As night deepened, Qiyun Tower was brightly lit, filled with warm, fragrant incense.
This was the most lavish pleasure house in the capital, where the sounds of strings and bamboo instruments never ceased.
On the third floor, in the largest private chamber, the lights were brilliant. The air was saturated with the sweet, cloying scent of cosmetics from the Western Regions, mingled with the rich aroma of aged fine wine.
“Come, come, Your Highness. You can’t escape this cup!”
In the center of the private chamber, the Eighth Prince, Xiao Ying, was reclining lazily against an embroidered cushion patterned with large peonies.
He had been born exceptionally handsome, inheriting that beauty from his mother, Consort Lin, who came from a prestigious Jiangnan family.
His brows and eyes naturally carried the gentle warmth and amorous charm of the water towns. His slightly upturned peach blossom eyes seemed to carry three parts of a smile and seven parts of rakish charm even when he merely glanced casually at someone.
His long hair, black as a crow’s feathers, had not been properly tied up. Instead, half of it was loosely gathered beneath an exquisitely carved purple-gold crown inlaid with jade. A silver tassel hairpin adorned with pearls was slanted through the crown, swaying gently with his movements.
The remaining strands of black hair were like the finest silk, lazily trailing across the peony-patterned cushion. A few unruly wisps fell against his cheeks with his movements, adding a languid, decadent beauty to his appearance.
Today, he wore an extremely luxurious robe of red sandalwood-purple cloud brocade, its collar and cuffs densely embroidered with silver-threaded flowering begonias. A leather belt inlaid all over with creamy white jade was loosely tied around his waist.
The jade pendant ornaments hanging from his waist were of exceptionally pure quality. From a distance, they looked like a pool of shallow, cold ice hanging between the folds of his robes, understated and unassuming.
When he raised his foot, the light passing through the jade revealed several faint traces of ink-colored patterns within—like smoke and mist winding through translucent ice, like drifting clouds frozen by accident, or water plants swaying beneath a deep pool.
Having drunk some wine, his collar had loosened slightly, revealing a section of his cold, fair collarbone.
He held an exquisitely carved ivory folding fan in one hand.
Amid all the glittering jewels filling the room, even they were less eye-catching than the green-jade wine cup he idly toyed with between his fingers.
“Fine. I’ll drink. I’ll drink.”
Xiao Ying laughed softly, his voice carrying the clear smoothness characteristic of a young man along with the languor of mild intoxication.
He raised his slender, fair neck and drained the wine in one gulp. His carefree bearing made the two beautiful courtesans attending him giggle sweetly, and they hurriedly refilled his cup.
In the eyes of these spoiled young nobles and wealthy merchants’ sons, His Highness Prince Yi was undoubtedly the best companion for having fun.
Not only was he generous with his money, but he also had the wealthy Lin clan of Jiangnan behind him and had never cared much for gold or silver.
More unusually, he had none of the airs of a prince. He understood music, could casually compose dazzlingly romantic poetry, and spent his days doing nothing but keeping company with poetry, wine, and beautiful women.
When the Emperor had bestowed the title “Yi” upon him, he had said that Xiao Ying “loved mountains and waters and disliked restraint.”
In the eyes of the capital’s powerful families, this was practically a golden nail driven firmly into the coffin of his reputation as a “leisurely prince.”
Yet Xiao Ying seemed perfectly content with it, even taking the word “leisurely” to its absolute extreme.
As the wine warmed their ears and the atmosphere in the chamber became increasingly uninhibited, the group’s conversation gradually shifted away from pleasure-seeking gossip.
“Your Highness, have you heard? Zuìhua Pavilion brought in several new Jiangnan beauties yesterday. Their figures, tsk, tsk…”
“What’s that compared to this? The mysterious male courtesan who just debuted at Shuyu Pavilion is the real beauty. Apparently, he’s the fallen son of a prestigious family. He plays the qin beautifully, looks like an immortal, and has black hair like satin. Even Young General Li threw away a fortune for him!”
Everyone chatted and joked over one another.
Gradually, after a few cups of wine, the court gossip they normally dared not mention in front of their elders began spilling out as well.
“Speaking of which, that Vice Minister Wang of the Ministry of Revenue was investigated and his household confiscated the other day for embezzling treasury funds. I heard his family’s possessions filled more than a dozen carts!”
