Zi-ning stood anxiously by the bedside, waiting as the last of the imperial physicians came to take Zhenghuan's pulse and assess his condition. When he was done, the elderly man stood up and sighed, shaking his head. He exchanged a worried glance with his compatriots, who all wore similar grave expression on their faces. The jubilation from a while ago had completely disappeared.
Hesitantly, Zi-ning pressed her index and middle fingers against Zhenghuan's wrist, if only to confirm what she already knew.
His pulse was barely detectable now. A mere wisp that felt as if it could vanish at any moment.
"But why?" she murmured.
Zhenghuan had purged all of the gu-du out of his body, that much she was certain of. There were no remnants of the insidious worms remaining inside him. Why then had he vomited blood and then fallen unconscious? Was it a side effect of her prescription?
Turning to the imperial physicians, she asked, "What can we do to help him? There must be some way. How about a prescription to boost vitality?"
"It's too risky. The Shadow Lord's body is in an extremely weakened state at the moment, so any sort of herbal prescription could trigger a negative reaction in him. If we are not absolutely certain of the cause of his condition, then I would suggest not to administer any sort of prescription. We can use a needle technique to protect his heart, and hopefully that will buy him enough time for his own body to recover. But if he still doesn't wake after three days..." The physician's voice trailed off, leaving the rest of his assessment unsaid.
Mingshen walked over to the physician, grabbing the old man by the collar. "Do whatever it takes to keep the general alive, am I clear?" he demanded. He dropped the terrified fellow and turned his attentions towards the mayor of Zhuiya and the rest of the imperial physicians. Pulling out a folded parchment from his sleeve, he said, "Before this, the Shadow Lord had already issued the order to administer the prescription to all the infected residents of the city, assuming that it was effective in purging the gu-du from the body. I think you've made it clear that the gu-du has been removed, so regardless of the Shadow Lord's condition, you are to follow his instruction and prepare the medicine accordingly."
"But why? If the side effects from the prescription is so severe, then we cannot administer it to anyone else," Zi-ning protested. She reached out and took the parchment from Mingshen's hand, reading the instructions for herself. When she realised that it was indeed as Mingshen had conveyed, she shook her head and said, "I won't do it. I will not put another life at risk. We'll try to find an alternative solution, work on improving the remedy."
"It is not up to you to decide what you will or will not do," Mingshen replied, his tone hardening. He took the parchment back from her and held it high, pointing at the red seal that sat at the bottom right corner of the page. "This is the seal of the king. If you should go against it, then that will be tantamount to treason, and I shall not hesitate to execute anyone who dares do such a thing."
The mayor and the imperial physicians immediately dropped to their knees in a kowtow. "We will abide by His Majesty's command," they said.
"Good. Mayor Lin, make the arrangements to set up a medical hall to administer the medicine to any resident suffering from the illness. The physicians are to proceed with brewing the medicine immediately. I have other orders to attend to, but I shall be back by the morning. If there are any changes to the Shadow Lord's condition, send me a message via carrier pigeon." Mingshen said. He moved to walk past Zi-ning, pausing briefly when they were shoulder to shoulder. Then, he lowered his voice and said, "Even if you don't believe in your own remedy, you should believe in Zhenghuan."
#
Zi-ning spent the better part of the day helping the imperial physicians brew the medicine that they would need to distribute to the ill. As she watched the liquid bubble in the dozens of clay pots that had been set up, an uneasiness stirred within her gut. Very soon, the first patients of Zhuiya would receive their dose of the medicine, and she dared not imagine what the outcome would be like. Mingshen had asked her to trust Zhenghuan's judgement, but how could she, when Zhenghuan still remained unconscious, his life hanging by a mere thread?
She had to admit that for the first time since her rebirth, she was terrified.
She was afraid that Zhenghuan would die. She was afraid that the prescription would fail. She was afraid of all the blood that would stain her hands, because she was foolhardy enough to think that she could succeed.
"Miss Han, I think we're ready," one of the physicians said, tapping her on the shoulder.
Zi-ning snapped out of her daze. "Ah, yes, of course," she said. "Let's remove all the pots from the burners. Half of us can pour out the doses and deliver them to the infirmary, while the other half can begin to start brewing the next batch."
Everyone moved quickly and silently. The atmosphere within the kitchen was sombre and oppressive, as if there was a guillotine hanging about each of their heads. And there would be, if they failed and left Zhuiya as a ghost town.
