To Embers We Return — Chapter 37
***
And now it was midnight.
Fang Pan stood in front of the Imperial Medical Bureau with an unconscious Dou Xuanji in her arms. Her partner lay near death, yet the imperial physician who’d come out to speak to her was offering nothing but excuses.
‘It’s true, Your Excellency, I assure you,’ he was saying. ‘There’s no point going in. We have our hands full with the Jinwu Guards as it is. So many of them have been brought here, and with such serious injuries, that my colleagues are completely rushed off their feet. I’m afraid we don’t have time to spare for any other patients.’
‘”Any other patients”?’ Fang Pan demanded. She knew he was prevaricating. ‘We are imperial officials as well, just as much as the Jinwu Guards. Why are you calling us “any other patients”?’
The Imperial Medical Bureau had been set up by the central government to provide care and treatment to all of its officials. It was home to the academy where doctors were trained, and was also the largest medical establishment in the whole of Chang’an. It boasted a complete suite of facilities for any ailment, from consulting rooms to operating theatres. Its services were completely free of charge to all court-appointed officials. Though, as Fang Pan was rapidly finding out, the doctors at the Imperial Medical Bureau seemed unwilling to include agents of the Lijing Bureau within that definition.
The officials of the Lijing Bureau served the emperor exclusively; they were her bloodiest, most vicious weapon. It was they who carried out the most undesirable tasks, especially those that risked rousing the ire of senior ministers and members of the nobility. Over time, their infamy had spread far and wide, and they were hated and feared by nobles and commoners alike. Few dared to get in their way when they were performing their official duties, but now that Dou Xuanji lay at death’s door, the imperial physicians were making one excuse after another to avoid treating her.
This, Fang Pan understood perfectly well, was due to their reputation. After all, the last Grand Physician — the previous head of the Imperial Medical Bureau — had been investigated and ultimately arrested by the Lijing Bureau for dereliction of his duties. The man had been very much respected by his subordinates. On the day the Lijing officials had come to take him away, all the officials at the Imperial Medical Bureau had fallen to their knees to beg for clemency on his behalf. The Lijing officials, however, had remained unmoved.
As luck would have it, the two officials in charge of that case had been Han Fu, the Director of the Lijing Bureau herself, and Dou Xuanji. And the man now barring Fang Pan’s way was one of those subordinates who had knelt on behalf of the former Grand Physician on that fateful day.
Now, Han Fu had disappeared off somewhere, and blood was bubbling up from Dou Xuanji’s lips. The imperial physician stood at the entrance to the Imperial Medical Bureau, politely denying them entry. He smiled at them civilly, the ends of his thin moustache flaring.
‘Perhaps it might be quicker for you to seek treatment somewhere else?’ he suggested. ‘Let me take a look.’ He leaned forward and peered into Dou Xuanji’s bloodless face. ‘If she doesn’t see a doctor soon, she might only have moments to live.’
The Imperial Medical Bureau was the closest large hospital to the Eastern Market. If Fang Pan were to look for another one at this time of the night, there was no telling whether she’d be able to find a sufficiently skilled machinist-physician — and more to the point, she had no idea if Dou Xuanji could even hang on for that long.
Dou Xuanji coughed feebly in her arms, bringing up a mouthful of blood.
Fang Pan said nothing, but she did set her shoulders and bend forward slightly, as if she were getting ready to force her way in.
Alarmed, the imperial physician — who had absolutely no martial prowess himself — began shouting for help.
Li Si, who was inside the Imperial Medical Bureau with her injured troops, heard the commotion. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked one of the machinist-physicians.
‘Ah,’ he replied in somewhat gloating tones. ‘Two Lijing officials are outside, seeking medical treatment. But as you can see, General Li, we’re completely full up with your soldiers. We have no time to spare for them.’
Li Si looked across the room, where two physicians were examining a soldier with a broken leg. They didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry. Sensing Li Si’s gaze on him, one of the physicians scurried off on the pretext of fetching some drug or other.
