To prove that little Gu Heng really did like her, Gu Zhao struck while the iron was hot. He reached over and placed his hand on Zhu Qingyu’s belly once more, calling out eagerly,
“Gu Heng, come here. Come here!”
Little Gu Heng might have grown annoyed. He kicked again, so hard that the force tugged painfully at Zhu Qingyu’s stomach.
Zhu Qingyu supported her belly, frowned, and let out a soft groan.
The little one, realizing he had caused trouble, was frightened. Gu Heng immediately curled up inside her belly and did not dare move.
The older one was frightened too. Gu Zhao quickly withdrew his hand and looked at her anxiously.
“Are you all right?”
Zhu Qingyu drew a breath and waited for the pain to pass before replying, “I’m fine. I only have a little left to write in my book. I already promised Lord Zhuang that the government publishing house would print it this year. I can still write for now, and if you don’t give me back my brush, I won’t finish in time.”
Gu Zhao could do nothing about her. Still, he refused to return the brush and came up with a compromise.
“You lie down. You dictate, and I’ll write for you.”
Zhu Qingyu thought that was indeed a workable solution and agreed.
In the days that followed, Zhu Qingyu did not go to the clinic. The bandits had all been wiped out, and there were no urgent matters on hand, so Gu Zhao delegated his duties to his subordinate officials and clerks. He, too, stopped working and devoted himself entirely to staying home with Zhu Qingyu as they awaited the baby’s arrival.
As her belly grew larger, Zhu Qingyu found it increasingly difficult to sleep at night. She could no longer lie on her back and had to sleep on her side, waking several times every night.
To accommodate the pregnant woman’s schedule, Vice Minister Gu forcibly broke himself of his bad habit of waking at the third quarter of the fifth watch, lest he wake Zhu Qingyu just as she had finally managed to fall asleep.
Their daily routines fell into sync. In all the years they had known each other, this was the first time they had spent such a long stretch inseparable.
Every day at the hour of the Dragon, Zhu Qingyu woke, and Gu Zhao woke with her. Together, they rose and ate breakfast.
After breakfast, before the sun grew too fierce, Gu Zhao accompanied Zhu Qingyu on a short walk beneath the shade of the trees in the garden.
By the time they returned, it was nearly the hour of the Snake. They went back to the study, which had been cooled by blocks of ice. Zhu Qingyu reclined on a small couch covered with soft cushions and dictated her book, while Gu Zhao sat at the desk and wrote down everything she said.
Partway through, Nanny Qin would arrive with tea and snacks. They would write for about an hour, then eat lunch together at noon.
After lunch, they rested for a while and took an afternoon nap together. When they woke, they wrote for another hour, then went out for another walk while the setting sun was at its most beautiful.
After dinner, they would curl up together and read miscellaneous books, talk to Gu Heng, wash, bathe, and go to sleep.
Day after day, they followed the same routine, yet Zhu Qingyu never once felt that time was dragging.
The two of them were together from morning to night without a moment apart, and Zhu Qingyu never found it boring.
Even Gu Zhao sighed with emotion.
“This is how life is meant to be lived! From now on, we can’t spend a single day apart. I have to tell Gu Heng that even after we die, we must be buried together. Otherwise, I definitely won’t be able to get used to being apart from you even for a day.”
The man had not even been born yet, and Gu Zhao was already thinking about their burials.
Zhu Qingyu understood and respected Vice Minister Gu’s belief in being together in life and buried together in death, but she could not support it.
The moment she had seen her mother that day—whether it had been a hallucination or something real—had once again strengthened Zhu Qingyu’s determination to erect a gravestone for herself in the Zhu family cemetery.
Since Gu Zhao had no taboos about such things, Zhu Qingyu did not hold back either.
