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Lin Chen had been away from Langya when Mei Changsu was brought to its halls for the first time, so he had never witnessed how much plain hassle was involved in moving an immobile man up the winding, mossy mountain path. Lin Chen found himself cursing – he had lost count of the number of times perhaps a shichen ago – as he felt cold mist and dew condensating and then dripping down the neck of his robes. Not his preferred Langya white robes, of course! All of the gold in Langya’s coffers (which was a lot, far more than what was in Liang’s treasury, but that was no surprise, considering the emperor’s decadence) wouldn’t be able to recover delicate white silk from all the abuse of dragging Mei Changsu up a mountain. No, he was still wearing the plain-woven cotton shirt and trousers that were the underlayer to military-issued armour, long shed now, and from afar, he doubted anyone from Langya Hall would be able to pick him out from among the similarly-dressed Jiangzuo men.
There was Li Gang, inching so patiently by the side of the heavily padded cart that held Mei Changsu, holding his chief in place – at times, Lin Chen felt as if Li Gang’s grip was the only thing preventing Changsu’s soul from leaving his body. There was Wei Zheng, somehow still having not lost patience with the task of guiding the gentle but slow mule pulling the cart up the mountain paths. There was Zhen Ping, following behind, always looking as if he was ready to catch the entire cart, chief and all, should one of them lose their footing and thus control of the cart.
Lin Chen did not know where Fei Liu was.
They had not dared to allow Fei Liu to help, fearing that the boy, unaware of his own strength sometimes, would pull Changsu too quickly up the mountains and too quickly to his (second? third? who knew anymore...) death. Fei Liu grew tired of their very slow, very deliberate, and very damp procession up the mountain around the same time as Lin Chen began to lose count of the number of times he had sworn. With a familiarly petulant flick of his head and hair, Fei Liu had overtaken them and flown in the general direction of Langya Hall.
Lin Chen supposed they should prepare to arrive at Langya Hall to very harassed staff.
“Careful!” Li Gang cried, snapping Lin Chen out of his thoughts as Wei Zheng nearly lost his footing and had to grab on to a tree branch overhead to keep his balance. The rest of them braced themselves and the cart, and somehow managed to prevent it from giving into gravity and crashing down the mountain.
Note to self, must build proper roads.
Leaning in to the myth of the impenetrable, mysterious Langya Hall that knew everything but was itself unknowable was all very well and good, but gods in Heaven, this torture cannot be worth it!
It was an entire other ordeal, moving Mei Changsu from the cart onto a bed, and how they eventually managed it without killing him in the process, Lin Chen did not quite know. He only knew that he found himself heaving a sigh of relief with Wei Zheng and Zhen Ping as Li Gang tucked the thick blanket around Changsu, and the man stirred feebly, just enough to indicate to them that he was not yet dead (again).
“Now, all of you, out!” Lin Chen barked.
“Young Master Lin – “ Li Gang began, but was immediately cut off.
“You all reek – go wash up before you dirty my Langya Hall anymore than you have already done.”
“It’s not like you’re much better,” Zhen Ping muttered, just loud enough for Lin Chen to hear.
Lin Chen gave him a quelling look. “Just so you know, I still have plenty to do to make sure your chief doesn’t just slink off into death the moment our backs are turned. It would be just like him, too! But there’s nothing any of you can do to help in that department, so you might as well scat!”
They all knew that for the next few days, they would need to take turns watching Changsu around the clock, and it was important that they all got some rest whenever possible. So it was only with some more perfunctory grumbles that the three men filed out of the room to get themselves cleaned up and perhaps even seek out a hot meal.
No rest for the wicked, Lin Chen thought to himself as he turned back to Changsu. The man was clammy to the touch, but what else was new? His pulse was beating, and even Lin Chen had to marvel at himself for having managed to achieve that miracle.
As Lin Chen reached for his medicine box to begin the acupuncture treatment that continued to tether Mei Changsu to this mortal coil, the window banged opened, signalling the arrival of Fei Liu from wherever he had been.
