ITVCFITB CHAPTER 41

 Chapter 41: How Do You Know?!

Only when Luo Shuyu got close did he realize just how many wounds mottled Li Mingjin’s body.

Blood-soaked and barely conscious, Li Mingjin was helped onto the bed. Heart thudding, Luo Shuyu sent for an imperial physician at once.

He strangled down the urge to cry, sheared off the blood-stiffened clothes, and wiped the gore from Li Mingjin’s skin with a towel wrung in warm water, anything to keep the wounds from festering. Even that ridiculous novel had drilled one thing into him: infection kills.

As soon as the physician arrived, Luo Shuyu tossed the ruined garments straight into the brazier. He couldn’t stand the sight of blood on Li Mingjin’s clothes; it yanked him back to a dying night in his last life, a memory that tasted like iron and terror.

He’d even warned the physician on the way to bring trauma medicine and be ready, so no time was wasted.

While salves were laid on, Luo Shuyu’s mind churned. Had Li Mingjin lashed out at someone or at himself?

Even the “mere” scrapes were frightening. Rope bruises ringed his wrists; a gash marred his brow. It had bled, but not deep. Still, Luo Shuyu’s heart had all but stopped.

The physician finished and reported, “All superficial. The danger isn’t the wounds themselves, it’s what happens when His Highness wakes in agitation. Liver-heat is strong; the qi is pent up at the chest.”

Poison. Luo Shuyu couldn’t shake Consort Mei’s words about “a way to survive.” “Any… other signs? Hidden illness?”

The physician shook his head. “None.”

“Then why the sudden violent turn?”

“Dry weather makes tempers brittle,” the physician said, evasive. “I added cooling herbs to the prescription.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Luo Shuyu’s stomach sank. Was the physician simply incompetent or was the toxin something a palace doctor couldn’t detect?

The non-answer gnawed at him. He ordered the physician to stay the night in the manor to be ready, in case things turned.

What was this illness? Some colorless, tasteless poison even the imperial clinic couldn’t find? That would fit a scheme to hide it from Emperor Tiansheng, yes, a true “survival tactic.” Life in the palace had twisted Li Mingjin far more than Luo Shuyu had imagined.

Guard against the Empress? Against Noble Consort Lin? Or someone else?

The elder princes were all of age. Easy targets. If Li Mingjin had been drugging himself since childhood to erupt in “fits,” then in others’ eyes he’d be unfit for the throne. The emperor wouldn’t trust a “sick” heir; the Empress and Lin would cross one competitor off the list; the Crown Prince and Eldest Prince could relax their guard.

A neat solution, if you were willing to pay with your own body.

Who arranged it? Only Consort Mei or Li Mingjin himself.

The episode had drained him dry; even if he woke, he’d be too spent to rage. That much comforted Luo Shuyu a little. At home, the only ones at risk were their own people and the shadow guards were strong enough to restrain him if he tried to hurt himself.

Since the emperor had ordered confinement, any fresh injuries must be self-inflicted. No one would dare add more.

Luo Shuyu looked at the pale lips, the battered face. He ached. That morning Li Mingjin had strode out radiating life; by night he was torn and bandaged. And his foot had only just healed.

He had missed so much in his last life. Those years of easy days, Li Mingjin had bought them for him. Guilt sat heavy in his chest.

He sighed softly and called Steward Sun. “Choose generous gifts. Send them to the households of those injured by His Highness. Whatever they did or didn’t do, we’ll observe propriety. The whole capital will be talking; we will not look churlish. Any problem silver can fix, we fix with silver.”

The steward blinked, then bowed. “At once.”

In the past, there was no one behind Li Mingjin. The emperor or empress would toss a few words at the mess and it would fade. Now that Luo Shuyu was here, he would handle it properly, at least keep people from cursing his husband’s name in every teahouse.

Li Mingjin didn’t care about his reputation. Luo Shuyu did. This was his treasure. He would shield him all his life.

He summoned Dark Three. “When His Highness ‘falls ill,’ what exactly happens? Tell me everything. No omissions.”

“…” Shadow Three froze.

Luo Shuyu’s voice cooled. “I know His Highness trusts you most. He hid this from me for good reason. I understand. But you will speak. How often does it happen? What does he do, is it self-harm, or attack others? How long does it last? Does he take anything harmful in daily life?”

Each question struck home.