“That probably won’t be possible. When I die, I have to be buried in the Zhu family cemetery, and there must be a gravestone with my name on it. Are you planning to be buried there with me? Besides, I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you. I can’t wait until the year after next to go to Shu. Next year, once Gu Heng is a little older, I’m going. I’ve already made inquiries. Zhu Dashan and I belong to the same clan, and his seniority is even higher than mine. I’ll take Dashan back, and while I’m there, I’ll look for our family cemetery.”
The Gu family cemetery was in the north, while the Zhu family cemetery was in the south. They were thousands of miles apart, which meant that, for all eternity, the two of them would have to remain separated by that distance.
Rejected so decisively, and knowing full well that he could not persuade Zhu Qingyu otherwise, the sentimental Vice Minister Gu grew gloomy at the thought of being left alone after death.
That melancholy lingered around him while he ate, while he walked, while he wrote, while he bathed, and even while he read.
Zhu Qingyu noticed it, of course, but she hardened her heart and pretended not to.
She could not return to her family herself; there was nothing she could do about that. But no matter what, she had to leave them something to remember her by, at the very least letting them know where she was. On this matter, she could not compromise.
Because of it, the two of them even gave each other the silent treatment for half a day, barely speaking.
Late that night, Zhu Qingyu was uncomfortable lying on her side. Gu Heng, who seemed determined to blow bubbles in her womb instead of sleeping, woke her again. Supporting her belly, she turned over and lay with her back to Gu Zhao.
In the darkness, Gu Zhao moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. In an aggrieved whisper, he muttered,
“How can your heart be so hard? Fine, fine. I’ll go with you. I’ll be buried with you in your family cemetery. You hard-hearted woman.”
Listening to Gu Zhao grumble behind her, Zhu Qingyu curved her lips into a smile and laughed silently.
In the blink of an eye, the Double Ninth Festival arrived. Zhu Qingyu’s due date was very near, and with Gu Zhao’s help, she finally finished and finalized her two books, Treatise on a Hundred Diseases and Materia Medica. They were sent to the prefectural government’s publishing house for proofreading and printing.
Throughout the dynasties, it had been fashionable for scholars to publish books. Though Zhu Qingyu was no match for Lord Du in literary talent, she had at least been the top scholar in the palace examinations. Lord Zhuang himself had published several collections of poetry and was thoroughly familiar with the process. He knew where time could be saved and sent word that he would try to have Lord Zhu’s two books printed by the Start of Winter and distributed to government publishing houses in every county across the country.
Lord Zhuang was a man who kept his word. On the day of the Start of Winter, Zhu Qingyu had just finished breakfast and was standing beneath the eaves, watching the first snow of the year, when Zhuang Min arrived through the snow and personally delivered two books.
“We managed to make it in time,” she said with a smile. “Father had promised Lord Zhu that they would be ready by the Start of Winter. He was worried that failing to keep his word would damage his reputation, so he personally supervised the publishing house every day during this period. Please take a look, Lord Zhu. Is everything satisfactory? If it is, we’ll begin the full print run.”
The contents of the books had already been finalized earlier. What Zhuang Min really wanted Zhu Qingyu to inspect was whether they had been printed properly—the quality of the paper and the clarity of the ink.
Zhu Qingyu invited Zhuang Min into the side room for tea, then picked up the two books and began turning through them.
She had been in this world for six full years.
These two books combined the basic knowledge she had learned in her former life with the experience she had gained from treating patients over the past six years. They embodied six years of her painstaking effort.
As she held them and leafed through the pages, she felt something very strange—as though she were looking at her own children.
Zhu Qingyu closed the book and was just about to tell Zhuang Min that everything was in order when a dull ache suddenly began in her belly.
Gu Heng turned over inside her, making the pain worse. Then a warm sensation suddenly flowed down through her clothes.
Zhu Qingyu braced herself against the table to keep from sliding to the floor. She carefully placed the books on the desk and calmly said to Zhuang Min:
“Zhuang Min, go and ask Nanny Qin outside to fetch Doctor Tan, the specialist in gynecology, from Huì Medical Hall. Tell her that my water has broken and I’m about to give birth.”