“It’s a good thing I’m not holding a needle, Xiao Fei Liu,” Lin Chen drawled, “otherwise you might have just startled me into killing your Su Gege.”
“No kill!” Fei Liu announced, plopping down next to the bed. “Save!”
“Yes, I suppose I must save him now,” Lin Chen said with an air of exasperation. And did he ever get a thank you in the process? Never!
He turned to face Fei Liu, and was fairly smacked in the face with the scent of mountain magnolia. Lin Chen sneezed.
“Who said you were allowed to pick my flowers?”
“Not yours! For Su Gege!” Fei Liu said, turning up his nose. Then, not waiting for Lin Chen to say another word, Fei Liu bounced to the middle of the room, where a large flower vase already waited, as if the staff of Langya Hall knew to not only prepare the room for Mei Changsu, but for Fei Liu as well.
Lin Chen watched for a few moments, but it was clear that Fei Liu was now determined to ignore him and focus on arranging the – even for Fei Liu – truly enormous bunch of flowers in the vase. Fei Liu must really be worried for Changsu, Lin Chen realised.
Lin Chen sighed, for once, not finding the heart to tease Fei Liu.
I guess I really must save you now, he thought as he turned back to his patient. Fei Liu would be so upset if I didn’t.
Princess,
I, Lin Chen, flatter myself that I made enough of an impression that you still remember me.
I write to you of that person in our mutual acquaintance – Mei Changsu. To make a short telling of it, he is alive.
I assure you, despite my reputation as an irreverent contrarian, I write no jest in that last sentence. I am aware that the news that Mei Changsu perished at the northern border must have reached both you and the capital months ago. To own the truth, when that news was sent off, I myself truly believed Changsu had breathed his last. All our actions had been then to move him to Langzhou, as he desired.
Before meeting Mei Changsu, I had never believed that dead men could come back to life. It is a fantasy that a doctor should not indulge in. Even fourteen years ago, Mei Changsu was only approaching the doors of the King of Hell when my Father pulled him back to the land of mortals.
Perhaps he relished the chance to prove me wrong, just to spite me. It would be just like him, and I can hardly blame him for it, for if the situation were reversed, I would do the same if I could. But barely an hour after our messengers ride off to the Capital and to Yunnan to spread the news of his death, I found a pulse that wasn’t there before. To own the truth, I had never been to war before, and it is hard work. Perhaps I had simply been sleep-deprived and missed his very weak pulse, I cannot know for certain. Alas, I admit I am only human.
In any case, it seemed that the Bingxu pill which Changsu took, meant to prolong his life just enough to win his final battle, had other effects that I did not foresee. It might have stopped his heart then restarted it, and in the process, also negated the effects of the Poison of the Bitter Flame which has lived for so long in Changsu’s blood. Still, at first, his hold on life seemed tenuous. It seemed cruel then to give chase after the riders and give false hope to you and in the capital, where there might be none, for in that moment, I was not sure I would be able to save him after all.
But that was the situation of two months ago. He has now been among the living for long enough that I deem him unlikely to die in the time between your receiving this letter and arriving at Langya Hall at your first convenience. He asked for you in his delirium that he vehemently denies now, but I trust the Princess is capable of taking him to task for such stupidity when you see him.
I have not informed the capital of this news, for my information tells me the old emperor is likely to soon leave us, though it is unclear how long he could hold out. I leave it to your judgement and discretion whether, when and how to tell the Crown Prince.
Lin Chen
“Well, not to overstate the obvious, but you’re still not dead,” Lin Chen said.
“Thank you for that enlightening information, Physician Lin,” Mei Changsu answered with equal sarcasm. Nevertheless, the relief that he was continuing to heal was obvious, even if Lin Chen chose, for once, to spare Changsu’s dignity by not drawing attention to it.
He had so much more time to gloat of his genius now that Changsu wasn’t going to die any time soon.
Fei Liu chose that moment to bounce into the room, purplish fruits in his hands. He thrusted one at Changsu.
“Eat!” Fei Liu ordered.
Changsu slowly took the mangosteen from Fei Liu, turning it over in his hand. Fei Liu’s hands were purple from however many fruits he had already cracked open.
