The spring of the first year of Kaiyuan. Chang'an.
Spring in Chang'an began with the locust flowers.
On the third day of the third lunar month, peach blossoms bloomed by the Qujiang Pool, and the locust trees lining Zhuque Avenue sprouted tender green buds, contrasting beautifully with the vermilion ward walls like a painting. The camel caravans of the Hu merchants formed a long dragon, stretching from the West Market to the Golden Light Gate, their bells jingling all the way. Flower-selling girls wove through the crowds with baskets on their arms, their voices crisp and clear: "Apricot blossoms—fresh apricot blossoms—"
I stood at the entrance of the Imperial Medical Bureau, waiting for the Imperial Medical Director to retrieve An Lushan's health examination documents. The spring sunlight was pleasant, and the sweet scent of locust flowers drifted in from outside the wall. I closed my eyes and suddenly thought of Vancouver.
Vancouver's spring had no locust flowers. It had cherry blossoms. In late March, the cherry trees on the streets next to the school were in full bloom, pink and white petals carpeting the ground in a thick layer, soft underfoot. Back then, I was still at the nursing college, carrying thick textbooks and walking under the cherry blossom trees every day, wondering where I would work after graduation. I never imagined that one day I would stand at the entrance of the Great Tang's Imperial Medical Bureau, waiting for a military governor's health report.
"Qingyan."
His voice came from behind. I turned around. He was dressed in casual clothes, without the Yuan You Guan crown, his hair pinned with a jade hairpin. Only two guards followed him: Chen Xuanli and him.
"Longji? Why are you here?"
"To accompany you." He walked to my side and lowered his voice. "I'm not at ease."
"Not at ease about what?"
"Not at ease about you seeing him alone."
I looked at him. Twenty-six years old, on the throne for less than a year. In court, he could argue with Yao Chong for half an hour without losing ground; he could review memorials until late at night and still be energetic for morning court the next day. But he would still put down his memorials when I said "I'm going to the Imperial Medical Bureau," change into casual clothes, and sneak out.
"Longji, you are the Son of Heaven. The Son of Heaven shouldn't wait at the Imperial Medical Bureau entrance for a military governor."
"The Son of Heaven is also human." The corners of his mouth lifted. "The Son of Heaven's teeth also need the Empress to manage."
I couldn't help but laugh. The little medical officer nearby lowered his head, pretending not to hear. Chen Xuanli looked forward expressionlessly, like a statue.
"And—" His voice was even lower, "I want to see if the person you see is the same as the person I see."
The Imperial Medical Bureau
He went in first.
He sat behind a curtain; through the thin gauze, he could see the person outside, but the person outside couldn't see him. I sat in front, instruments laid out on the table—tweezers, bamboo tubes, cotton strips, tooth powder. Exactly the same as what was set up in the Chongren Ward dental clinic thirty years ago.
Footsteps came from the entrance.
When he walked in, I understood why he would say this person was "capable."
He was very tall. Probably half a head taller than the palace guards, with a sturdy build, wearing a dark purple Hu costume, a curved sword hanging at his waist. He stood there like a wall. But his face wore a smile, his eyes narrowed, looking at people as if he were completely defenseless.
Too defenseless.
When I studied nursing in Vancouver, there was a course calledDoctor-Patient Communication. The professor said that when patients first see a doctor, they have four reactions: nervousness, avoidance, ingratiating, or—performance. Those who are too relaxed are often performing.
"Subject—" He paused, as if thinking about etiquette, "An Lushan, greets the Empress."
After speaking, he actually intended to kneel.
The movement was too fast. So fast that I hadn't had time to say "no need," so fast that the guard beside him hadn't reacted. His knees bent, his armor clanged against the ground with a dull thud. A military governor, at the entrance of the Imperial Medical Bureau, kneeling so decisively before an Empress in casual clothes.
Too decisive.
Behind the curtain, he didn't move. But I could feel him watching.
"This is a medical office; no need for grand rituals." I reached out to stop him.
He paused for a moment, then smiled even more deeply. He stood up, patted the dust off his knees, the movement very natural, as if he did this often.
"That's even better." He said, "I am a man who fears rules the most."
Too good at speaking.
I looked at him. He stood there, smiling, eyes narrowed, looking honest, loyal, and likeable. Every movement was just right. Every word was comforting.
"General, you have come from afar; you must be tired." I said.
"Not tired." He smiled, "Coming to Chang'an is my blessing."
His gaze fell on me, paused for a moment, then moved away. Just a moment. But in that moment, I felt he was looking at me, yet not looking at me. He was looking behind me. Looking at the door behind me, the hall behind that door, the person inside that hall. The person behind that curtain.
"General, please sit. Routine check. Outsiders entering the palace must always confirm they have no epidemics or injuries."
He sat down. His posture was very upright, his back very straight. But too upright. A person who had been marching in the northern territories for years would not sit so formally. He was deliberately performing. Behind the curtain, he must have seen it too.
"General, open your mouth."
