Chapter 39 The Time Is Ripe
Li Yuan's life was saved, but just as Wang Yi had predicted and "diagnosed," he fell into a deep coma, responding only very weakly to external stimuli, with one side of his body exhibiting unnatural relaxation. With Li Shimin's tacit approval, the imperial physicians held another consultation, reaching a conclusion largely the same as Wang Yi's: the retired emperor had suffered a stroke affecting his brain, damaging his marrow; it was already a miracle he had survived, and awakening would likely require a stroke of luck. Even if he did awaken, he would likely be unable to speak or move, requiring long-term meticulous care.
This outcome brought a sigh of relief to both the imperial court and the harem, yet also a sense of unease. They were relieved because the most intense conflict (the political turmoil that might have been triggered by the sudden death of the retired emperor) had been temporarily averted; they were anxious because the long-term care, security, and even the maintenance of the symbolic significance of a retired emperor who had lost his capacity for action but whose status was extremely noble had become new challenges that required careful balancing.
Li Shimin decreed that all expenses at Da'an Palace remain unchanged, or even slightly increased, to demonstrate his filial piety. All palace servants were replaced with trusted confidants with impeccable backgrounds, and the chief eunuch was personally appointed by the emperor. Publicly, it was declared that the retired emperor's condition was stable, requiring long-term rest, and all unnecessary visits were declined.
The true core of the "nursing" care was quietly transferred to Qixia Garden. Wang Yi, "living up to expectations," presented her well-prepared, thick "overseas master's secret treatment plan." The plan was divided into several parts:
1. Daily medicinal meals and oral administration of herbal decoctions: These were finely adjusted based on Li Yuan's tongue coating and pulse (recorded by Wang Yi or a mute maid designated by her), aiming to maintain basic vital signs, gently clear blockages, and prevent another stroke or serious complications (such as bedsores or pneumonia). The medicinal materials were all top-quality supplies available from the Imperial Medical Bureau, but the formulation was more systematic, and a small amount of disguised modern nutritional supplements and preventative antibiotics (in extremely small quantities) brought by her were added.
2. "Guiding and Massaging Techniques": Wang Yi personally taught several trusted palace maids and eunuchs to regularly move Li Yuan's joints and massage his muscles to prevent muscle atrophy and joint contractures, supplemented by extremely gentle acupoint stimulation "designed" by her. This set of movements, seemingly ancient, actually incorporates the passive exercise concept of modern rehabilitation medicine.
3. Environmental and Psychological Suggestion: Wang Yi suggested that Da'an Palace be kept quiet but not deathly still, with people playing soothing classical music or reciting gentle scriptures (on a list she provided) every day, and having people frequently whisper in Li Yuan's ear some trivial, even positive, past events in a calm tone (selected to avoid stimulation). She explained this as "calming the mind and guiding the spirit back to its proper place."
This plan was rigorous and meticulous, imbued with the mystique of "overseas secret techniques," yet it seemed both plausible and effective—Li Yuan's vital signs remained stable under careful care, his complexion even slightly improved, and he occasionally exhibited extremely subtle eye movements or finger tremors during his coma (some were physiological reactions, some might be the effect of Wang Yi's plan, or perhaps just coincidences). The imperial physicians marveled at this, and were even more impressed by the medical skills of the "Guardian of the Nation."
Li Shimin would visit the Da'an Palace almost every day. He no longer sat by the bedside for long periods of time to gaze or speak, but simply stood not far away, quietly watching the palace servants take care of him according to Wang Yi's procedures, asking the chief eunuch a few questions about the situation, and occasionally flipping through the detailed "medical record log" left by Wang Yi.
His emotions remained complex. Seeing his father lying there so undignified, like a living dead, he couldn't help but feel a pang of pity. But on the other hand, a strange peace gradually grew within him. The father who had once cursed him with the most vicious words, who had caused him a complex mix of love and hate, and who had placed immense pressure on him, now lay quietly, no longer able to harm him, no longer able to stir his heart with intense emotions. Those unresolved issues still existed, but they seemed frozen in time and illness, no longer possessing the power to cause harm in the present.
His feelings for Wang Yi became even deeper and more complex in this context. She had not only saved Li Yuan's life but also taken on the most troublesome and exhausting long-term care. Her care was meticulous, far surpassing that of any imperial physician or palace maid. What was she after? Fame? She already had a renowned reputation for saving the Empress and the Emperor Emeritus. Profit? The rewards he bestowed upon her were already far beyond what was expected. Power? She seemed to have no interest in interfering in specific matters.