Li Si went over to the entrance. Sprawled across it was a physician with a thin moustache. He was clutching at his chest, and a thin trail of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. When he saw Li Si, he stretched out a hand towards her and said piteously, ‘General… help…’
Without even sparing him a glance, Li Si vaulted lightly over him and out of the Imperial Medical Bureau.
Dou Xuanji lay on the ground a short distance away, with Fang Pan watching over her anxiously. Han Fu, the Director of the Lijing Bureau, had also turned up at some point. She was sitting next to Dou Xuanji, stitching up her subordinate’s wounds right there in the open, with no more equipment to hand than the portable workbench she’d brought with her.
Han Fu was no Talented machinist, but that had not prevented her from being an excellent physician. She was the one who had sewn Dou Xuanji’s head back onto her shoulders when it had nearly been chopped off.
Next, Han Fu injected a whole syringe of nutrient serum into Dou Xuanji’s body. Dou Xuanji snapped instantly back to consciousness, crying out in pain. Her chest heaved violently; sweat drenched her temples. That stony, obstinate face was now twisted in agony.
Li Si stood silently when her arms crossed before her chest, watching as Han Fu treated her subordinate’s injuries. She knew how that serum worked. It was highly toxic in nature, completely unlike the nutrient beverages meant for general consumption. The serum could shock an unconscious patient back to wakefulness by forcefully stimulating their jade core. In this sense it was an extraordinarily effective life-saving drug, but it also took a huge toll on the patient’s body.
Han Fu had gentler methods at her disposal for saving Dou Xuanji’s life, Li Si was sure. She must have better drugs in that portable of workbench of hers. A slightly more complex mode of treatment would have saved Dou Xuanji a world of pain, yet Han Fu had still chosen to deal with her injuries in this crude, almost brutal manner.
Dou Xuanji’s eyes opened. ‘Director Han…’ she called out weakly to Han Fu.
Fang Pan let out a huge sigh of relief.
Having just been snatched back from death’s door, Dou Xuanji was shaking with residual fear. She reached out towards Han Fu.
Han Fu stood up, and Dou Xuanji’s hand met empty air. ‘Weaklings like you are a drain on my time and energy,’ said Han Fu, folding up her workbench unhurriedly.
Dou Xuanji’s half-raised hand trembled forlornly. Soon, it grew too heavy for her to hold up, and began dropping aimlessly back down.
Fang Pan stood a short distance away, so silent it was as though she had vanished.
Dou Xuanji’s nerveless hand did not fall onto the cold hard ground. Instead, it landed on the back of another hand, one that was warm and strong.
Li Si had dropped into a sitting position beside Dou Xuanji, one of her hands braced palm-down on the ground. Whether by accident or by design, she’d placed it in exactly the right spot for Dou Xuanji’s to rest on. Her other hand was balanced across her bent knees. ‘You blind fool,’ she called out to Han Fu.
When she heard that insult, Fang Pan’s breath froze in her chest. She barely dared to draw another one.
Han Fu turned her face slightly in Li Si’s direction.
Li Si had produced a black revolver from somewhere on her person and was spinning it round and round in a practised manner with her free hand.
‘You blind fool,’ she repeated. ‘Don’t you know how many lives she saved today, all by herself? If not for her, there’s no telling how many soldiers and townsfolk from the Eastern Market would have been lost. And yet you call her a weakling? Is your mind as blind as your eyes?’
Dou Xuanji tried to speak, but was unable to force any words out. All that the attempt brought on was a violent fit of coughing.
Han Fu’s expression did not change, nor did she utter a single word in response. She simply hoisted up the workbench and walked away, melting elegantly into the darkness.
Li Si put the revolver away. ‘She’s not deaf as well, is she?’ she said, displeased.
Fang Pan’s titanium forehead had no pores, but her palms were already soaked with sweat. ‘Thank you for speaking up for Xuanji,’ she told Li Si. ‘And a word of advice from me: if you value your life, don’t provoke our Director any further.’
