Chapter 56: Treating the Emperor’s Illness

Meng Yuanheng has arrived! Upon hearing this, Shen Qianmo, for reasons she could not explain, felt a measure of relief.

“Let him in,” the Empress Dowager finally said after a moment’s contemplation.

This Prince Xuan—yesterday, when summoned to the palace to attend the Emperor’s illness, he had shown nothing but reluctance, and by morning he had vanished without a trace. So why was he now so eager to come? The Empress Dowager could not fathom it. Even in his half-comatose state, the Emperor’s thoughts clung stubbornly to Prince Xuan, insisting he be summoned at once.

And then she recalled the Fourth Prince, now imprisoned in the celestial prison, and a fresh wave of headache overcame her.

She had no sons of her own, only her daughter, Yaohua. The struggle for succession among the princes should have had nothing to do with her; whosoever ascended the throne, she would remain the undisputed Empress Dowager. Yet, as Empress, she could not simply wash her hands of such matters, no matter her inclinations. Besides, the Fourth Prince’s mother, Consort Xian, had always shown her respect, and the prince himself was the most guileless of them all. Who could have thought he would commit such a treacherous act? It was truly hard to believe.

She sighed, watching as Prince Xuan, Meng Yuanheng, was wheeled in from beyond the hall.

Shen Qianmo’s eyes brightened when she saw that it was Situ Gong who pushed the wheelchair—her salvation had arrived! Indeed, Meng Yuanheng understood her best.

Meng Yuanheng halted his chair and cast Shen Qianmo a reassuring glance, bidding her not to worry. Then, with an indifferent expression, he addressed the Empress, “Your Majesty.”

He spared not a single glance for anyone else in the room.

All present were well acquainted with Prince Xuan’s temperament and paid it little mind. Only Consort Li, who had remained silent at the Empress’s side, seemed to register some subtle emotion.

The Empress Dowager regarded the silent, wheelchair-bound Meng Yuanheng and sighed again. Once, the young heir of Prince Xuan’s household had galloped across the battlefield, a figure of unparalleled brilliance and vigor. Now, he was but a shadow of that former self. Alas!

Moved by these recollections, a trace of tenderness softened her dignified features. She gentled her tone. “Prince Xuan, there is no need for formalities. You have come early to visit the Emperor—such devotion is commendable.”

Meng Yuanheng responded with silence, withdrawing to one side. Apart from that initial glance at Shen Qianmo, he did not look at her again.

This puzzled those in attendance. Was it not said that Prince Xuan cherished his future princess greatly? Yet now, it appeared otherwise.

Meng Tianluo was the first to break the silence. “Mother, curing Father’s illness is the priority. Why not have the future Princess Xuan begin at once?”

When he spoke the words “future Princess Xuan,” he deliberately raised his voice, drawing special attention to the title. Yet Meng Yuanheng did not so much as lift his eyes.

Cornered, Shen Qianmo had no choice but to speak up. “Your Majesty, I have a request.”

“Speak,” the Empress Dowager replied, her concern for the Emperor’s health plain. If this girl could truly cure His Majesty, there was no request she would not grant.

“I have read many medical books and possess some theoretical knowledge, but I lack practical experience. Therefore, I wish for an experienced assistant. I have heard that Master Situ from Prince Xuan’s household is highly skilled in medicine, and I would like to request his assistance, with Your Majesty’s permission.”

This, surely, was a reasonable request.

Indeed, the Empress Dowager thought so. She turned to Meng Yuanheng. “What say you, Prince Xuan?”

As Master Situ belonged to Prince Xuan’s household, his approval was necessary.

“Master Situ will do all he can,” Meng Yuanheng replied coolly. His consent was clear.

At last, Shen Qianmo understood that this Funing Hall was the Emperor’s private chamber.

She entered the inner sanctum, where opulence reigned, but she spared it no glance, heading straight for the wide wooden bed where the Emperor lay.