The only reasonable explanation seems to be that she returned to the original reason that moved him: for him.
Knowing he didn't want his father to die, and wanting to alleviate his regret and burden, she disregarded past grievances (Li Yuan had insulted her before) and tirelessly shouldered this heavy responsibility. This "devotion," in Li Shimin's eyes, was more precious than any treasure. It wasn't about exchanging benefits; it was more like a pure emotional commitment and support. This caused his dependence on and affection for her to reach a new height, fueled by gratitude and guilt. He increasingly felt that having Wang Yi meant not only having a confidante and a capable advisor, but also a haven that could provide him with practical support and spiritual comfort during his most vulnerable and complex family emotional turmoil.
Wang Yi keenly sensed this change in Li Shimin's mindset. She appropriately feigned fatigue (treating and devising treatment plans were indeed mentally taxing), but never complained. Only when Li Shimin inquired with concern did she casually say, "It is my duty to share Your Majesty's burdens." Occasionally, she would "casually" mention that, according to her school's records, the caregiver of such serious illnesses should avoid being mentally and physically exhausted. They needed to constantly recuperate and maintain abundant qi and blood in order to truly unleash the effectiveness of the "guiding and pressing" method... This foreshadowed her later need for "rest" or adjustment (such as preparing for pregnancy).
When Empress Zhangsun heard of this while ill, she only sighed to the lady-in-waiting beside her, "Master Wang... truly an extraordinary woman." Her tone was complex and difficult to decipher. Still weak, she knew the hardships of caring for a patient and found it incredible that Wang Yi had taken on the task so readily, but it also confirmed her greater importance and ability in His Majesty's eyes, which were unmatched by anyone else. She chose silence and focused on recuperating herself.
The previous dynasty's discussions on this matter were firmly suppressed by Li Shimin's high-profile praise of "filial piety" and "a truly benevolent and skillful ruler." Saving the retired emperor was a great achievement, undeniable to all. Some previously existing dissenting voices (such as questioning Wang Yi's motives or methods) gradually subsided in the face of the emperor's clear protection and the fact that the retired emperor's condition had stabilized. Wang Yi's position became even more detached and secure because of this incident, and almost no one dared to easily voice any objections.
Xu Hui, Consort Yan, and others who assisted in managing affairs of the inner palace held Wang Yi in even greater awe. They had witnessed firsthand the Emperor's growing trust and reliance on Wang Yi, even entrusting him with matters of life and death—an unprecedented honor. They became even more cautious in their words and actions, focusing solely on their own duties and refusing to meddle in any topics related to the Da'an Palace or Qixia Garden.
The environment is more "friendly" and "safe" than ever before.
Wang Yi knew that the time was ripe.
Li Yuan's situation has already entered the "long-term vegetative state" track she set out for. As long as the current care plan is maintained, there will be no major problems in the short term. Instead, it has become a continuous source of "merit" and a moral high ground for her.
Li Shimin was deeply emotionally dependent on her, trusted her almost without reservation, and felt a strong sense of gratitude and compensation towards her for saving Li Yuan.
With the inner palace at peace and the court undisturbed, Empress Zhangsun needed to recuperate, and the other concubines were not a concern.
Her body, through modern precision conditioning and deliberate maintenance over this period, is in its optimal state for conception. The high-precision monitoring tools she's been secretly using indicate that ovulation is approaching.
Everything seemed to be in place.
One evening, when Li Shimin, slightly weary from his busy political affairs, came to Qixia Garden seeking peace, Wang Yi did not, as usual, discuss health or anecdotes about court matters with him. She simply brewed him a cup of calming tea, then sat beside him, took his hand, and gently rested her head on his shoulder.
Without words, it was a silent invitation, a gesture of complete trust and affection.
Li Shimin felt a weight on his shoulder, a slight weight that seemed to carry immense force, instantly piercing through the weariness and emptiness he had accumulated over the past few days due to government affairs and his father's illness. Wang Yi's hand was slightly cool, yet exceptionally soft, resting quietly and unreservedly in his palm. She didn't quote classical texts as usual, nor did she display her astonishing wisdom; she simply nestled against him quietly.
