Chapter 25 Bitter Medicine Wrapped in Sugar

Chapter 25: Sugar-Coated Bitterness

The Imperial Palace.

Inside the majestic hall, a bronze crane incense burner released wisps of smoke. A large Taiji Bagua diagram hung high in the center of the palace. Behind the faint yellow silk curtains, a slender figure sat upright, barely visible.

"Adoptive father."

Yao’er entered, carrying a tray with cinnabar and yellow talisman paper. She carefully placed it on the redwood daybed and lifted the silk curtain.

Yao’er said softly, "The eunuchs from Qianyuan Hall are here to collect the talismans."

The emperor handled court affairs in Qinzheng Hall, while Qianyuan Hall was his private resting place. Since ascending the throne, the emperor had been diligent and caring toward his people, often working late into the night. In previous years, he had practically lived in Qinzheng Hall. Now, as he grew older, he increasingly rested in Qianyuan Hall.

Fang Zhixu opened his eyes and glanced casually at the cinnabar and talisman paper. "Today... it's later than usual."

The emperor would take a short nap at noon and usually send for the talismans during the hour of Wei (1-3 PM). Later, it shifted to the hour of Shen (3-5 PM), and today it was half an hour later than even that.

Yao’er was surprised. "The eunuchs just arrived and are waiting outside."

It wasn’t that she had been lazy. Besides, the emperor, ruler of all under heaven—if he wanted something, did it really matter what time it was?

Fang Zhixu did not respond. He lifted his wide sleeve, dipping the brush tip into the cinnabar. The veins on his lean wrist were faintly visible, and his knuckles were prominent. His brush moved with fluid, elegant strokes, exuding an immortal’s grace.

He thought indifferently: The emperor is finally growing old.

As people age, their vitality declines. When kidney water fails to nourish heart fire, it is like a lamp running out of oil. He could no longer control the timing of his naps.

Time was running out.

He swiftly put away his brush and asked Yao’er softly, "Has there been any news from the Virtuous Prince?"

Yao’er nodded eagerly and relayed, "Everything is ready. Proceed as planned."

As for what the "plan" entailed, Yao’er did not know. Success depended on secrecy. That day, her adoptive father and the Virtuous Prince had discussed matters behind closed doors, and only the two of them knew the details.

However, her adoptive father had gone to great lengths, even leveraging celestial phenomena, to wrest the position of chief examiner for this year’s imperial examinations from others and assign it to Gu Yan. Yao’er vaguely guessed that her adoptive father and the Virtuous Prince’s plan might be related to the imperial examinations.

After all, Senior Tutor Gu held too much power in the court, with his disciples spread throughout the government. Ordinary charges could not topple him—except for the crime of rebellion, which carried the punishment of extermination of nine generations. This was the fastest method.

The imperial examinations were a public institution, the crucial path for the court to select officials, and the only ladder for commoners to reach the emperor’s court. It was a hallowed ground in the hearts of all scholars, pure and untarnished.

Disrupting the imperial examinations meant undermining the state’s foundations. If the emperor did not punish Gu Yan, how could he silence the countless scholars across the land?

If successful, not only would Gu Yan, this cancer, be directly removed, but the talents and abilities of all those who had relied on Senior Tutor Gu would inevitably be questioned, leading to widespread implications. Even the Crown Prince himself would be deeply entangled in the crisis. Thus, the Crown Prince and his faction would have their foundations destroyed, like a collapsing building with its beams broken, teetering on the brink.

...

Yao’er worriedly asked, "Adoptive father, will the Virtuous Prince... truly care about our survival?"

She did not understand their plan, but she knew it was extremely risky. Senior Tutor Gu had stood firm in the court for many years—would he simply allow himself to be schemed against? If the plan were exposed, even before the emperor could act, Gu Yan alone could skin them alive.

Since receiving that kick from Gu Yan, Yao’er both hated and feared him. She knew some martial skills, but that day, she had been utterly powerless against Gu Yan. She had not sensed any killing intent—he had not intended to kill her, nor had he even looked at her, yet he had nearly killed her. Even now, her chest still ached faintly.

It was like crushing an ant on the roadside. In the eyes of the powerful, human life was as cheap as grass—this was likely the case.

