After the imperial notice had been posted for half a month, many folk physicians confident in their medical skills went to treat the Fourth Prince. Yet after taking his pulse, every one of them shook their heads, admitting that their abilities were insufficient and that they could not cure him.
Time and again, Emperor Jingwen’s hopes were ignited—only to be dashed again and again. Just as he was about to give up all hope and accept that he would once more lose a son, a wandering physician surnamed Fang appeared, rekindling his hopes.
Physician Fang claimed that he had a seventy percent chance of curing the illness and dared to give it a try.
Emperor Jingwen was overjoyed and ordered the imperial physicians of the Imperial Medical Academy to assist him and follow Physician Fang’s instructions. Whatever medicines were needed could be taken freely from the Academy.
With the emperor placing such trust in him, if Physician Fang failed to cure the Fourth Prince, one burst of imperial wrath would cost him his life. The imperial physicians all broke into a cold sweat for him—but since Physician Fang was taking the lead, even if the Fourth Prince truly passed away, the emperor’s punishment would fall on Physician Fang alone. They themselves would be spared.
As long as disaster didn’t befall them, they were more than willing to follow Physician Fang’s orders, regardless of whether his medical skills were truly impressive.
Unexpectedly, Physician Fang did not command the imperial physicians at all. He personally treated the Fourth Prince, and by sheer force of skill, dragged him back from the gates of hell when his life was hanging by a thread.
When Emperor Jingwen saw that his son’s spirits had indeed improved significantly, he was delighted beyond measure. He immediately wanted to reward Physician Fang generously and even offered him an official post, inviting him into the Imperial Medical Academy. However, Physician Fang was indifferent to fame and fortune. He wanted neither rewards nor an official position, only asking that Emperor Jingwen pay him according to the usual consultation fees of an ordinary physician for the days he had attended.
With no other choice, Emperor Jingwen paid him his fees and asked him to continue tending to the Fourth Prince’s health, paying him daily for each visit.
Under Physician Fang’s care, the Fourth Prince’s body gradually recovered. In less than half a year, he was no different from a normal person. Physician Fang was soon praised by all as a miracle-working divine doctor.
Emperor Jingwen knew that Physician Fang cared little for wealth or rank, yet still wished to reward him. In the end, Physician Fang left quietly once the matter was settled, hiding both his person and his name. He left behind only a letter, stating that the Fourth Prince had fully recovered and was as healthy as any ordinary person.
Previously, although officials knew that the Fourth Prince was naturally intelligent, none dared to marry their daughters to him—after all, doing so would likely mean young widowhood. But now that the Fourth Prince had survived a brush with death and recovered fully, with no risk of dying young, the thoughts of many households began to stir.
Not only did families with daughters start to reconsider, even the balance of power at court began to shift.
In the past, court officials were divided into three factions: one faction of pure loyalists who served whoever became emperor; one that supported the Crown Prince; and one that supported the Second Prince. Later, when the Crown Prince was assassinated by men sent by the Second Prince, the officials who had supported the Crown Prince shifted their allegiance to the Sixth Prince. After all, the Sixth Prince was also a legitimate son and the full younger brother of the Crown Prince, and he stood evenly matched with the Second Prince.
Later still, the Second Prince was exposed for plotting the Crown Prince’s murder, demoted to commoner status, and confined in the Court of the Imperial Clan. Many of those who had supported the Second Prince began to consider throwing in their lot with the Sixth Prince.
As for the Third Prince—mediocre in talent, backed by a weak maternal family, and married to an An State princess—he had no chance of inheriting the throne and was not worth considering. The Fourth Prince, on the other hand, had been a sickly invalid who might die at any moment, so he too had been excluded.
That left the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Princes. The Seventh Prince was born to Consort Tao, but he was far too young for his abilities to be judged. The Fifth Prince was three years older than the Sixth Prince, yet his maternal family was weak, and the emperor showed him little favor. Among the princes, he was practically invisible. Naturally, the legitimate-born and favored Sixth Prince was seen as the most likely next heir.