“That’s nothing new. What’s more interesting is that Consort Zhao in the imperial harem, who’s currently enjoying His Majesty’s favor, suddenly died last night. They say it was a sudden illness, but who knows…”
Xiao Ying reclined against the couch, resting his chin on one hand while allowing the woman beside him to peel translucent grapes for him.
He appeared completely absorbed in the gossip, sometimes raising his brows in surprise and sometimes clapping and laughing along, looking exactly like a wealthy idler who cared about nothing but street gossip.
At this moment, Lu Ming, the son of the Vice Minister of Rites seated to his right, suddenly raised his voice with a few drinks’ worth of drunkenness and teased, “If you ask me, our Highness really understands how to be Prince Yi! Drinking and making merry every day, carefree and at ease. Unlike that Prince Su…”
The laughter in the chamber faltered slightly.
Young Master Lu burped, then lowered his voice, unable to conceal the gloating and boastfulness in his tone. “Not only was he sent to a bitterly cold place like the Northern Frontier to fight a war, I heard that… His Majesty secretly issued a confidential decree recently.”
His words successfully drew everyone’s attention.
Xiao Ying raised his eyes slightly.
Yet the smile on his face did not diminish in the slightest. His amorous peach blossom eyes merely shifted toward Young Master Lu, his tone as casual as if he were asking which family’s wine tasted better.
“Oh? What confidential decree? How come I haven’t heard anything about it?”
Seeing that even Prince Yi had been startled by his information, Lu Ming’s expression became even more smug, as though saying, You didn’t know, did you?
He leaned forward and lowered his voice further.
“I only happened to overhear my father talking to someone a few days ago. It seems… His Majesty gave Prince Su a death order. Within three months, he must recover the lost territory in the Northern Frontier. I don’t know exactly which territory or how many troops are involved. I only heard my father say one thing—‘Three months. I’m afraid Prince Su won’t be coming back this time.’”
As soon as those words were spoken, several young nobles nearby froze for a moment before their expressions changed in various ways.
Not a single one felt that the prince fighting desperately in blood on the frontier was being treated unfairly. Instead, most laughed mockingly or watched with the excitement of spectators waiting for a show.
“Recover the lost territory in the Northern Frontier within three months? How could that possibly happen?”
“The Northern Di have powerful troops and strong horses. This is obviously sending him to his death!”
“Looks like His Highness the Seventh Prince is really going to meet his end in the Northern Frontier this time.”
Amid the uproar, only Xiao Ying’s movements came to a slight halt.
The hand carrying his wine cup toward his lips stopped imperceptibly in midair for half a breath.
“Your Highness, everyone, you absolutely mustn’t tell anyone about this!”
Lu Ming said they must keep it secret, but the pride in his voice was practically overflowing.
Xiao Ying merely smiled faintly and said gently, “So this really happened? Recovering the lost territory in the Northern Frontier within three months is such a major matter. This is the first I’ve heard of it. But if Seventh Brother really dies in the Northern Frontier… then I suppose he can only blame his bad luck.”
Then his tone shifted, and he said calmly, “But what I heard was that Father Emperor not only gave Seventh Brother fifty thousand elite troops. I also heard there has barely been any fighting in the Northern Frontier recently. You people really are something. You’ll believe any piece of news you hear.”
Upon hearing this, some immediately began flattering him, while others quietly drank their wine.
Xiao Ying gave a soft laugh, his long, fair fingertips slowly rubbing the rim of the jade cup twice.
He did not continue discussing the matter. Instead, he smoothly raised his wine cup and deftly steered the conversation away.
“Enough of these tiresome court affairs. Gentlemen, enjoy yourselves tonight. The entire bill at Qiyun Tower tonight goes on my account. Anyone who leaves sober is showing disrespect to me!”
“His Highness is generous!”
“Thank you, Your Highness Prince Yi!”
The moment everyone heard this, they cheered enthusiastically, instantly throwing the previous topic to the back of their minds and continuing to raise their cups without the slightest restraint.
Amid the clinking of cups and the fragrance of cosmetics filling the noisy chamber, Xiao Ying lowered his eyes slightly.
His long, thick lashes, like butterfly wings, cast a faint shadow, perfectly concealing the fleeting, chilling depth and clarity hidden in his eyes.
—Something about this was wrong.
If the Emperor had ordered Prince Su to recover the lost territory within three months, then if it truly was a secret decree, it should have been absolutely confidential. How could it have casually leaked from the mouth of a Vice Minister of Rites, to the point that even a good-for-nothing prince like him could hear about it?
