The seventeen year of the Hongzhi era,December , the following day.
Zhu Houzhao woke up the next morning.
To be precise, it was the next morning when I was being dragged out of the side room by Liu Jin that he was already sitting up in bed.
"Jiang Li! His Highness is awake! Come take a look!"
Carrying the bowl of medicine that wasn't fully decocted yet, I trotted all the way into the sleeping chamber, rushed to the bedside panting, and collapsed—
Then froze.
He was leaning against a large bolster, holding a cup of tea in his left hand, sipping slowly. His right arm was fixed neatly with a splint, resting to the side. His complexion was still a bit pale, but his spirits were so good he didn't look like someone who had just broken his arm yesterday.
"Your Highness, please don't move around—"
"I'm not moving." He glanced at me, his tone perfectly justified, "I'm drinking tea."
"...Drinking tea also uses the left hand."
He looked down at his left hand as if he had just realized this, then put the teacup down with an unchanging expression.
"That doesn't count as moving around."
Fine.
I placed the medicine bowl on the small table by the bedside and began to undo the splint on his arm. Layer by layer, I unwrapped the gauze, revealing the forearm that was still swollen from the reduction yesterday. I observed carefully—the swelling was slightly more pronounced than yesterday, but still within the normal range, no purple discoloration, no blisters. I could feel the radial artery pulse, and his fingertips were warm.
Not bad.
The moment my fingers pressed down to change the dressing, I felt his muscles tense up.
It would definitely hurt. A double fracture of the ulna and radius, the second day after reduction, the peak of swelling hadn't passed yet. Changing the dressing at this time was equivalent to re-wrapping the swollen tissue, every turn was torture.
I subconsciously lightened my movements, and while wrapping the new gauze, I secretly observed his expression—he was gritting his back teeth, not making a sound, but a vein was throbbing at his temple, his Adam's apple bobbed, as if swallowing something down.
I thought he would grimace in pain.
But his first words were:
"Your hands are quite steady."
My hand paused for a moment, and I looked up at him.
He was looking down at my actions of wrapping the gauze, his expression serious, not joking. The fourteen-year-old youth still had a bit of post-illness pallor on his face, but those eyes were incredibly bright, without the gloom of pain, but rather a kind of... scrutiny?
No, not scrutiny. It was curiosity.
"At Northern Medical..." I almost slipped up, stopping abruptly, "In my hometown, I practiced with a physician."
He hummed in acknowledgment, not pursuing the matter.
I continued changing the dressing. When I reached the second layer of gauze, he suddenly spoke again:
"You don't seem like you want to harm me."
My hand jerked, almost pulling the gauze too tight.
Was this a compliment, or was he testing me?
The fourteen-year-old Crown Prince, even with a broken arm, his brain wasn't broken. Under yesterday's circumstances, a sweeping maid suddenly appearing and saying she knew how to set bones—anyone would have to weigh it carefully. Especially the master of the Eastern Palace, someone who had grown up in the center of power.
I steadied my fingers, finished tying off the gauze, and tried to keep my voice as flat as possible: "Your Highness, your hand will swell for the next two days, it's normal. If it hurts, don't force it, call for me."
He ignored that sentence, instead changing the topic:
"Do you know who you're touching?"
I looked up at him.
He leaned against the bolster, chin slightly raised, his tone carrying a hint of casual arrogance. But his eyes weren't—they were serious, with a touch of scrutiny.
He was going to interrogate me.
My heart beat two beats faster. But I told myself, don't panic. In the emergency department at Kongjing, you couldn't panic facing even the most difficult patients. In the Crown Prince's sleeping chamber, it was the same.
"I know," I said.
"Then you're not afraid?"
I thought about it.
Afraid? Of course I was. After returning to the side room yesterday, I sat on that hard bed, my hands trembling for the duration of an entire tea. That was the Crown Prince's arm, if I hadn't set it properly—no, there was no 'if'. I had checked the alignment three times, confirmed the radial artery pulse was normal, the blood circulation in his fingertips was good, and the capillary refill time was normal.
But did the word "normal" work in the Ming Dynasty?
