Yun Wan had fallen ill.
The sickness struck with alarming intensity. At first, it seemed like nothing more than a common cold, something a few doses of medicine could easily cure. Yet days passed, and her condition showed no signs of improvement.
The room was hushed, lit only by a single lamp while the rest remained extinguished. The physician had diagnosed Yun Wan with an invasion of evil winds, so the servants had shut all the windows tightly, leaving only a sliver open for ventilation.
A faint medicinal scent lingered in the air. The pale bed curtains swayed gently in the breeze, and beneath them, a small figure lay curled up, occasionally breaking the silence with weak coughs.
Yue Ya knocked lightly before entering. "Madam, the medicine is ready."
Hearing the coughing, she quickly set down the tray and hurried to the bedside, lifting the curtains aside.
A delicate, pale face came into view.
Yun Wan lay on the bed, her slender frame buried beneath the soft silk quilt, her raven-black hair cascading freely over the pillow.
Her eyes were closed, her temples damp with sweat. Her usually fair skin was flushed with an unnatural rosy hue, and her small lips were an unusually vivid red.
Her fine brows furrowed intermittently as she drifted in and out of restless sleep, caught between chills and fever, her mind heavy and muddled.
Yue Ya’s eyes brimmed with worry as she fetched a clean cloth and gently dabbed the sweat from Yun Wan’s neck.
Gradually, Yun Wan stirred, lifting her heavy eyelids. Half-awake, she asked in a hoarse, fragile voice, "Has Sui been sent off yet?"
Speaking sent a sharp pain through her throat, her words weak and raspy, laden with exhaustion.
Yue Ya replied, "Yue'e took Young Master Sui to the carriage half an hour ago. He should have arrived by now."
Thinking of the clever and thoughtful young master, Yue Ya smiled, eager to share more. "Yue'e said Young Master Sui was worried about you before he left. He asked when you’d recover and made sure we took good care of you!"
At the mention of her son, Yun Wan managed a faint smile, her tone fondly exasperated. "That child! Why is he worrying over grown-up matters?"
Two days prior, Sui had returned from the Hongwen Institute and, upon learning of his mother’s illness, refused to leave her side.
He was supposed to return yesterday but had begged for another day’s leave, unwilling to part with her.
Today, with no more excuses, he had no choice but to go.
Fearing she might pass her illness to him, Yun Wan had kept their interactions brief, and at noon, she had instructed her maids to escort Sui to the carriage.
Her forehead was damp with sweat, stray strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. Though naturally fair-skinned, the fever had painted her in soft pink hues, her delicate fragrance still faintly perceptible.
Shifting weakly, she raised a hand. "I’m tired of lying down. Help me up."
Yue Ya carefully supported her as she sat up, adding, "Young Master Sui is just concerned for you, Madam. You must focus on recovering quickly so he won’t worry."
Yun Wan sighed softly, her expression weary. "It’ll take time, no matter what."
She had always been diligent about her health, rarely falling ill. Yet once sickness took hold, it struck with relentless force.
Lifting the steaming bowl of medicine, she grimaced but forced herself to drink it all in one go.
Being ill was miserable, and Yun Wan longed to recover swiftly. But fate had other plans—half a month passed, and she remained weak, her condition fluctuating.
She had visibly thinned, her cheeks hollowed.
At first, the old madam hadn’t paid much attention. After all, everyone fell ill now and then. She had never been fond of Yun Wan to begin with, dismissing it as a minor ailment—a few acupuncture sessions and bitter concoctions would surely suffice.
But as Yun Wan’s condition dragged on, even she grew uneasy.
Not out of genuine concern for Yun Wan, of course, but for her beloved grandson, Sui. The boy had lost his father before he was even born. If his mother were to follow…
Heaven forbid—Sui would be left an orphan.
Yet despite summoning the finest physicians in the capital, none could cure the root of her illness.
Just as Lu Yuanduo, Duke of Lu, prepared to request an imperial physician, a panting servant rushed in with urgent news:
"Your Grace, someone from the palace has arrived!"
......
Lu Yuanduo was taken aback at the sight of the entourage, especially the man leading it—Jiang Fusheng.
His presence could only mean one thing: an imperial decree.
"Eunuch Jiang, what brings you here?" Lu Yuanduo asked cautiously.
Jiang Fusheng smiled. "His Majesty heard that the Third Madam of your household has been unwell for some time. He has dispatched Imperial Physician Zhou to attend to her."
Imperial Physician Zhou, the thin, goat-bearded man standing behind him, was none other than the Chief Physician of the Imperial Medical Bureau—the emperor’s personal physician.
In other words, his skills were unparalleled, reserved exclusively for the emperor himself.
Lu Yuanduo’s mind reeled, but he maintained a puzzled expression. "May I ask… how did His Majesty come to know of this?"
How had Yun Wan’s illness reached the emperor’s ears? And why would he send his own physician—an honor even high-ranking officials and imperial consorts rarely received?
Jiang Fusheng, well aware of his master’s… less-than-proper interest in the matter, kept his tone professional. "It’s a long story, involving Young Master Sui and Young Master Pei Qian. I’ll explain on the way. For now, Madam Lu’s health takes precedence."
Lu Yuanduo nodded, leading them toward Cuiwei Courtyard.
As Jiang Fusheng recounted the events, Lu Yuanduo’s confusion gradually cleared.
Worried about Yun Wan, Sui had been distracted in his studies for days, his mind wandering constantly.
That afternoon, instead of joining his peers, Sui had hidden behind the schoolhouse, lost in thought.
It was a secluded spot, tucked behind tall weeds—a place Sui had discovered by chance, perfect for moments when he needed solitude.
He missed his mother.
Was she any better?
Before leaving, Yue'e had promised that if he behaved, his mother would recover by the time he returned.
But last night, he’d dreamed of her sleeping soundly, unresponsive no matter how much he called for her. The nightmare had jolted him awake, and he’d clutched his stuffed cat, crying silently in the dark.
Now, squatting on the ground, he plucked at the grass absentmindedly, his fair, delicate face etched with sorrow. His eyes were rimmed red.
Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the weeds nearby.
Sui tensed, standing up warily.
The grass parted, revealing a grimy face. The boy blinked in surprise. "Huh? It’s you?"
"What are you doing here?"
Sui frowned. "I should be asking you. Why are you crawling through a dog hole?"
Pei Qian grinned sheepishly, scratching his head. "Just bored, really. Saw this hole and thought I’d see where it leads."
Pei Qian was known for his love of mischief—cockfighting, dog racing, climbing walls, and yes, occasionally squeezing through unconventional passages.
Bold and unrestrained, he was the son of high-ranking officials and a favorite nephew of Emperor Jingxuan. As long as he didn’t cause too much trouble, most turned a blind eye to his antics.
Hopping out of the weeds, he studied Sui’s face. "Hey… were you crying?"
Sui stiffened, hastily wiping his eyes.
Pei Qian brushed the dust off his clothes and clicked his tongue. "You must be homesick, aren’t you?"
Sui pursed her lips slightly, not denying it. "When I left, my mother was still ill. She saw many physicians and took countless medicines, but nothing helped."
"...I miss her."
Pei Qian scratched his cheek, then suddenly brightened. "That’s easy to fix!"
"Come with me!"
He grabbed Sui’s sleeve and pulled her along.
Sui stumbled a few steps after him. "Where are we going?"
Pei Qian declared matter-of-factly, "To see the Emperor—my uncle!"
