Xue Liulan sighed, tucking the quilt around Murong Jin's still form.
Ten days had passed since the attack. Ten days since Xue Qi's death. Xue Liulan had buried his son three days later. But the child's mother had never opened her eyes.
Her wounds—shoulder, waist, arm—were severe. The strain had reopened the old injury in her legs. The new scars crisscrossed the old.
"How is she?" he asked, stepping around the screen.
Yi had brought his wife, the Divine Physician of the Snow Mountain, the moment he received Xue Liulan's letter.
The woman kept her head down. "She lost too much blood. I don't know if she will wake."
"What?" Xue Liulan staggered, clutching a pillar for support.
"You stopped the bleeding," Yi said, frowning. "Why won't she wake?"
The physician packed her silver needles. "Perhaps she doesn't want to."
She doesn't want to. Xue Liulan understood.
She had watched her son drown. Helpless. For a woman who cherished those around her, it was a fatal blow. If she didn't wake, perhaps she could pretend it was all a nightmare.
The physician looked at him with pity, then turned to Yi. "Let's go."
"What? Just leave her?" Yi stared.
"I can't help her," she snapped. "Can you make her wake up?"
"Why not?"
"No one can. Not even him." She pointed at Xue Liulan. "She is refusing reality. Yi, you know Qi'er was her life. Watching him die… maybe you could survive it. But she can't."
"She is strong enough," Xue Liulan rasped, choking back tears.
The physician whirled on him, her calm eyes blazing. "Why must she be strong? She is a woman, Xue Liulan. Just because she is a general, do you think her heart is made of stone?"
Yi was stunned. His wife, usually so indifferent, had never spoken like this. Not even when he returned to the mountain after abandoning her.
Xue Liulan lowered his head. She was right. He had no right to ask for her strength.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice dead.
Yi patted his shoulder. "I believe in Sister Jin. She won't sleep forever."
Xue Liulan looked at him, his gaze vacant. "Maybe, for her, this is the best choice."
The little prince's funeral was simple, as befitted a child who died young. But the Emperor ordered three days of national mourning. No music. No celebration.
In Zhaoyang Palace, Xue Liulan sat by her side, holding her cold hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing her cheek, fighting the tears.
Soft footsteps. Little Dingzi crept in.
"What is it?" Xue Liulan asked. "Have the kitchens prepare some soup."
"Your Majesty… General Murong is here."
"Murong Yan?" Xue Liulan gave a hollow laugh.
When she first returned to Jindu, he had asked Little Dingzi: Is it Murong Yan, or the Little General? Now, the Little General was gone.
Little Dingzi waited nervously. The General was furious. He looked ready to tear the palace down. His daughter was broken, his grandson dead. Anyone would be angry.
"Let him in." Xue Liulan rubbed his brow.
Heavy footsteps approached. Like thunder.
Xue Liulan stroked Murong Jin's face. "Your father is here to punish me."
"Your subject greets the Emperor!" Murong Yan's voice boomed.
"Sit."
"No need." Murong Yan glared at him, then looked at his daughter.
The vibrant woman who had commanded armies was now a pale, lifeless shell. His hand clenched, veins bulging.
Xue Liulan stood, head bowed. "I know why you are here."
"You failed my daughter." Murong Yan grabbed his collar, raising a fist.
"I did." Xue Liulan didn't flinch. Maybe a beating would ease the pain.
Why had he argued with her? Why hadn't he stayed by her side? He wished she had never returned.
Murong Yan shoved him back. "I'm taking her away."
"No." Xue Liulan stepped between them. "She is my wife. The Empress. You cannot take her."
"Move!" Murong Yan swept his arm out, pushing past him to lift her.
"I can't let you take her." Xue Liulan struck, chopping at the General's arm.
Murong Yan pulled back, surprised by the feint, then was forced to retreat three steps as Xue Liulan pressed the attack.
"Forgive me." Xue Liulan bowed.
Murong Yan sneered and punched straight for Xue Liulan's chest. If he dodged, the path to Murong Jin was clear.
Thud.
"Ugh." Xue Liulan grunted. He took the full force of the blow.
The wound on his chest burst open. Blood bloomed on his robes.
Murong Yan froze. He hadn't dodged.
"Xue Liulan! If you knew this day would come, why didn't you cherish her?" Murong Yan raged. He had struck the Emperor. If Xue Liulan pursued it, it was treason.
"Your Majesty! Minister Li is here!" Little Dingzi yelled from the door. He had sent for Li Yan and Xue Zhuoran the moment the General arrived. He knew Murong Yan wouldn't spare the Emperor.
"General Murong!" Li Yan rushed in. "To break into the inner palace… if someone sees, not even the Emperor can save your family!"
Xue Liulan glanced at him, then at Little Dingzi. "Where is the soup?"
"Ah! I'll get it!" Little Dingzi ran, slapping his forehead. He had been so worried about his master getting killed, he forgot.
Murong Yan glared at Li Yan.
"No one wants to see the Empress like this. The Emperor is grieving too. The priority is her recovery, and avenging the little prince. If you act rashly now, you hand a weapon to our enemies," Li Yan reasoned calmly. He had no personal tie to Murong Jin, so he could see clearly.
Murong Yan took a deep breath, shooting a hateful look at Xue Liulan.
"Stay in Jindu for now, General. I fear news has already leaked. Our enemies will move soon." Li Yan stepped between them, shielding the Emperor.
Murong Yan fell silent, thinking.