After a long moment, Shadow Three realized he could not dodge. The episode had already happened; what was there left to hide? He reported, crisp and spare:

“Every three months or so, but the exact day can’t be predicted. When it comes, if His Highness loses himself, he may hurt others or himself. Beforehand he orders us to bind him in the study to pass the danger. It lasts one or two days. Afterward, he’s as usual.”

“Does he take medicine that harms the body?”

A pause. “…Yes.”

Luo Shuyu’s face sank. “Where is it? Bring it.”

“His Highness keeps it himself. I don’t know where.”

“Then I’ll find it.”

“…” So the consort wasn’t playing by any of the old rules.

“How many years?” Luo Shuyu pressed. “What formula? Any antidote?”

“When I entered his service, the illness was already there,” Shadow Three said. “As for the drug, I truly don’t know. Nor the antidote.” He bowed. “I’m telling the truth.”

“I know.” Luo Shuyu’s tone stayed frost-hard. “And because you knew and didn’t report, and failed to protect your master, half your month’s pay is docked. See to your own punishment.”

Shadow Three winced. His Highness had never cut his pay. It stung. But he deserved it.

As he retreated, Luo Shuyu added, voice quiet and lethal: “Remember this Shadow Three, while His Highness lives, you live. If he should die, you do not get to.”

A tremor ran through the man. The consort’s heart was crueler than his lord’s. He bowed, oddly stirred. “I obey.” A seed of new loyalty stirred toward the consort who guarded his master like a blade.

Alone, hands around a cup gone cold, Luo Shuyu whispered to himself: As Li Mingjin lives, I live. If he dies, I won’t.

Night fell. A fever rose.

Bandaged and unconscious, Li Mingjin tossed and frowned, breath catching on a low, pained “Hurts…”

Luo Shuyu touched his cheek and it's scalding. “Doctor, we need to bring the fever down. We can’t let him burn like this!”

The physician took his pulse again and muttered soothing nothings as he recalculated the prescription. Luo Shuyu nearly ran to the Imperial Infirmary for a second opinion, only his respect for the old man’s age held him back.

When the decoction was ready, he had Qingwang brew it himself and no third hands for fear of negligence. Then he fed it to Li Mingjin spoon by spoon. The bitterness made the patient grimace; Luo Shuyu tucked a candy into his mouth, and only then did Li settle.

Half an hour later, chills wracked him, and he moaned he was cold.

Luo Shuyu piled on two more quilts.

The physician frowned, baffled. He considered needles, but with the prince shaking so hard, he didn’t dare. Whether or not this man would inherit, he was still of imperial blood, one wrong move and the doctor would lose more than his post. So he stayed cautious and conservative.

Fever, then chills. Chills, then fever. Luo Shuyu kept vigil through it all, sleepless, until dawn eased the storm. The heat ebbed and the shivering stopped.

Only then did the physician go lie down.

Exhausted, Luo Shuyu checked Li Mingjin’s palm, cool again, and let himself fold onto the desk for a doze.

Around the hour of the Dragon, Li Mingjin pried open gritty eyes.

His mouth tasted of herbs. His nose was full of them. He shifted; pain flared everywhere. He turned his head, and there was Luo Shuyu, asleep with his cheek on his arm.

“Attend me,” he croaked.

Qingwang stepped forward at once. “Your Highness is awake?”

Luo Shuyu wasn’t sleeping deeply. At the sound, he blinked and met Li Mingjin’s eyes.

“You’re awake? Water?” His voice was even, too even.

Instinct prickled. Calm like this came before a storm. Li Mingjin didn’t dare say too much. “Mm,” he managed.

Luo Shuyu propped him up and held the cup to his lips. “More?”

“No.”

He remembered the last thing he’d seen before blacking out: Luo Shuyu’s face white with worry. Now that face was smooth as still water.

No questions?

The calmer he seemed, the more Li Mingjin’s heart rattled.

Luo Shuyu ordered breakfast for him and sent for the physician to take a fresh pulse.

“Keep observing,” the old man said. “The chaos in the pulse has settled. It’s far better than last night.” He chose his words carefully. The man who locked the imperial physician in his own guest room to keep him on call was not one to offend.

With clarity returning to Li Mingjin’s eyes, Luo Shuyu finally let himself relax and fatigue hit. He barely had the strength to speak.

