Chapter 10: Li Bo'an Inquires About the Illness

Sensing the gazes converging upon him, Li Yi remained utterly composed, betraying neither panic nor rashness. He simply bowed his head slightly, his expression calm and steady. At that moment, Li Jing cast a sidelong glance at Li Yi, clearly pleased with the young man's poise.

“Good thing this rascal can keep his cool—at least he hasn't disgraced me,” Li Jing thought to himself, letting out a silent sigh of relief. Bowing respectfully, he replied, “Your Majesty, my son knows but a smattering, hardly enough to claim any real understanding of medicine.”

Li Jing’s reply was modest, in keeping with his principles and temperament. Though the concept of Taiji had deeply impressed him, when it came to Li Yi’s supposed medical knowledge gleaned from dreams, Li Jing was far from certain himself. Seeing Du Ruhui still unconscious, even the imperial physicians powerless, was evidence enough for Li Jing to tread carefully.

Yet as Li Jing spoke, those present could not help but frown, scrutinizing Li Yi closely—particularly the Du family, as well as Wei Zheng, Fang Xuanling, and the others, whose brows furrowed even more deeply. They knew exactly what kind of person Li Yi was: a notorious libertine, much like Du Gou and the sons of their own families, who had caused them no end of headaches. How could this boy possibly know a thing about medicine? Had Li Jing, desperate upon hearing of Du Ruhui’s grave illness, brought his son in the heat of the moment, his judgment clouded?

Wei Zheng and his companions simply could not believe it. Shaking his head, Wei Zheng looked at Li Yi, then clasped his hands to Li Jing in gentle remonstrance. “Master Pharmacist, this is a matter of great consequence—surely you brought Bo’an here in a moment of urgency?”

Wei Zheng was offering Li Jing an honorable way out. “Indeed, Master Pharmacist. Your concern for Kemin’s safety is understandable; His Majesty will surely see it that way as well,” Fang Xuanling chimed in, also helping Li Jing to save face. None of them wished for Li Jing’s future to be jeopardized by his wayward son. After all, Li Jing’s abilities were beyond question.

Changsun Wuji, however, remained silent, standing quietly to the side. Li Jing understood their intentions perfectly, and for a moment, he hesitated.

As for Emperor Taizong, having heard the words of Wei Zheng and Fang Xuanling, he too let the matter drop, no longer taking it seriously.

“Let it be—it is but a trifling matter,” Taizong waved his hand dismissively. Yet as he turned to look at Du Ruhui lying upon the bed, his face betrayed an unguarded sorrow. He sighed softly to himself, “Alas, it is Kemin who suffers. He has devoted his life to lightening my burdens, and now lies in a coma from which even I am powerless to wake him. Who knows when he will recover…”

For a moment, everyone in the room fell silent, bowing their heads in helpless resignation. Each knew the vital importance of Du Ruhui, and all respected his lifelong honesty and kindness. Even when their political views clashed at court, he bore no grudges, and their private relations remained friendly as ever. They were pained and regretful at their own inability to help.

It was in this heavy, silent moment that Li Yi, who had remained quiet all along, suddenly stepped forward and bowed to the assembled company. In a composed and unyielding voice, he broke the oppressive silence: “I thank Your Majesty for your clemency, and all you uncles for your good intentions. Might I beg permission, Your Majesty, to examine Minister Du myself?”

Li Yi had no wish to be underestimated by Taizong and the others. Besides, his father had already boasted that he knew a little medicine; Li Yi would not have Li Jing lose face before his peers.

“Hm?” Taizong’s brows knitted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Li Yi. Only moments ago, out of respect for the others and for your father, I spared you further trouble. Who would have thought you’d dare speak so rashly before everyone?

A clear note of displeasure flickered across Taizong’s face, and Wei Zheng and his companions turned their frowns upon Li Yi as well, their expressions filled with disapproval and their eyes lingering meaningfully on Li Jing.

Li Jing hesitated, on the verge of stopping Li Yi—but Li Yi met his gaze with grave determination. “Father, please trust your son. My master would never deceive me.”

Li Yi was resigned; his father’s faith in him was tenuous at best, so he invoked the authority of his dream mentor, the Immortal Zhang Sanfeng, as his guarantee.

After a brief silence, Li Jing clenched his jaw and nodded, addressing Taizong with a bow. “Your Majesty, might my third son be permitted to try?”

“Oh?” Taizong was surprised by Li Jing’s sudden resolve. Knowing Li Jing as he did, Taizong was certain the man would never act without reason. For Li Jing to offer such unwavering support to his son’s request was most unusual. Perhaps… this was indeed a slim hope for Du Ruhui’s recovery?

Taizong nodded. “Li Bo’an, for your father’s sake, I grant you leave to try. Do not let his good intentions go to waste.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your boundless grace,” Li Yi replied, bowing once more.

Fang Xuanling, Wei Zheng, the Du family, and even the hitherto silent Changsun Wuji all shook their heads. None of them believed Li Yi could possibly have such skill, though they marveled at Li Jing’s uncharacteristic insistence.

“Truly the impetuousness of youth,” mused the imperial physician standing nearby. “Self-confidence is well and good, but if one does not know humility or how to temper one’s brilliance, he is bound for a harsh lesson.” As the model of the imperial medical academy, the old physician was entitled to such opinions.

Yet to everyone’s surprise, Li Yi did not immediately approach Du Ruhui to take his pulse. Instead, he walked straight to the imperial physician, bowed respectfully, and asked, “May I humbly inquire, esteemed elder, what are Minister Du’s symptoms? Would you be willing to share your diagnosis with me?”

The imperial physician was momentarily taken aback but did not dare conceal anything. “By my diagnosis, Minister Du has fallen ill from overwork and has developed a wasting disease of the lungs.”

He offered no further explanation. Should Li Yi truly possess medical skill, he would surely understand the full import of these words.

“Thank you, elder, for your guidance,” Li Yi replied, his eyes flickering as he quickly grasped the situation. In ancient times, pulmonary consumption was considered incurable; once stricken, not even the gods could save you. Fortunately, Li Yi had some knowledge of modern medicine, and hearing this diagnosis, he was already formulating a prescription in his mind.

However, he still needed to confirm Du Ruhui’s specific symptoms before prescribing the correct treatment. He turned to Lady Du and inquired, “Madam, if I may ask, during Minister Du’s illness, has he suffered from persistent cough with phlegm, coughing blood, and general weakness?”

“Yes!” Lady Du nodded anxiously, her gaze momentarily dazed. She had not expected that, after merely consulting the imperial physician, without even examining Du Ruhui, Li Yi could so precisely describe all of his symptoms with just a single question. It was astonishing, almost beyond belief.

“Could it be that Bo’an truly knows medicine?” Lady Du wondered, a faint thread of hope stirring in her heart.