Lin Chen snickered; he could practically see the gears turning in Changsu’s head as the implication of the sudden appearance of mangosteen, a fruit native to Yunnan, dawned on him.
“Fei Liu, where did you get this?” Changsu finally managed to croak.
“Jiejie!” Fei Liu said. Then, frowning, he pushed the fruit towards Changsu’s face. “Jiejie said share, so Su Gege eat!”
“Jiejie?” Changsu repeated stupidly, staring at the fruit in a daze.
In that moment, an acolyte appeared at the door, saving Changsu from a scathing remark from Lin Chen.
“Young Master, the procession of the Princess of the House of Mu is making its way up. Shall I show them to the receiving hall?”
“Lin Chen!” Changsu snapped. “What did you do?”
Ignoring Changsu, Lin Chen told the young boy, “You might as well show the Princess to this room. There’s no need for a polite pretence of an official Langya welcome when it’s obvious who she’s here to see.”
As the acolyte bowed and withdrew, Changsu grabbed Lin Chen’s arm. “Lin Chen!” he hissed, insistently but more quietly, as if he feared that Nihuang was already on the other side of the door. “What did you do?”
“I wrote to the Princess telling her you are alive.”
“What – You couldn’t – How dare you – “
Who did Changsu think Lin Chen was? Did Changsu really believe that his temper tantrums could in any way intimidate Lin Chen?
He scoffed. “Yes, how dare I inform your last remaining family that you are alive.”
“She is not – “ Changsu started, but trailed off when Lin Chen gave him a smirk.
“I would pay good money to be in the room to hear you say such thing to her face.”
And with that, Lin Chen stood, just in time for all three of them to hear hurried footsteps in the halls and the tinkling of a jade jinbu.
“Come, Fei Liu,” Lin Chen said, making his way to the door, leaving Changsu gaping like a fish behind him.
Though Nihuang had already seen Fei Liu at the foot of the mountain, who pointed up towards the houses that were just visible in the mist above them and announced, “Su Gege, there!”, she didn’t think she quite allowed herself to believe he was truly alive until she stood in the door way and saw him, looking as delirious as she was feeling. Yes, he was still in a sick bed, and still quite pale, but he looked much better than he ever did in Jinling. Most importantly, he was alive.
She believed she made some incoherent reply to Lin Chen’s amused, “Princess, welcome to Langya,” but she couldn’t be sure. She was glad, however, that Lin Chen did not tarry to make any more conversation, and simply led Fei Liu out.
Nihuang stumbled into the room, almost not daring to blink, lest he disappeared. He, too, was staring at her like she was a ghost. Oh, the irony of it!
She found herself at the edge of his bed, and slowly sat down.
They stared at each other.
“Lin Shu Gege – “ she finally said, at the same time as he managed to gasp, “Nihuang, I – “
They both stopped abruptly and stared at each other some more, until Nihuang laughed as tears ran down her cheeks.
Impulsively, Nihuang cupped his face in her hands and pressed her forehead against his. She was almost surprised that he allowed her the intimate touch. The fact that he didn’t pull away made her heart soar. For a moment, she held them still and allowed the faint flutter of his breath warm her cheeks, assuring her that she was not imagining that he lived.
“I did not think I would ever see you again,” Lin Shu – for that was who he always was to her – said, after a long silence had passed. “I had thought – and even this past month, I thought – I didn’t realise that Lin Chen had already written to you.”
Nihuang pulled away enough to look him in the eyes. Her hands fell from his face but took hold of his own hands instead. “Would you have written?” she asked. “If Lin Chen had not?”
There was such pained conflict in his eyes that she almost felt angry.
“I – I don’t – “ he stammered. Then, finally, “It’s all complicated.”
Nihuang let out a long breath. Things were only ever complicated because he was so dead set on making them so.
“Is it?” she challenged.
The words hang between them for a long moment.
“You deserve – “ he tried to begin, but she cut him off. Surely the Qilin Talent was more intelligent than this? Why must he be so predictable?
