My body grew heavier with each passing day.
The letters from the capital were always only a few thin pages when they arrived.
Elegant handwriting merely reported that all was well, that Mother's health remained sound, that my sisters' affairs were proceeding smoothly, and that the pomegranate tree in our residence had bloomed fully this year. The faint whispers from the court, the subtle predicaments our family might be facing—all had been carefully filtered out, leaving only a shell of serene, untroubled days.
Sometimes I would stare at the paper, imagining the truths obscured by the ink. But in the end, I would fold it gently and store it in the box. Some things, perhaps, are better left unknown. At least here, in this Jiangnan courtyard, I could pretend everything was stable and devote myself entirely to nurturing the life growing heavier within me.
Yet as time passed, the morning sickness did not ease; it worsened instead. I vomited upon waking, after meals, and at the slightest strong smell. Aunt Qin said it was the fetal qi rising, liver and stomach out of balance, and could only be slowly regulated. But regulation took time, and my body seemed to have no patience left.
One early morning, I leaned over the chamber pot, retching until I could barely stand, only bringing up some sour, bitter yellow fluid. Chunyu stood nearby, tears streaming, anxious, while Nanxing clenched his tiny fists and repeated, "Please endure a little longer, sir. The medicine will help soon."
Xiao Yuhuang returned from discussing matters with the local prefect and happened upon the scene.
She stood at the doorway, watching me curled on the couch in disarray, her complexion fading gradually. She said nothing, strode over, scooped me up in her arms, and turned toward the door.
"Your Majesty?" Chunyu exclaimed.
"Prepare the carriage," Xiao Yuhuang's voice was cold and firm. "To the imperial medical institute."
"No!" Aunt Qin rushed over at once, blocking the way. "Your Majesty, the sir's condition is unstable; any jostling is dangerous. The medical institute is tens of miles away. What if—"
"Then what do you suggest?" Xiao Yuhuang spun around sharply, her eyes bloodshot. "Look at him! He's vomiting like this. If this continues, the child may not survive, and he—"
Her voice choked, unable to continue.
Weakly, I tugged at her sleeve. "I don't want to go… I'm fine…"
"Fine?" she looked down at me, her eyes red.
In the end, she carried me back to bed. Aunt Qin revised the prescription, adding gingered pinellia and bamboo shavings to harmonize the stomach and stop vomiting, along with a few gentle restorative herbs. But when the medicine was brought to me, the very smell sent my stomach into turmoil again.
Xiao Yuhuang stared at the bowl of medicine in silence for a long moment before suddenly taking it in her hands. "I will feed you."
She brought the bowl to her lips and took a sip herself. The bitterness made her brow furrow, yet she swallowed it down. Then she scooped a spoonful and held it to my lips. "It's not bitter. I've tried it."
I stared at her in astonishment. The emperor, usually so high and distant, was now holding a medicine bowl like an ordinary wife coaxing her husband to take his medicine.
I opened my mouth and swallowed the spoonful. Bitter, indeed, but seeing her worried expression made the taste somehow less harsh.
Spoonful after spoonful.
She fed me slowly, pausing after each mouthful until I caught my breath. When a drop escaped my lips, she dabbed it away with a handkerchief, awkward in movement but infinitely gentle.
Half an hour passed before the bowl was finished, and sweat had begun to bead at her temples.
"Rest a while," she said, tucking the covers around me. "I will stay here."
I was exhausted and closed my eyes, sinking quickly into darkness. In a half-dream, I felt her hand resting on my abdomen, warm and steady.
Then my legs began to swell.
At first, just my ankles, then gradually spreading up to my calves. Aunt Qin said it was due to spleen and kidney yang deficiency, water retention inside, and prescribed poria and alisma to promote urination and reduce swelling. The medicine brought little relief.
That night, I was woken by a cramp in my calf. The muscle coiled into a hard knot, pain making me break into cold sweat, groaning involuntarily.
Xiao Yuhuang woke instantly. "What is it?"
"My leg… cramp…" I gritted my teeth, unable to speak clearly through the pain.
She swung herself up, lifting the embroidered quilt, and in the moonlight saw my swollen, glistening calves. Her expression changed, and she pressed her hand to the tense muscles.
"Don't move," she murmured, then went to fetch warm water and cloths.
When the warm, damp cloth was applied, the cramping pain began to ease. She sat on the edge of the bed, resting my leg across her lap, her inexperienced hands kneading carefully.
"Better?" she asked, her voice soft in the night.
"Mm…" I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth from her fingertips.
She worked slowly, from ankle to calf, pressing every inch of muscle. Her palms were large, with calluses from years of sword practice, yet now they were astonishingly gentle.
"Aunt Qin says to massage often to promote blood and qi flow," she said quietly as she worked. "I will do this every night for you."
I said nothing, simply watching her.
She kept her eyes down, focused, long lashes casting faint shadows beneath them.
At this moment, she was not an emperor but a wife caring for her husband.
After about a quarter of an hour, the cramp fully subsided. She placed my leg back on the bed, tucked the covers over me again, yet remained sitting by the bedside, unmoving.