Before the imperial carriage reached Hantang Hall, mournful cries echoed from afar. The Emperor longed to ask who had died, yet restrained himself, mindful of his dignity, forbidding any rash words. Surely it could not be Ye Jiao—people said calamities cast their shadows for a thousand years, but Ye Jiao was still so young.
The Emperor halted the eunuchs who were to receive him and dismounted, proceeding on foot. Upon arriving at the courtyard gate, he saw heaps of earth piled here and there, with crooked tiles scattered atop. Disorderly farming tools lay strewn about; one misstep might send him sprawling—or worse, plunging into a pit. In all his years, the Emperor had never witnessed such chaos within the palace.
"Your Majesty, please proceed slowly," Gao Fu urged, guiding the Emperor toward cleaner ground and accompanying him inside.
The grand doors of Hantang Hall stood wide open, from within came the wails of palace maids and servants.
"Your Highness, do you recognize me? I used to serve in the Office of Imperial Attire as a headwear attendant. Once, I mistakenly delivered the wrong hairpiece, but Your Highness did not blame me," a palace maid knelt before Consort Shun, lifting her face expectantly.
"Your Highness, look at me too. I served in the Department of Labor and once had a brief encounter with you," another attendant pleaded.
"There's also me. I used to work in the Bai Zhaoyi's palace. Once, you saw me injured and gave me ointment," more voices chimed in.
These inquiries only perplexed the Emperor. How could Consort Shun, long thought mad and senile, remember any of them? She couldn't even recall what she had eaten at her last meal. Yet, despite her muddy, disheveled garments and tear-streaked face, those eyes—his eyes widened in astonishment, brow furrowed, as he approached her with scrutiny.
No, those were not the vacant eyes of a madwoman. They brimmed with sorrow yet radiated strength, shining clear with mingled surprise and contentment.
At that moment, Consort Shun sat on a spring stool, slowly shaking her head. "I don't quite... remember," she murmured, scanning the crowd, "Where is Shutong? Where... where is Aunt Qiu? Why are they not here?"
She asked after Shutong and Aunt Qiu—the maidservant and nursemaid who accompanied her as part of her dowry!
The Emperor's heart surged with joy, disregarding the squalor of the path, he strode through the threshold and called, "Shun'er! When did you get better?"
Suddenly, a chorus of kowtowing filled the hall. Only then did the Emperor notice Li Ce and Ye Jiao standing beside Consort Shun. Shun'er clutched Li Ce's sleeve tightly, as if fearing he might vanish. Ye Jiao stood close to Li Ce, quickly kneeling to greet the Emperor.
The Emperor dismissed their gestures, his attention fixed entirely on Consort Shun.
"Shun'er!" he said, studying her face carefully, confirming her regained lucidity with overwhelming joy. "This is wonderful! The Imperial Medical Bureau truly still has skilled physicians!"
Indeed, a court doctor knelt inside, wiping sweat from his brow repeatedly.
Consort Shun looked up at the Emperor, then steadied herself by the chair's back and slowly rose. Tears welled again, but a faint smile touched her lips. In that instant, reverence, affection, sorrow, and profound emotion flickered across her countenance, though no words escaped.
The Emperor grasped her hand. "You're well now! You're well!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his happiness.
His gaze shifted to Li Ce. "What happened to you? Why are you covered in mud?"
"It's my fault, Your Majesty," Ye Jiao replied from nearby.
The Emperor fixed his eyes on Ye Jiao's face. How was it always you embroiled in trouble?
He chided, "Go wash yourselves clean before presenting to me again. Bring a basin of hot water—I will wash Shun'er's face."
The servants of Hantang Hall erupted with joy, scattering cheerfully to fetch water. Immersing their hands in warm water, they cleansed away the grime. Only then did the Emperor notice wounds on Shun'er's hands and summoned the physician to apply ointment.
"You've cured Consort Shun," the Emperor said, still visibly moved, "I shall reward you handsomely."
"I am but unworthy, Your Majesty," the physician replied humbly. "It was Master Ye Wuhou's brilliant insight. I have taken her pulse—though minor ailments of spleen and stomach remain, her vital energy has gathered, meridians temporarily open, liver congestion relieved, and symptoms of phlegm obstruction eased. With continued care, Consort Shun will fully recover."
