Chapter 57: The Calligraphy of the Liu Family

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“After careful deliberation among my colleagues, we have devised a desperate remedy that may allow Her Majesty the Empress to overcome this crisis. However, Your Majesty, we cannot guarantee its absolute success,” Wang Zikui knelt on the floor as he presented their decision.

“Speak then, what is this remedy?” Li Shimin stepped down from the couch, gently helping Wang Zikui to his feet. “You may speak freely.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Wang Zikui rose as he continued, “We intend to add an auxiliary medicine—arsenic—to the herbs prescribed for Her Majesty.”

“Arsenic?!” Li Shimin’s brow creased. He knew these imperial physicians would never risk the Empress’s life so recklessly; they dared not, nor did they have the courage. Yet arsenic was a deadly poison—how could it be used to heal? If something were to go wrong...

“No!” Li Chengqian leapt from the bed, his reaction fierce. He shouted at Wang Zikui and the gathered physicians, “Physician Wang! Arsenic? How could you even suggest such a thing! Do you mean to poison my mother?!”

The Crown Prince’s words caused all the physicians to fall to their knees, bowing low in unison. “We would not dare!”

For the imperial physicians, this prescription was a great risk. Perhaps for an ordinary person it would be less concerning, but this was the Empress—the mother of the nation. How could they afford the slightest carelessness? Yet, as they saw it, if there were any other option, they would never have proposed such a dangerous plan. No one wishes to wager their own head.

Li Shimin was no physician, but he understood people. In years of ruling and leading armies, he had become well-versed in the art of managing men.

Therefore, when Li Chengqian berated the physicians, Li Shimin did not intervene. A little pressure would only make them more diligent.

After a while, seeing that the physicians were thoroughly intimidated, Li Shimin finally rebuked Li Chengqian, “Crown Prince, the physicians would never plot against the Empress. Do not speak so rashly. Step aside.”

“Yes, Father.” Li Chengqian lowered his head in acquiescence, dared not argue, and after glaring once more at the physicians, returned to the Empress’s side.

“All of you, rise,” Li Shimin waved his hand. “The Crown Prince is simply too concerned for the Empress, and his words were ill considered. Do not take it to heart.”

“We would not dare!” The physicians, who had just risen, fell to their knees again. The Crown Prince was the future Emperor; even if they wished otherwise, they would not dare.

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“Enough. Wang Zikui, as head of the Imperial Medical Bureau, tell me: how do you plan to treat the Empress, and how confident are you?” Li Shimin, anxious about the Empress’s illness, questioned him directly.

Wang Zikui exchanged glances with his colleagues, then bowed and replied, “Your Majesty, we propose to use ephedra, cinnamon twig, pinellia, asarum, dried ginger, schisandra, apricot kernel, cynanchum, licorice, and a small amount of arsenic. These will be simmered over a gentle flame—five bowls reduced to three—and administered to the Empress in divided doses. This medicine nourishes yin and strengthens yang, drives out cold, warms the lungs, dissolves phlegm, eases cough, and calms breath. However,” Wang Zikui glanced cautiously at Li Shimin, “we are only thirty percent certain of its efficacy.”

“Thirty percent?!” Li Shimin’s heart tightened. Even with the bold use of such a deadly poison, they had only thirty percent certainty? Gazing at the unconscious Empress on the bed, he waved the physicians away, unable to bear it, “Do as Physician Wang says. Go and prepare…”

Thirty percent was still better than none.

“Wait!” Li Chengqian once again stopped the physicians as they were about to withdraw.

Liu Yitiao’s head had barely touched the pillow when Liu Ertiao started making a commotion again.

This time, Liu Ertiao was holding a lantern.

A coarse yellow inner coat, a bright red robe, a shiny bald head, a plump, smiling face—simple and genial, his smile full of kindness.

“Maitreya Buddha?” At the sight of this oddly shaped lantern, Liu Yitiao blurted out. This lantern so resembled the Maitreya Buddha statues he’d seen in his previous life. But, was Maitreya Buddha even known at this time?

“Heh, so young Liu is a follower of the Buddha as well, to recognize such an image at a glance,” a vigorous, elderly voice sounded from outside the door. An old man in a hemp robe entered, smiling as he praised, “This Buddha was painted by a monk from the Western Regions and is not known in the Central Plains. The fact that you recognize him speaks to your broad knowledge.”

Seeing a guest arrive, Liu Yitiao shot Liu Ertiao a sidelong glare—how could he be so oblivious as not to announce a visitor? Hastily donning his robe, he got out of bed, and bowed respectfully to the old man, “Honored elder, may I ask your name?”

“Young Liu, you are too polite. Forgive me for disturbing your rest at this late hour,” the old man returned the bow. “My name is Gongsun Wenda.”

Liu Ertiao added, “Brother, this is the very elder who sold me the lantern—Uncle Gongsun. He came especially to see you.”

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“Gongsun Wenda? The younger brother of Gongsun Wuda, the renowned landlord of Sanyuan County?” Liu Yitiao, who had been inwardly annoyed at the midnight visitor, immediately came alive. He bowed deeply, “So it is Master Wenda! What an honor, please, have a seat.”

The old man, unreserved, found himself a chair and sat down, smiling at Liu Yitiao, “No need for such formality. I am an old acquaintance of Lord Yang; I may know this Yang household better than you do! If you don’t mind, just call me Uncle.”

“In that case, I’ll not stand on ceremony. Uncle Gongsun,” Liu Yitiao replied, seizing the chance to draw their relationship closer.

“Excellent, excellent! Yitiao, my worthy nephew, and Ertiao too, come, sit with me.” Gongsun Wenda’s warmth was like that of a host in his own home.

Once the brothers were settled, the old man drew a scroll from his sleeve and began to carefully unroll it on the table.

At a glance, Liu Yitiao recognized it as the very couplet he had written for Liu Ertiao earlier.

Pointing to the script on the scroll, Gongsun Wenda asked, “Worthy nephew, was this couplet written by your own hand?”

Liu Yitiao replied with humility, “Indeed, uncle, it was my poor work. The prose is plain and the calligraphy unrefined—I hope it does not make you laugh.”

Gongsun Wenda waved his hand, “You are too modest. Let us not discuss the cleverness of your couplet for now; your script alone is extraordinary, very much like the Liu style of calligraphy currently popular in the capital.”