Recovery

That night, the lights throughout Yuning Hall stayed lit. In the courtyard, the medicine pots bubbled all night, one batch replaced by another. The dregs were dumped into a bamboo basket by the back door until it was nearly half full, and the whole corridor smelled bitter. Chun He crouched beneath the eaves tending the fire, her eyes red from the smoke. She rubbed them with her sleeve several times. A Ping stood guard outside the bedchamber, his back against the doorframe, his head drooping again and again with exhaustion. Each time it nearly reached his chest, he jerked it back up. He dared not sleep. His godfather had said that they would only be through the night once the Fourth Prince's fever broke. Until then, no one was allowed to close their eyes.

Inside, the corner lamp had been refilled twice, its flame burning steadily. Qi Xiao sat on the edge of the bed, still in the same position as at midnight, one hand resting on Qi Yu's quilt, his thumb lightly touching the back of Qi Yu's hand. Qi Yu's fever had subsided a little. Sweat kept breaking out over his forehead, and Qi Xiao wiped it away with a cloth, only for another layer to appear shortly afterward. Several soaked cloths hung over the rim of the copper basin. Now and then, Qi Yu frowned in his stupor, his lips moving, his words indistinct. Qi Xiao bent down to listen and heard "hurts," then "cold."

As the sky outside began to lighten, De'an returned from delivering the decree at Xuanzheng Hall and quietly pushed the door open. He looked at the motionless figure sitting on the edge of the bed, then at the Fourth Prince lying in it. Qi Yu's face was still pale, but the cracks in his lips were less pronounced than they had been at midnight, probably because the emperor had dabbed them with warm water. De'an approached, lowering his voice as far as he could.

"Your Majesty, the decree has been delivered. This morning's court session has been canceled."

Qi Xiao did not turn. "Where is the physician?"

"Imperial Physician Zhou is waiting in the outer room. He hasn't left all night. He said he would come in to examine His Highness again in another hour."

Qi Xiao nodded. De'an stepped back twice, his gaze passing over the empty medicine bowl on the low table beside the bed, then over the emperor's hand resting on the quilt. He said nothing, retreating to the doorway and gently closing the door. Out in the corridor, he gathered his sleeves and looked up at the sky. The first pale light had just appeared on the horizon, and the outlines of the palace walls slowly sharpened in the dawn. He had spent nearly thirty years in this palace and seen countless dawns, but only this one had felt so long in coming.

As soon as day broke, the news spread. People from Jiaofang Hall arrived. The empress's head palace attendant personally brought over a tureen of ginseng soup, saying Her Majesty had risen before dawn to simmer it. She had used the old wild ginseng root kept in her private kitchen, cutting off a third and simmering it over a low flame for four hours. The soup was in a white porcelain tureen; when the lid was lifted, a rush of steam carrying the scent of ginseng met them. The empress herself did not come. She merely sent a message with her head attendant: "Tell the Fourth Prince to rest and recover properly. If he needs anything, go straight to Jiaofang Hall and get it." The head attendant handed the soup to Chun He, paid her respects to De'an, and left. From beginning to end, she did not spare another glance toward Xuanzheng Hall. That was how Xiao Luo handled things: whatever fell to her to do, she did to perfection.

The ginseng soup had barely been taken inside when Consort Jing's people arrived as well. Cui Zhu carried a food box containing a dish of lotus seed soup and a dish of candied kumquats. Consort Jing did not come herself, only sending a message with Cui Zhu: "The Second Highness is very worried about the Fourth Prince too. He said that once the Fourth Prince is well, they can attend lessons together in the Imperial Study again." Cui Zhu set down the food box and left. Watching her retreating figure, De'an recalled the Fourth Prince's quarrel with the Second Highness in the Imperial Study last month. He pondered how much sincerity there was in the words "the Second Highness is very worried too," but could not work it out, so he stopped pondering.

Several more groups arrived one after another afterward. Noble Lady Ying sent a dish of sticky rice-stuffed lotus root with osmanthus. The lotus root had been steamed in her own private kitchen, and the osmanthus had been picked from the old osmanthus tree in the Imperial Garden. She did not come herself either, sending her personal palace maid instead. Several lower-ranking consorts, whose names De'an could not even fully recall, also sent people with gifts. One sent a sachet she had embroidered herself, filled with calming medicinal herbs; another sent nightclothes she had sewn by hand, made of plain silk with close, sturdy stitches; another sent a small jar of osmanthus wine she had steeped herself, saying that even if he did not drink it, keeping it in the room for its fragrance might make him feel more comfortable. The gifts covered half a table in the Side Hall. Chun He recorded them one by one in a register, her handwriting neat and precise.

De'an stood beside Chun He as she wrote in the register, understanding it all perfectly. Some of these consorts genuinely cared about the Fourth Prince. He had grown up in the palace, treated the servants kindly, and put on no airs with the consorts either. When he saw an older one, he addressed her respectfully as "Your Highness," and before the younger ones, he never flaunted his status as a prince. Over the years, quite a few people in the palace had come to genuinely like him. But some sent gifts not out of concern for the Fourth Prince, but to use the occasion to make an appearance before His Majesty. Concubine Li, for instance. She had been newly selected last year, young and pretty, but had hardly seen His Majesty since entering the palace. Today, she came in person, wearing newly made pomegranate-red palace robes and a kingfisher-feather hairpin, her makeup freshly applied. Holding a basket of fruit, she stood at the entrance to Yuning Hall and told De'an with a smile that she wished to go in and pay her respects to the Fourth Prince, and greet His Majesty while she was there. De'an stood in the doorway, his fly whisk resting in the crook of his arm, wearing a servant's practiced smile.

