Chapter Eighty: Get Lost
Until—
“Mmm…”
The old emperor let out a low hum, his chest visibly rising and falling, and only then did Su Hong’s heart finally drop with a thud.
Di Ying, too, released a long, solid breath of relief.
As the emperor’s breathing steadied, Di Ying began to gently twist the golden needles, drawing them out one by one, each carefully wrapped back around his fingers.
His palms were slightly damp with sweat.
The convulsive fit had not frightened Di Ying; what truly made him tense was the fear that the old emperor would seize the opportunity to “trap” him.
What if the emperor awoke but kept silent? What if he suddenly cried out? What if he noticed that Di Ying had targeted the Baihui and Temple acupoints and suspected an assassination attempt?
Then, the Imperial Guards standing two paces behind would undoubtedly bring a blade down upon his head.
There would be no chance for explanation.
Even if, after the fact, they discovered they had killed the wrong man, the emperor at most would grant him a posthumous honor, but not mourn him in the slightest.
He would not even punish the guard who struck him down; instead, he would commend the man for decisive action.
Di Ying had no wish to die in vain.
Seeing the old emperor open his eyes, turning them to watch Di Ying withdraw the needles from his head, without uttering a word or making any erratic movements, Di Ying finished his task and stepped back several paces.
He bowed, hands clasped, and proactively confessed, “Your Majesty suffered a fright and held his breath. The Imperial Medical Bureau was too distant, and I was compelled by circumstance to administer acupuncture to your noble body without authorization. I beg Your Majesty to punish me for my breach of protocol.”
The old emperor remained unmoving and silent, merely closing his eyes gently.
Su Hong, observing this, wished to speak on Di Ying’s behalf—not only to protect Di Ying, but also himself.
After all, he had consented to Di Ying’s treatment.
If Di Ying were guilty, then Su Hong’s guilt was even greater.
But as soon as he stirred, he saw Di Ying subtly shake his head at him.
Su Hong lowered his gaze, dropping into a statuesque silence.
A long while passed, until Di Ying’s waist began to ache from prolonged bowing, and he considered going straight to the prison himself.
Then, at last, the old emperor, eyes closed, spoke.
His voice was hoarse and heavy, bearing a sense of authority.
It was not a “normal” remark, but a question.
“Setting aside rashness and recklessness, let us speak only of decorum. Di Huaijie, is it because you have absolute confidence in your medical skills, or did you expect I would not punish you for this?”
“Your Majesty, convulsive fits are not uncommon. I am entirely confident in my knowledge of this ailment and my acupuncture technique. I had no intention of recklessly endangering your noble person or gambling for merit and position.”
“Nor did I ever consider whether Your Majesty would punish me for it. Your safety far outweighs any concern for my own fortune or misfortune.”
Di Ying replied.
His demeanor was calm, his voice steady.
The old emperor still did not open his eyes, but continued in that oppressive tone, “A physician never claims perfection. Yet you dare to do so.”
Di Ying responded, “…Your Majesty, my skin is thick.”
The old emperor laughed.
He opened his eyes, leaning obliquely against the chair, and pointed loosely at Di Ying, saying, “Your skin is indeed thick.”
Then, unable to restrain himself, he sighed, “When I was in peril, all others fled, afraid of being implicated. Only you—only you—dared to risk decapitation and the extinction of your clan, did not shy from impropriety, and took prompt action to save me. You are a good one.”
With that, the emperor sat upright, his demeanor becoming solemn once more, his tone regaining its oppressive edge, and he questioned Di Ying further, “Was your hand involved in Wu Chengsi’s sudden illness?”
Having been revived and cleared of mind by Di Ying’s acupuncture, the old emperor had, while resting with eyes closed, carefully reviewed the events within the hall that day.
He reached a conclusion: the thunder was an act of heaven, but Wu Chengsi’s illness was certainly caused by man.
Just as she never believed jade was bestowed by the heavens, she did not believe this was truly heaven’s punishment of Wu Chengsi.
Most likely, someone disliked Wu Chengsi—disliked his deception and sycophancy—and seized the opportunity presented by the sudden thunder to deal with him in secret, staging such an episode.
Was it merely to target Wu Chengsi?
Of course not.
This was an attack on herself as the emperor, meant to undermine her attempt at legitimizing her rule!
No, it was not merely an attempt—it was accomplished.
The day’s events had turned the favorable momentum created by the “Heaven-bestowed Sacred Image” into a complete farce.
A grand farce.
What would follow were surely the ministers’ criticisms, the people’s fear, and the confirmation of rumors that her claim to the throne was illegitimate!
Such a person must be executed.
Such a heart must be flayed.
While marveling at Di Ying’s miraculous skills, the old emperor’s first suspicion fell upon Di Ying himself!
Hearing the emperor speak thus, Di Ying remained motionless, silent.
He stayed bowed.
The emperor, watching him closely, saw a deep and unmistakable look of despair on Di Ying’s face.
Suddenly, the old emperor felt a pang of emotion.
Meanwhile, within the grand hall, the pitiful Wu Chengsi, after collapsing, lay ignored, still sprawled where he had fallen.
The chief physician, two deputy judges, and several imperial doctors had already arrived.
Seeing the emperor was unharmed, but lacking orders, they stood off to one side at the foot of the steps, none tending to Wu Chengsi.
Compared to Di Ying’s earlier unauthorized intervention…
The difference in character and ability was stark.
This made the old emperor suddenly feel himself quite petty.
He waved his hand and said, “Go on, see to Wu Chengsi.”
Di Ying did not move.
He only replied, “Let the imperial doctors treat him. I have already attracted suspicion and should avoid further involvement.”
The emperor said, “…Are you defying me?”
Di Ying shook his head, “I dare not. I am still awaiting punishment.”
The emperor laughed in exasperation.
Pointing at him, he said, “Would it kill you to be a bit less clever?”
Di Ying nodded earnestly, replying, “It would! And I’d die wronged, stifled, and in utter confusion.”
The emperor: “…”
He drew a deep breath, then another, his expression darkening. “I no longer suspect you, and I pardon all your offenses. Get out!”
“Thank you for Your Majesty’s gracious mercy!”
Di Ying bowed even lower, then slowly straightened, pressing his hands to his lower back and twisting a few times.
Watching this, the emperor felt the urge to grab something and throw it at him.
Looking left and right, he found nothing suitable.
By the time he looked again, Di Ying had descended the jade steps and was heading straight out of the hall.
The emperor muttered, “…I told you to go treat Wu Chengsi, not to go home!”
But Di Ying was already gone, vanishing in a flash.
The emperor: “…”
His appraisal of Di Ying shifted: from a hedgehog to a mere chicken bone.
The chief physician, however, gave Di Ying a silent thumbs up: to dare provoke the emperor to such fury face-to-face and still escape unscathed, he had never seen anyone like Di Ying in his lifetime.
Though he admired him, the chief physician himself would never dare such a thing.
Not only would he never dare, he would now have to go treat Wu Chengsi himself, as if shielding Di Ying from further trouble.
After diagnosing the patient, the chief physician fell silent.