Having listened to the disgraceful tales of another man's son, the Emperor grew increasingly pleased with his own parenting. With smug satisfaction, he remarked to Gao Fu, "Among my sons, there is not one who lacks proper decorum."Gao Fu bowed his head in flattery. "This is the fruit of Your Majesty's exemplary guidance and personal instruction."
Just then, a eunuch rushed in to report: the Fifth and Ninth Princes had come to blows at the palace gates.
The Emperor's smile froze on his face. Stunned, he barked, "Who? How did they come to fight? Drag them both here at once!"
The culprits were swiftly brought forward. Li Jing arrived coughing uncontrollably, his face smudged with dust but bearing no visible injuries. Li Ce, however, had to be carried in.
The Emperor, who had been sitting leisurely before an ice brazier, frowned deeply as he turned to look at the Ninth Prince being carried in by the Imperial Guards.
Li Ce lay on a pearwood board, his complexion ashen, his breath faint. Only one eye was open, as if he were on the verge of death.
"Your son... is unable to... pay respects to Father Emperor," he croaked, his voice rasping as if squeezed from his lungs.
"Li Jing!" The Emperor erupted in fury. He turned his glare to the Fifth Prince and thundered, "Did you beat Li Ce into this state? He is your brother!"
Li Jing dropped to his knees in a panic and quickly explained, "Father Emperor, it was he who struck first. He landed a blow to my chest, and I merely gave him a shove. But he fell back several zhang and collapsed unconscious!"
"A shove?" The Emperor leapt to his feet. "If I gave you a shove, would you end up like this?"
He looked around for a witness. "You! Speak! What happened? Why did they come to blows?"
The young eunuch who had followed the princes in trembled as he replied, "It is true... the Ninth Prince struck first."
The Fifth Prince was the Empress's legitimate son. Even the most foolish servant would hesitate to speak in defense of Li Ce.
"And why did he strike?" the Emperor pressed.
The eunuch finally answered honestly, "It began with the Fifth Prince misspeaking—he made a disrespectful remark about Consort Shun."
"Misspeaking" and "disrespect" were soft words, masking the weight of having called her "the madwoman."
The Emperor's anger eased slightly. It was easy enough to guess why Li Jing might have shown disdain toward Consort Shun. Who, after all, would respect someone thought insane?
After a brief silence, the Emperor ordered, "Summon the Imperial Physician to tend to the Ninth Prince."
At these words, Li Ce suddenly opened his eyes and looked at the Emperor.
Little Ninth…
He was already twenty years old. The nickname sounded odd, stirring a tangle of emotions in his chest.
Since birth, he had rarely resided within the palace, and unlike the other princes, had never enjoyed the warmth of his father's knee.
In his memory, the Emperor was stern, distant—a figure to revere from afar.
But now, the Emperor's hair, gathered into a golden crown, revealed a few strands of silver at the temples. This man, once so unreachable, was nearing fifty.
Li Ce lay stiff and unmoving, his eyes slowly closing.
The physician soon arrived—none other than Lin Fengyu, the Emperor's most trusted healer. Taking in the scene with a quick, veiled glance, he knelt and awaited orders.
"Examine him thoroughly," the Emperor commanded, his voice carrying both fury and concern.
Lin Fengyu quickly approached and knelt by Li Ce's side. After a long examination, he finally bowed and reported:
"The Ninth Prince's injuries are not life-threatening. However, his body has long suffered from lingering afflictions, leading to severe blood stasis. Any surge of emotion may cause vessel rupture, beyond remedy. This humble servant advises convalescence in the capital and avoiding any damp or cold places for the time being."
Convalescence in the capital meant he would not be returning to the imperial mausoleum.
"Approved," the Emperor replied, brow still furrowed.
Yet the question remained—where would he stay?
The Emperor had many sons, and those of age all had their own residences. Only the Ninth Prince did not.
"He shall stay with Li Jing," the Emperor decided after a moment's thought. "Fifth! You will not be punished today, but you are to look after your brother, help him heal and recover."