“Self-pity never became you, Gege. And don’t tell me what I deserve. Do you not think I have had enough people telling me such thing all my life, good or bad? What does it matter what I deserve? What about what I want?”
Lin Shu sucked in a rattling breath. Then, he closed his eyes, as if to collect himself. She wondered whether just the simple act of looking at her was sorely testing his resolve to push her away. If that was the case, she could only be pleased with herself.
Ask me what I want, she willed him. Ask.
“You cannot still want me,” he said instead, opening his eyes only to look at her forlornly.
“Why not?” she countered, refusing to let him suck her into his stubborn pessimism. “When have I stopped wanting you, Lin Shu Gege?”
“You call me Lin Shu,” he said sorrowfully, “but surely you see I am no longer Lin Shu? I haven’t been Lin Shu in so long…I had a few months of pretense in the battle, but now...even though Lin Chen says I am healing, I feel no better than I did in Jinling.”
“Lin Shu is just a name, as Mei Changsu is a name. What I want have never been just your name, but the man behind that name. The face and shape and appearance of you might have changed, but you cannot tell me, the man that you are – that you have always been – has changed in essence.”
If he had changed in essence, he would never have devoted a decade to a plan that would restore the good name and honour of his family. If he had changed in essence, he would not have ever bothered to come back to Jinling. If he truly believed he had changed into a different man, what business did he have to care about the grief of who he once was?
“Even if you have changed,” Nihuang continued, “then so have I. Or do you think I am still the young girl you left behind fourteen years ago? If you think I cannot love you for the man you have become, does that mean you can no longer love me, too?”
Tried as he might, it seemed that Lin Shu could not bring himself to agree to that statement. Surrendering to her logic, he shook his head. Nihuang smiled with satisfaction and reached out to him again – this time, Lin Shu allowed her to pull him into a long-awaited embrace.
“You promised me, Gege, that you would not leave me again,” Nihuang reminded him. “I have always had every intention of holding you to that promise.”
Once Nihuang had successfully convinced Lin Shu to get over his exhaustingly predictable but completely unnecessary existential angst, it was easy enough for them to reacquaint themselves with the familiarity of their old relationship.
“Jingyan can’t have been told yet, right?” Lin Shu asked Nihuang over dinner, which Lin Chen threatened to crash but in the end was good enough to keep both himself and Fei Liu away. “I find it hard to believe he would not be here if he knew.”
“Lin Chen left it to me to tell the Crown Prince,” Nihuang said, pausing in piling food into his bowl. “I admit, I am selfish enough to want to enjoy having you all to myself first.”
He smiled, looking so smug that she really should be annoyed. Instead, Nihuang found herself simply smiling back.
“The other thing is, it is probably best that the Crown Prince remains in the capital for the next few months. He cannot be away when the emperor…”
Though she left her sentence hanging, the meaning was clear enough.
“Has it come to that?” Lin Shu asked. “I admit, focusing on the war meant I had let other news slide.”
“Yes.” Nihuang sighed. “Many people will be relieved when it finally happens, I think.”
Lin Shu smiled sardonically at this; Nihuang thought if there was anyone who could understand what she meant, it was he.
“We must tell him soon, though, one way or another,” Nihuang said. “As much as I do want to keep you to myself, I don’t think the Crown Prince will tolerate me keeping the news of your being alive a secret from him a second time. I do want to preserve the goodwill between him and the House of Mu, you know.”
“I suppose we could just show up in Jinling. If we tell him over a letter, he will be running off to Langya at first light, regardless of whatever else in the capital needs his attention.”
Nihuang looked at him curiously. “Are you well enough to travel?” she asked, reaching over to touch his hand.
“I don’t know. I suppose Lin Chen will have to be the judge of that.” Lin Shu grimaced at the thought, making Nihuang giggle at his disgruntled expression.
Esteemed Noble Consort,
Nihuang writes to you from Langya Hall, which must intrigue you. I shall not prolong your anxiety: I am here to see Lin Shu Gege. In previously informing myself and those at the capital of his death, Lin Chen was unfortunately – or, rather, fortunately – mistaken.
