she ate the piece of meat from her chopsticks.
The still-dazed Emperor, faced with the bland, tasteless medicinal diet that didn't match what he wanted, seemed dissatisfied. Even though he wasn't fully awake, his brows were tightly furrowed, making Eunuch Qiu, who was feeding him, tremble with fear.
Perhaps because he had been forcibly "woken," the Emperor's clarity was fleeting. It lasted such a short time that by the time the Empress Dowager arrived upon hearing the news, the Emperor had barely eaten a few bites of the medicinal meal before fainting again.
And during that brief moment of the Emperor's suspected lucidity, no one had the time or the audacity to ask, "Your Majesty, Consort Tan is pregnant—did you sleep with her three months ago?" If someone had actually asked such a question—and if Consort Tan was indeed in a delicate situation—it might have angered the gravely ill Emperor to death.
But the good news was: just as diseases could spread, positive symptoms could spread too.
By late afternoon, good news came from the young eunuch in Qianqing Palace who had previously caught the Emperor's illness.
As a control case, he had taken the same medicine as the Emperor, had been infected for a shorter time, and had milder symptoms. Not only had he woken up, but he had stayed awake for quite a while, eating three steamed buns and still complaining he was too hungry to sleep.
Upon hearing this news, Zhu Qingyu went to Eunuch Qiu to ask if she could seek the Empress Dowager's permission to visit that young eunuch.
Her reason was solid: a patient's own account is a crucial part of diagnosis. Since the patients had all been unconscious before, that piece was missing. If it could be filled in, it would allow for a more precise and thorough judgment of this illness, making the Emperor's treatment more certain.
In the palace, whenever a eunuch fell ill, to avoid infecting their masters, they were immediately moved outside the imperial city. So to see that young eunuch, she would have to leave the palace and return before the gates were locked at the end of the You hour (around 7–9 PM).
The Empress Dowager sent Mammy Gui with a waist token to deliver a message:
"By order of the Empress Dowager: Doctor Zhu may treat the Emperor's illness entirely according to her own plan, without needing to ask for approval. This is the governing waist token of Cining Palace. Doctor Zhu may carry it with her and come and go freely as long as the palace gates have not been locked. Since you are going outside the imperial city, to be safe, let Heir Gu escort you there and bring you back safely."
The unspoken meaning of the Empress Dowager's decree was: Gu Zhao didn't have to kneel anymore.
On the way out of the palace, Zhu Qingyu said to Gu Zhao, "I truly believe in my heart that the Empress Dowager spoils you a lot. Without you even admitting fault, she took the initiative to give you a way out, unwilling to make you suffer the humiliation of kneeling."
It was already past the You hour, and the sky had darkened.
Gu Zhao carried a lantern, walking beside Zhu Qingyu, and replied,
"Yes, when I was in the palace, the Empress Dowager always looked after my daily life and studies. Though it might sound disrespectful to say it, she cared for me as much as if I were her own son."
Zhu Qingyu said "Oh" and didn't continue.
Given how much the Empress Dowarder valued Gu Zhao, her mere entanglement with him—a married woman—had already earned him a slap and a punishment of kneeling.
If Gu Zhao were to go to the Empress Dowager and say he wanted to marry her, Zhu Qingyu thought that, based on the decisive and rigorous style she had seen the Empress Dowadow exhibit over the past couple of days, if the Empress Dowadier believed Zhu Qingyu was seducing Gu Zhao or coveting something she didn't deserve, she might send someone to kill her that very same day, without even waiting overnight.
The reason the Empress Dowiadge had only punished Gu Zhao and not her was simply because the Emperor's illness still required her services.
And ordering Gu Zhao to escort and protect her was nothing more than the Empress Dowadow trusting no one else, and having no choice but to use him.
So what did those fleeting feelings amount to?
They were utterly insignificant. Unlike in modern times, where one could just give it a try, "trying" here could cost a life.
This younger man could only be admired from afar, not toyed with up close. Keep her distance. Staying alive was what mattered.
The two carried their lanterns out through the northern gate of the palace. At the gate, several imperial guards fell in step behind them.
Gu Zhao took the initiative to explain: "Chongshu arranged them. That area is complicated. It's safer to take precautions."
The place where the young eunuch had been moved for recovery was actually not far from the northern gate of the palace—just one street away.
But that single street separated the space inside the palace walls from the world outside—like a distinction between Heaven and Earth.
When Zhu Qingyu arrived, she understood that Gu Zhao's word "complicated" was an understatement.
To put it bluntly, the place where the young eunuch had been sent to recover was also where the palace housed all eunuchs who, for various reasons, could no longer serve their masters. It was a filthy, disorderly slum, a place of abandonment where most people never returned to the court.
That young eunuch's name was Shun'an, and he was only twelve years old. In Zhu Qingyu's eyes, he was just a primary school student. That he had survived this long was only because he was being used as the Emperor's experimental control group, so the court still provided him food and clothing.
When Shun'an saw Zhu Qingyu and heard her purpose, he became very excited. He thumped his head on the ground, kowtowing to her while tears streamed down his face:
"Thank you, Doctor Zhu, for saving me! You are truly a living Buddha who delivers people from suffering. If I can ever return to serve in the palace, I will burn incense and pray for your blessings day and night!"
Zhu Qingyu checked his pulse. Perhaps because young people have a fast metabolism, he had almost completely recovered.
So Zhu Qingyu smiled and said,
"Don't do that. I'm a living person, there's no need to burn incense for me. My consultation fees are set: one hundred copper coins for an examination here, and five hundred for a house call. If you really want to thank me, when you get back to the palace and receive your monthly pay, just remember to pay me the fee."
Not only was Shun'an nearly healed, but the Emperor's condition also improved significantly that night. The continuous on-and-off fever that had plagued him for days was finally brought under control by nightfall.
At the first glimmer of dawn the next day, after the eunuchs had taken away the morning medicine, Zhu Qingyu, utterly exhausted after staying awake for a full day and a night, rested her head on the tea room table, her eyes fixed on the Emperor's portion of medicine as she watched over it. The more she watched, the sleepier she grew, until her mind finally went hazy.
Gu Zhao, who had been by her side the whole time, was full of energy. Seeing how sleepy she was, he urged her:
"Maybe you should sleep for a while. I’ll wake you when they return?"
Zhu Qingyu poured a cup of strong tea, forcing herself to stay awake as she strained to keep her eyes open. "No," she said, "the Empress Dowager said I can’t take my eyes off him until the medication is administered. Besides, it’s almost time. By my estimate, the people who delivered the medicine to the Imperial Medical Commissioner and Shun’an should be back soon. From what I saw of Shun’an’s condition yesterday, I think one more dose today should be enough for him to recover."
As the two were talking, two eunuchs who had taken the medicine to Shun’an rushed into the Qianqing Palace, panic written all over their faces, shouting:
"Stop, stop! This medicine is poisoned! Don’t let the Emperor take it! Shun’an used it, and within fifteen minutes, he vomited blood and died!"
