For Zhu Qingyu to leap from a sixth-rank court judge to a third-rank Minister of the Imperial Medical Department was no small feat. Such a promotion required the perfect alignment of timing, circumstances, and support—not something that could be achieved by the Eldest Grand Princess’s mere decree.
To climb the official ladder, the most crucial thing was to have influential people sway the emperor, making him believe that your merits far surpassed those of others.
Therefore, when Grand General Wen submitted his memorial to the emperor, following the Eldest Grand Princess’s instructions, he not only highlighted the great victory at Mount Jiufeng but also gave a detailed account of the current epidemic situation in the northern borderlands.
Gu Zhao reviewed Grand General Wen’s memorial. He had no objections to the parts describing his own military leadership—he left those to Wen’s discretion.
However, when it came to Doctor Zhu’s significant contributions in the northern epidemic, Vice Minister Gu was dissatisfied with General Wen’s dry, straightforward writing style. Without hesitation, he began making bold revisions.
Not only did Grand General Wen have to submit a memorial, but Zhu Qingyu, who had been ordered to treat the epidemic, also needed to report directly to the emperor. This way, she could raise her profile and ensure that when the emperor needed to appoint someone, she would be the first name that came to mind.
As a result, Zhu Qingyu’s days grew busier. She spent her daylight hours attending to patients, and her nights were consumed by the arduous task of drafting memorials.
Although Gu Zhao had previously given her intensive training, equipping her with numerous sample memorials to memorize, transitioning from practice to actual writing proved challenging. She toiled for several days, revising repeatedly.
One night, she even worked until past midnight and ended up dozing off at her desk.
In a haze, she sensed someone approaching. When she opened her eyes, she saw the indomitable Gu Zhao, looking pale and weak, quietly mending her clothes.
Zhu Qingyu gathered her robe and glanced at the fragrant thread on the desk.
“Is it really this late?” she murmured.
Tilting his head, Gu Zhao studied the memorial she had written and asked, “Finished writing?”
She had, but she felt her work paled in comparison to his previous writings. For days, she had been too embarrassed to show him, but now that the deadline was imminent and the memorial had to be handed over to Grand General Wen for delivery to the capital, she had no choice but to let him see it.
She pushed her seat aside and said, “Could you take a look?”
Gu Zhao had wanted to review it earlier, but she had always been reluctant to share it with him. Now that it was official, he frowned as he read.
Noticing his furrowed brows, Zhu Qingyu cautiously asked, “How is it?”
Selecting the finest brush, Gu Zhao circled and corrected words, saying, “Between you and Grand General Wen, your memorials are on par—both plain and straightforward.”
Once again, Vice Minister Gu was criticizing her lack of literary flair. Well, plain it was, then. Zhu Qingyu wasn’t hurt by those words; she chose to take them as a compliment and smiled.
“I’ve never taken the imperial exams,” she said. “As long as I can convey the meaning fully, avoid mistakes, and steer clear of taboo phrases, that’s good enough. Literary talent is innate. No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be like Lord Du.”
Gu Zhao chuckled at her words.
“Lord Zhu, you’re quite ambitious, even daring to compare yourself to Lord Du. Catch up to my level first, then we’ll talk. When we return to the capital, I’ll have to give you extra assignments. Otherwise, if people say you were taught by me, I’d lose face as your teacher.”
The two of them bantered back and forth in casual conversation. Gu Zhao finished correcting her work and beckoned her over.
“Disciple, come here and copy this exactly.”
Zhu Qingyu pulled over a chair and sat beside him, first reviewing his corrections. She had to admit, a true minister is a minister—expert in his craft. Though some word choices needed adjusting, the overall effect was unmistakably different.
So she carefully recopied the memorial according to his revisions. By the time Zhu Qingyu finished writing, it was already the middle of the night. The two of them then returned together to their quarters to wash up and sleep.
The surroundings were quiet and still. In the dim night, time and space seemed to blur. As Gu Zhao held her hand and led her back from the side chamber to the main room, Zhu Qingyu even had the illusion that a family member had come to keep her company while working late, and now they were going home together.
Before going to bed, Zhu Qingyu took Gu Zhao’s pulse one last time and said,
“Much better. I saw your wound didn’t bleed again today. Just be careful not to bump it. Take good care, and in about a month, it should be fully healed. Now, get some rest.”
She was about to leave when Gu Zhao grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let go. Lying in bed, his eyes shone brightly as he looked at her.
“A month? During the day, you said at this pace, all the patients will be able to return home in about a month. So that means on our way back to the capital, I’ll be healed? We rushed going there, but on the way back, with me recovered and spring in bloom, we can take our time. I’ll take you out and show you around properly.”
Zhu Qingyu had been here for quite a while, but hadn’t really taken the chance to enjoy herself. Hearing Gu Zhao say this, she felt a spark of anticipation.
“All right.”
Maybe since they had talked things through that day, in recent days, no matter the topic, their conversations always carried a hint of future plans and hopeful expectations.
Not only Gu Zhao, but Zhu Qingyu felt the same way.
The lights were already out. Zhu Qingyu lay on the small couch and suddenly asked Gu Zhao,
“Is the Huiyi Temple under construction yet? Is it far from the palace?”
In the darkness, Gu Zhao, half a room away, chuckled.
“It’s not far from the Grand Secretariat, nor from the Ministry of Revenue. When I’m off duty, I can come pick you up and take you home. Is that what you wanted to ask?”
Only then did Zhu Qingyu realize how obvious her question sounded.
But so what if it was obvious?
If they decided to be together, wouldn’t their daily life be just like this?
Zhu Qingyu didn’t hide it.
“Of course I can ask. You say ‘going home’—first you have to convince your elders.”
Gu Zhao smiled even wider, full of optimism.
“The Empress Dowager dotes on me. She was just upset for a while. It’s been so long, she’s surely calmed down. I’ll go plead with her; she’ll definitely approve our marriage. As for my other elders, you’ve met them—they’re all reasonable people. I can persuade them. Once we’re back in the capital, just wait and pick a good day.”
As the number of patients discharged daily from the northern frontier military camp grew, so did the number of reunions. Smiles blossomed on everyone’s faces, filling the first month of the year in the northern borderlands with the warmth of early spring.
Carrying Gu Zhao’s hopeful anticipation, the memorials from Grand General Wen and Zhu Qingyu, accompanied by the rhythmic pounding of the courier’s horse hooves, raced day and night, traversing thousands of miles to the imperial palace.
The great victory on the frontier was indeed a cause for celebration, yet the palace remained shrouded in the chill of midwinter.
Though Consort Tan had passed away over forty-nine days ago, and the palace had removed its mourning banners, the emperor, overwhelmed by grief, still lay bedridden. His sorrow was so profound that not only had the grand New Year’s banquet been canceled, but even the court sessions that were supposed to commence after the Lantern Festival remained suspended.
With the emperor confined to his bed, the affairs of state could not be left unattended.
Daily, the ministers gathered for quiet deliberations, while the Empress Dowager held court behind her screen, overseeing governance.
For routine matters, the Empress Dowager rarely voiced opinions, leaving decisions to the ministers. But today, as the elder statesmen discussed the appointment for the position of Minister of the Imperial Medical Office—a prestigious third-rank post—the Empress Dowager suddenly spoke up:
“The Minister of the Imperial Medical Office is a third-rank official, yet all you elders believe Doctor Zhu is the suitable candidate? Is there truly no one else?”