Li Jing cast a resentful glance at Li Ce, muttering, "But... he looks so pale, it's frightening..."
"What nonsense!" the Emperor raised a hand to strike, but Gao Fu quickly intervened. The Emperor could only shout, "He's in this state because he was guarding the mausoleum! Had I known, I should have sent you instead!"
No matter what, he did feel some remorse toward Li Ce.
After arranging for medical care, and ordering Li Jing to bring gifts to apologize to Consort Shun, the Emperor finally swept away.
Still coughing into his hand, Li Jing suddenly noticed a smear of red in his palm. Ecstatic, he cried out, "Father! Look! I've been beaten until I'm coughing blood!"
Though his body bore no wounds, Li Ce's punch had been powerful.
But the Emperor, already beyond the hall, did not respond. Gao Fu simply turned back and shook his head at Li Jing.
What use is coughing blood now? To anger His Majesty further? Better to have mimicked the Ninth Prince—be carried in on a stretcher.
As the others departed cautiously, Li Jing, sulking, kicked the board Li Ce lay on. "Get up! Stop pretending!"
Li Ce lay even stiffer, as if preparing to die. "Kindly trouble elder brother to carry me to the residence," he whispered.
"Damn bad luck!" Li Jing strode off, grumbling to his servants, "Find me a Taishan stone! A big one! This kind of evil spirit has entered my house—I'll need it to suppress him. And give him the worst west wing. Let him roast in the heat!"
The servants nodded eagerly, but the estate steward voiced concern. "Your Highness, if the Ninth Prince dies under your roof…"
Li Jing looked at the ghost-pale Li Ce being carried in, and gasped. "Forget it! Just my luck! Give him the best courtyard, serve him well!"
With the Taishan stone in his arms, Li Jing felt dizzy and terrified.
Li Ce settled into Li Jing's residence without resistance. He had only one attendant, who today requested a brazier and file to polish gold, and tomorrow asked for ice and herbs, constantly inviting physicians, even venturing out in the dead of night. The requests were endless.
To Li Jing, he lived the life of a freeloading immortal.
And immortal he would remain.
Old ailments could not be cured. Each time Li Jing sent someone to inquire about his health, Li Ce would lift his pallid face and respond with a fit of coughing.
Driven to despair, Li Jing once went crying to the Empress's quarters, only to be scolded and chased away.
Left with no alternative, he allowed Li Ce to stay, watching helplessly as the man coughed one moment, and strolled off to the West Market the next.
His zest for shopping exceeded even the healthy.
Though Li Ce had but one attendant, he was capable and efficient.
He discovered that the second daughter of the Duke of Anguo—renowned for her virtue—never left the manor, devoting herself to embroidery and the feminine arts.
In truth, she adored the West Market, especially its century-old eateries.
Li Ce, with time on his hands, often wandered the market and, as expected, encountered Ye Jiao.
She was seated on a restaurant's second-floor terrace, gnawing on a large bone.
It appeared roasted, though whether lamb or pork was unclear. She ate with great relish, occasionally sipping sour plum soup.
As on their previous meeting, she wore bright, vivid robes.
Because of the heat, her hair was tied high in a clean, single-blade bun, adorned only with a blooming rose.
The scene, at first glance, was picturesque.
Yet opposite her sat a young man, barely of age, dressed in the attire of an academy scholar. The jade crown atop his head hinted at noble birth.
He barely touched his food, his gaze never straying from Ye Jiao.
He handed her food and drink, even offered a silk cloth soaked in soapberry water to wipe her hands.
Li Ce quickly averted his gaze. One must not gaze upon what one should not see.
He turned away, walking in the opposite direction, but after a few steps, couldn't help glancing back.
The terrace was empty.
A sense of loss settled over him—until he saw a servant leading out a fine steed.
The young man who had sat opposite Ye Jiao mounted the horse and rode away, having generously tipped the staff several…