Li Si scoffed. ‘The emperor’s law reigns supreme over us all, yet not even it can stop people’s mouths. Do you think your Director is more powerful than the law itself?’
It was at this point that Dou Xuanji moved her hand away from Li Si’s. Li Si turned to look at her, and their eyes met.
Dou Xuanji had recovered enough strength to sit up on her own. In a weak, halting voice she said, ‘I gave my life to the Lijing Bureau — to the Director — a long time ago. There’s no need for you to interfere.’
Li Si, who’d won every bit of her fame and renown through her own efforts, had never known what unquestioning obedience meant. When she realised the full depth of Dou Xuanji’s submission to a woman who did not care a single whit for her, a faint ache stirred in her chest, and the harsh lines of her face softened.
‘You poor little puppy,’ she said.
***
The sun was just beginning to rise. On the bedside table, Shen Ni’s watch buzzed and went on buzzing, but the noise did not wake her.
It was Bian Jin who opened her eyes first. When she tried to roll over, something tightened around her body. She looked down.
Shen Ni, still slumbering, had an arm wrapped around Bian Jin’s waist. Her grip did not loosen even in her sleep, as if she were cradling something very precious to her.
She’d slept all night in that rather awkward position. The plush oriole, having fallen out of favour, lay forlornly on the outer edge of the bed, its plump little body unsought after.
Shen Ni must be exhausted, thought Bian Jin. Her digital watch was buzzing away hectically, yet she did not wake. Bian Jin had indulged her shimei all night, allowing her to sleep as much and as deeply as she wanted. Bian Jin herself had had very little of it.
At first, the sensation of Shen Ni’s body through her thin nightclothes had sent her thoughts racing off in all manner of treacherous directions. Her eyes had traced Shen Ni’s contours over and over in the moonlight, from her face to the tips of her fingers. Finally, driven to distraction by the mounting heat within her, but unwilling to rouse Shen Ni, she’d reached out to stroke the ends of Shen Ni’s hair, counting the strands one by one, hoping it would bring her some relief.
After a while, the sensations had softened slightly, becoming less sharp. This was probably what Shen Ni had meant when she’d spoken of desensitisation earlier. Then Bian Jin had fallen into a shallow, fitful slumber, and woken up instantly when Shen Ni’s watch began buzzing.
Very slowly Bian Jin began to sit up, to see if the buzzing meant anything urgent.
She’d only just raised herself slightly from the bed, however, when Shen Ni let out an unhappy ‘mm?’ and tightened her arm around Bian Jin. Bian Jin found herself being pulled back down among the sheets, Shen Ni’s soft curves rubbing against her.
These indescribable sensations had tormented her all night; now, they were roiling within her again. Yet despite that, there was also an undercurrent of gratification to it, of something pleasurable. She really was helpless when it came to Shen Ni.
Bian Jin reached out and began stroking the back of Shen Ni’s head. Shen Ni was soon pacified; her arm slackened around Bian Jin’s waist.
Bian Jin stretched her arm out for the digital watch again. The motion tilted her forward. Fearing she would squeeze Shen Ni off the bed altogether, she put her other arm around her shimei and pressed her firmly against her chest. The deliciousness of that close embrace set her thoughts fluttering.
The low sigh Shen Ni gave as she stirred into full wakefulness brought Bian Jin back to the here and now. She glanced at Shen Ni’s watch. It was buzzing with a notification that the emperor would be holding court that very morning. Shen Ni shouldn’t miss it.
‘Shimei,’ Bian Jin said softly. ‘There’s an urgent summons from the emperor. She’s holding court.’
It was a while before Shen Ni spoke. ‘I’m so tired,’ she mumbled. ‘Tell them I’m still recovering from the injuries I took yesterday, so I won’t be able to attend.’
‘How could you wish such misfortune on yourself,’ Bian Jin chided gently. Her voice had slipped into a coaxing register without her realising it. ‘The emperor must be summoning all of you to discuss the Black Box attacks that happened yesterday. You should take it seriously.’
Very reluctantly, Shen Ni raised her head from Bian Jin’s chest. Her eyes were red and swollen, and one of them was still half-closed.