I admit I do not fully understand the circumstances, but according to Lin Chen…
To my eyes, Lin Shu Gege looks healthier now than he ever did previously in Jinling. He has colour in his cheeks and his touch is no longer always so icy cold. I have dared myself to hope that he will make a full recovery and be by my side for years to come.
Lin Chen left it to me to inform the Crown Prince of the situation, but Nihuang is not unaware of how unsettled things currently are in the capital. While of course the Crown Prince must be told, we are afraid that he will impulsively leave the capital at the time when he is most needed there.
Lin Shu Gege is not yet well enough to travel, and neither I nor Lin Chen want to test his strength prematurely. I must, therefore, assuage my guilt of not immediately informing the Crown Prince by writing to my lady Noble Consort. If you judge that the Crown Prince will listen to reason and could be persuaded to remain in the capital, of course you must tell him the news. If not, perhaps we must consider the bigger picture and keep this news hidden from him until such time that his seat is secure. Of course, Nihuang will fully receive his rightful wrath when the time comes…
Jingyan began to suspect things were not right when, having achieved resounding victory in the south, only Mu Qing arrived at the capital to give the required reports about the battles against Southern Chu. When asked where his sister was, Mu Qing gave some non-committal answer about her having other commitments in the south.
However, the year was ending, bringing along a long list of ceremonies, rites and rituals that Jingyan must preside over, now that his Father was completely confined to bed. He was further distracted by the fact his wife was also mere days from giving birth to his first child.
Things got infinitely stranger after his child – his first-born son – greeted the world. As expected, all manners of nobles and foreign envoys and diplomats poured into the capital to offer their congratulations in person. And yet, Princess Mu Nihuang of the House of Mu stayed stubbornly away.
If it had been any other House, Jingyan would not think it so strange. After all, Mu Qing was now of age, and it was only natural that he assumed all the responsibilities associated with his title and that his sister should take a step back. However, Mu Nihuang was not just any noble – she was one of Jingyan’s dearest childhood friend. Jingyan had thought, having been forcibly kept apart as they had been for thirteen years, that Nihuang would now be as eager as him to rekindle their friendship. She did send him a very heartfelt note congratulating him, and some exquisitely-made toys for the baby, but Jingyan couldn’t help but think he would much rather have her here, in Jinling.
Was Jinling too full of painful memories for her now? Was that why she continued to stay away?
He was afraid to ask, lest he pained her. But was it not a pain they shared? Would she really rather endure it alone in Yunnan?
“Your Highness!”
Jingyan looked up as Zhanying entered his study.
“Yes?”
“Your Highness,” Zhanying said, “Langya Hall has just released this year’s Langya List.”
“Oh?” Jingyan replied. “Anything interesting?”
“I just intended to look at the list of warriors – our Da Liang heroes’ positions are unchallenged – and then…”
Zhanying trailed off, looking nervous. Jingyan raised an eyebrow.
“Then?” he prompted.
“Then…then I glanced at the Gentlemen’s List…”
Zhanying laid the list down on Jingyan’s desk with an air of helplessness.
Jingyan starred.
The first name on the list, as in previous years, read Mei Changsu.
“Are you…” Jingyan started, then found himself struggling to speak, for some enormous lump was stuck in his throat. He tried clearing it several times. “Are you sure this is this year’s list?”
“Yes, Your Highness, because some other positions changed, you see…”
Jingyan looked up at his subordinate. “Is there any chance Langya Hall just…forgot to update their list?”
“Do you think so, Your Highness?”
“Of course not,” Jingyan muttered to himself, looking back down at the list. “Lin Chen, the young master of Langya Hall, was Xiao – was his personal physician…”
Jingyan didn’t know how long he kept staring at the list, at that name. However, eventually, Zhanying cleared his throat. “Your Highness?”
Jingyan looked up at and managed a small smile to reassure his deputy. “Thank you, Zhanying, for letting me know. I will… think about what this means. You may go.”