At the bedside, an elderly man in a physician’s robes was feeling the Emperor’s pulse. When Eunuch Li entered with two others, the physician stood aside respectfully.

“Physician Wang, how is His Majesty?” Eunuch Li asked softly.

Physician Wang’s face was etched with worry. “The Emperor’s asthma grows ever more severe, and his periods of unconsciousness are lengthening. The situation is grave.”

Upon the bed lay a man in his fifties, his eyes tightly shut, yet his bearing remained imposing. This was the reigning Emperor of Dasheng, Emperor Mingde.

Shen Qianmo observed his rapid, labored breathing, the cyanosis of his lips and fingertips, and the sweat beading his face. His consciousness was clearly clouded.

These were the signs of pneumothorax!

She had Situ Gong check the Emperor’s pulse, and, as she suspected, it was weak and fast—undoubtedly pneumothorax.

She asked, “Has His Majesty ever suffered from lung disease?”

“Last month, His Majesty caught a chill and coughed for quite some time. There were indeed signs of inflammation in the lungs,” Physician Wang recalled.

“And what brought on His Majesty’s current illness?”

“A few days ago, having recovered, His Majesty wished to exercise and played polo with several princes. During the game, the Fourth Prince’s ball struck His Majesty’s chest. After falling from his horse, he complained of chest tightness and breathlessness, later becoming bedridden. Today, his condition has so worsened that he is barely breathing at all.” Of course, Physician Wang dared not utter that last detail.

The situation was dire indeed, Shen Qianmo thought ruefully. The Emperor had brought this upon himself—if he died of pneumothorax, it would be his own doing, playing polo so soon after recovering from pneumonia. And the Fourth Prince—what ill luck that his ball struck precisely that spot. That blow must have ruptured a bleb on the lung, letting air into the pleural cavity.

Pneumothorax could be trivial or fatal—without timely intervention, death was certain. Judging by the Emperor’s symptoms, the only recourse was thoracentesis. She was a forensic doctor, not a surgeon, but there was no time to hesitate.

She instructed Situ Gong to prepare a long silver needle, sterilized it, then gently traced her hand over the Emperor’s chest.

There was no equipment here—she had only her own experience and touch to rely on. Fortunately, she was well-versed in human anatomy, having dissected countless corpses. That was why she insisted on operating herself, rather than letting Situ Gong do it.

Before long, she located the precise spot. Under the wide-eyed, fearful gazes of Physician Wang and Eunuch Li, she swiftly and accurately plunged the needle into the Emperor’s chest. With thoracentesis, speed and precision were everything; there could be no hesitation.

Dark red blood welled from the entry site. Shen Qianmo breathed a sigh of relief—she had not missed her mark. With such limited medical resources, she had feared most that her aim would be off.

She handed the needle to Situ Gong and said to Physician Wang, “The blood congestion in His Majesty’s lung has been drained. He should regain consciousness soon. After this, watch for signs of fever or coughing. If any occur, treat them immediately.”

Physician Wang and Eunuch Li were plainly shocked by what they had witnessed. They stared at Shen Qianmo, speechless. Who was this woman, to drive such a long needle into the Emperor’s chest without a flicker of fear, and with such calm confidence? It was impossible not to believe in her.

Situ Gong, too, was deeply impressed. Her swift, precise movements during the procedure had opened his eyes. This was the Emperor himself—one slip, and the consequences would be dire. Yet the princess’s gaze remained composed and sure, and that alone commanded his genuine admiration.

Of course, Shen Qianmo was not as calm as she appeared. She had been sweating with anxiety. This was her first thoracentesis; previously, she had only read about it, never performed it—and her patient was the Emperor himself. One mistake and it would not be just her own head at risk. She owed her success to her roommate from graduate school, a surgeon who often practiced small procedures on anatomical specimens in their dormitory; over time, Shen Qianmo had picked up much by osmosis.

In any case, she had succeeded.