Bian Jin’s words suggested she was very concerned about the Black Box. Shen Ni wondered how late the lights had stayed on at the Supreme Bureau of Research and Innovation the night before, and whether their efforts had produced a result good enough for her to crib.
Rather unwillingly, Shen Ni tore herself from Bian Jin’s embrace and sat up. It was only then that she realised her shijie has allowed Shen Ni to sleep all night with her arms around her. So shijie must have barely slept at all? she thought.
Shen Ni stole a glance at Bian Jin. Her shijie had dark shadows under her eyes, but she didn’t seem particularly tired, and when she looked at Shen Ni, her gaze was soft and gentle.
In other words, her shijie had been willing to put up with a great deal of discomfort rather than kick Shen Ni out of bed. The thought made Shen Ni happy, and her heart flowed with so much tenderness for Bian Jin that it ached.
Now she was even less inclined to attend court. All she wanted was to curl up at home with her shijie.
She glanced at her watch again. The notification wasn’t for an online assembly — Li Ruoyuan was requiring her ministers to attend in person. That meant she had to dress in her court robes, make her way to the throne room, and waste her time putting on a show of collegiality for that flock of whitebeards. And what was more — Prince Wei, whose home had been so unceremoniously destroyed in yesterday’s attack, was bound to be spoiling for a fight with her. Shen Ni wondered how many different shades of purple his arrogant, vulgar face would turn if she didn’t show up.
That mental image only strengthened Shen Ni’s resolve to stay away from court. She wrapped her court robes casually around her shoulders and stepped out of the bedchamber. There was a washbasin in the room, but Shen Ni was in the habit of doing her morning ablutions in the courtyard outside instead. Given how cool things had been between them when she first brought Bian Jin home, she’d been fairly sure that Bian Jin would not appreciate having to share a washbasin with her.
Now that Shen Ni had spent all night with her arms around Bian Jin, Bian Jin had expected her to use that as an excuse to linger in the bedchamber and wash up there. But no, she’d gone into the courtyard as usual.
Shen Ni opened the door to see several maids in the courtyard outside, sweeping up some fallen leaves. She paused in the doorway, standing stock-still.
Bian Jin, who was putting up her hair in the bedchamber, knew at once from Shen Ni’s silence and the odd pose that she was up to another one of her tricks. What is she trying to do this time? Bian Jin wondered. And right in front of her own bedchamber, at that!
Then Shen Ni doubled over, clutching at her stomach. ‘My lady wife!’ she wailed in the most heart-wrenching tones.
That wail had been rather too convincing. For a moment, Bian Jin found herself wondering whether Shen Ni was genuinely in pain. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, striding forward to hold Shen Ni steady.
The maids in the courtyard looked over at them quizzically.
Shen Ni, still pressing one hand to her stomach, reached up with her other hand and gripped hold of Bian Jin’s arm. She sagged against Bian Jin, as if her strength had suddenly given out. Her face was deathly pale, her lips clamped tightly together. ‘My stomach, it hurts so much…’ she murmured.
Bian Jin was almost certain this was all an act, but she still felt worried nevertheless. ‘How could this have happened? You were perfectly well just moments ago.’
Shen Ni took advantage of the opportunity to nestle further into Bian Jin’s arms, shuddering with every appearance of pain. She made a show of thinking hard.
‘It’s not as if I ate anything I shouldn’t have. Why… oh, I had some osmanthus milk cakes and deep-fried peanuts last night, that’s all, how could that possibly—’
As she spoke, she poked Bian Jin stealthily in the arm.
So it was all an act, as Bian Jin had expected. Shen Ni was even giving her a secret signal now.
Bian Jin put her arms around Shen Ni, allowing Shen Ni to cling to her. ‘You haven’t been poisoned, have you?’
Shen Ni lifted her head in dismay. ‘Poisoned?’ she gasped.
My lord marquess, Bian Jin wanted to tell her, don’t you think you’re taking your performance just a little too far?
