On the first morning after the "little prince" made his landing, the mist over Chang'an had not yet lifted, and the air carried a piercing cool.
In the side hall of Shangqing Temple, the smell of medicine and a faint trace of blood still hung from the night before. Li Ce lay propped against a pillow. He had barely slept. Partly because the sudden end of his long agony left his body with an unreal, floating lightness; and partly because the moment he closed his eyes, all he could see was Jiang Yuejian with her lamp, looking at him the way one looks at a salted fish on a market stall.
It was the first time in his life he had surrendered completely—unconditionally—in front of a woman.
With a creak, the wooden door of the side hall swung open.
Jiang Yuejian walked in. Today she had set aside the heavy Taoist robe and wore instead a trim, plain-colored tunic with narrow sleeves, her long hair pinned up carelessly with a wooden hairpin, a few loose strands across her forehead giving her a crisp, capable air—and rather less of the mystique. She carried a large bowl of coarse porcelain, the steaming decoction inside bitter enough to repel anyone within three steps.
"Your Highness. Medicine." Her tone, as she came near, was as matter-of-fact as an overseer instructing an apprentice.
Li Ce pushed himself up, eyes resting on the black brew for a full three seconds, his brow twitching almost imperceptibly. "This medicine... did you add salt to it?"
Jiang Yuejian couldn't help a laugh—bright in the morning light. She sat down on the edge of the couch and set the bowl in front of him without ceremony. "Relax, Your Highness. It's ordinary herbs—clears heat, drains water, disperses stasis, eases pain. None of your Great Tang's favorite 'robust' seasonings. With the vigilance you've developed about salt, you could apply for a post at the Tang customs office."
Li Ce took the bowl and looked at the pale, disheveled reflection in it, smiling wryly at himself. "Jiang Yuejian, who exactly are you? I've looked into your history. A priestess of no particular talent at Shangqing Temple—there's no way you should know these... unheard-of methods."
"Your Highness, some things in this world are called 'natural gift.'" She met his eyes, calm and open. "The way I see it, you're not a Prince Regent. You're a precision instrument of pipes and bone and flesh. The leaking part is fixed now, but the wear and tear remains—and that's what this bowl of bitter water is for."
Li Ce said nothing more. He tipped his head back, throat working with difficulty, and forced down the brew bitter enough to make a man question existence. It sank into him, bitterness to the bone. His face stayed composed, but the fingers gripping the bowl went white—visibly propping up his tough-guy pride.
Watching his I-feel-nothing-at-all performance, Jiang Yuejian laughed inwardly. She reached into her sleeve, rummaged, and opened her palm: two glossy pieces of malt sugar, each wrapped in oiled paper.
"Here. Sweeten your mouth." She held them out like she was coaxing a child. "There's coptis in that medicine. Eat a candy to push it down, or you'll be gagging halfway through the memorials."
Li Ce looked away, voice stiff. "I do not eat such... things for women and children."
"No?" Jiang Yuejian raised a brow, not a beat of hesitation. She tore the oiled paper neatly off one piece and flicked it straight into her own mouth.
Crunch.
She chewed with evident relish, mumbling around it, "Suit yourself, then. This is premium osmanthus candy—I ran three streets to buy it. So sweet. Since Your Highness's throat is made of iron, I'll just have both."
And she made to unwrap the second piece.
Watching her bulging cheek, watching that perfectly reasonable you-refused-so-they're-mine expression, Li Ce felt a surge of something absurdly like indignation.
Just as the second candy was about to vanish into her mouth, some imp of fate moved his hand—he shot out and caught her wrist. His palm was broad, calloused at the edges; its heat startled Jiang Yuejian for a beat.
"Who said I wasn't eating it?"
A little stiffly, he plucked the remaining candy from her fingers, unwrapped it, and popped it into his own mouth. The clean fragrance of osmanthus and the blast of sweetness at once stormed the battlefield of bitterness.
The bitterness was pushed down, and in its wake something unfamiliar and soft unfurled slowly in his chest.
"Is it sweet?" Jiang Yuejian leaned in a little closer, eyes bright.
They were very near now—close enough that he could smell the faint herbal scent on her. Li Ce pressed his lips together and, after a long moment, squeezed out two words: "...Acceptable."
"'Acceptable' means sweet." She clapped her hands, stood, and shouldered her medicine chest again. On her way out she tossed back one last line: "Your Highness, there's no shame in admitting you fear bitterness. Cry when it hurts, eat candy when it's bitter—that's what being human is. Keep bottling it up, and who do you think the stones will come for?"
She waved a hand and swept out, brisk and graceful. Li Ce sat on the couch, tongue pressed to the slowly melting malt sugar, watching her back disappear through the doorway. The word "audacity" that had been on his tongue went down with the sweetness instead.
He had discovered something: this woman's medicine was bitter, but the candy she gave—compared with the candied fruits of the Imperial Medical Bureau, it was... considerably more effective.