Even the three-month deadline had reached the ears of someone like him, who never involved himself in court affairs.
That meant—
Someone wanted this matter to become known.
That was far more dangerous than merely “someone leaking a secret.”
If it had simply been a slip of the tongue, the news should not have spread so quickly.
Much less should it have reached a place like Qiyun Tower.
For the son of a Vice Minister of Rites to bring it up after getting drunk and use it as a subject for boasting…
There could only be two possibilities.
Either there was a genuine breach within the palace.
Or—
Someone had deliberately released the information, intending to force Prince Su into a dead end.
Who most wanted the people of the capital to know?
The Crown Prince?
Third Brother?
Fifth Brother?
Or perhaps… it wasn’t any of them at all.
Xiao Ying’s fingertips gently rubbed the rim of his cup.
He did not dare jump to conclusions.
In this imperial city, the most dangerous enemies had never been the ones you could see. They were the ones who made you realize, after you thought you understood the situation, that what you had seen was merely what someone else had deliberately allowed you to see.
Xiao Ying laughed coldly inwardly.
He actually had little brotherly affection for his Seventh Brother, Prince Su Xiao Yuan. The two of them hardly interacted in their daily lives.
But he knew very well that Xiao Yuan was equally accomplished in civil and military matters and highly respected within the army. He was one of the few people in this imperial city who truly possessed both principles and ability.
Precisely because Xiao Yuan’s brilliance was too conspicuous, yet he had no maternal clan supporting him, he had become an object of the Emperor’s suspicion, as well as the most glaring thorn in the eyes of the Crown Prince and the other powerful princes.
But precisely because that thorn stood in front, bearing the brunt of every storm and enduring every overt and covert attack, his useless self, Prince Yi, could live so comfortably amid the world of cosmetics and pleasure.
Xiao Yuan was the best—and most solid—shield against the arrows for him, Xiao Ying.
That was a fact.
At least, that was what he had told himself at first.
Yet for some reason, when he thought of that man actually dying in the Northern Frontier, he felt not the slightest bit of schadenfreude.
Instead, his chest felt unbearably heavy.
A long-sealed memory from childhood surfaced unexpectedly.
That day, the Emperor had suddenly come to Yunlu Academy.
He had not come to visit his beloved sons. He had come to weigh how much each of the chess pieces in his hands was worth.
Several princes hurried to show off their abilities.
He neither stepped forward nor retreated. He simply stayed quietly where he was, as though completely uninterested.
Xiao Yuan did not step forward either. Instead, he silently withdrew to the back.
At first, Xiao Ying had paid no attention. At some point, Xiao Yuan had simply begun keeping an extremely low profile.
Until Xiao Yuan walked behind him and crouched down.
When Xiao Ying lowered his head to look, he saw Xiao Yuan helping him retie the cord on his shoe.
Once it was tied, Xiao Yuan did not look at him. As though he had merely completed something that needed to be done, he quietly withdrew to the side, like a shadow.
Xiao Yuan never interacted with the other princes, including him.
Xiao Ying did not know what he was thinking.
But he knew that the man, like himself, merely wanted to survive.
For nineteen years, Xiao Ying had pretended to be crazy and foolish, deliberately ruined his own reputation, and stayed away from court politics, all so that he would not be regarded as a threat to power.
He knew better than anyone that although his mother was wealthy, she had not a single soldier at her command. Once he was dragged into the struggle for the throne, he would only be crushed to pieces.
But… what if Xiao Yuan really disappeared?
Once that hardest shield shattered, who would the Crown Prince in the Eastern Palace—the heir who had inherited the Emperor’s extreme suspiciousness—deal with next?
The capable princes had already formed their own factions and prepared themselves for a struggle in which either the fish died or the net was torn.
And idle princes like him, who were “incompetent but still carried imperial blood,” would undoubtedly become sacrifices used to establish authority in the next round of purges.
No matter how harmless he pretended to be, making it obvious that he had no interest whatsoever in the throne, the Crown Prince would not mind casually eliminating a potential hidden threat.
After all… dead people were the most harmless.
No one could guarantee that the next person sent to the Northern Frontier would not be him.
Three months.
Perhaps it was not merely Xiao Yuan’s deadline, but also the countdown to the end of his carefree days as Prince Yi.
By then, this “Prince Yi” would become “Prince Yi”—a prince of death.
Xiao Ying slowly drank the remaining wine in his cup. The liquor burned sharply as it went down his throat, yet it made the heart hidden beneath his magnificent exterior even clearer.
