Chapter 10 | Counsel in the Imperial City
The iron arrow was milliseconds away from piercing the tiger's skull when a pebble struck its trajectory, embedding the projectile into tree bark instead.
Sun Simiao had flicked the stone at the critical juncture, saving the beast. Li Jing's heart pounded - such divine precision could only belong to two or three masters in the entire realm.
"General Zhangsun proves why he's called the Empire's foremost intelligence master," Sun's voice carried through the clearing. "Since you've graced my humble abode, won't you descend from the tree?"
Li Jing now recognized the arboreal figure as Zhangsun Sheng, while the "tiger" below revealed itself as Bān Māo - the striped tigress Sun had previously healed.
Zhangsun's laughter boomed: "Master Sun truly lives up to his immortal reputation. Even in mountain seclusion, you keep royal beasts as companions!"
The physician stroked the tigress' head. "General Zhangsun is an old friend. Mind your manners." Bān Māo nuzzled Sun's leg before settling beneath the pine.
As Zhangsun dismounted and sheathed his arrow, he knelt ceremoniously: "Zhangsun Sheng pays homage to his benefactor."
"Enough with 'benefactor' titles," Sun raised him up. "Healing is my sacred duty. This tigress was named Bān Māo by Third Lad after I rescued her. Third Lad, fetch water. Though lacking tea, we must offer sustenance."
Li Jing bowed stiffly, heart racing like war drums. To his relief, Zhangsun only nodded before kneeling again: "Three moons I've sought you, Master. The situation is dire - the people need your aid!"
"If within my power, I shall comply," Sun responded, helping him rise.
"No time for hospitality," Zhangsun urged. "The Emperor suffers a celestial wrath - afternoon headaches driving him to whip attendants for relief. Imperial physicians have lost heads trying to cure him... If I fail to bring you, three generations of my clan face extermination..."
Sun interrupted: "Peace, General. As a Sui subject, I'll serve our Son of Heaven. Let me gather my medical scrolls."
Li Jing's first entry into the imperial city left him awestruck by Daxing's magnificence. Towering walls of blue brick enclosed vermilion-painted gates and gray-tiled roofs, forming an impregnable fortress. Passing through the Vermilion Bird Gate and Celestial Virtue Gate, they circumvented the Grand Prosperity Hall before arriving at Jade Transformation Gate.
A youth in python-embroidered robes stood with hands clasped behind his back. Zhangsun Sheng immediately kneeled: "This humble servant greets the Crown Prince." Li Jing realized this was Yang Yong, heir to the Eastern Palace.
Though pale-faced, the Crown Prince carried regal bearing like jade bamboo in the wind. He steadied Zhangsun: "General Jisheng's service is noted. This must be the Divine Physician Sun?"
As Sun stepped forward to bow, Yang Yong intercepted the gesture. "Your servant Sun Simiao, with medicine apprentice Qing, pays respects to Your Highness," Sun declared, discreetly substituting Li Jing's identity.
"His Majesty awaits eagerly," Yang Yong smiled. "If you'll follow."
The procession entered through Jade Transformation Gate toward Benevolent Longevity Hall. At the entrance stood a broad-faced guardsman with boar-bristle beard and piercing gaze. "Commander Li Yuan of the Thousand Bull Guards pays respects," the warrior rumbled, his armored form blocking sunlight.
"Commander Shude's vigilance honors us," Yang Yong acknowledged.
Li Yuan meticulously searched all three men, inspecting even Sun's medicine chest. Satisfied, he led them through heavy draperies choking the unseasonably warm hall. Spring's breeze died at the threshold where Li Yuan stood sentinel.
Within the eastern annex's dim candlelight, Li Jing glimpsed a grey-robed figure reclining amidst bamboo scroll mountains. The Crown Prince approached the couch: "Father, Physician Sun has arrived."
Emperor Yang Jian raised himself with his son's aid. The monarch's extraordinary features materialized - elongated forehead with five root-like protrusions vanishing into thick hair, leonine nose above golden-mouth lips, obsidian eyes burning beneath flushed complexion. Though haggard, his presence filled the chamber like mountain shadow.
When Sun moved to kneel, Yang Jian waved a calloused hand: "Discard formalities, Master Physician. We speak as men confronting mortality." An attendant brought a cushion, but Sun remained kneeling with Li Jing. "Your servant Sun Simiao, with apprentice, attends Your Majesty."
A strained smile cracked the imperial countenance. "Your presence alone eases Our suffering. Unlike those quack physicians with their silk-veiled diagnoses and forbidden treatments. Remember Cao Cao executing Hua Tuo for suggesting trepanation? We'll submit to any treatment - even if you bring axes like Lord Guan facing his bone-scraping!"
