Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Fang Zhihe fell ill again for several days. Lu Wuyou was somewhat surprised when he received the imperial decree delivered by the chief eunuch at the Lu residence, thinking that Fang Zhihe had come up with something else to torment him.

He figured that even the lowest official post couldn't do much to him. Letting his mind wander, he listened as the chief eunuch said, "His Majesty has instructed the Minister of Rites, Lord Wu, to investigate the matter of the academicians. Lord Lu, you should focus on pacifying these scholars who have come to appeal."

Lu Wuyou frowned. "Why send Lord Wu to investigate? He is set to retire next year. There's no need to trouble him..."

The chief eunuch replied impassively, "The Ministry of Rites is responsible for the annual imperial examinations. The task of selecting talents naturally falls on the Ministry of Rites..."

"Then it should be the Ministry of Personnel!"

The chief eunuch glanced at him and said quietly, "Lord Lu, His Majesty has made it clear: no matter what the case, even if you are to be beheaded tomorrow, it must happen under his watch. This whole matter involves many affairs in the provinces, and His Majesty will not permit it. Do not dwell on it any further."

Lu Wuyou fell silent. He took the imperial decree but remained dazed.

Not until the chief eunuch and the imperial guards had left the residence did he finally grasp the decree and stand up, his heart filled with an indescribable feeling—a faint sense of relief.

He casually ordered that no guests be received in the afternoon and carried the decree back to his study.

Qi Guan held a bowl of medicine and said to Fang Zhihe, "Your Majesty, please get up and drink your medicine."

Fang Zhihe had just taken a mouthful of the medicine when it caught in his throat, making him cough violently and spit out a mouthful of dark, clotted blood.

Qi Guan stepped aside to fetch a damp cloth, smiling as he said, "Your Majesty, you're recovering quite well."

Fang Zhihe coughed so hard that his chest felt torn, and he couldn't catch his breath for a while. He clutched his chest, twitching.

Qi Guan lowered his gaze, patted him on the back, and asked, "Still planning to lie on the floor next time?"

Fang Zhihe pouted and glared at him. "Are you trying to torment me to death?"

Qi Guan continued, "Your servant wouldn't dare torment you. Drinking and lying on the floor to admire the snow... how refined, truly refined."

Fang Zhihe gulped down the medicine in one go, snatched the damp cloth from Qi Guan, wiped his mouth and hands, and then said, "Have someone change my mattress. The blood inside has clotted into lumps."

Qi Guan looked up at the bedding, noting the bright yellow stained with dark, mottled patches. He couldn't help but reach out and take Fang Zhihe's hand, which was ice-cold.

"Huaishu, this illness of yours is severe, and half of it is due to your heart... You can't afford to be angered anymore. Stop entangling with him, alright?" He couldn't help but try to pull this man back a little.

Fang Zhihe lifted his eyelids, looked at him, and after a long pause, smiled. "It's nothing. The play-acting for sympathy didn't work."

His long illness had left his face pale and bluish, but his smile now brought a bit of brightness; however, the dark circles under his eyes gave him a hint of gloom.

Qi Guan paused, then turned to gather the medicine bowl and the mess on the table. "Play-acting for sympathy? What do you mean by that?"

Fang Zhihe said, "Pretending to be pitiful so people feel sorry for me—that's what I call a play for sympathy."

Qi Guan stopped what he was doing. "Do you feel pitiful?"

Fang Zhihe was silent. He threw back the bedding, looked at the bloodstains on the mattress, and then at the blood on his undergarments. He barely curled his lips.

"Quite pitiful. Living in this world, but not living for myself," he said softly.

*

Lu Yuan arrived at the imperial study early in the morning carrying the eight-treasure sticky rice made by his father. He waited for his imperial father to finish the morning court session. The desk in the study was piled with memorials and scattered papers.

Lu Yuan took a quick look and caught a glimpse of the phrase "Falling snow gives birth to plum blossoms," when he heard Xiao Yun's voice: "Your Majesty—please slow down!"

Lu Yuan turned in shock, just in time to see his imperial father stumble in through the door.

Fang Zhihe nearly fell flat on his face. Qi Guan, who was behind him, steadied him, sparing him the embarrassment. When he looked up, he saw his own little one. Startled, he immediately stood upright and said sternly, "Why is the Crown Prince here at my court?"

Lu Yuan thought to himself, You might want to put down that plum blossom you're crushing in your hand.

He didn't dare say that, so he bowed to his imperial father and said with a grin, "Your Majesty! I missed you!"

Fang Zhihe's heart instantly melted. He had been ill for so long and hadn't dared to let Lu Yuan near him, so he hadn't seen his son for over a month. Hearing the child's clear voice, his heart warmed into a soft, tender mess.

"...I missed you too," he said softly, bending down to tuck the plum blossom he had just picked from a tree into the jade pendant at Lu Yuan's waist.

Lu Yuan happily gave a smacking kiss on Fang Zhihe's cheek, then quickly opened the food box and placed the fragrant eight-treasure sticky rice on the table.

"Your Majesty, this is from my father... My teacher. He came to my palace early this morning and made this, fearing you'd be hungry after court. He had me bring it to you immediately."

The eight-treasure sticky rice was richly aromatic, tempting even a dull appetite. Fang Zhihe had been unable to eat much during his illness, but now he felt ravenously hungry.

He said nothing, looked down at the sticky rice, and let out a soft sigh.

How despicable of me—whenever it's something he makes, I'm moved and can't wait to eat it.

He was the emperor. Most things he wanted, he could obtain.

But it had to be him. It had to be that unattainable thing he begged for.

He sat on the daybed, expressionlessly took a bite, and couldn't help but smile.

That smile seemed too resigned, so much so that even Lu Yuan noticed something was wrong, his expression shifting slightly.

Qi Guan could hardly stop himself from stepping forward. Last time, Lu Wuyou had even poisoned a dish. What good intentions could this breakfast delivered so solicitously possibly harbor?

Fang Zhihe looked up at him and waved a hand lightly. "Enough, Lord Qi, you may go. There are some matters I need to discuss with the Crown Prince."

Qi Guan took a deep breath. "Your Majesty!"

Fang Zhihe smiled nonchalantly. "Dismissed. Brew me some calming herbal medicine. Listening to all that chatter at court this morning has given me a headache."

Qi Guan had no choice but to bow and withdraw.

Fang Zhihe's gaze fell back on Lu Yuan. This was his child, born after seven months of pregnancy.

Back then, he had missed Lu Wuyou so much that he had recklessly let this child suffer many hardships.

He stroked Lu Yuan's head and said softly, "Xiaoyuan, do you like Lord Lu?"

Lu Yuan thought for a moment. He sensed that his imperial father seemed somewhat displeased with his father, so he gave a shy smile.

Fang Zhihe tousled his soft hair and smiled. "Like is like. Do you like him, Xiaoyuan?"

Lu Yuan beamed, took his imperial father's hand, and nodded gently. "I'm overjoyed whenever I see my father. Your Majesty, please don't dislike him... It makes me uneasy."

Fang Zhihe sighed inwardly, resigned to his fate, and smiled. "I'm overjoyed to see him too."

Overjoyed, to the point of death.