(1) The Old Illness Returns

In the late spring of 781 CE, the second year of the Jianzhong era under Emperor Dezong of Tang, an unremarkable carriage sped along the streets of Chang'an.

The carriage had lost its steady rhythm and swayed erratically. The black-clad man driving it kept glancing back over his shoulder, his anxiety plain on his face.

"Young master! How are you holding up? Just a little further now."

Even as he spoke, the man's hands never slackened on the reins, but his constant glancing back made the carriage sway and lurch unevenly.

"No... no..." Inside the carriage, a faint, trembling voice trailed off—the youth could not manage more than a few broken words. Unable to bear it any longer, the black-clad man brought the carriage to a halt, threw back the curtain, and leapt inside.

"Young master! Young master!" he cried. The youth before him lay with his eyes shut tight. Despite being buried under layer upon layer of heavy quilts, despite the warmth of late spring with summer fast approaching, the boy clenched his jaw, veins bulging at his temples, his face ashen, his whole body wracked with shivers.

"Young master! Young master!" The man called out in a panic, gripping the boy's hand tightly in his own warm one, trying to lend him some of his own warmth. "Hold on just a little longer. Yueying will signal for help now—once Steward Han sees it, he'll come running."

Just as Yueying rose to lift the curtain, a commotion arose outside—another carriage approaching, along with a clamor of voices. Yueying tensed at once, cracking the curtain open just enough to peer out. An oncoming carriage had stopped, and a servant leapt down from it, walking straight toward theirs. The servant glanced this way and that for a moment, then bowed toward the carriage. "Might I ask if the master of this carriage is present? Though our General's carriage could certainly pass, the General has sent me to ask whether you might move your carriage slightly aside—or whether the master here has run into some trouble and needs assistance?"

Hearing this, the tension in Yueying eased somewhat. He drew back the curtain and stepped out, bowing in return. "Forgive our rudeness. My master has fallen suddenly and gravely ill. There are only the two of us here, and in our worry we stopped the carriage in the road, blocking your lordship's path. I will move it at once to clear the way."

As he spoke, Yueying took up the reins again, preparing to urge the horse on. But then came a voice: "Wait a moment!" A sturdily built middle-aged man stepped down from the other carriage. "If the illness is so severe, how can it wait? Where does your household lie? I could send someone to escort you both back, and if needed, help summon a physician."

Hearing this, the great stone weighing on Yueying's heart finally settled. He replied with deep respect, "My master is not from Chang'an—we came here on business. He is usually strong and hardy, having traveled far and wide, and so we came with a light escort and few attendants. Now that he has fallen so suddenly and gravely ill, I find myself quite at a loss. Your lordship's kindness in offering aid is more than I can thank you for."

This middle-aged man was none other than Guo Sheng, currently serving as General of the Left Guard among the Sixteen Guards. He had taken the day off and was on his way home from visiting his old friend Yang Nian, Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, along with his wife and daughter—hoping to let Yang's third son, Yang Chong, who was betrothed to his own ten-year-old daughter Huilian, become better acquainted with her. It was on this journey home that he happened upon Yueying and his young master.

Guo Sheng stroked his beard and strode forward with vigor, leaping nimbly onto the carriage.

"Let me have a look." As he spoke, he threw back the carriage curtain—and paused in surprise. The so-called master turned out to be nothing more than a youth of thirteen or fourteen, still rather green about the edges. A moment later, unease crept into him—the young master's condition looked truly dire. Turning urgently to Yueying, he said, "If this young brother doesn't mind, let him come stay as a guest at the General's residence. You may remain at his side to look after him. I'll have my men fetch a driver, and send someone to bring Physician Zhou from Mochou Hall in the Eastern Market to examine him. Old Zhou may have a strange temper, but his skill is exquisite—matching even the imperial physicians in the palace. He and I go back a long way; if I ask him myself, old Zhou will surely grant me the courtesy. The two of you may settle in without worry or hesitation."

The moment Guo Sheng finished speaking, he leapt back down from the carriage and issued orders to his servants to carry out everything he had just described, his voice booming like a great bell, every arrangement precise and orderly. One of his servants promptly climbed onto Yueying's carriage, asked Yueying for the whip, and drove it steadily, following close behind Guo Sheng's own carriage.

