Chapter Seven

By the time we returned to the palace, most of the dark clouds had passed and faint starlight was visible.

Yiping helped me dress and wash, complaining,

“Princess Yongtai h

as quite the mood — seven years in the Daming Palace and she still hasn’t had her fill of the Taiye Pool.”

I turned to her and said,

“After the heavy rain subsides, the waters of the Taiye Pool turn a richer green; it does have a few more charms than usual.”

I sat at the dressing table and noticed a faint red spot on my right temple.

When I pressed it with my finger it tingled slightly; I stared at Yiping in alarm.

“What is this?” I asked.

She leaned in for a look, half startled, half uncertain.

“It doesn’t quite look like a rash… I’ll ask someone to fetch the imperial physician.”

She set the jade comb down and hurried off.

My heart lurched. I quickly grabbed her arm.

“Bring a younger doctor, and you go yourself. Tell them I was walking by the Taiye Pond after dinner and the wind gave me a headache.”

Yiping nodded, not entirely understanding, and went out. She warned the waiting palace maid outside not to come in and ran off in haste.

Whenever I drank, I would break out in spots—something I’d had since childhood. But I hadn’t touched any wine this evening, so how could this be?

I examined it more closely and felt a chill ripple through me.

Please, not smallpox.

My aunt’s daughter had caught smallpox and died within days. My aunt had been spared but was driven out of the residence and spent the rest of her life lonely in my father’s old house.

The thought made me shiver; my palms were slick with sweat, and my nails had left deep red marks.

I stood up, then sat back down dazedly, picked up the comb absentmindedly and ran it through my loose hair again and again, my mind racing in circles though I couldn’t tell what I was thinking.

“Princess.”

Suddenly a man’s voice came from behind, startling me so I dropped the comb and shot to my feet to look back.

A young man bowed, carrying a wooden box on his back; behind him Yiping stood there breathing a little hard.

I took a deep breath and sat down, then stepped behind the screen and said,

“The imperial physician has worked hard; please, take a seat.”

From behind the screen I saw the young doctor straighten up, and Yiping moved a low stool in front of the screen for him, standing nervously to one side.

“My surname is Shen,” the young imperial physician said.

“Has the commandery princess caught a chill? Besides a headache, any other discomfort?”

I was silent for a moment and said,

“I have some pale red spots on my face—you can see them?”

As a court physician he would surely understand my hint.

He was silent for a moment too.

Just as my heart was pounding, he suddenly smiled and said,

“I can see them, but the princess is sitting behind a screen; it’s hard for me to diagnose at a glance.”

I was so taken aback by his smile that I realized how foolish I’d been, and hurried to get up and step out to let him look, asking,

“Can you see more clearly here?”

Under the lamp, he raised his eyes and studied my face carefully.

I had never been looked at so openly before; I could only stand awkwardly, frozen, my palms drying from sweat then instantly forming another sheen.

“The princess is breaking out in a cold sweat—could it be something unsavory?”

He shook his head and smiled.

“It’s just hives from alcohol. If I go back and prescribe a remedy, they should be gone in ten days, but you mustn’t wear makeup during those ten days.”

I paused, seeing his serene smile; though I didn’t know what “alcohol hives” were, I understood it wasn’t serious and let out a long breath.

“Does Imperial Physician Shen not need to take a pulse?”

He said,

“No need. This is a common condition, frequent in autumn. The princess needn’t be so anxious.”

After speaking he leaned closer and quietly offered a few more instructions—mainly no makeup, avoid spicy foods—and advised her to remember them all.

Very respectfully, he then escorted him out.

When Yiping came back in, I was still standing there dazed, silently scolding myself for worrying too much.

“Your Highness,” Yiping said with a soft smile, “you should rest now. Physician Shen also said that sleeping early helps you recover faster.”

I gave a hum of agreement and let her light the incense and draw the curtains.

Just as she was about to snuff the lamp, I said,

“I’ll read for a little while first. You may go.”

She looked at me puzzled, drew back the canopy, and in just half an hour my whole heart had been turned upside down.

I finally let out a long breath, flopped back onto the bed, and stared blankly at the pale tassels of the bed curtain.

Just from a little wine prick, I was frightened like this — no wonder Father always praised me for being level-headed, and no wonder I thought I had already learned indifference to favor and disgrace in the palace.

I brooded for a while, then fished out that book, Shili Lun, from under my pillow and idly opened it to read closely.

At first glance at his ink, I felt a lofty bearing; now it seemed to carry a hint of Ouyang Xun’s style, yet with more of the Wei-Jin era’s unrestrained abandon.

In the waves of incense there was, mixed with the scent, the smell of ink.

When I came to, I realized I had slept the whole night in my clothes.

Yiping, hearing the movement outside, hurried in and asked,

“The jun princess is awake?”

I replied and asked,

“What time is it?”

She said,

“The jun princess has been very sleepy these past two days — it’s already noon.”

I answered again, rose from the bed, and tucked the book back under my pillow.

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