Night had fallen.
In the study of the Liangyi Hall, only a single lamp was lit. The candle flame burned dim and yellow, stretching people’s shadows long across the floor.
Li Shimin sat behind the desk. A stack of memorials lay before him, but he hadn’t turned a single page.
He stared at the lamp, eyes unfocused, lost in thought.
Qin Qiong stood below, also silent.
The room was so quiet one could hear the faint crackle of the candle wick.
After a long time, Li Shimin suddenly spoke.
His voice was hoarse.
“Shubao.”
Qin Qiong answered.
“I am here, Your Majesty.”
Li Shimin said, “Am I especially foolish?”
Qin Qiong said nothing.
Li Shimin continued, “When others owe debts, the more they repay, the less there is left. Why is it that the more I repay my debts, the more there are?”
He lifted his head and looked at Qin Qiong.
His face showed no expression, but his eyes were red.
“That debt from fourteen years ago—I’ve been repaying it for fourteen years and still haven’t cleared it. In the ninth year of Wude, he saved me again, and that became another debt. The locust disaster—that’s another. The child Zhou Yi, who was hacked by the Wa people—another. And now he’s gone mad—”
He couldn’t go on.
He lowered his head and stared at the lamp on the desk.
The flame flickered.
Qin Qiong watched him quietly.
After a moment, he spoke.
“Your Majesty.”
Li Shimin did not look up.
Qin Qiong said, “In my opinion, Bear’s illness never truly healed.”
Li Shimin froze.
He looked up.
“What?”
Qin Qiong said, “Back then, when he first returned to Chang’an, he sat in a corner with his head in his hands and didn’t say a word. I went to see him and drank with him. He said a few words to me. I thought he had recovered.”
He paused.
“Later, he could laugh. He could curse. He could argue with Zhijie. I thought even more that he had recovered.”
Another pause.
“But only today did I realize—it was only treating the symptoms, not the root.”
Li Shimin looked at him.
Qin Qiong continued, “The knot in his heart—fourteen years, and it has never been untied. I thought time would wear it down. It didn’t. I thought brothers could help him. They couldn’t. I thought—”
He stopped.
Did not continue.
Li Shimin sat there, motionless.
He looked at Qin Qiong, and suddenly something in his mind lit up.
Illness.
Zhou Xiong was ill.
Not mad—ill.
An illness born from the rain fourteen years ago. An illness planted by the hand that reached out from between the stones. An illness formed from the nine years he spent alone raising that child.
This was an illness.
And if it was an illness, it could be treated.
Li Shimin suddenly stood up.
“Someone!”
A eunuch outside pushed the door open.
“Your Majesty.”
Li Shimin said, “Issue an order. Find someone for me.”
The eunuch waited.
Li Shimin said, “Sun Simiao.”
The eunuch froze slightly.
Li Shimin did not give him time to hesitate.
“Find out where he is. Search the entire world if you must, but bring him to Chang’an. Immediately!”
The eunuch acknowledged and withdrew.
Li Shimin stood there, his chest still rising and falling.
Qin Qiong watched him.
“Your Majesty, can Sun Simiao cure this kind of illness?”
Li Shimin was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “I don’t know.”
Qin Qiong waited.
Li Shimin turned toward the night outside the window.
“But we have to try.”
He paused.
“I can’t just watch him go on like this and lose his mind.”
Qin Qiong said nothing.
He looked at Li Shimin’s back for a long time.
Then he spoke again.
“Your Majesty.”
Li Shimin did not turn around.
After a long silence, Li Shimin suddenly spoke again, his voice even softer than before.
“Shubao, if he really keeps going like this… what should I do?”
Qin Qiong stepped forward.
“Your Majesty, you have already done what you could.”
Li Shimin shook his head.
“What I could do? I made him a marquis, and he was unwilling. I tried to persuade him, and he kicked me. I gave him the iron shop, and he went mad. I returned the iron shop to him, and now he locks himself up and smokes tea leaves…”
He turned back to Qin Qiong.
“Shubao, what I’ve done—was it helping him, or harming him?”
Qin Qiong stood there, looking at him for a long time.
Then he said, “Your Majesty, what you’ve done was helping him as a court minister.”
Li Shimin froze slightly.
Qin Qiong continued, “But he is not a court minister.”
A pause.
“If you treat him as one, he cannot bear it.”
Li Shimin stood motionless.
He looked at Qin Qiong, the redness in his eyes deepening.
“Then how should I treat him?”
Qin Qiong thought for a moment.
“Like Zhijie.”
Li Shimin was stunned.
Qin Qiong said, “Zhijie had his head smashed open by him, yet still stood in court defending him. When he saw him smoking, he was the first to rush up and snatch it away. When he was blocked by that strange way of speaking, Zhijie stood there helpless, but he didn’t leave.”
A pause.
“Your Majesty, you didn’t leave today either.”
Li Shimin said nothing.
Qin Qiong said, “That is enough.”
Li Shimin stood there for a long time, looking at him.
Then he suddenly let out a soft laugh.
It carried a faint trace of tears.
“Shubao… why does that sound so painful when you say it?”
Qin Qiong did not answer.
Li Shimin turned back to the window.
The night remained pitch black.
Nothing could be seen.
Yet suddenly, he felt a little less panicked inside.
Outside, the wind passed through.
Rustling.
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