A makeshift infirmary had been set up at the town's magistrate hall, with tables and chairs cleared aside to make way for straw mats upon which dozens of patients lay tossing and turning, crying out in pain. Zi-ning had specifically asked for them to bring in the most severely affected patients first, partly because they had less time to wait, and partly because... they had less to lose. The methodically distributed the warm bowls of medicine, beginning with those who had volunteered to test the brew, followed by the rest.
As she helped the first patient raise the bowl to his trembling lips, Zi-ning had the strong urge to pull back, but then Mingshen's parting words echoed in her mind: "Even if you don't believe in your own remedy, you should believe in Zhenghuan."
She watched as the clear gold liquid emptied down the man's throat, until not a single drop remained. Then they waited.
Moments later, the man keeled over and retched into the basin that had already been prepared by his side. Zi-ning quickly took his pulse. It was weak, as expected, but she could no longer detect any signs of the gu-du circulating within his body. The worm carcasses had been expelled entirely, as they had been for Zhenghuan.
She waited some more, anticipating the spray of blood that might follow.
But there was none.
The man lay back down, looking significantly less tortured than he had been before. He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes to rest. Zi-ning reached for his wrist, feeling for his pulse once more. There were no abnormalities. In fact, the man's pulse was slowly regaining it vitality.
It worked?
Seeing that the first patient seemed to be doing well, the other physicians quickly rushed around to help the rest finish their medicine. A strong stench of decay filled the hall as more and more people began expelling the poison from their bodies. None of them displayed the same side effect as Zhenghuan.
What's going on? Zi-ning wondered. Why was it that Zhenghuan had such a severe reaction to the remedy, when he should have had a much milder case of poisoning than the people of Zhuiya? Something clicked in her mind—a suspicion that perhaps there was more than met the eye.
Since everything in the infirmary looked to be under control, Zi-ning picked her the hem of her skirt and took off running back towards the mayor's residence.
#
Dusk was setting in when Zi-ning arrived, with the final rays of the sun slowly disappearing at the end of this long, arduous day. The mayor's residence was steeped in silence, with most of the household having been deployed to help out at the infirmary. Zi-ning ran across the main courtyard and down the corridors, until she came to Zhenghuan's room.
When he saw her enter, the one physician who had been left behind to monitor the Shadow Lord's condition stood up from his chair, rubbing his weary eyes. "Miss Han? Why have you returned? How are things over at the infirmary?" he asked.
"They're fine. Everyone seems to be responding well to the medicine. Why don't you take a break and wash up, then you can head over there to help. They could use an extra pair of hands," she said. "How is the Shadow Lord?"
"There's been no change to his condition so far. Thankfully it hasn't worsened though," the physician replied, before he lumbered out of the room.
Zi-ning slowed her footsteps as she approached the bed, as if afraid that she would wake Zhenghuan from his slumber. She sat down beside him and did a quick check of his pulse. It felt steady, and perhaps even a little stronger than before, yet there seemed to be no signs of him waking.
"What are you playing at?" she asked. "You've got something up your sleeve, haven't you?" She gently tucked away a few loose strands of hair that had fallen across his silver mask. At that moment, she wondered if she should remove the mask so that she could finally see the man that hid behind it.
If only he would open his eyes and tell her what exactly it was he was planning. Why did he have to put himself through all this?
As if in response to her question, the soft thud of feet landing against the stone floor interrupted her train of thought. Zi-ning turned, gasping when she realised there were now three masked men, dressed from head to toe in black, standing at the doorway. Each of them held two gleaming curved blades in their hands.
Assassins.
She instinctively stretched out her arms to shield the unconscious Zhenghuan from sight, looking around for a way to escape. There was a window that she could run to, but there was no way she could drag Zhenghuan along with her in time. She grabbed on to a bronze candle holder sitting on the bedside table, clutching it tightly in her hand.
"Who are you? What do you want?" she shouted.
The men didn't bother to indulge her with a reply. Instead, they charged right in, blades raised and ready to strike. Zi-ning flung the candle holder at one of the men, striking him at the left shoulder. Then, she picked up anything within arm's reach—a basin, a teacup—and began throwing them at the assailants, hoping that it would slow them down long enough for help to arrive.
A blade was raised. Zi-ning flinched, expecting for it to slice through her neck in the next moment—but the blow did not land. Instead, there was a loud clang of metal striking against metal. An arm had shot out from behind her, fingers clutching on to the obsidian hilt of a sword.
Zi-ning jerked her head around, shocked to find Zhenghuan sitting up behind her.
"Zhenghuan?!"