Chapter 51: Fate Unknown

“Madam, the physician has arrived,” Lihun knocked on the door.

“Please, come in,” Zhan Yan replied softly.

“Greetings, Princess Consort.” Several physicians from the military camp hurried in together.

“Please, attend to him quickly,” Zhan Yan urged, stepping aside to let the physicians take his pulse.

Each physician stepped forward in turn to check Zhongli Yu’s pulse. When they finished, they wiped their brows, visibly anxious, none daring to speak first.

“Well?” Zhan Yan studied their expressions, her heart tightening, her voice trembling.

“Your Highness, the Prince has already passed on,” one physician stammered, the others nodding in agreement.

“That’s impossible!” Zhan Yan cried.

“Please accept our condolences, Your Highness.” All bowed their heads in sorrow.

“You must be mistaken. He cannot be dead,” Zhan Yan declared resolutely.

“Your Highness…” They looked at her with pained expressions, understanding that she could not accept such a cruel reality.

“I gave him the Great Rejuvenation Pill. How could he possibly die? You must be mistaken,” Zhan Yan said, regaining her composure.

“The… Great… Rejuvenation Pill?” The physicians stared at her in disbelief. It was said that only two such pills existed in the world, both kept by Master Yinshan, the abbot of Shaolin Temple, as the temple’s treasured relics. For decades, no one had dared use one. It was rumored that forty years ago, a martial arts master visited Shaolin and managed to obtain one, leaving only a single pill in existence.

“Do you doubt me?” Zhan Yan’s anger flared at the group of what she considered incompetent doctors. “It was crafted personally by Master Physician Meng. He spent nearly forty years perfecting it.”

“Meng… Master Physician Meng? Do you mean Meng Tao?” The physicians were visibly moved. They had heard of Meng Tao’s miraculous skills—he was said to bring the dead back to life, though his whereabouts were ever elusive. That the Princess Consort had found him suggested the medicine was genuine.

“It was him,” Zhan Yan replied helplessly, glancing at the physicians. She refused to believe Zhongli Yu was truly dead, not until Master Meng himself examined him.

“But, Your Highness, the Prince’s pulse is entirely gone. Forgive our humble skills, but we cannot tell if he truly lives or not,” the physicians no longer dared to declare him dead.

“Enough. You may go,” Zhan Yan waved them away. She could not expect everyone in this world to be a miracle worker; she only regretted never having studied medicine under Grandfather Meng. If she had, she would not be so helpless now.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” they replied shakily, fearful that her anger might cost them their lives. Tales of her slaying enemies at Wangcheng had already spread, earning her both respect and fear.

“Madam, what about the young master…” Lihun ventured cautiously, desperately hoping he would awaken.

“I don’t know what’s happening either. Let’s wait for Master Meng and see,” Zhan Yan shook her head, equally uncertain.

“Madam, do you mean Master Meng will come?” Lihun asked, now hopeful—perhaps the young master could still be saved. Though his pulse was gone, Lihun, like the Princess Consort, refused to believe he was truly dead.

“Yes. He should arrive in a couple of days,” Zhan Yan nodded, a flash of exhaustion in her eyes. She had not rested for three days straight.

“Madam, you should rest. I’ll stay here and keep watch,” Lihun said gently.

“No need. I’ll remain here. You may leave,” Zhan Yan shook her head.

“Madam, how can your body endure this?” Lihun protested. They had promised the young master to take good care of her.

“I’m truly fine. Even if I left, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’d rather stay here and rest,” Zhan Yan replied gratefully, glancing at Lihun before turning her gaze back to Zhongli Yu.

Lihun had no choice but to withdraw.

Once everyone had left, Zhan Yan no longer forced herself to be strong. She no longer held back her tears, and wept in silence. Watching him lie there, unresponsive, not even sparing her a glance, she felt helpless, afraid, fragile; all her emotions erupted at once. She simply could not accept his death, but in this moment, she had no confidence left. She did not know if he was truly gone, or if she had arrived too late for the Great Rejuvenation Pill to work. She had rushed here without rest—why could heaven not show her a little mercy? Why offer happiness only to snatch it away again?

She gently clasped his hand; the only hope she had was the faint warmth still lingering in his palm. Only by holding his hand could she feel he was still alive. She dared not let go, fearing that as soon as she released him, his hand would grow cold.

“Madam, please have something to eat,” Lihun entered with a tray. Seeing Zhan Yan still clutching the young master’s hand, he felt all the more sorrowful. She had sat by the bed all day, and now that night had fallen, she had yet to eat. How could her body bear this?

“Leave it. I’ll eat later,” Zhan Yan replied in a low voice, not looking up.

“Madam, the young master asked me to give you this,” Lihun finally remembered the letter the young master had entrusted to her. The day’s shock—her sudden appearance and everything that had followed—had nearly driven it from his mind.

Finally, Zhan Yan looked up and took the envelope from Lihun. If one looked closely, her hand was trembling faintly. This letter felt like a final testament from Zhongli Yu, and every fiber of her being rejected it.

Yet curiosity overcame her. What had Zhongli Yu written? At last, she let go of his hand, gently unsealed the envelope, and withdrew the letter inside. The handwriting was bold and strong—unmistakably Zhongli Yu’s.

“Yan’er, the love of my life. Heaven has shown me great kindness by allowing me to marry you, yet it has also been cruel, placing before me an impossible choice. Between duty and you, I chose duty, leaving you behind. This is a pain I cannot surrender, even in death. If there is another life, I would rather betray the whole world than ever betray you. If there is another life, I wish only to be a free and wandering wind, to marry you as my carefree lady. Will you grant me this? Though we cannot remain together in this life, may the next find us growing old side by side.”

Tears burst forth again; Zhan Yan could no longer contain her grief and sobbed aloud, shaking her head desperately. “I don’t want another life—I only want this one. Do you know how I fear loneliness? Don’t leave me alone, don’t…”

“Madam.” Lilan entered, and seeing Zhan Yan weeping, she quickly pressed a point on her neck, sending her gently into sleep. After days of exhaustion, it took only a light touch to fell her. On any other day, such a technique would never have worked.

“The young master’s fate is still uncertain—why did you show this to the madam? Now she’s only more heartbroken. If the young master wakes, he’ll have your hide,” Lilan scolded Lihun.

“But with the young master lying here so still, you don’t feel at ease either, do you?” Lihun replied sheepishly, dreading what punishment the young master might mete out if he awoke.

“The madam said she gave him the Great Rejuvenation Pill. How could he die? There must be some other problem. When Master Meng arrives, he’ll understand,” Lilan remained calm, convinced that the young master could not simply die like this.

“Very well, I was thoughtless,” Lihun admitted, bowing his head. Usually he was the one lecturing Lilan and the others; now the roles were reversed, and he felt awkward.

“Well, hurry and help me get the madam onto the bed to rest. If she falls ill from exhaustion, will you take responsibility?” Lilan snapped.

Lihun quickly moved Zhongli Yu further in on the bed, and together they gently settled Zhan Yan beside him.