This protective umbrella called “idleness” absolutely could not break at this moment.
Yet he also could not have any visible connection with Prince Su.
“Your Highness? Why are you spacing out?”
The soft, coquettish voice of the courtesan beside him sounded. She pressed against him and brought a peeled grape to his lips.
“I was just thinking…”
Xiao Ying came back to himself, instantly concealing every trace of sharpness in his eyes.
He opened his mouth and bit into the grape, then casually stroked the back of the courtesan’s fair, tender hand. The rakish smile returned to his peach blossom eyes.
“I was wondering whether that mysterious male courtesan at Shuyu Pavilion could possibly be as handsome as this prince. Perhaps I should go see for myself.”
The chamber fell silent for a moment before erupting once more into suggestive laughter.
“Your Highness is really interested in male courtesans?”
One of the young nobles sounded somewhat surprised.
Such establishments catering to male companionship were flourishing throughout Da Sheng, and many scholars, wealthy merchants, and powerful nobles frequented them.
In the past, although Prince Yi often wandered through pleasure houses, he had never visited such a place.
“Mm. I’m tired of the same old things. I want to try a different flavor.”
His gaze swept lightly across everyone present as he continued, “Three days from now, I’ll be hosting. Anyone who wants to come with me and see for themselves is welcome. Feel free to bring more people.”
“Good. If His Highness is hosting, how could we refuse and offend him?”
One of the young nobles said this, and the others followed suit.
In the prosperous, dreamlike Qiyun Tower, Prince Yi remained that wealthy idler who seemed utterly unfamiliar with sorrow, drowning himself in pleasure as though he did not even know what day it was.
He simply picked up the green-jade wine cup again and gently waved the ivory carved fan in his hand, turning his gaze toward the distant north.
Yet his fingertips tapped the rim of the cup three times.
“Three months…”
He murmured under his breath.
Then he smiled again.
“Someone. Prepare a visiting card for me—three days from now, I’m going to Shuyu Pavilion.”
◇◆◇◆◇
The sky was not yet fully bright when the faint light filtered through the window lattice, and Xia Lanshi had already awakened.
He quietly glanced at the empty bed beside him, and for no reason at all, his heart felt hollow for a moment.
He thought of that man—from initially always finding various excuses to slip into his room,
to later simply crawling into his bed to sleep without even asking, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
And now, after he had grown accustomed to that warmth, he suddenly realized that he truly could no longer live without the other person.
Every gap in his daily life, every single habit, had already been domineeringly filled by that man without him even realizing it.
He reached into his robes and took out the handkerchief Owl had entrusted to him before leaving.
The embroidered owl and long-tailed tit on the handkerchief remained perfectly intact, but the unique scent belonging to that person had become much fainter.
Xia Lanshi had never been someone who believed in gods or Buddhas, because throughout his life, the gods and Buddhas in the heavens had never once answered his suffering.
But at this moment, in the silent morning light, he prayed quietly:
If that person could return safely this time, he would surely be devout from then on.
Although today was his scheduled day off, as the Chief Administrator, he actually spent almost the entire year working nonstop, with very few moments of genuine rest.
After calmly and methodically tidying his appearance, he pushed open the door and headed directly for the study in the main courtyard.
The moment he entered the study, he saw Su Mu Chen standing before a huge smooth white board, holding a pen and rapidly writing.
Seeing that “dragon-flying phoenix-dancing” handwriting, Xia Lanshi could not help but laugh softly.
“Military Advisor Su’s handwriting truly surpasses even cursive script. I’m afraid the military physicians will have to learn how to ‘solve puzzles’ before they can attend your lessons.”
Even Xia Lanshi himself found it difficult to completely decipher what this tangled mass of lines was supposed to express.
Hearing him, Su Mu Chen immediately stopped writing.
He stepped back and examined his writing on the board before turning to the solemn-looking Mu Li standing nearby.
“Can you read it?”
Mu Li clasped his hands and answered honestly and respectfully, “Replying to you, sir, this subordinate is dull-witted. I can only understand about sixty percent.”
A moment ago, he had actually been trying to imitate Su Mu Chen’s handwriting in his mind. Unfortunately, the more he looked, the more he realized that some of the characters could no longer even be described as “characters.” They were nothing more than slightly undulating wave-like lines.
Xia Lanshi smiled and shook his head.
“Why not let Mu Li write it?”
