Chapter 55: Contact

Within the Eastern Palace, a young attendant rushed frantically, bursting straight into Crown Prince Li Chengqian’s study. The gust of cold wind he brought nearly extinguished the candle atop the writing desk. Startled, Li Chengqian tossed his book onto the table with a loud slap and rebuked harshly, “You wretched servant! Are you trying to get yourself killed, rushing about like this?!”

The attendant dropped to his knees with a thud and cried anxiously, “Your Highness, something terrible has happened! The Empress is gravely ill, and His Majesty is urgently summoning you! Please hurry!”

“What?!” Li Chengqian’s body suddenly went limp, slumping into his chair, his chest heavy as if the heavens were bearing down upon him. In disbelief, he asked, “What did you say? My mother is critically ill...? That can’t be—just the other day, I was chatting and strolling with her.”

The attendant, trembling, remained prostrate and replied, “His Majesty has already sent for Prince Wei and Prince Jin. Your Highness, you must prepare at once. If you delay, it may be too late!”

“Yes, yes, I must hurry, quickly, mother, mother!” Li Chengqian shouted, rushing out of the study. The icy wind outside made him shiver, and the wound beneath his ribs began to ache faintly.

The imperial physician? Where is the imperial physician? When will Li Jihe manage to bring him?

At this moment, Li Chengqian needed the physician’s help more than ever.

But where could he be found?

Li Jihe had already hurried to Sanyuan County overnight. Days before, he had searched the entire city, and this time he focused on the rural villages. The physician’s attire had closely resembled that of a farmer; perhaps he resided in these countryside areas.

He dispatched many men for a thorough search.

Yet fate had decreed that Li Jihe’s efforts would be fruitless. He could never have imagined that the legendary physician spoken of by the Crown Prince and the apothecary would be, in fact, a country veterinarian—and at this very moment, even this veterinarian was not at home.

Liu Yitiao, Liu Xiaohui, Zhang Chuwen, and Zhang Chuchu—two pairs of siblings—were leisurely strolling through the lantern market. Though Zhang Chuwen was a bookish sort, he was considerate; he carried Liu Xiaohui in his arms at the front, admiring lanterns and watching street performances, deliberately leaving Liu Yitiao and Zhang Chuchu far behind, striving to create opportunities for them to be alone together.

Zhang Chuchu, head lowered and hands twisted together, followed behind Liu Yitiao, appearing sweet and docile—an utterly charming sight.

Liu Yitiao seized the chance to study the girl who was, in a sense, his fiancée. He wondered whether Tang women matured early, for Zhang Chuchu, in both physique and intellect, seemed nothing like a sixteen-year-old. Compared to modern youth, she resembled a woman in her twenties.

Was this why people of old married so young? He couldn’t fathom it.

“Master Liu!” Zhang Chuchu hastened her steps to walk alongside him, as if wishing to speak but hesitating.

Seeing her demeanor, Liu Yitiao smiled and said, “If you have something to ask, Lady Chuchu, please speak freely, and I will answer as best I can.”

Clenching her hands, Zhang Chuchu said, “I wish to know how you solved those two math problems last time. I’m curious how you arrived at the correct answers so quickly. And those strange symbols you wrote on the paper—what do they mean? I studied them for three days at home, but could find no connection to the answers. Would you be willing to teach me?”

“Ah, that,” Liu Yitiao understood—the girl was truly a math enthusiast. Yet for ancient people to grasp even simple equations was no easy task. It seemed that in the Tang era, Arabic numerals and English letters were unknown. “Lady Chuchu, if you wish to understand, we’ll have to start from the very beginning…”

Thus, the two spent their time discussing mathematical concepts—what equations were, what unknowns meant, the difference between one-variable, two-variable, and multi-variable equations, linear and quadratic problems—wasting the opportunity Zhang Chuwen had worked so hard to create for them.

Still, it wasn’t all for naught; through discussion and teaching, they grew much closer. Zhang Chuchu’s gaze toward Liu Yitiao began to sparkle with admiration, while Liu Yitiao, who’d failed advanced mathematics numerous times in college, now took on the air of a seasoned “professor,” his confidence greatly bolstered.

It wasn’t until after eleven at night that Liu Xiaohui, unable to keep her eyes open, prompted the four to part ways reluctantly.

Returning to the Yang residence, Liu Xiaohui was already asleep in Liu Yitiao’s arms. He carried her straight to the guest room arranged by Uncle Yang, where Liu Heshi had already returned and was chatting happily with Yang Lishi.

Seeing him come in, Liu Heshi rose and took the sleeping girl from his arms, asking softly, “Why are you back so late?”

“Mother, the lantern festival only lasts two days a year—it’s rare, so we lingered,” Liu Yitiao replied, glancing at Yang Lishi. “Aunt Yang, why didn’t you stay out longer? The lanterns outside are stunning and burn all night.”

Yang Lishi smiled, “Tonight is only the first day—there’s not much to see yet. The best displays will come out tomorrow night. No need to rush.”

Liu Heshi gently laid Liu Xiaohui on the bed and covered her with a quilt, saying, “Yes, tonight isn’t truly the Lantern Night yet. The lanterns outside are just a preview. The real spectacle is tomorrow evening.”

Liu Yitiao chuckled. “You’re right, mother. Has my father or Uncle Yang returned yet?”

“They’re most likely at some tavern drinking—no chance they’ll be back so early. But Yitiao’s younger brother returned much earlier and is now asleep in his room,” Yang Lishi said, noticing Liu Yitiao’s obvious fatigue. “Alright, Yitiao, you’ve wandered all evening—you must be exhausted. Go and rest, you don’t need to stay here.”

“Thank you, aunt,” Liu Yitiao bowed politely. “Good night, aunt, good night, mother.”

Returning to his own room, he found his younger brother fast asleep on his bed. Liu Yitiao shook his head and smiled—it seemed the boy was used to sharing a bed with him at home and had come here out of habit. Seeing him sleeping soundly, Liu Yitiao didn’t disturb him, lying down fully clothed on the other side of the bed.

No sooner had he lain down than his brother sensed it and woke, sitting up and tugging Liu Yitiao upright as well, pleading, “Big brother, help me with half a poem, will you?”