I lowered my head, tucked the end of the gauze into the gap in the splint, and told the truth:
"I'm afraid."
He became interested, leaning forward slightly, which tugged at his arm, making him hiss in pain, but he didn't stop: "Afraid and you still touched?"
I re-tied the splint straps, then looked up at him.
His eyes were overly bright, containing something familiar—in the emergency department in Thailand, those young patients sent in, even while gasping in pain, would look at me with those same eyes. Wanting to know if they would be okay, wanting to know if I could handle them.
But Zhu Houzhao's eyes held a little something extra.
"I'm afraid if you die, it'll count as a medical accident on my record."
A second of silence.
Then he laughed.
Not that controlled, Crown-Prince-appropriate laugh, but genuinely amused, the corners of his mouth couldn't be suppressed, half a tiger tooth showing, even his shoulders were shaking—then he tugged his arm, hissed again, his smile twisting for a moment, but he still didn't retract it.
"Medical accident?" He repeated the phrase, as if tasting its flavor, "What does that mean?"
"...It means, if the treatment goes wrong."
"Treatment goes wrong." He recited it again, leaning back against the bolster, a hint of pride in his voice, "Your phrasing is interesting."
I didn't know what he was proud of. But at least, that scrutinizing look was gone.
After changing the dressing, I packed up to leave. Just as I turned, a rustling sound came from behind—
I turned back to see him trying to reach for the teacup on the bedside table with his left hand. The splinted right arm was jerked along with the movement, his face went pale for a moment, but his hand didn't retreat.
"Your Highness!"
I strode back in one step, pressing down on his uninjured shoulder.
"Don't move."
He didn't struggle.
He looked down at my hand pressing on his shoulder.
That hand had scraped skin yesterday, there was still a red mark on the palm, and the knuckles were white from the force.
He looked for a long time.
Then he looked up at me, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned:
"You have quite the nerve."
I didn't look up at him, my left hand pushed the teacup closer to him, my right hand continued pressing his shoulder to prevent him from moving again. My heart was beating fast, but my voice was steady:
"Your bones are more fragile."
A second of silence.
Then I heard a low laugh from above my head.
He laughed more noticeably, his shoulders vibrating slightly under my hand.
"You," he said, a quality in his voice I couldn't quite place, as if he found it amusing, yet also as if he was seriously considering, "speak in a very interesting way."
I let go, handed the teacup to his left side, and turned to continue packing the medicine box. With my back to him, I secretly let out a breath.
His voice came from behind again:
"What was your name again? You said it yesterday, I forgot."
I rolled my eyes with my back to him.
He had asked yesterday. After setting the bone. I remembered clearly, he had looked at me特意 when he asked, as if memorizing something.
"Jiang Li."
"Jiang Li..." He recited it, as if seriously committing it to memory, "Pear?"
"...Yes."
He nodded.
Then the next sentence:
"No wonder."
My hand froze, and I turned back to look at him: "No wonder what?"
He leaned against the bolster, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned, his expression utterly innocent:
"You look very easy to bully."
I looked at him.
The fourteen-year-old Crown Prince, his arm wrapped in a splint, his face still a bit pale, but those eyes were incredibly bright, full of mischievous light.
He was teasing me.
Not testing, not interrogating—just purely, annoyingly teasing.
When I was interning in the emergency department at Northern Medical University Affiliated Hospital, I had encountered patients like this. In excruciating pain, but with the sharpest tongues, they just had to banter with you a bit to show they weren't afraid at all. The usual outcome for these people was—getting scolded by the head nurse, then lying down obediently.
But this one in front of me, I couldn't scold.
I took a deep breath.
"Your Highness," I said, "The way you are now—"
I looked him up and down, my gaze finally landing on that arm fixed tightly with the splint.
"Is also quite easy to bully."
The air was silent for a second.
Liu Jin standing at the door, I heard his sharp intake of breath clearly.
I realized what I had just said, and a layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on my back.
Crap.
I got carried away.
I was used to joking with patients in Thailand, and forgot who this person in front of me was.
Zhu Houzhao didn't get angry.
He looked at me.
For a very long time.