Bian Jin’s eyes swept coolly over the maids in the courtyard. ‘I will not rest until I’ve tracked down the culprit, my lord marquess,’ she said, donning the same commanding air with which she’d kept her troops in order.
As the maids looked at each other in confusion, Shen Ni added, ‘Tell Auntie Wan to bring a doctor.’ With that, she shut the door hastily behind the two of them.
The moment it closed, Bian Jin let go of Shen Ni, and Shen Ni nearly fell over.
‘How could you let go so quickly, shijie?”
Bian Jin went over to the basin to wash her face. ‘You’ve achieved your aim, haven’t you?’
Shen Ni pouted. That was technically true, but still — couldn’t her shijie have let her stay in that embrace just a little longer? Or did Bian Jin only show her affectionate side when Shen Ni was fast asleep?
Having miraculously ‘recovered’ from her stomachache, Shen Ni could stand up straight and walk unaided again. ‘Now I’ve got a good reason for being absent from court today,’ she said. ‘And it’s time we gave this house a good spring cleaning.’
Bian Jin finished washing her face. ‘You didn’t warn me what you were planning to do just now,’ she said, stepping back into the middle of the room. ‘Weren’t you worried that I wouldn’t know to play along with you? That would have been rather embarrassing.’
She stopped, her attention suddenly seized by the sight in front of her.
Shen Ni was lounging sideways on the bed, her head propped up on one elbow. Her crimson court robes clung enticingly to her curves; she somehow contrived to give that formal, austere garment an air of seductiveness.
‘When did you ever fail to see through my schemes when I was little?’ Shen Ni returned. ‘Besides, we’ve already done this once before, so I knew you wouldn’t need any warning. You’re a natural at this, shijie.’
Shej Ni felt very smug about how well Bian Jin understood her. Just as she was patting herself on the back over this, she saw Bian Jin avert her eyes, then retreat to the chair furthest away from the bed. Bian Jin sat down in it, bolt upright. Her demeanour was as stoic as it had ever been, and she kept her eyes fixed studiously straight ahead. She looked rather like a bodhisattva who had renounced all earthly things, untouched by a single speck of mortal dust.
Shen Ni caught sight of her own alluring reflection in the mirror. It seemed this was indecorous enough by Bian Jin’s standards.
As Shen Ni was chuckling inwardly over this, Bian Jin said seriously, ‘We can use the “poisoning” as an excuse to replace all of the servants in this house. Would you prefer the new servants to be chosen by Auntie Wan? Or should we do it ourselves?’
Shen Ni found Bian Jin’s use of ‘we’ and ‘ourselves’ utterly delightful.
‘What do you think, shijie?’
‘Let’s have Auntie Wan do it,’ replied Bian Jin. ‘Once we’ve decided someone is worth employing, we should have complete confidence in them.[1] We need a loyal housekeeper here at the mansion. And when we leave Auntie Wan’s position untouched after dismissing everyone else, she’ll understand that we trust her implicitly.’
Shen Ni was of the same mind, but she wanted to hear Bian Jin say it. She liked hearing Bian Jin lay out her reasoning in clear, incisive words, liked seeing Bian Jin’s eyes brighten as she spoke. That display of her shijie’s cool rationality brought a flush of heat to Shen Ni’s heart.
‘What about court?’ Bian Jin asked next.
‘Well, as it happens, I won’t be able to attend,’ said Shen Ni. ‘Obviously.’
‘”As it happens”, or as you arranged for it to happen?’
‘As it happens, I’ve arranged matters in such a way that I won’t be able to attend.’
Bian Jin was unable to think of a rejoinder to that.
Shen Ni sent Li Ruoyuan a Messenger Pigeon text, claiming that she’d taken very serious injuries during the battle with the Black Box the day before, and that to add to her misfortunes, she’d been poisoned by some villain who’d infiltrated her home as well. Being quite at the end of her strength, she went on, she regretted that she would not be able to attend court that day. She begged the emperor’s forgiveness, and promised she would receive any admonishment the emperor might wish to mete out most humbly once she was fully recovered.