"Ye Jiao's idea?" The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "I only heard she was digging the earth." Glancing at the large pit, it was clear she must have had help.
The physician knelt and said, "As they say, ailments of the heart require remedies of the heart. Lady Ye Wuhou's perception is exquisite—I cannot compare."
The physician then recounted how Consort Shun had been irritable and wild, how Ye Jiao had borrowed farming tools and gently guided her to recognize the King of Chu.
The Emperor nodded repeatedly, lamenting his absence at the scene, blaming the bureaucrats in the Ministry of Revenue for their tedious delays.
Seeing the physician's humble face, the Emperor, in high spirits, reassured him, "Though Ye Qing's efforts deserve praise, your diligent care throughout Consort Shun's eight years of madness has also contributed greatly. I shall reward you as well."
The physician expressed gratitude and departed. New hot water was brought in, and palace maids wrung out towels for the Emperor, who patiently wiped away Shun'er's tears and brushed mud from her hair. Shun'er stared unblinkingly at him, and he sighed, "Eight years... have I grown old?"
Tears streamed down Shun'er's face as she smiled. Though still struggling with speech, every word was carefully weighed.
"Your Majesty is heroic and extraordinary—ruling the realm, raising children—you have endured great hardship."
"I do not find it hard," the Emperor said, "I am happy. Have you seen Xiao Jiu? He's grown—twenty-one years old. The young lady beside him, Ye Jiao, is the wife I chose for him."
After speaking, the Emperor tossed the towel into the basin, watching Shun'er's expression with keen interest. Indeed, she seemed flustered.
"I have no... gift prepared," Shun'er stammered, rising.
The Emperor stopped her. "There will be many chances to prepare gifts later," he said proudly. "The Empress has already given away my dragon-and-phoenix wedding candles; many favor her. You don't know—this bride was hard to find, many vied for her."
Shun'er smiled with relief.
The Emperor's words grew more voluble, recounting palace affairs inside and outside these years. Finally, he sighed, "Now I have another place to speak my mind."
Shun'er lowered her head, her expression gradually clouding with grievance.
"What's wrong?" the Emperor asked.
"Your Majesty," Shun'er pressed her lips together, "Hantang Hall is so... remote. Over these years, have you... come to see me?"
Though lucid, her memory remained fixed eight years in the past, the years of madness wiped clean.
The Emperor felt a pang of guilt.
"I have come twice," he recalled. "The first time, you threw your meal all over me. The second time, you mistook me for Xiao Jiu and clung to me. Whenever I think of you, my heart aches, and so I have stayed away."
Yet he often inquired about Shun'er's condition through Gao Fu, and Li Ce always bestowed gifts and arranged care upon returning to the palace. Thanks to Gao Fu's meticulous arrangements, attendants familiar to Shun'er cared for her, ensuring that despite her madness, her body remained unharmed.
Leaning gently against the Emperor, Shun'er wished to speak many things but felt overwhelmed, as if something important must be told.
"Tell me," the Emperor patted her back, "why did you suddenly go mad?"
Indeed, why?
The question reverberated in Shun'er's ears, stirring her mind. She suddenly shuddered, sat upright, and looked toward the Emperor with terror. Grasping his sleeve tightly, she cried out, "Your Majesty! Your Majesty! The Forbidden Guards have brought news—Ce'er is dead! Ce'er is dead!"
She sprang to her feet, calling Li Ce's name while moving toward the door.
"They said Ce'er died—fell into a tomb passage, into a trap, devoured by beasts, his bloodied clothes—he gave me his bloodied clothes!"
Her speech flowed more smoothly now, but each word seemed stained with blood.
She turned, searching for the bloodstained garment, searching for Li Ce.
Li Ce rushed in and knelt before her. "Son is not dead, son is not dead!" His face washed clean, his features resembling Shun'er's. "They deceived you, Mother. Son is here, look again."
Li Ce feared all this might be a dream—that the plan to bring Ye Jiao into the palace was merely a dream about the Consort regaining her memory. Yet now the dream had ended, and his mother remained as she was eight years ago, broken and terrified.
Shun'er's hand trembled as she touched Li Ce's face.
"Yes," she murmured, "they deceived me. Ce'er is well. It was Mother who was powerless—Mother who was frightened mad."
The Emperor strode swiftly after her and stood beside Shun'er.
"Who deceived you?" His expression darkened instantly.
"Who?"...