Yao’er grew increasingly worried. If they failed, there would be no way out. If they succeeded... the Virtuous Prince stood to gain greatly, but who would care about her adoptive father’s survival? In the past, those Daoists had not survived more than six months. No one knew whether, even if the Crown Prince were overthrown, the Virtuous Prince could ascend the throne within half a year.

As for that princess—if she had been lost for over thirty years, she might have already been reincarnated. Without a single clue, how could they find her?

"This is not something for you to worry about."

Fang Zhixu said softly, "Since I brought you into the palace, I will take you out safely, whole and unharmed. Don’t you trust me?"

"Of course I do! Even if... Yao’er is willing to die for Adoptive father—"

Fang Zhixu waved his hand, cutting off Yao’er’s lengthy declaration of loyalty, and gestured for her to take the talismans. He instructed, "Tell the people from Qianyuan Hall that I have roughly calculated the princess’s whereabouts and request an audience with His Majesty."

Yao’er’s eyes widened instantly. Could it be that her adoptive father, connected to the divine, had truly found the princess?

But no—her adoptive father had been meditating and cultivating daily without even performing a divination!

She was about to speak when she looked up and saw the depth in Fang Zhixu’s dark eyes. Only half of his face was visible, always wearing a bodhisattva-like expression devoid of joy or sorrow. Suddenly, Yao’er felt that her adoptive father seemed somewhat impatient.

She awkwardly suppressed her doubts, thinking it must be her imagination. Her adoptive father was gentle and compassionate—he had never once spoken harshly to her. How could he be impatient?

It was also her fault for being too foolish. Every step in the palace was perilous. Even for her adoptive father’s sake, she needed to pull herself together—listen more, observe more, and speak less, as her adoptive father had said!

Yao’er respectfully closed the palace door. The quiet hall fell into silence. Fang Zhixu stood up, staggering to the front of the Yin-Yang Taiji diagram. The intertwined fish-shaped symbols formed a perfect circle—the Dao begets One, One begets Two, Two begets Three, and Three begets all things. It contained countless profound and mysterious truths of the world.

Only Fang Zhixu knew it was all fake!

He did not believe in gods or Buddhas. He wore these robes only because, compared to monks, the emperor favored Daoists more.

Thanks to this disguise, he had openly stepped into the imperial palace—a threshold that Scholar Fang, even at the cost of his life, had never been able to cross. He had finally met the wise and mighty emperor who could secure justice for him.

Twenty years—it was too late.

The emperor was old, no longer wise and mighty.

He no longer needed others to grant him justice.

He would seek his own justice.

He, this fake Daoist, had no idea how to find any princess. Moreover, given the emperor’s stringent conditions, even a genuine Daoist would be helpless—unless there truly were immortals in this world.

The princess had been lost at birth, and no one in the world knew what she looked like.

The princess was born among the common people, with no official records of her birth. The midwives who delivered her had all been executed, so no one knew her exact birth time.

All that was known was that she was a female infant. Currently, the palace had three princesses—"Pingyang," "Danyang," and "Jinyang," all enfeoffed with estates. Only this princess, whose fate was unknown, had been granted the title "Changle" by the emperor.

Beyond that, there was no other information.

To reassure him and to help him gain the emperor’s trust, the Virtuous Prince had sought confirmation from the reclusive Virtuous Consort. In earlier years, the emperor had dispatched imperial guards and spies to conduct extensive searches in the capital, looking for female infants with red moles on the soles of their feet.

After about three or four years, the emperor withdrew those people and became engrossed in the pursuit of immortality.

How did the emperor expect Daoists to find someone? Fang Zhixu smiled faintly. There was nothing—only a swaddling cloth that had once wrapped the princess. The emperor placed it on the imperial desk and said, "Please, immortal master, find and return my beloved daughter."

Even Fang Zhixu, who had seen much of the world, was momentarily stunned. Was the emperor going senile? In the court, the factions of the Virtuous Prince and the Crown Prince were locked in struggle, their influence waxing and waning entirely at the emperor’s whim.

Did the emperor not want to find this princess? He had undertaken major construction projects in the palace, established Daoist altars, and never ceased these efforts over the years.

But with the emperor’s approach, unless a miracle from heaven, there was no hope of finding her in this lifetime.

The emperor’s heart was inscrutable. Now, over thirty years had passed since those old grudges and complexities. Fang Zhixu had no interest in knowing the details.

He might well perish under the emperor’s wrath.