Once that was done, she took off her watch altogether.
‘Those whitebeards at court, all those senior ministers with one foot in the grave, they never have anything useful to say,’ she told Bian Jin. ‘All they do is try to advance whatever plots they’ve got brewing at the moment. It’s a waste of my time.’
‘Don’t you want to see if the Supreme Bureau of Research and Innovation has any homework you could copy?’ Bian Jin asked.
‘I’d have forgotten all about that if you hadn’t reminded me, shijie. If Li Shan has found anything worth copying, I have no doubt she’ll show me. But any answer of hers might not necessarily be correct, so I might as well do my own research. Since I have some time on my hands now, let’s take that orb apart.’
The two of them set off towards the workshop. Shen Ni looked around furtively at every other step, fearful that someone would see her and discover that her ‘illness’ was all a sham. She’s behaving like a thief inside her own home, thought Bian Jin, as she watched Shen Ni creeping surreptitiously about
Bian Jin told Shen Ni to go back to their bedchamber and wait there. Then she leaped onto the nearest roof and disappeared from view. A few moments later, she landed in front of Shen Ni again, Shen Ni’s toolkit swinging from one arm, the basin of mercury tucked in the other.
What impressive qinggong,[2] Shen Ni sighed admiringly. Even the most sophisticated surveillance system wouldn’t have been able to capture much of Bian Jin beyond a vague, blurry impression of a figure.
Once they were back in the bedchamber, Shen Ni put on a pair of engineering gloves covered in shielding capacitors, and fished the orb from its basin.
‘Whatever we find inside is a part of the Black Box,’ Bian Jin said. ‘If it breaks through that metallic shell, and the gloves fail to contain it, there’s a risk you might be possessed by it, at such a close distance.’
”Don’t worry, shijie,’ said Shen Ni. ‘These gloves should be able to subdue the Black Box, at least temporarily. Once we’ve extracted whatever is inside the orb, we just need to put it inside this container as quickly as possible, then return the whole thing to the basin of mercury.’
Bian Jin pulled on a pair of the same engineering gloves and took the orb from Shen Ni.
‘Shijie?’
‘I’ll open it.’
‘Don’t do anything rash. Your hand’s still injured, remember?’
She has a point, thought Bian Jin. Shen Ni had stitched up the cut for her only last night. It wouldn’t do to split it open again.
She transferred the orb to her uninjured hand and squeezed. The orb shattered instantly into pieces.
Shen Ni, who had used a multitude of tools on the orb and failed comprehensively to pry it open, could only stare in silence. She’d sometimes heard it said that a fighter with sufficient raw strength could overcome an opponent with ten times the skill;[3] she supposed this was the kind of thing they meant.
Bian Jin spread open her palm. They both started when they saw what lay in it.
They’d been expecting something like this, but seeing it with their own eyes still sent a shiver down their spines.
Nestled in Bian Jin’s hand was a brain. It was black, and very small — only about half the size of her palm. Despite the suppressing effect of the gloves, it was still vibrating frantically from side to side. As the two of them watched, black feelers sprouted effortfully from its corners, and it began sampling its surroundings curiously.
The Black Box virus had evolved a brain.
Shen Ni had already guessed this would be the case, but the sinister sight still sent a wave of apprehension through her. In spite of herself, her pulse speeded up and her heart began to pound.
***
Footnotes:
- In the original text, 疑人不用, 用人不疑 (pinyin: yi ren bu yong, yong ren bu yi), literally ‘if you doubt someone, do not employ them; if you have employed someone, do not doubt them’. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 轻功, literally ‘lightness skill’. A martial arts technique which gives practitioners the ability to move with great swiftness and agility. [return to text]
- In the original text, 一力降十慧 (pinyin: yi li xiang shi hui). This translates more or less literally as ‘one person with great strength can overwhelm ten skilled martial arts practitioners’. The expression originates from the early wuxia novel The Three Heroes and Five Gallants (see footnote 1 to Chapter 27). [return to text]
douqi 随笔 