And so Yueying and his young master were settled in the western wing of the General's residence, and Guo Sheng, as promised, sent someone to fetch Physician Zhou from Mochou Hall. The hall's name, "Mochou"—meaning "no more sorrow"—arose from the belief that once a person falls ill, sorrow inevitably fills the heart and often spreads to burden the whole family. If a master physician's skillful hand could work wonders and cure the illness, then naturally there would be no more bitterness, no more sorrow, only joy.

Mochou Hall had been the most prestigious medical establishment in Chang'an for nearly a decade, its resident physicians all possessing extraordinary skill, having saved countless lives. But Physician Zhou himself did not usually keep regular hours at the hall—he was far more often found in Pingkang Ward, listening to music. Only when the other resident physicians found themselves stumped by some difficult case would they turn to him for help. And even then, it all depended on his mood; if he was displeased, everyone simply had to endure his cold shoulder. The people of Chang'an loved to gossip that Physician Zhou was secretly the true proprietor behind Mochou Hall, since even the other physicians, each masters of their own craft, treated him with the utmost deference, never daring to overstep or claim greater authority than him. But whether this was actually true, no one really knew.

At this moment, Physician Zhou had been fetched by the Guo family's servants from the Qingle Tower in Pingkang Ward, right as he had been thoroughly enjoying the music. Interrupted so abruptly and hurried the whole way over, traces of displeasure still lingered on his face. Had he not been Guo Sheng's childhood friend, he would never have made this trip at all. Guo Sheng, well used to this, hurried to pull Physician Zhou toward the western wing.

Physician Zhou, who had worn a look of resentment the entire way, grew suddenly serious the moment he stepped into the guest room. He glanced once at Yueying, then looked toward the sickbed, his expression shifting several times.

"Well? Is even this beyond you?"

Guo Sheng could not read the shifting expressions on Physician Zhou's face, and only sensed something was wrong. He had never known Zhou to be anything but composed and at ease—when had he ever seen this look on him before?

"Let me examine him carefully." Physician Zhou, realizing he had let his composure slip, quickly reined in his expression and hurried forward to take the patient's pulse.

Physician Zhou checked the pulse on both of the patient's wrists again and again, his caution unlike anything Guo Sheng had ever witnessed, so much so that beads of sweat the size of peas began forming on Guo Sheng's own brow.

"Well? Say something, will you!"

Physician Zhou looked up once more at Yueying, then slowly let the words fall from his lips.

"It is the Cold Affliction," he said.

Guo Sheng, utterly bewildered, pressed anxiously, "Cold Affliction? What is that? Can it be treated?"

"This young master's Cold Affliction was brought with him from birth. But it seems to have been well managed since childhood, and his body has been trained to be strong and robust—it should not have flared up in a long while. Which is why, I take it, he no longer takes regular medicine, nor carries any with him?"

Yueying nodded in confirmation.

As Physician Zhou spoke, he moved to the writing table, where a young attendant had already ground the ink and laid out paper and brush. Zhou wrote out the prescription in a single fluid motion, then instructed, "Quickly now, no delay—take these herbs, boil three bowls of water down to one, and have him drink it twice today, with two and a half hours between doses. I shall return tomorrow."

The young attendant hurried off with the prescription. Guo Sheng remained utterly bewildered—if the illness could indeed be treated, why had that strange look crossed old Zhou's face earlier?

"This Cold Affliction will require some time to properly manage. I will come by every day to check on him and adjust the medicine according to his condition." With that, he glanced once more at Yueying, then departed, seemingly lost in thought.

Guo Sheng summoned a servant to see Physician Zhou out, then turned to Yueying and the young master with a gentle sigh. "The two of you must settle in without worry. Since old Zhou is confident he can treat this, let the young master consider the General's residence his own home and focus on recovering. If you need anything at all, just tell Acheng to let me know—there's no need to stand on ceremony with me." With that, he called in Acheng, the servant boy waiting outside the door, and instructed him, "Take good care of the young master. Bring in some charcoal first to warm the room and drive out some of his chill."

Acheng entered the room and respectfully accepted the order.

Because of Guo Sheng's generous and warm-hearted nature, a profound bond of kindness now formed between him and the young master Tian Xu, whom Yueying spoke of. Little did Guo Sheng know at the time that this bond of kindness would come to entangle the fates of the Tian and Guo families in ways neither could ever fully unravel.