Su Mu Chen sighed and finally put down his pen, decisively abandoning this torturous clerical task in favor of another, more important item on his schedule.
He pointed to the other chair opposite his desk and asked Xia Lanshi, “You haven’t eaten breakfast, have you?”
“According to what Physician Su said yesterday, I have not eaten since after midnight,” Xia Lanshi replied.
Su Mu Chen nodded.
“Then sit down. We’ll draw some blood first.”
He then turned to Mu Li.
“Come over and observe.”
Mu Li obediently walked over and quietly stood diagonally behind Su Mu Chen to watch.
Su Mu Chen’s movements were extremely fast. He efficiently picked up the rubber tourniquet that had already been prepared and tied it around Xia Lanshi’s exposed left arm after he rolled up his sleeve.
His fingertips precisely located the vein. After disinfecting the area with an alcohol pad, he picked up the blood-drawing device and inserted the needle without hesitation, then pushed the vacuum blood-collection tube into place.
Dark red blood flowed along the wall of the tube.
Once the blood had been drawn, he immediately removed the tourniquet with one hand, pressed a sterile cotton ball over the puncture site, and swiftly withdrew the needle.
“Press firmly. You need to keep pressure on it for five to ten minutes, until the bleeding has completely stopped. Absolutely do not rub it.”
As Su Mu Chen gave the instructions sternly, he turned and placed the tube into the simple blood-testing device he had brought.
Then, without wasting a moment of the waiting period, he fastened a lightweight vital-sign monitor around Xia Lanshi’s wrist.
Before long, the numbers appeared on the screen.
Su Mu Chen glanced at them, recorded the data in the medical chart, and instructed Xia Lanshi:
“Now go outside and walk for ten minutes before coming back. Walk at your usual pace. You can also go up and down a few steps outside.”
Xia Lanshi had no objections. He followed Su Mu Chen’s instructions.
Ten minutes later, he returned to the study slightly out of breath.
Su Mu Chen checked the fluctuating numbers on the vital-sign monitor again, his brows drawing together slightly.
Still, he recorded the data and gave an objective assessment.
“There are no obvious structural problems with your heart or lungs, but your endurance is too poor.”
Xia Lanshi could only give a faint, wry smile.
He was aware that his endurance was poor, although Physician Su’s endurance seemed hardly any better.
If the two of them were ever attacked and had to flee together, it would be difficult to say who could run faster.
Next came the formal medical consultation.
Everything was part of Su Mu Chen’s long-planned “Chief Administrator Conditioning Plan.”
Xia Lanshi was crucial to Xiao Yuan and the entire Northern Frontier’s operations, yet he was unfortunately far too frail and frequently ill.
Su Mu Chen had already wanted to help him improve his health while in the modern world, but the separation between the two worlds had made it inconvenient to implement.
Now, at last, he could personally take charge.
“How long do you sleep on average?” Su Mu Chen asked while writing.
“Usually three to four shichen. When things get busy… only two.”
“How many meals do you eat a day? Do you eat on time?”
“Three meals normally. One or two when military affairs are busy. Most of the time, they’re irregular.”
The hand holding Su Mu Chen’s pen paused slightly.
He was already beginning to sigh inwardly.
Based on his recent observations, there were seven days in a week, and Xia Lanshi was busy all seven of them.
He then fired off a series of questions about various aspects of Xia Lanshi’s daily life and recorded each answer in the personal medical chart labeled “002 Xia Lanshi.”
“What medications do you usually take?” Su Mu Chen asked.
“Replying to Physician Su, what I take daily is a modified version of the Imperial Medical Bureau’s old prescription, ‘Modified Shen Ling Bai Zhu San’—based on ginseng, atractylodes, poria, and licorice, supplemented with angelica and Sichuan lovage to nourish the blood, with a small amount of cinnamon added to warm the yang. Since my constitution tends to be cold, a little aconite is also added to support the fire of the Gate of Life. One dose each morning and evening. I have taken it for… about seven years.”
Xia Lanshi paused, as though confirming the time in his mind.
“In addition, after winter begins, I switch to a modified version of ‘You Gui Wan,’ removing the heaviness of prepared rehmannia and replacing it with dodder seed and eucommia bark to support kidney qi. Whenever the seasons change, if I feel chest tightness or shortness of breath, I take ‘Sheng Mai Yin’—ginseng, ophiopogon, and schisandra. Only those three ingredients. Its medicinal nature is not strong.”
