The rain poured down like a breached celestial river, endless and relentless. Bean-sized droplets smashed against the palace's glazed tiles and white marble stairs, creating a chaotic clatter that grated on the nerves like an ominous symphony. Inside the Imperial Study, thick palace candles flickered with a dim yellow light as imperial physicians, their brows furrowed into deep lines, crowded around the unconscious Li Yi. They repeatedly flipped through medical texts, the pages crumpled from use, muttering anxiously among themselves—every word squeezed out through gritted teeth, heavy with worry and helplessness. They had labored through the entire night without rest, yet Li Yi's condition remained as stubborn as a rock, showing no sign of improvement.
Just then, a guard stumbled into the study, nearly falling as he rushed to report: "My lords! A wandering physician insists on entering the palace to treat His Majesty—we can't stop him!" His words were like a stone dropped into a still lake, instantly stirring the physicians into an uproar. Chief Physician Liu snorted disdainfully, his voice sharp enough to pierce eardrums: "What do you think this is? The imperial palace! How dare some vagabond quack meddle in His Majesty's illness? Ridiculous!"
The other physicians chimed in, their faces full of scorn as they whispered among themselves, convinced the man was nothing but a fraud seeking fame. Soon, the wandering physician was brought before the study. Dressed in threadbare linen robes and shouldering a tattered, patched medical kit, he stood calm and composed under the hostile stares of the crowd. "Though I am but a humble wanderer," he said evenly, "my family's secret prescriptions have magical effect for His Majesty's condition. I vow I can cure him." His voice was quiet but firm, radiating an unshakable confidence—as if he faced not doubt and obstruction, but a chess game he was destined to win.
This only fueled the others' anger. One physician, red-faced and furious, jabbed a finger nearly into the wanderer's nose, shouting, "You reckless charlatan! How dare you spout such nonsense here! His Majesty's life is worth more than gold—if your quackery harms him, how many heads will you pay with?" The wanderer remained unflustered, his gaze steady. "I stake my life on it. If I fail, I will accept any punishment."
As the standoff intensified, Lin Yue stepped forward from the crowd. As both a former palace physician and empress, she was known for her keen observation and good judgment, earning respect throughout the palace. She studied the wanderer thoughtfully, as if weighing some invisible scale. Finally, her clear voice cut through the tension: "Let us not dismiss him too quickly. His Majesty's condition is critical, and every moment counts. The physicians have yet to find a cure—why not let him try? He may possess knowledge we lack."
The room froze, stunned into silence. Chief Physician Liu quickly stepped forward to protest, "Empress, this is unwise! The man's origins are unknown—who can say what his intentions are? This is a matter of the Emperor's life!" Lin Yue smiled calmly, exuding confidence. "I do not trust blindly, Liu. I have heard of this physician's reputation in the countryside—he has cured many 'hopeless' cases deemed incurable by local doctors. With His Majesty in such dire straits, we have little to lose. Every attempt is a chance at hope."
The crowd fell silent. Some nodded, convinced by her logic; others frowned, still skeptical, muttering under their breath. In the end, under Lin Yue's insistence, they reluctantly agreed to let the wanderer proceed.
The physician entered the study steadily. First, he stood by the bed, carefully observing Li Yi's deathly pale complexion, his brow furrowing slightly. Next, he gently lifted the Emperor's chin to examine his tongue, every movement deliberate and cautious. Finally, he took Li Yi's pulse, his focus so intense it seemed the rest of the world had vanished. His fingers moved lightly over the wrist, feeling the faint, erratic pulse as if deciphering a silent conversation with the Emperor's body.
After a long moment, he opened his eyes gravely. "His Majesty's illness stems from prolonged overwork, which has drained his vital energy," he explained. "Coupled with excessive worry—like a heavy stone pressing on his heart—it has caused a deficiency of qi and blood, damaging his heart meridian. I have a prescription that may ease his condition." Though still skeptical, the physicians held their tongues, watching closely.
The wanderer withdrew herbs from his kit—some with vibrant green leaves, others with roots shining with an otherworldly luster. He handed them to the maids one by one, detailing every step of decocting the medicine, from the precise heat to the timing, leaving no detail unspoken. As the medicine simmered, the room fell silent, the tension so thick it seemed to solidify—the only sound the faint crackle of the hearth.
When the decoction was ready, its aroma filling the study, the wanderer personally carried the bowl to Li Yi's bedside. He gently raised the Emperor's head and fed him the medicine, every motion tender and precise. All eyes fixed on Li Yi, unblinking, a mix of hope and trepidation in their gazes. Gradually, a faint flush returned to Li Yi's pallid cheeks, and his rapid, shallow breathing grew steadier. A collective gasp of delight rippled through the room, the oppressive tension finally easing. Lin Yue sighed in relief, a grateful smile crossing her face. "Thank you, sir," she said. "Your skill is indeed remarkable." The wanderer bowed modestly. "This merely stabilizes his condition. His Majesty's body is severely weakened—only through long, careful nourishment can he fully recover."
In the days that followed, the wanderer arrived before dawn each morning to diagnose Li Yi, adjusting the prescriptions with meticulous care as the Emperor's condition evolved. Lin Yue oversaw every detail—supervising the decocting of medicine, changing dressings—sparing no effort to assist the physician. Under their joint care, Li Yi slowly improved: his closed eyes occasionally fluttered, as if on the verge of waking.
Yet court intrigue did not relent with the Emperor's recovery. Supporters of the eldest and second princes continued to clash fiercely over the establishment of a crown prince. The former argued loudly for the eldest's age and administrative experience; the latter insisted the second prince's benevolence made him the better choice. Tempers flared, faces reddened, and the court hall often descended into shouting matches, the atmosphere charged with hostility.
The third prince, Li Lin, maintained an air of detachment, attending court quietly each day as if uninterested in the feud. Yet his eyes occasionally betrayed a shrewd glint—he watched the situation closely, like a chess player waiting for the perfect moment to make his move.
Beyond the palace walls, forces continued to stir. Frontier generals, sensing weakness, secretly redeployed troops in their tents, moving military banners on maps as they schemed to expand their territories. Mysterious martial organizations sent spies skulking through the capital's streets, gathering intelligence and waiting for chaos to erupt so they might seize their share of the spoils.
Though Li Yi's condition improved, the world he would wake to was more fractured than ever: a court divided by ambition, a country threatened by external greed. Could his wisdom and authority heal these wounds and stabilize the Tang? What role would the wandering physician play in this drama—was his arrival a coincidence, or something more?
The future remained shrouded in uncertainty, like a small boat adrift in a storm. The fate of the Great Tang hung in the balance, its course yet unwritten.