Lips pale but fever gone as well as the chills. It's a good sign. Li Mingjin ate in bed. Luo Shuyu at the desk.

He was too tired to talk. Li Mingjin didn’t know where to begin. He knew the shape of his episodes; he didn’t know how much of the ugliness had bled into the night.

He worked up the nerve to ask if he’d frightened Luo Shuyu only to see the latter curl onto the side couch and drift off with a blanket.

Li Mingjin lay quietly. The room softened into a hush, punctuated only by the consort’s even breathing.

The calm before the reckoning. Waiting was torture.

Only last night he’d promised not to make his body Luo Shuyu’s worry and then he’d staggered home flayed and bound.

He’d scared him. Of course he had.

Li Mingjin’s own exhaustion caught up; wandering thoughts went dim. Maybe, if he slept, he wouldn’t be called to account… right?

By the time Luo Shuyu woke again, the sun was westering.

First thing, he checked Li Mingjin. Fast asleep and feverless. Relief loosened his shoulders.

The physician, now rested, took another pulse and finally declared the crisis past. He was dismissed at last.

Luo Shuyu sipped the ginseng broth Feng Momo had been simmering and nibbled a few light dishes.

Halfway through, a delicious chicken fragrance lured a groggy Li Mingjin from bed.

“Does it hurt?” Luo Shuyu steadied him into a seat.

His stomach answered for him. “It’s fine,” he lied.

“Hungry?”

Known through and through by his spouse, he nodded. “Mm.”

“The doctor says medicine for two days,” Luo Shuyu said. “So porridge for now.”

Not water-porridge, as Li Mingjin had feared. Chopped meat simmered into thick rice, aromatic and gentle; the “meats” on the side looked rich but were actually vegetable dishes dressed to please the eye.

His mouth still felt dull, but his appetite held. He cleaned the bowl. If only the bandages weren’t there…

Through it all, Luo Shuyu never asked how the wounds had happened. The silence made Li Mingjin’s heart thump uneasily.

He couldn’t take it.

He needed to confess.

Sun slanted warm through the lattice. Luo Shuyu had the curtains hooked back.

“Bed or couch?” he asked dryly. With that state, he’d go nowhere far. No wonder court and the Ministry of Justice saw him in such irregular doses.

“The couch. I can sun myself.”

Luo Shuyu helped him up, set a low table with tea and a book, and took a seat opposite with a volume of his own.

Li Mingjin propped his uninjured side with a cushion and pretended to read. The words swam. “Yuer… won’t you talk to me?”

“What would Your Highness like to talk about?” Still without looking up.

“What I…” He stalled. “I…”

“What?”

“I was wrong.”

A page turned. “In what way?”

“I promised I wouldn’t make light of my body.”

“Mhm. And then?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“So you did it on purpose?” His tone didn’t lift.

“Of course not!” He flinched, tugging his chest and hissing.

Luo Shuyu set the book aside. “Where does it hurt?”

“Pulled it by mistake.”

“Don’t move.” The pretense of indifference slipped. “Let me see if it’s bleeding.”

He sat at his side. “It shouldn’t be.”

But as Luo Shuyu checked the dressing, tears suddenly welled. He’d held it together since last night; now, up close with the bandages and the man beneath them, the dam cracked.

“How could you scare me like this? We clawed our way back. We’re finally living well. How can you- how can you-”

Li Mingjin panicked, heart cracking. He hauled Luo Shuyu into his arms and clumsily thumbed the tears away. “It’s my fault. Don’t cry. Hit me, scold me, anything!”

Head on his shoulder, Luo Shuyu sobbed harder, coming apart in his arms.

Watching him cry, Li Mingjin wanted to cry too. He regretted, with a physical ache, that he hadn’t greeted his future with a sound body.

He patted that trembling back, and blurted a treaty born of desperation: “As long as you stop crying, I’ll do anything.”

“Really?” Luo Shuyu sniffed, voice thick.

He nodded solemnly, still wiping tears.

“Then hand over the medicine,” Luo Shuyu said.

Li Mingjin froze. “…” How- how do you know?!

---

Author’s note:
Third Prince: “Honey, I heard in the novel next door there’s a pill that makes you last… seven days at a time!”
Luo Shuyu: “…”

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Little notes:
Hour of the Dragon: 7:00AM - 9:00AM or Chen Hour