MCSCPM -Chapter 134 Loquat Syrup

The Emperor’s chamber suddenly fell into a quiet stillness.

“Your Majesty, now that the matter has been settled, let me treat you,” Yin Qingyue said with a smile. After all, having diagnosed the Emperor, she could not delay the treatment.

“We will need the imperial physicians to prepare some materials,” she added. She did not have all the ingredients with her, but they were easily obtainable from the Imperial Medical Court.

“Does this mean the Divine Physician intends to treat the Emperor here?” Eunuch Li asked, puzzled.

“Of course not. I only need to prepare a simple medicinal decoction. The rest will require assistance from the physicians. As for acupuncture, it has already been performed today and will continue tomorrow,” Yin Qingyue said with a smile, slowly approaching the imperial physicians.

“You just said that all the physicians must follow your orders—is that correct?”

Now was the time to put these physicians to use. After all, you train an army for a thousand days, but deploy it for one moment.

“Yes, that is correct. All of you in the Imperial Medical Court, listen carefully: if the Divine Physician needs any herbs, supply them without error,” Nangong Lin said, full of expectation.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the physicians answered hurriedly, though inwardly they were displeased. These were learned men, well-educated and experienced, yet here they were, following the orders of a young girl simply because the Emperor commanded it.

“Then please bring some loquats from the Medical Court,” Yin Qingyue instructed.

The physicians’ expressions changed immediately. They had not expected this blonde girl to wield such authority so brazenly—using her imperial permission to have them perform tasks usually reserved for servants.

“What is it? Do you refuse?” Yin Qingyue asked lightly, intending to use this opportunity to assert her authority. She wanted to ensure no one thought her weak.

“We shall fetch the loquats immediately,” the physicians said in silence, resigned. There was nothing they could do; they could only obey her commands. They had no skill to treat the Emperor themselves.

“Send some palace maids to prepare hot water. I will need it shortly,” Yin Qingyue instructed, radiating a confidence far more compelling than mere beauty.

The physicians began to whisper among themselves.

“Why are you back so soon? How is the Emperor’s condition?” they asked in unison. The previous night, the Emperor’s chronic illness flared, and they had been summoned to assist urgently, working all night.

“What is going on here?” one physician exclaimed, tossing his medicine box on the table. After all these years in the palace as a respected imperial physician, he had not expected to be running errands for a mere girl.

“Blame the Divine Physician! When the Emperor’s chronic illness flared, we were helpless. Yet she identified the cause—a plant in the Emperor’s chamber. Can you believe it? She exposed our incompetence!” another physician grumbled, still irritated at being forced back to the chamber after finally leaving.

It was already the fifth watch of the night. They were exhausted, but this was the result that awaited them.

“Enough complaining. Go fetch the loquats. If we are late, the Emperor will blame us,” one physician urged.

“I’ll go,” another said with a smile. He could imagine Yin Qingyue’s confident demeanor. Despite their expertise, they had to acknowledge her skill; otherwise, some of them might have faced severe consequences.

“What else is needed besides the loquats?” a physician asked, puzzled. In past treatments, loquats had never been used—they would not address the root of the Emperor’s illness.

“Who knows? The Divine Physician said to bring the loquats from the Medical Court. The acupuncture she performed earlier did alleviate the Emperor’s cough,” another physician explained, still confused. By their experience, such a remedy was unusual and seemingly ineffective.

Soon, the physicians returned, carrying a large bag of loquats.

“All of these are for you,” they said.

“Why so many?” the physicians asked, astonished. Loquats were abundant in the Medical Court because they were rarely used.

“Most people don’t need them, so we have plenty in storage,” one physician explained. To them, these loquats were just unused herbs, of little value. To Yin Qingyue, they were treasures.

“Let’s go, the Emperor is waiting for our report,” another urged, hoping that this unconventional remedy would work—otherwise, they feared their own positions.

Back at Longwen Hall, the physicians reported to the Emperor.

“Your Majesty, I have brought the loquats. I brought extra, in case the Divine Physician needs more,” one said, fawning. Perhaps such diligence would earn imperial favor.

“Perfect timing. I will need your assistance,” Yin Qingyue said, opening the bag to reveal loquats with their seeds intact.

“Today, I will make loquat syrup. First, wash the loquats, remove any spoiled ones, and extract the seeds,” she instructed.

“Wait—loquat syrup? This is normally just a throat remedy. How can it help the Emperor’s condition?” a physician asked, skeptical. In all his years, he had never seen loquats used to treat chronic coughs.

“You are correct, but please follow my method,” Yin Qingyue said. Loquat syrup was a modern remedy, effective, affordable, and particularly suitable for Nangong Lin’s condition.

Of course, her version differed from historical formulas. Ancient prescriptions only partially utilized loquats’ effects, so their medicinal value was limited and rarely used as a primary ingredient. Yin Qingyue anticipated the physicians’ doubts—they likely discussed it along the way to the Medical Court.

“All will be done according to the Divine Physician’s instructions,” the physicians said, reluctantly accepting their orders. They reasoned that if the treatment failed, they could only blame themselves.

“Hot water has arrived,” a palace maid announced, carrying a steaming basin.

“Once the loquats are processed, soak them in hot water for an hour, then discard the water,” Yin Qingyue instructed. Normally she would do this herself, but with resources at hand, why not delegate?

“Also, I need some rock sugar,” she added, realizing she had forgotten one crucial ingredient. The loquat leaves, often discarded, were actually the most potent part of the plant, even more effective than the fruit itself.

Soon, the room filled with the refreshing scent of loquats.

“Your Majesty, I am making the loquat syrup here. Its natural aroma is beneficial when inhaled,” Yin Qingyue said. The palace maids inhaled deeply, as if the scent itself could grant longevity.

“Did the physicians leave any loquat leaves?” she asked.

“No,” came the reply.

“Then the syrup is missing an essential component,” she frowned. Fresh loquat leaves were necessary to maximize effectiveness.

“There is a loquat tree near the Medical Court. I will fetch the leaves if needed,” a physician offered.

“Thank you,” Yin Qingyue smiled. Fresh leaves were ideal—their vitality and slight bitterness enhanced medicinal potency, contrary to common belief favoring older leaves.

“What are you making?” Nangong Lin asked, curious as the loquat aroma already made him feel better.

“Your Majesty, I am making loquat syrup, not a conventional medicine,” Yin Qingyue replied calmly.

Nangong Lin furrowed his brow. He had taken medicines for years—could this really cure his illness without a single traditional ingredient? Amused, he laughed to himself.

“When the syrup is ready, I will explain everything to Your Majesty,” Yin Qingyue said, sprinkling sugar over the loquats to balance the flavor. Without sugar, most people would find it unbearable.

A gentle aroma, slightly bitter yet fragrant, wafted through the room.

“Loquat leaves?” she smiled. With all ingredients ready, all that remained was to simmer them in a medicinal pot to complete the syrup.

“Bring the soaked loquats to the pot, add a spoon of sugar, and simmer over low heat for two hours. Not less, not more,” she instructed a palace maid, handing over the loquats.

“Use the loquat leaves from the Medical Court as the lid for the pot, sealing it tightly. Otherwise, the syrup is wasted,” Yin Qingyue directed.

“Yes, Mistress,” the maid replied.

Yin Qingyue exhaled deeply. The matter was finally under control, and she could return to Xiyang Garden to rest. If not for the Emperor’s illness, she would have already been on the stage performing, so this also relieved some of the tension.