The carriage hurtled down the road, its wheels thundering as Qingfeng cracked the whip and shouted, "Make way! Move aside! Clear the road!"
Though the emperor's arrival should have ensured an unobstructed path, the sudden appearance of auspicious omens had drawn a flood of citizens out of the capital. Some knelt in reverence, blocking the road entirely.
It was a day of celebration, and the imperial guards were forbidden from using force. Their stern rebukes were ineffective amidst the chaos.
Inside the carriage, Li Ce's eyes were tightly shut, his breathing ragged and faltering, drawing cold sweat from the onlookers.
"How can we possibly go faster?" Li Jing lifted the curtain, waving his arm to urge the crowd away as he spoke. At this rate, the delay would surely endanger the treatment.
Ye Jiao furrowed her brows. "The nearest medical hall that specializes in bone injuries is in Kaihua Ward. It's too far. At this pace, it'll take at least an hour." She suddenly stood and said, "I'll ride ahead to fetch the physician and return."
After all, a single rider could maneuver through the crowd much faster than a carriage.
But just as the words left her mouth, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Someone had blocked their path and flung open the curtain, calling loudly, "How is he? The physician is here!"
Seeing who it was, Ye Jiao's eyes welled up with tears. "Brother!" she choked out.
Ye Changgen lifted his hand and shoved the physician into the carriage, then gently reassured her. "I was just outside the Huanqiu. The moment I heard the pavilion collapsed on Prince Chu, I rushed to Kaihua Ward to fetch a doctor. Don't worry. Step aside—let him take a look."
"Fetch" was too polite a term—"dragged" was more accurate. The physician had been mid-treatment, setting a dislocated arm, when Ye Changgen had hauled him away. The injured man had chased after them, hurling curses down the street.
Li Jing quickly moved aside, but the space inside the carriage was cramped. The physician had already squeezed in, forcing Li Jing to curl up awkwardly, nearly leaping out the window in desperation.
He finally managed to wriggle out of the carriage and stood beside Ye Changgen, both peering anxiously inside as the physician examined Li Ce.
"Forgive me," the doctor said softly, carefully loosening Li Ce's robes. His movements were cautious, even hesitant.
Li Ce was clad in the elaborate ceremonial garments of an imperial prince offering sacrifices to Heaven—intricate and layered, not easily removed.
"I'll do it." Ye Jiao knelt and, with a sharp rip, tore through the outer robe, revealing the white inner layers. She peeled back one after another until his snow-pale chest lay bare.
Outside the carriage, Li Jing and Ye Changgen instinctively took a step back, mouths agape. They exchanged a glance, both seeing embarrassment and disbelief reflected in the other's expression.
Really now—neither of them had torn the clothing, and the exposed flesh wasn't even female. What were they blushing for?
"She... my sister—she's only doing this for the treatment," Ye Changgen wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to excuse Ye Jiao's boldness.
Li Jing nodded. "Understandable. To be honest, she's like this even when she's not treating injuries."
Do any of your Ye family children respect the boundaries of propriety between men and women? Are any of them not insufferably unruly?
Let's not forget someone from your family once threw dung at mine.
Their banter barely lasted a moment before the physician finished his diagnosis.
The falling pavilion roof, carved with the nine dragons converging at the peak, had struck Li Ce's shoulder, fracturing the scapula. The fracture itself was not severe—what was grave were the internal injuries.
His heart meridian was damaged, his lungs had hemorrhaged, and undetected internal bruising had begun to coagulate within his body.
The physician administered emergency treatment immediately, using silver needles to stimulate the meridians and small splints to stabilize the bone.
By the time the carriage reached Prince Zhao's residence, Li Ce's breathing had eased.
"Is it very serious?" Ye Jiao asked tremulously, her heart clenched with worry.
Though it was winter, sweat beaded on the doctor's forehead. He replied with solemn care, "My skills are limited. A consultation with the imperial physicians is still necessary."
"They've already been summoned," Li Jing and Ye Changgen responded together, carefully lifting Li Ce from the carriage. "We've sent word to the Imperial Medical Bureau."