It's alright, he thought. At least before he dies, he would take Gu Yan down with him. A life for a life—worth it.

He missed her deeply.

Gu Yan closely guarded her; he thought they wouldn’t meet again till death. But heaven smiled on him—as luck would have it, she was around the same age as the "Changle" princess.

Could he use this opportunity to see her once more?

Fang Zhixu pressed a hand to his chest, his pale, slender wrist trembled faintly.

Stay calm, don’t be hasty. Everything must be planned carefully.

***

Gu Yan had no idea someone was making plans involving him and Yan Xuerui. These days, he was swamped. Aside from dealing daily with the Crown Prince’s feigned courtesy, the emperor had appointed him chief examiner for this year’s imperial examinations, and the duties were immense.

The chief examiner was no mere figurehead. His responsibilities ranged from selecting this year’s essay topics—choosing passages from the strict confines of the Four Books and Five Classics while ensuring they weren’t too stifling, allowing scholars room to express their talents—to vetting the roster of examinees, checking for errors or imposters. Even the setup of the exam compounds and the arrangement of desks had to be approved by him.

Outside matters were hectic, and household matters were just as taxing.

First, there was finding Ming Lan a wife. Flowerviewing Banquets had gone on for almost two weeks, yet the young man hadn’t favored a single one. Instead, the Marchioness of Jingyuan earned quite the reputation, with many matrons and maidens flocking to admire Madam Yan’s beauty.

Under so much scrutiny, Yan Xuerui felt uneasy. Usually a light sleeper, she often startled awake from bad dreams during this period. For a while, she clung to Gu Yan, finding solace only in his tight, secure hold, where she could sleep peacefully.

Gu Yan cherished this time. She nestled in his arms like she was drowning, seeking refuge—docile, soft, and sweet-smelling, neither trembling nor stiff. Her health was delicate, and he couldn’t give in to his passions, yet it was agony to hold back. He asked her to help him, and she yielded without a fight, unlike before, which made her utterly heartbreaking.

As time passed, Yan Xuerui gradually grew accustomed to overseeing the household and faced others’ curious stares with composure. Gu Yan didn’t notice this; he only knew she had suddenly stopped listening again.

She no longer clung to him but instead said he was too harsh. How could he bear to be harsh? She was as tender as delicate tofu—still, she was simply too delicate.

Later, when Senior Tutor Gu heard of his wife’s renowned beauty, as her husband, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride and satisfaction. But this fleeting joy was insignificant compared to his fierce possessiveness.

In short, the lively Flowerviewing Banquets at the marquis’ estate came to a sudden halt. The Marchioness Yan, delicate and frail, was "taken ill" and stopped receiving guests.

Over this, Yan Xuerui gave Gu Yan the cold shoulder for a long time. Gu Yan appeared gentle on the surface, buying her favorite candied fruits and spent a fortune to buy the "prize bloom" to please her. But in reality, he remained firm and unyielding.

It was like swallowing a sugar-coated bitter pill—she couldn’t distinguish sweet from bitter.

Yan Xuerui felt depressed, and when Gu Yan returned home exhausted after a long day, facing his wife’s chilly reception, he too was displeased.

The emperor might be the highest authority in the world, but in the marquis’ estate, the marquis was the law.

If Gu Yan was unhappy, no one else would be happy either.

The servants felt it most keenly. Since the madam was "taken ill," the atmosphere in the estate changed noticeably. The marquis became increasingly stern and aloof, rarely smiling, and no one dared approach him. Young Master Ming Lan spent more time at the palace, and Miss Ming Wei, who should have returned home, did not. As for the young heir, his cries were ear-splitting. The nursemaid brought the child to the main courtyard, but separated by just a wall, he couldn’t get a single drop of his mother’s milk.

After all, the madam was "taken ill," and the child was still young. If he caught something from her, who would dare take responsibility?

The marquis was only acting in her best interest.

...

*Crash—*

The crisp sound of shattering porcelain echoed as Yan Xuerui knocked the bowl from the maid’s grasp. With a cold expression, she said, "I’m not sick."

If she wasn’t sick, why did she have to drink medicine?

She closed her eyes, recalling that day when Gu Yan, gentle yet firm, forbade her from hosting the Flowerviewing Banquets and insisted she rest at home. Without a second thought, she refused.

Ming Lan’s marriage hadn’t been settled yet, and besides, he had agreed to it himself. How could he go back on his word?