Su Mu Chen had studied Western medicine. He had heard the names of these traditional Chinese medicinal herbs before, but did not have an in-depth understanding of them.
He did not interrupt. He simply wrote down each medicinal name and combination exactly as Xia Lanshi described them.
Then Su Mu Chen raised his head and looked sharply at him.
“Other than the poisoning from touching the paper previously, how many times have you been poisoned in the past? Do you know what poisons they were?”
Xia Lanshi fell silent for a moment.
He lowered his eyes slightly, as though retrieving those long-sealed memories tinged with the scent of blood from the depths of his mind and arranging them neatly, one by one.
“…Three times.”
“The first was when I was thirteen. Someone put ‘Crane’s Crown Red’ into my tea—a type of arsenic poison, but the dose wasn’t large. I took one sip and immediately realized something was wrong, then vomited most of it out. The imperial physician said that if he had been half a moment later, I would not have survived. It was Imperial Physician He, the Chief Judge of the Imperial Medical Bureau, who saved me.”
“The second was when I was fifteen, in autumn. That time it wasn’t a poisonous substance, but a variation of ‘Qian Ji San,’ cleverly applied to the edges of the pages of a book. When I turned the pages, it got onto my fingertips, and the poison entered through my skin. At first, it was only numbness in my fingertips. Three days later, it had spread to my wrist. That time… His Highness interrogated seventeen people for me, and in the end, it led to an official under the Eastern Palace.”
His tone was as calm as though he were reciting an unimportant government document.
“The third was when I was eighteen, when I was assassinated in the Northern Frontier for the first time. At the time, I was outside Hanchuan City and was grazed by a stray arrow. The arrowhead had been coated with aconite juice. The poison was not particularly potent, but it was extremely difficult to remove. The military physician traveling with the army cleaned and treated the wound. My fever took three days and three nights to subside. For several months afterward, whenever it rained, the wound would still ache faintly. It has never completely healed.”
Su Mu Chen stopped writing and looked deeply at him.
“After the third time, did it ever flare up again?”
“Occasionally.” Xia Lanshi’s tone was gentle, as though he were speaking about someone else. “Whenever the weather changes suddenly, there is numbness around the wound. It lasts about half a day. It doesn’t affect my movements, but… it does remind me that those years truly happened.”
When Xia Lanshi spoke of these things, there was not the slightest trace of resentment in his voice, nor even sadness.
He sounded like someone who had turned over his wounds too many times, become numb from the pain, and finally learned not to even furrow his brow.
Su Mu Chen frowned as he carefully entered each of these dangerous incidents into the medical chart.
He knew very well that the dangers Xia Lanshi had faced were certainly not limited to these.
As Xiao Yuan’s right-hand man, meticulous and intelligent yet physically weak and unable to fight, he was practically a perfect target for assassination in the eyes of their enemies.
At that moment, the blood-testing device beside them gave a soft “beep” and automatically printed out a report.
Su Mu Chen walked over and tore off the blood test report. His eyes quickly scanned the numbers, and his brows immediately furrowed even more deeply.
He efficiently attached the report to the medical chart. After organizing all the test results, he placed both hands on the desk and finally announced the results to Xia Lanshi.
“The good news is that your heart and lungs are fine, and your liver and kidney functions are also fine.”
At these words, Xia Lanshi released a barely perceptible breath of relief.
“But.”
Su Mu Chen slapped the report onto the desk with a sharp “smack,” his tone turning cold.
“Mild anemia, low blood pressure, poor nutritional status, long-term sleep deprivation, and reduced physical recovery capacity.”
Xia Lanshi fell silent.
“Although you do have some congenital weakness, your current condition is mainly caused by acquired imbalance.” Su Mu Chen stared intently at him. “All these years, you simply never treated yourself as a ‘person’ who needed to be taken care of. You’ve been using yourself like a beast of burden.”
Xia Lanshi: “…”
“Your fasting blood glucose is normal. At least for now, there are no obvious metabolic abnormalities. But several blood-test values are low. Your hemoglobin, ferritin, and albumin are all low. That indicates long-term poor nutrition and iron-deficiency anemia.”
Su Mu Chen then asked several highly professional follow-up questions. After confirming that this was not caused by chronic bleeding, he began issuing medical instructions.
“I’ll prescribe iron supplements, along with some vitamins and calcium tablets. The iron may cause stomach discomfort after you take it, and your stool may turn black. That’s normal. But remember this: nutritional supplements can only make up for deficiencies. They absolutely cannot replace sleep and proper meals.”