He opened his mouth. Under the lamplight, his teeth were very neat. Too neat. Two rows, dense, white, no cavities, no tartar, gum color normal. In Vancouver, I had interned in the dental department for two years. I had seen the teeth of hundreds of patients. People who marched, people who did rough work, people who were constantly on the go—their teeth would show wear. The edges of incisors would have tiny chips, the tips of canines would be worn flat, the occlusal surfaces of molars would have cracks. Because of wind and sand, coarse grains, alternating hot and cold. This was common sense.
But his teeth didn't. Every tooth was intact, as if never used.
"How is the General's daily diet?"
"Coarse grains, meat, lots of alcohol." He said lightly.
I didn't speak. Coarse grains and strong alcohol could not produce such teeth. Unless—he didn't often eat those. Or, someone prepared better food for him. A military governor guarding the north, someone prepared fine food for him. Who was this person? Why prepare it for him?
"How long has the General been in Fanyang?"
"Three years."
"Three years. Fanyang's winter must be very cold?"
"Cold. Minus dozens of degrees. The wind cuts the face like a knife."
"Then the General's teeth weren't frostbitten?"
He paused. Then he smiled. "The Empress jokes. How can teeth get frostbitten?"
"Teeth can get frostbitten. Alternating hot and cold, tooth enamel will crack. Tiny cracks, invisible to the naked eye, but over time, teeth will become sensitive, will hurt. The General's teeth have no cracks."
He looked at me. The smile remained, but his eyes changed. Just for a moment. Quickly returned to that honest, loyal, likeable appearance. But I saw it.
Behind the curtain, he must have seen it too.
"The General is in good health." I put down the instruments. "Done."
"So fast?" He seemed surprised.
"Mm. The General's teeth are the healthiest I have ever seen."
He stood up, smiling at me. That smile was standard. The curve of the lifted mouth corners, the degree of narrowed eyes, the angle of the slightly tilted head—all just right.
"The Empress's medical skills are superb."
"The General overpraises."
He turned and left. At the entrance, his footsteps paused for a moment. Just a pause, quickly moved on. But I saw it. He was looking at the pillar at the hall entrance. The pillar had characters carved on it, "Great Tang Oral Care Academy · Chang'an Main Branch." His gaze paused on that line of text for a moment.
He was memorizing.
The little medical officer nearby leaned over and whispered, "Empress, I hear His Majesty likes him very much."
I hummed in response. My gaze, however, did not retract.
"Is that so."
Behind the curtain, he stood up and walked out. He looked at me, not speaking. His brows were slightly furrowed, exactly like when he had a toothache in the past. But this time, it wasn't his tooth that hurt.
Returning to the Palace
On the way back to the palace, he walked on my left. Chen Xuanli followed far behind.
"Qingyan."
"Mm?"
"What did you see?"
"His teeth were too good. Abnormally good."
"And?"
"He knelt too fast. Abnormally good. He smiled too well. Abnormally good."
"And?"
"He was memorizing. Memorizing the Imperial Medical Bureau's pillars, the characters on the wall, the instruments on the table. He was memorizing everything here."
He was silent for a long time.
"I saw it in court too." His voice was very soft, "He knelt before me, said many things. Every sentence sounded good. Every sentence made me comfortable. But after I felt comfortable, I couldn't remember what he said."
"Because he said nothing. He just made you comfortable."
He stopped, looking at me.
"Qingyan."
"Mm?"
"You have never misjudged a person. You judged my teeth correctly. You judged the Qian Wansan case correctly. You judged Princess Taiping's people correctly. This person—" He paused, "I trust you."
"Aren't you afraid I judged him wrong?"
"Not afraid." He took my hand, "I am still young. I can wait."
Night
In the evening, after finishing the memorials, he came to the bedchamber.
He leaned on the couch, moonlight from the window falling on his face. Twenty-six years old, on the throne for less than a year. His eyes were very bright.
"Qingyan, do you know what I did in court today?"
"What?"
"I praised him. Rewarded him. Made him think I liked him very much."
"And then?"
"And then—" He looked at me, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, "Then wait. See what he does next."
"Aren't you afraid waiting will cause problems?"
"Not afraid." He took my hand, "I am still young. I can wait."
Outside the window, the moon over Chang'an rose. Shining on Zhuque Avenue, shining on the entrance of the Chongren Ward dental clinic, shining on the West Market's Hu wine shop. Shining on the person who came from Fanyang. He was staying in the guest room of the Court of State Ceremonial, probably not asleep yet. He was probably memorizing. Memorizing what he saw today, memorizing the Imperial Medical Bureau's pillars, the characters on the wall, the Empress who examined his teeth. Memorizing that moment when his "too good teeth" were seen through.
He was memorizing.
But he was also memorizing. Memorizing his smile, his teeth, the speed of his kneeling, the way he looked at people. The twenty-six-year-old Son of Heaven had already learned to read people. And learned to wait.
"Longji."
"Mm?"
"What do you think he will do next?"
"I don't know." He looked at the moon outside the window, "But no matter what he does, I will know."
"Why?"
"Because you are here." He turned to look at me, "You recorded his teeth."
I paused. Then smiled.
"Mm. I recorded them."
The moonlight outside the window shone in, falling on his face, falling on my hand. His hand was very warm. As warm as when he held my hand on the dental clinic couch in the past.
(End of Chapter 25)