At first, she hadn’t liked being in the public eye like this, but after half a month, though exhausting, she felt more open-hearted.

It wasn’t as if she never saw outsiders before. Her perfume shop business required interactions with officials’ wives. Those ladies treated her with excessive caution, as if she were a fragile piece of porcelain.

If she mentioned missing a taste of home today, a chef from Yangzhou just so happened to arrive at the estate tomorrow.

Over the years, Yan Xuerui had long since figured it out. She was a merchant’s daughter, who had helped her parents manage their shops since childhood. Her parents praised her intelligence, saying she outstripped them long ago.

Why did her methods stop working once she came to the capital? Merchant strategies were universally applicable, especially in the perfume business she knew so well. Yet, she ended up losing her shirt.

And what a coincidence—the new location she had her eye on happened to be in the hands of a family member of Gu Yan’s trusted subordinate?

All these years, her "close friends" had been Gu Yan’s people. When Yan Xuerui first realized this, a cold dread washed over her. He caressed her neck and asked gently, "What’s wrong?"

She couldn’t answer.

Was she angry? Those people practically worshipped her. He had gone to such lengths for her; if she got angry over it, she would be ungrateful.

Even her parents had never cared for her so meticulously.

Yan Xuerui ignored the strange feeling in her heart and silently repeated her motto: "Ignorance is bliss."

...

Now, years later, Yan Xuerui belatedly realized that she had actually been a little unhappy back then.

During her years in the marquis’ estate, she occasionally went out accompanied by her mother-in-law and Gu Yan. She and her mother-in-law would be in the ladies’ parlor, while Gu Yan stayed with the male guests. After the banquets, they would return home together.

Her health couldn’t handle alcohol, and she disliked the prying eyes. She never enjoyed those occasions.

She had never appeared in public so frequently before. After enduring those gazes, she gradually realized it wasn’t such a big deal.

She lived with integrity—she wasn’t stealing from anyone, so why should she be afraid?

Besides, not all those looks were malicious; most were just curious. Some asked her about Ming Lan, others inquired about Ming Wei and whether she was betrothed.

Many ladies discreetly asked her for beauty secrets, wondering how she maintained her appearance, which both amused and exasperated her.

Some also probed, directly or indirectly, about the imperial examinations. Such important matters were not for her to comment on, so she gently deflected the questions.

Her mother-in-law said managing a household was difficult, but though it was tiring, she felt freer than before.

Now, with just one word from him, she had to stay behind closed doors. At the time, she argued with Gu Yan for a long time, and they parted on bad terms.

She wanted some peace and quiet. Seeing his growing gloom, she paid him no mind.

Then one day, out of the blue, he suddenly said, "Rui’er, you’re truly ill."

In his eyes, disobedience was an illness that needed to be cured.

He then ordered medicine to be prepared for her. She hated medicine—dark, bitter, and nauseating.

...

"Madam."

The maid nervously gathered up the fragments on the floor and said helplessly, "The marquis has ordered that if you don’t take the medicine, you won’t recover."

If you don’t recover from your illness, you won’t be able to see Little Young Master.

When immortals fight, it’s the mortals who suffer. They didn’t know what dispute the Marquis and his wife were having, but because of it, several sisters in the courtyard had already been punished for no reason. Sister Bi He had also been transferred away, leaving them without a pillar of support.

And then there was Little Young Master—his wet nurse brought him outside crying every day. Even they couldn’t bear to hear it, let alone his own mother.

Please, stop this conflict.

Yan Xuerui understood the implied meaning in the maid’s words. Her hands suddenly clenched her sleeves, crumpling the exquisite kesi silk into wrinkles.

There was no way for her to defy him—not in the past, and not now, either.

She could use scissors to cut through the chain shackled to her ankle, but how could she bring herself to ignore the child she had carried and birthed herself?

Her little Young Master…

Yan Xuerui closed her eyes in pain, suddenly regretted her stubbornness with Gu Yan. At their age, what was the point? The sound of Young Master’s wailing still echoed in her ears. Wait—

Yan Xuerui froze. The baby's crying was growing closer and clearer—it wasn’t her imagination!

She stumbled out in her slippers, flung the door open, and saw Gu Yan himself holding Little Young Master. He was tall and imposing, but his hold on the child was stiff. His brows were furrowed, his expression unreadable, making his emotions impossible to read.