He raised his eyes, a commanding presence belonging to a primary physician emanating from his gaze.
“Your sleep schedule must change. Under normal circumstances, you need to sleep at least four shichen. In extreme military situations, the absolute minimum is three shichen, but you must never do that for two consecutive days! Don’t use the sleep schedule I previously gave Jing Yuan as your standard. Your constitutions and habits are completely different. They cannot be treated the same.”
He continued listing the instructions one after another.
Dietary discipline: Do not skip regular meals under the excuse of “handling official business.”
Hydration: Maintain a fixed daily water intake. Do not drink only tea. In addition, absolutely do not take iron supplements with strong tea.
Mandatory rest: After every two consecutive shichen of work, rest for at least one quarter of an hour. None of us will let you off the hook. We’ll all keep an eye on you.
Xia Lanshi gave a helpless, faint smile.
“Then I’ll follow Physician Su’s instructions.”
Su Mu Chen raised a brow slightly when he saw how obediently he had agreed, suspicion written all over his eyes.
“You’ll follow them?”
“I will.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“…”
Su Mu Chen then calmly delivered the final blow.
“I’ll give this conditioning plan to Owl, including your personalized diet plan, and have him help keep an eye on you.”
Xia Lanshi: “…”
He sighed inwardly.
Previously, he had already experienced being monitored by Chi Banyue using the conditioning plan Su Mu Chen had sent remotely.
Back then, he had been restrained in practically every aspect of his life and had suffered terribly.
Now that Su Mu Chen himself had come to this world, and was even planning to hand the conditioning plan directly to Owl…
It seemed there was no way for him to escape this time.
“In addition—” Su Mu Chen did not let him off and continued sternly, “if you experience any of the following symptoms: dizziness, palpitations, rapid breathing, chest tightness, unexplained fever, persistent diarrhea, obvious weakness, or signs of impending fainting, you must stop working immediately!”
He emphasized his words.
“You are not allowed to decide for yourself that you’ll just ‘push through it’!”
“That is indeed a bad habit Chief Administrator Xia is particularly prone to.”
A deep voice carrying a hint of laughter came from the doorway.
Xiao Yuan had just finished handling his military affairs and walked in, having heard the last part of the conversation.
Xia Lanshi raised a brow slightly and returned the remark.
“I believe Your Highness is no better in this regard.”
As he spoke, he straightened his robes and stood, giving up his seat with an inviting gesture.
“Your Highness, it’s your turn.”
Aside from Xia Lanshi, Xiao Yuan—the backbone of the Northern Frontier—was naturally the foremost person on Su Mu Chen’s “priority care list.”
Xiao Yuan looked at the chair.
“…”
Su Mu Chen issued his order without the slightest courtesy.
“You haven’t eaten breakfast yet, have you? Come over. Sit down. Draw some blood.”
Aside from taking care of the Chief Administrator, his main priority was naturally to keep the prince healthy as well.
Hearing this, Xiao Yuan could only walk over helplessly and sit down. He rolled up his black sleeve, revealing a strong, powerful arm.
As Su Mu Chen prepared the equipment, he looked back at Mu Li and asked, “Want to try drawing blood?”
The moment Mu Li heard this, he abruptly stepped back, shocked, and immediately lowered his head.
“This subordinate wouldn’t dare!”
Even if he had a hundred times the courage, how could he possibly use his own lord’s body as a medical experiment?
Seeing this, Su Mu Chen did not insist. As he skillfully tied the tourniquet around Xiao Yuan’s arm, he said without looking up, “Normally, it doesn’t matter. But in a truly critical emergency, there won’t be time on the battlefield for you to hesitate over these matters of status and propriety. Every second you waste could endanger the patient’s life.”
Mu Li: “…”
He could only break into a cold sweat as he watched Su Mu Chen unhesitatingly insert the needle into Xiao Yuan’s vein, as though there were no distinction between ruler and subject whatsoever.
Because Xiao Yuan had an unusual constitution and could not come into contact with any electrically powered electronic instruments—anything he touched would immediately malfunction—Su Mu Chen had prepared in advance.
He took out a traditional mercury blood-pressure monitor, wrapped it around Xiao Yuan’s arm, and measured his blood pressure.
Then he personally felt Xiao Yuan’s pulse, watched the second hand of his wristwatch, silently calculated his heart rate, and recorded the values in the medical chart labeled “001 Xiao Yuan.”
