Chapter Thirty-Seven: Academy Sigil, Tower of Insight Technique
“How is she?” Li Yunjie asked with concern by the firelight.
The physician’s face was clouded with worry, sighs escaping him from time to time.
“Madam possesses profound inner strength. There is no grave danger—after a few days of rest, she will recover.”
“But...” The physician hesitated, words lingering unsaid.
“But what?” Li Yunjie’s heart gave a jolt.
Anyone who has ever been ill knows—what one fears most is a doctor pausing mid-sentence to deliver a “however.” In that brief minute of waiting for an answer, a hundred dire illnesses can flash through the mind. Only those who have experienced it understand the torment.
The physician stroked his long beard, pondering a moment before shaking his head with regret. “But within Madam, her vital energies are at war.”
“It must be the remnant affliction from forcibly breaking through her boundaries years ago.”
“If this continues, I fear it will harm her at the root.”
“In time, at best she will suffer a decline in her cultivation; at worst, her vital energies may turn upon her, and she could lose her life...”
Li Yunjie’s gaze swept over the unconscious Su Qingmeng, and he sighed softly. “Is there any remedy?”
The physician shook his head. “The lady’s cultivation is too profound—even I am powerless.”
“Unless...” He stopped mid-sentence again.
“Unless what?” Li Yunjie’s patience snapped.
“Unless the Master of Bright Tower, Immortal Healer Gu Xian’er, intervenes personally.”
“Within the whole of Great Qian, only the Immortal Healer may have a way.”
Li Yunjie’s brow furrowed deeply at these words.
The Academy’s Seals and the Bright Tower’s Arts—these were the two legendary disciplines most esteemed throughout the realm.
And among the practitioners of the Bright Tower, none was more famed than the Immortal Healer Gu Xian’er. It was said she was peerless in the healing arts, capable of raising the dead and restoring flesh to bone. Yet it was also widely rumored that Gu Xian’er was proud and solitary, her whereabouts ever shrouded in secrecy. Years ago, Su Ming had repeatedly sent people to seek her out to cure Su Xiyan’s muteness, but all efforts were in vain. To ask her aid was easier said than done.
Li Yunjie exhaled long and low, his voice heavy: “That troublesome woman really knows how to make life difficult...”
Noticing the worry in Li Yunjie’s eyes, the physician smiled gently. “Master Li, you need not be anxious.”
“At present, there is no immediate danger. I will use acupuncture to regulate her meridians, and if she takes this medicine, she will be out of harm’s way.”
As he spoke, the physician retrieved a bundle of herbs from his medicine chest.
“Thank you.” Li Yunjie accepted the herbs with a respectful bow.
The physician nodded, then took out a cloth pouch from his sleeve, selecting a long, slender silver needle. After sterilizing it in the fire, he inserted it into the Baihui acupoint atop Su Qingmeng’s head.
“To be candid, Master Li,” the physician said, twirling the needle between his fingers, “I have practiced medicine for many years and seen many cases of internal backlash like Madam’s.”
“But one as resolute as her—this is the first I have seen.”
“What do you mean?” Li Yunjie asked, puzzled.
Without answering, the physician took another needle and drove it into Su Qingmeng’s Shangxing acupoint.
“Master Li, do you know that the agony of internal energy turning against oneself is akin to having one’s heart gouged out? When it strikes, it is as if a myriad of insects gnaw at the flesh. Ordinary people cannot endure such pain. Those lacking in willpower may lose their minds altogether.”
“Judging by Madam’s pulse, I suspect these attacks have happened more than once—yet she has managed to suppress them each time. Truly miraculous!”
With practiced skill, the physician’s silver needles danced among her acupoints. With each insertion, Su Qingmeng’s pallor seemed to ease a shade.
When he finished speaking, Li Yunjie’s face was grave, a look of respect dawning in his eyes. He could scarcely imagine what Su Qingmeng had endured all these years; beneath her steely exterior, she harbored such profound suffering.