So long that I thought he was going to call someone to drag me out and beat me with a plank.
Then he laughed.
Not the amused laugh from just now, nor a mischievous laugh.
It was a laugh I couldn't quite explain.
As if he was looking at me as a person seriously for the first time.
"Jiang Li." He called me, his voice a bit lower than before.
"This servant is here."
"From now on, you will be responsible for taking care of me."
He looked down at his arm wrapped tightly in gauze and splint, his tone as casual as if commenting on the weather:
"Changing dressings, decocting medicine, serving tea and water—it's all you. I don't trust others."
Those last four words, he said very softly.
But I heard them.
I don't trust others.
—He trusted me?
No. Not trust. The fourteen-year-old Crown Prince wouldn't trust a stranger this quickly. He just found me useful, and interesting. Useful people stayed by his side, this was the logic of those in power.
But the phrase "I don't trust others" didn't sound like purely the logic of a ruler.
I didn't have time to think further, because suddenly footsteps came from outside the door.
"Your Highness, the Grand Secretariat—"
Liu Jin poked his head in, his sentence unfinished.
Zhu Houzhao's expression changed.
Not anger, but that kind of "annoyed, don't come in" impatience, carrying a coldness that didn't match his age.
"Everyone get out."
Liu Jin was stunned: "Your Highness, but—"
Zhu Houzhao didn't look at him.
His tone was as light as if stating something perfectly ordinary:
"I said, everyone get out."
No raised volume. No table pounding. No unnecessary movements.
Just one sentence.
Liu Jin's mouth opened and closed, he looked at me, then at Zhu Houzhao.
Then he briskly turned and went out.
I heard his voice outside the door, blocking people: "His Highness said, no visitors today... come back another day..."
The footsteps retreated one after another. No one dared to ask another question.
The sleeping chamber fell silent.
Only me and him remained.
Zhu Houzhao leaned against the bolster, tilting his head to look at me, a hint of appraisal and amusement in his eyes.
"You're not afraid of me?"
I looked at him.
I had seen that scene clearly just now. When he said "everyone get out," he hadn't even raised his voice. Just one sentence, and everyone retreated. Cleanly, not a single person dared to ask.
This was power.
Not shouted out, but grown into the bones.
My back still had cold sweat, my fingers were a bit stiff. But I didn't look away.
"Afraid," I said.
"Afraid and you still stay here?"
I lowered my head to organize the medicine box, putting the gauze and splints away, trying to make my movements as natural as possible.
"You told me to stay."
He smiled slightly.
Then slowly added:
"You are more interesting than them."
My hand paused for a moment.
You are more interesting than them.
This wasn't a reason. This was—I couldn't find the words to describe it. As if he was telling me, I wasn't one of those people who could be easily replaced.
I closed the medicine box lid and picked it up.
Turned to leave.
His voice came from behind:
"Come again tomorrow."
My steps paused.
I didn't turn around.
"I am not your person."
A second of silence.
Then I heard him say.
His tone was as certain as stating something he had already decided:
"Now you are."
I turned back to look at him.
He leaned against the bolster, his right arm wrapped in a splint, his left fingertips still resting on the edge of the teacup. His face was still a bit pale, but those eyes were deep and dark, without a trace of laughter.
Very serious.
"Who said?" I asked.
He looked at me.
Slowly said:
"I said."
The hall was so quiet you could hear the sound of the locust tree leaves outside the window being blown by the wind.
The wind passed through the branches and leaves, rustling. Sunlight shone in through the window lattice, casting grid-like shadows on the floor, landing right in front of his bed.
I stood at the door holding the medicine box, looking at him.
He didn't look away.
Those eyes held the brightness of a fourteen-year-old youth, and also something I couldn't quite place—as if certainty, or perhaps... something else.
I turned and left.
Walking to the corridor, the sunlight was so bright it made me squint.
I looked down at my hand—when I pressed his shoulder just now, my fingers were still trembling a bit. The red mark on my palm hadn't faded, the white knuckles were slowly getting blood back, a bit numb.
It wasn't because I was afraid anymore.
It was something else.
I couldn't explain it clearly.
(End of Chapter 2)