Zhanying hesitated and looked concerned for a moment, but when Jingyan said nothing more, Zhanying bowed and backed out of the room.
At his desk, Jingyan pulled out fresh sheets of paper.
[Sent to Langya Hall]
Master Lin Chen,
I know you have little reverence for the throne, nor those who sit upon it. I do not write to you as the Crown Prince, for I know it must be futile. I write to you as any other man who might ask a question of Langya Hall. Name your price – whatever it is, it shall be paid.
I ask only this: Is Lin Shu, or any other man who once answered to that name, currently alive?
Xiao Jingyan
[Sent to Yunnan, received by Mu Qing, forwarded to Langya Hall]
Nihuang,
I attach a copy of this year’s Langya List. I do not think you would be surprised by its content.
For the sake of what our friendship once was, I beseech you tell me, where are you hiding Xiao Shu? What ridiculous reason did he give now for keeping me in the dark? If I threaten to issue a decree to dissolve your engagement, would you come see me in the capital? Unless you are already married, in which case come anyway, so I can congratulate/berate you myself. I’ll have you know, even if you are already married, I still have power to annul it.
Jingyan
[Sent to Langya Hall]
Xiao Shu,
I think you must want me to know that you are alive. Otherwise Langya Hall would not make such a basic mistake. Even as I write, I hear that rumours are rife in the capital, everyone wondering how a dead man still manages to top the Langya List of gentlemen. Meng Zhi cannot know anything – he can never lie around me, regardless of how smoothly he does it with my father. However, Mother has hinted enough that I feel this letter is warranted. I should send this to the Jiangzuo Alliance, but there does not seem to exist an address. So, I send this to Langya, and hope that all rivers flow into the East Sea.
Before, you depended on my mistrust of strategists to keep your identity secret from me. You have no such protection now. I am sure you will have some contrived reason for not immediately telling me that you live – whatever that reason might be, I expect to wholeheartedly disagree. But I cannot care so much for our disagreement: none of it can matter in the face of the fact that you are alive.
That you permit Langya Hall to advertise your being alive gives me further hope that you do not intend to stay away permanently. I know you made some ridiculous promise to Father, but surely you cannot think that matters anymore? He is incapable of knowing or caring, now, whether you are in the throne room or in some corner of jianghu.
Your reply has better inform me of your intended arrival date in Jinling, or otherwise, some believable reason why you cannot make the trip. And when I say believable, you must understand that the reason must be believable to me. Do not let me down in this, Xiao Shu.
Jingyan
Your Highness,
The answer to your question is “Yes”.
For this answer, I extract only the price of your sending a warm carriage and worthy escort to Langya Hall to bring Changsu and the Princess of the House of Mu back to Jinling. They have been positively unbearable in their happiness. I can no longer tolerate them in my presence, and now that Changsu is well enough to travel, I am impatient to have them gone. They could have left for Jiangzuo, or indeed even Yunnan, a month ago, but they predicted you would be sending letters here after seeing the new year’s List, and so remained to witness the results. Unless you want them to make unnecessary detours, I would just order them to make their way straight back to Jinling. Changsu might not heed orders, but I believe the Princess still retains enough fealty to obey a direct order.
Lin Chen
Lin Shu and Mu Nihuang arrived at the Eastern Palace, only to be told that the Crown Prince was still in the palace. They were shown into the room where last they met, they were planning how to spread their woefully thin troops across three war fronts.
“It will be well,” Nihuang said, slipping her arm over his. “Jingyan will be too glad to see you to be much angry. I think.”
Lin Shu turned to look at her and smiled, brushing a kiss on her forehead.
They were both looking at the map of Liang and surrounding countries when hurried footsteps sounded behind them.
“Lin Shu, you bastard!” the Crown Prince’s voice rang out, making them turn around.
“That is your aunt you are disparaging, Your Highness,” Lin Shu drawled as Nihuang stifled a laugh.
Jingyan’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, neither Lin Shu nor Jingyan knew whether a punch was coming. But then, Jingyan opened his arms, and the three of them stepped into a tight, laughing embrace. Finally, all three of them were truly back where they belonged.