Xiao Yuan watched his movements.
“Physician Su can also take pulses?”
Without even raising his head, Su Mu Chen calmly replied, “No. I’m only calculating your heart rate while checking for abnormal beats. I haven’t studied traditional Chinese medicine. I studied Western medicine.”
After finishing the records, he looked up at Xiao Yuan, a trace of scholarly determination flashing in his eyes.
“Once the situation stabilizes somewhat, if I have the time, I plan to have a proper exchange with the military physicians and study the medicine of this world. After all… if there are certain diseases or poisons that exist only in this world, then we can only use this world’s own methods to deal with them.”
Hearing this, Xiao Yuan smiled faintly, admiration filling his eyes.
“Physician Su’s considerations are far-reaching. It is truly a blessing for the Northern Frontier. When the time comes, I will certainly provide every assistance.”
Next, Su Mu Chen began the routine consultation and compared all the examination reports.
Compared with Xia Lanshi’s battered body, Xiao Yuan’s physical numbers were practically flawless. His muscles and bones were in peak condition.
The greatest problem was still his extremely poor sleep.
Aside from deliberately reducing his sleeping hours to handle military affairs, this was also caused by the immense pressure and psychological trauma accumulated over years of warfare.
But Su Mu Chen could not prescribe sleeping pills for Xiao Yuan either. Even if he did, given Xiao Yuan’s vigilance, there was no way he would take them.
“How did you sleep yesterday?”
Because Xia Lanshi and Mu Li were also present, Su Mu Chen did not dare ask too directly, lest they discover that he had slipped into Xiao Yuan’s room in the middle of the night to “supervise” his sleep.
Although, by the end of that supervision, he had fallen asleep even earlier than Xiao Yuan.
When he woke this morning, Xiao Yuan had already gone to work as steadily as ever.
Xiao Yuan’s expression remained calm.
“Thanks to Physician Su, I slept exceptionally well. Not a single dream all night.”
“That’s good…”
Su Mu Chen relaxed slightly, then immediately began bombarding him with medical instructions.
“You can try establishing a fixed schedule, getting up and going to sleep at the same time every day. Drink less tea during the day. Before bed, do some relaxation exercises, such as deep breathing or muscle relaxation, to reduce tension in your body. Remember: don’t eat heavily before bed, and don’t drink alcohol before bed.”
Xia Lanshi, standing nearby, casually added another blow.
“Physician Su, His Highness understands all the principles you’re talking about, but he simply never listens.”
Xiao Yuan raised a brow slightly and looked at Xia Lanshi with a warning in his eyes.
Xia Lanshi was not intimidated in the slightest. Meeting Xiao Yuan’s gaze, he continued advising Su Mu Chen.
“I suggest that Physician Su personally supervise him every day. Here in the Northern Frontier, you’re the only person who can manage His Highness.”
He spoke with an air of utmost sincerity, as though he were genuinely concerned.
Su Mu Chen nodded deeply.
“That makes sense. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Then Su Mu Chen cautiously asked, “Would you mind telling me about your history of poisoning? Although your liver and kidney functions appear to be fine at present.”
He felt that Xiao Yuan did not seem particularly willing to discuss his past.
Xiao Yuan pondered for a moment before answering calmly.
“There have been too many. I don’t remember some of them, and I can’t explain everything clearly in a short time. I’ll tell you about them gradually another day.”
It was not that he did not want to tell Su Mu Chen about these things. He had simply never felt there was any need. In his mind, all of that was already in the past.
Su Mu Chen nodded and marked the poisoning history in the medical chart as “To be supplemented.”
After completing the health examinations of the two core figures of the Northern Frontier, the study briefly fell silent.
Su Mu Chen’s gaze fell on another medical chart lying alone on the nearby table.
Written on it were—
“003 Owl.”
Today was already the third day since Owl had gone deep into Northern Di territory to conduct reconnaissance.
Normally, he should return by tonight at the latest.
Following Su Mu Chen’s gaze, Xia Lanshi also saw the medical chart, and the smile in his eyes faded slightly.
Only three short days had passed, yet who would have thought that the waiting would be so agonizing?
As though sensing the sudden heaviness in their hearts, Xiao Yuan’s steady voice rang out in the study, carrying an unquestionable strength.
“We must trust him. He will return safely.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, his slender fingers gently brushing the warm jade peace pendant around his wrist.
“Your Highness is absolutely right…”
However, even by midnight, they still had not received Owl’s return.