But now that the Fourth Prince had shaken off the fate of being a sickly invalid, everything changed. He was eight years older than the Sixth Prince—eighteen this year—and had been intelligent since childhood. His birth mother was Consort De. Although Consort De’s natal family was far weaker than that of the Second Prince’s mother back then, with some effort and maneuvering, that position might not be beyond reach.
Moreover, the Sixth Prince was far inferior to his full elder brother, the late Crown Prince Huizhao, who had been outstanding in both civil and military arts. The Sixth Prince’s literary talent was merely average, though his martial skills were decent. A ruler could afford to be average in martial arts, but his mind had to be sharp—and in this regard, the Fourth Prince was clearly superior.
Consort De wished to hold a grandson. Now that her son had recovered, she was eager to arrange his marriage. Emperor Jingwen agreed, and the palace hosted a flower-viewing banquet, inviting unmarried young ladies of suitable age from various families to attend.
When Madam Zhang heard the news about selecting a consort for the Fourth Prince, she sighed repeatedly and said, “Xuanyi is unmarried, but she was once married. Even if she’s still pure, she has no chance. It’s all my fault—I didn’t investigate thoroughly back then and chose a cut-sleeve man for her, ruining her life.”
Madam Chen glanced at her and said bluntly, “Eldest sister-in-law, not to be rude, but the position of Fourth Prince’s consort was never Xuanyi’s to begin with. If Xuanyi were the child of Third Brother and Third Sister-in-law, then she might have had a chance. So you really don’t need to feel regret.”
Meng Jinyao was caught up in this without warning. She quietly ate her pastries and said nothing, doing her best to lower her sense of presence.
Madam Zhang was choked by such blunt words. Though they were true, they were unbearably harsh. Annoyed, she retorted, “The position of Fourth Prince’s consort may be out of reach, but the position of side consort isn’t necessarily impossible. Our Xuanyi is beautiful and comes from the Changxing Marquis’s household—who knows, the Fourth Prince might take a fancy to her?”
Madam Chen snorted coldly and shot back without mercy, “A side consort entered into the jade registry may sound nice, but she’s still a concubine. You yourself despise concubines, yet you want your own daughter to become one? If she meets a kind and generous principal wife, her days might be tolerable. Otherwise, her future would be no different from the concubines in Eldest Brother’s courtyard—she wouldn’t even be allowed to bear children.”
At these words, Madam Zhang fell silent. She quickly recovered, however, and flew into a rage out of embarrassment. “Madam Chen, what do you mean by that? Are you saying I’m not kind-hearted, that I mistreat concubines?”
Madam Chen shot her a glance and said nothing—but from her expression, it was clear she was tacitly agreeing.
Madam Zhang slammed the table in anger and snapped, “You say you don’t mistreat concubines, yet you allowed Second Brother to take the woman he liked, Concubine Fang, as a concubine, and she even gave birth to Xuanling, that illegitimate daughter. If Concubine Fang hadn’t died young, Second Brother might not even have seen your good side.”
Those words stabbed straight into Madam Chen’s heart. Concubine Fang had originally been a senior maid by her mother-in-law’s side. Before Madam Chen entered the household, Second Master had asked for Concubine Fang to serve as a bedchamber maid. After Madam Chen married in, Concubine Fang was raised to the status of concubine and was greatly favored. Second Master treated her with only the respect due a wife, without romantic affection.
Fortunately, Concubine Fang had been well-behaved. Otherwise, Madam Chen’s life would have been miserable. Precisely because Concubine Fang had been compliant, after her death Madam Chen pitied Xuanling for being young and motherless and treated her with genuine kindness.
Seeing Madam Chen at a loss for words, Madam Zhang felt pleased. She snorted coldly, tossed out a curt “I can’t be bothered to argue with you,” and stood up to leave.
Meng Jinyao watched Madam Zhang storm off in anger, then looked at the silent Madam Chen beside her and hesitated before asking, “Second Sister-in-law, are you alright?”
Madam Chen took a deep breath and replied, “I’m fine—perfectly fine. I’ve made her angry far more times in the past. She only got the upper hand on me once today. I’m not the one at a loss.”
Meng Jinyao: “……”
You could calculate it like that?
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