"Your Highness is most thoughtful. The physician has said that the Fourth Prince needs quiet rest at present and should not receive visitors. I will certainly pass along your gifts, as well as your kind wishes."

Concubine Li's smile stiffened for a moment, then immediately returned. She handed the fruit basket to a young eunuch nearby, said, "Then I shall come another day," and turned to leave. De'an watched the pomegranate-red robes disappear around a bend in the palace path, shifted his fly whisk to his other arm, and instructed the young eunuch guarding the door, "Today, let no one in except the physician and Her Majesty the Empress's people. Just say the Fourth Prince needs quiet rest."

Inside the bedchamber, Qi Xiao brought the ginseng soup to the bedside, scooped up a spoonful, blew on it, and held it to Qi Yu's lips. Half-conscious, Qi Yu opened his mouth and took a sip, his brow creasing. The ginseng soup was bitter, even more bitter than the medicine, and he held it in his mouth, refusing to swallow. Only when Qi Xiao gently supported his chin did he gulp it down.

"Bitter," Qi Yu mumbled with his eyes closed.

"Ginseng soup. It will give you strength."

"Don't want ginseng soup. Want osmanthus cake." His voice was hoarse and still sleepy, but he was already beginning to ask for food.

Qi Xiao looked at him without speaking. He picked up the spoon and scooped up another mouthful. This time, Qi Yu obediently opened his mouth and drank it. Afterward, he muttered, "Half the sugar," then tilted his head and drifted off again.

By noon, Qi Yu's fever had almost entirely subsided. Imperial Physician Zhou came in to examine him again, keeping his fingers on his pulse for a long while before lifting his eyelids and feeling the side of his neck. Then he turned around, some color finally returning to his face. After staying up all night, even his beard was sticking out, the bags beneath his eyes had deepened, and his voice trembled as he spoke.

"Your Majesty, the Fourth Prince's pulse has steadied, and his fever has broken. There is no longer any risk of it returning. One more dose to consolidate his recovery will suffice." He seemed finally to release a breath he had held all night.

Qi Xiao sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a long while. Then he nodded. "Thank you for your efforts. Go and rest."

Imperial Physician Zhou kowtowed. His steps were unsteady as he withdrew, and he stumbled over the threshold. De'an hurriedly caught him. After the physician left, Qi Xiao removed the cloth from Qi Yu's forehead and felt it. It was no longer hot, only warm and still slightly damp with sweat. He placed the cloth on the rim of the copper basin, took a dry one, and wiped the sweat from Qi Yu's temples.

By the time Qi Yu woke, it was already afternoon. Sunlight slipped through a gap in the window paper, casting a thin strip of light along the edge of the bed. He squinted, then closed his eyes again. Only after a long while did he reopen them and look around. First he saw the canopy overhead, then turned his eyes to the side and saw the person sitting propped against the bed.

Qi Xiao leaned against the bedpost with his eyes closed. He had kept watch all night, and his complexion was little better than that of the boy in bed. His lips were so dry that a thin layer of whitish skin had formed, and dark stubble had emerged along his chin. His hair was still held by the crown he had put on yesterday. The crown sat slightly askew, its pin half loose, and a few strands of hair had fallen at his temples. Usually meticulously groomed, he looked somewhat disheveled now.

"Father, your beard's grown out." These were Qi Yu's first words after fully waking.

Qi Xiao lowered his head and looked at him, at the face that had finally regained a little color now that the fever had broken. It still bore the pallor of illness, the cracks in his lips had not fully healed, and his voice was still hoarse. But those eyes finally had light in them again. Though they were not as bright as usual, at least they were bright again. Qi Xiao looked at him in silence for a long while.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked.

"Not anymore." Qi Yu burrowed into his pillow until only his eyes showed. "I just have no strength." Then he blinked and added, "Father, did you stay awake all night? Your eyes are full of bloodshot veins. You look worse than you did when I came back from hunting last time."

Qi Xiao did not take that up. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes." Qi Yu thought for a moment. "I want osmanthus cake."

"I've already told the Imperial Kitchen to make it."

Qi Xiao did not answer right away. He lowered his head to look at Qi Yu. Qi Yu pulled his hand out of his palm and nudged his arm. "Go, Father. I'm fine. I'm going to sleep." With that, he shut his eyes, squeezing them tightly closed and pretending he was already asleep.

Qi Xiao stood. He reached the door, then suddenly stopped, turned back, and walked to the bedside. Bending down, he brushed the hair away from Qi Yu's forehead and pressed his palm against it. It was not hot. He withdrew his hand, turned, and left.

The door closed softly. Qi Yu opened one eye, confirmed that his father had really left, then closed it again.