In that instant, a strange yet clear realization, like moonlight piercing through the clouds, suddenly illuminated a dark corner of Li Shimin's heart.
He suddenly became absolutely certain—Wang Yi's closeness at this moment had nothing to do with whether he was the emperor or not.
It wasn't because he possessed the world and could bestow upon her endless treasures and honors (things she never seemed to truly crave); it wasn't because he held the power of life and death and could decide the fate of countless people (she never feared or flattered him because of this); it wasn't even because of his illustrious reputation as the "Heavenly Khan" and his unparalleled achievements (she admired him, but never blindly worshipped him).
Her tenderness and reliance at this moment were solely because he was Li Shimin.
He was the Li Shimin who felt empty and numb inside when his father was critically ill; he was the Li Shimin who felt exhausted after reviewing memorials late at night; he was the Li Shimin who always harbored the grievance and longing for his father's love that he could not obtain; he was the Li Shimin who was also confused, lonely, and needed a haven where he could completely relax and take off all his armor.
This realization, like a gentle yet powerful current, surged and washed over the empty space in his heart that had long been cold and hardened by the falling out between father and son, the loneliness of power, and the loneliness of being at the top.
That void was once filled with his illustrious military achievements, covered by his imperial ambitions, and concealed by the cheers of the masses. But only he knew that it always leaked wind and chilled the air, a place that no external accomplishment could truly warm. That was the loneliness and yearning of Li Shimin, the "human" Li Shimin, not the "emperor" Li Shimin.
He once longed to receive unconditional recognition and love from his father, Li Yuan, to fill the void, but instead received only more rifts and curses. He once thought that the authority of the emperor and the awe and admiration of the concubines could make up for it, but that was more of a response to the identity of "emperor" than a recognition and acceptance of him as "Li Shimin" as a person.
Until this moment.
Until Wang Yi said nothing, just leaned against him, holding his hand. She saw his weariness, accepted his vulnerability, and offered this silent comfort simply because he was who he was. She did not treat him as a monarch who needed careful service, nor as a patron who needed to calculate benefits; she simply... treated him as Li Shimin.
The impact of this realization was far more profound for Li Shimin than any passionate declaration or earth-shattering achievement. It was so simple, yet so extravagant. It did not fill the void of power, nor the desire for conquest, but rather addressed his most primal and core emotional need as a human being—to be seen, accepted, and cherished, simply because he was himself.
His arm around her shoulder tightened unconsciously, as if trying to lock in this indescribable warmth and sense of fulfillment. He lowered his head, inhaling the faint scent of medicine in her hair, mixed with a unique, calm yet warm aura that belonged only to her. The empty space in his heart seemed to be filled little by little, solidly, by this aura, by this reliance, by this silent understanding and acceptance. It wasn't dramatic, but rather a gentle, pervasive warmth, yet more thorough than any other form of filling, bringing him a greater sense of peace and…completeness.
It turns out that his lifelong battles and ascents to the highest peaks were not merely for the sake of a vast empire and a place in history. Deep in his soul, what he longed for was perhaps such a simple yet extremely rare connection—someone who could see through all his identities and halos, see him for who he truly was, and choose to stay and offer warmth simply because he is who he is.
The moonlight flowed silently over the two of them, casting their shadows softly on the ground, as if they were one. There were no words in the hall, only their clasped hands and their gradually synchronized, even breathing.
Li Shimin closed his eyes, and the tension that had been building up for so long, along with the sharp thorn deep within his heart, seemed to soften and subside in that moment. He stopped thinking about the court's intrigues, stopped dwelling on his grievances with his father, and even temporarily set aside his imperial ambitions. He simply felt the weight on his shoulders, the warmth of his palms, and the heavy, fulfilling peace that filled his heart.
Wang Yi nestled against him, her gaze calmly fixed on the moonlight outside the window. She could feel the change in the man's aura beside her, a relaxation and dependence emanating from within. She knew she had once again struck her target precisely. It wasn't just physical closeness, but a deep emotional anchoring.
This time, it wasn't just that the "gene acquisition" plan could proceed smoothly. More importantly, she completely became the most special and indispensable part of Li Shimin's emotional world. This identification and dependence based on "Li Shimin himself" rather than "the emperor" would be far stronger than any bond based on interests or power.
The timing was finally perfect.
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