There were skilled bone-setting doctors among the imperial physicians too, but summoning them involved formalities. Now that Li Ce's injuries had been stabilized, the priority shifted to treating his internal wounds.
That night, Ye Jiao stayed at Prince Zhao's residence and did not return home.
She sat quietly by a small red clay stove, warming her hands and listening for any sound from Li Ce.
Sometimes he coughed, sometimes he curled in on himself. But more often, he lay in deep sleep—so still and fragile, like an infant left defenseless to the world.
Ye Jiao used iron tongs to adjust the embers, staring into the crimson glow of the coals. Her lips pressed into a tight line.
They had reinforced the pavilion roof just last night. And yet it still collapsed.
It wasn't incompetence. It was malice.
This debt must be repaid.
No matter who you are, you will not get away with this.
She tossed another coal into the fire, hatred blazing like wildfire in her peach-blossom eyes.
After escorting the emperor back to the palace, Vice Commander Yan Congzheng returned to Huanqiu to inspect the wreckage.
The ornate eaves had been delivered to Daxingshan Temple, but the broken beam that had supported them remained—only one, ominously snapped.
Standing beneath the altar mound, Yan sniffed the acrid air still thick with the scent of burnt offerings. His hair stood on end, a wave of nausea churning in his gut.
He summoned the guard on duty. "After my inspection last night, did anyone else come by?"
"No," the guard replied. He paused, then added, "But just at dawn, His Highness the Prince of Wei sent someone. He said he needed one final inspection, since he was supervising the construction."
That hour coincided with the changing of the guard. Officials from both the Ministry of Works and the Ministry of Rites would have been entering as well.
There was no proof that the Prince of Wei tampered with the structure.
And even if there were—would he dare to report it?
That would be a capital offense. And Prince Wei, Li Chen, was his brother-in-law.
Even so, an hour later, Yan Congzheng arrived at the Prince of Wei's residence.
Li Chen had already changed out of his ceremonial robes and now wore simple, casual garments. He was helping his young son paint masks for the upcoming Nuo opera.
On the first day of the new year, the capital would be alive with the ritual performance. People would dance to exorcise evil, ward off disease, and parade through the city in self-made masks.
"Uncle!" The boy leapt up, grinning as he presented his painted mask. "Isn't it pretty? I'll paint one for you too!"
"Go outside," Yan said curtly, his expression grim. "I need to speak with your father."
Li Chen nodded and called after his son, "Tell the kitchen to prepare a few more dishes for dinner."
He dipped his brush into the colorful pigments, asking leisurely, "What matter brings you here in person? You've been busy all day. Why not rest a while?"
His tone carried the gentle warmth of family.
But Yan Congzheng got straight to the point. "At dawn, Your Highness sent someone to Huanqiu. For what purpose?"
The warmth in the room vanished instantly.
Yan did not sit. He remained standing across from Li Chen, staring at the strange masks with a face like a judge's—cold and unyielding.
Li Chen slowly set down the mask and rinsed his brush in the water basin. The water, once clear, turned cloudy and filthy as he continued swirling the bristles.
"To inspect the pavilion, of course," he said in a low voice. "Unfortunately, my servant was inept and failed to detect the danger."
"To inspect…" Yan's voice dropped an octave. "Or to sabotage?"
Li Chen lifted the brush and, with a loud smack, flung it onto the rice paper.
His usually calm face turned frostbitten.
He let out a soft, mocking laugh. "What are you implying? Didn't you see what happened? The roof collapsed, and Prince Jin shielded the emperor—earning praise from all. Prince Chu braced the structure—winning a royal betrothal. They both gained. And yet you suspect me?"
Yan faltered. Then, gathering his thoughts, he replied evenly, "But had Prince Chu failed to support the eaves, it would have fallen on the crowd—first striking Prince Jin. Chu would have been blamed for negligence and severely punished. The outcome today was a matter of both quick thinking and… divine favor."
"Yes—divine favor," Li Chen sneered, rising to his feet with hands clasped behind his back.