Sun pressed his forehead to floor tiles. "Your Majesty's dragon body carries the weight of all under heaven. This unworthy servant would never presume invasive treatments. Allow me to diagnose through the Four Examinations."
For three incense sticks' time, Sun observed the Emperor's complexion, listened to breath patterns, inquired about symptoms - the blurred vision during attacks, skull-cracking pain relieved only by whipping attendants, digestive turmoil. Finally, his fingers pressed the imperial pulse.
"Does Your Majesty disregard weather extremes during inspections? Consume whatever commoners offer?" Sun inquired.
"The people are Our children. Should parents refuse their offspring's food?"
Sun gestured at piled memorials. "Does the Son of Heaven review documents through the night?"
"How else forge Great Sui's golden age from warring states' ashes?"
"Precisely," Sun nodded. "The root lies in exhausted spirit allowing cold evils entry. These pernicious winds infiltrated through pores during Your Majesty's tireless travels, creeping along meridians to gather in the cranial palace. Hua Tuo's trepanation proposal wasn't baseless - merely the limit of Han Dynasty medicine. This humble physician will combine acupuncture, herbal therapy, and moxibustion to disperse the congestion."
Delight brightened the imperial features. "With such mastery in Our court, all under heaven shall prosper! From this moment, abandon protocol and heal Us as you would any patient."
As Sun directed Li Jing to prepare silver needles and heated stones, Yang Jian announced: "Crown Prince will arrange quarters in the Eastern Palace. Should any discomfort befall Our physician, We'll hold you accountable."
Bowing deeply, Yang Yong led the physicians through labyrinthine corridors. Li Jing's fingers trembled slightly as he packed the imperial pardon plaque bearing Yang Jian's Xianbei name - Puliuru Jian, legacy of Northern Zhou's bestowed surname. The iron guarantee of immunity felt heavier than mountain boulders in his medicine chest.
Though Crown Prince Yang Yong held legitimate succession rights, he keenly felt the threat from his second brother Yang Guang. Yet how could the rightful heir remain passive? The court's most powerful minister was Left Prime Minister Gao Jiong, whose daughter Yang Yong had married as secondary consort. With Gao's unwavering support and his recommended generals Han Qinhu and He Ruobi leading the Chen conquest campaign, Yang Yong's position seemed unassailable.
But the Crown Prince knew Yang Guang's cunning. Seizing proximity advantage during the Emperor's illness, Yang Yong abandoned his former revelries to attend the imperial sickbed daily - while Yang Guang remained stranded in distant Jinyang. If Sun Simiao could cure the Emperor, Yang Yong's filial devotion would cement his standing.
That night, Li Jing followed dazedly into the Eastern Palace. When Yang Yong proposed a banquet, Sun declined citing exhaustion. At dawn, the Prince personally escorted them to his audience hall. Li Jing marveled at its extravagance - sandalwood lattices inlaid with jade, pearl curtains swaying before golden couches, even attendants dressed like celestial envoys. The air hung heavy with frankincense.
After ceremonial tea, Yang Yong cut to the chase: "How to preserve His Majesty's health?"
Sun answered truthfully: "Reducing paperwork would allow vital energy recovery. The flood of ornate memorials exhausts dragon essence."
Yang Yong shook his head. "Father insists on reviewing every document - legal judgments, provincial reports, even palace gossip. These flowery petitions waste ink describing moonrises while burying substance! Three lines could suffice, yet they spin silken webs of words."
"The plague began with Han Dynasty fu poetry," Sun sighed. "Now scholars win posts through rhetorical flourishes while virtuous men languish. If Your Highness could curb this..."
Li Jing suddenly interjected: "Petition to mandate plain speech in memorials. Let promotion hinge on practical governance skills, not literary pretension. Within years, bureaucracy would transform."
Yang Yong stared at the "medicine apprentice", then laughed. "What's your real name, young sage?"
After Sun explained Li Jing's situation, the Prince grasped his hands. "I'll personally draft your pardon memorial. Once absolved, join my service."
"But direct advocacy might seem self-serving," Li Jing cautioned. "Delegate to trusted literati. Recommend Li E - the censor famed for plain prose. His memorial could reform writing conventions while crediting Your Highness."
Thus was born the Memorial on Literary Rectification that revolutionized Chinese bureaucracy. Though none present realized it, Li Jing's suggestion planted seeds for the imperial examination system - a innovation that would shape governance for millennia, eventually inspiring Western civil service reforms.