“It is done,” the physician declared, withdrawing the last needle after the time it takes a stick of incense to burn.
“All that remains is for Master Li to have her take this medicine.”
“My thanks, doctor.” Li Yunjie nodded. “Eleven, see the doctor home.”
With that, Li Yunjie took out a few taels of silver from his belt and handed them to the physician. The two men exchanged bows and parted ways.
Once they were gone, Li Yunjie sat beside Su Qingmeng, his gaze softening as he saw a flush of color return to her cheeks. Only then did he heave a sigh of relief.
The spring wind at night was far more biting than by day. Li Yunjie shivered involuntarily. Yet seeing the thinness of Su Qingmeng’s robes, he loosened his own outer garment.
“I owe you...” he murmured, draping the long robe over her.
...
Prime Minister’s Residence.
Main Hall.
“Prime Minister Su, the heir has already found Yu Hu,” Fang Zhong reported with a bow. “Yu Hu, as per your instructions, told the heir what he saw all those years ago, and then burned himself alive.”
Su Ming turned to look out the window, his voice low. “Erect a cenotaph for him atop Mount Lu.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How is Qingmeng’s condition?” A flicker of worry passed through Su Ming’s eyes.
“Miss Qingmeng protected the heir at great cost—her inner energy turned upon her, and she fainted. Fortunately, the heir found a doctor in time, and her injuries are now under control.”
Su Ming sighed. “Ever since Qingmeng reached the fourth rank, she has often suffered these attacks. This injury may at least force her to rest for a few days.”
Fang Zhong nodded in agreement. “Miss Qingmeng has worked tirelessly for the Su family. She does deserve a respite.”
Then, with a hint of confusion, he asked, “If Prime Minister knew this journey would be dangerous, why not send someone else to protect the heir instead of Miss Qingmeng?”
Su Ming glanced at Fang Zhong and replied with a question, “Do you truly think the heir needs another’s protection?”
Fang Zhong suddenly recalled the formidable servant always at Li Yunjie’s side, and his doubts faded.
Su Ming’s thoughts turned briefly to Eleven and he said calmly, “When the moment comes, he will act.”
Fang Zhong nodded, half understanding. “If so, what was the purpose of sending Miss Qingmeng?”
He could not fathom why, if Li Yunjie was never in mortal danger, Su Ming would knowingly allow Qingmeng to put herself at risk.
“They are husband and wife. There are things Qingmeng must come to know,” Su Ming said with a sigh, his words heavy with meaning. “Besides, if not for this, how else would my son-in-law find himself alone with Qingmeng on such a dark and windy night?”
At this, Fang Zhong broke into a knowing smile.
“Prime Minister, now that this affair is settled, how shall we deal with this man?” Fang Zhong changed the subject.
Su Ming slowly turned. At the front of the hall, a man knelt rigidly on the floor—the house steward, Wang Chang.
“Kill him,” Su Ming said coldly. “Feed his body to the dogs.”
“Master!” Wang Chang’s face turned ashen, his voice trembling. “I—your humble servant knows his wrongs! I beg you, spare my life!”
Fang Zhong stepped up to Wang Chang, crouched down, and lifted Wang Chang’s head with one hand.
“You think that after lurking in the prime minister’s household for years, he would be unaware? The only reason you were kept alive was because you still had your uses.”
With that, Fang Zhong drew a short, murderous blade across Wang Chang’s throat. Blood spurted, splashing across Fang Zhong’s cold face.
“When you see the Crown Prince in the underworld, give him my regards...”
Wang Chang collapsed, his body twitching a few times before falling still, eyes locked in a final, hateful glare at Su Ming until all life faded from them.
Su Ming looked down at Wang Chang’s corpse without a ripple of emotion. Leisurely, he drew a secret letter from his sleeve and handed it to Fang Zhong.
“There should soon be movement at Taihu Academy...”