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Wei Lan and her companions urged their horses forward, finally arriving at Kaifeng. Outside the city, Li Zicheng’s army loomed like dark storm clouds, and war was on the verge of breaking out. Fortunately, Huan Da’s quick thinking led them to a hidden waterway, allowing them to slip past the enemy undetected and enter the city undisturbed.
When Wei Lan rushed into the side chamber of the government office, she saw a man lying weakly on the bed, his eyes tightly shut and his breathing faint. At that moment, she snapped out of her daze—her exhaustion and fear crystallized into sharp clarity.
A middle-aged advisor, Zhao Shizhen, had been keeping watch by the bed. Upon seeing a disheveled, dust-covered “wild woman” barge in, he leaped to his feet in alarm. The soldiers escorting Wei Lan quickly stepped forward and reported, “Lord Zhao, this is the daughter of the Imperial Consort-General, Princess Gong.”
Zhao Shizhen was one of the few who knew about the connection between Liu Mingyi and Wei Lan. He explained at once, “Princess, do not worry. The arrowhead has been removed, and the bleeding has stopped. However, his fever has yet to subside.”
Wei Lan felt her vision darken, nearly collapsing at the bedside. Liu Mingyi lay there in his simple silk robe, his flushed cheeks making the pallor of his neck even more stark. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths, causing the bedding to tremble slightly.
With trembling hands, she touched his scorching forehead. The heat seared into her heart like a burning blade. Clenching her jaw, she unwrapped the bandages around his abdomen to check his wound. Though the edges were clean and well-treated, the persistent fever signaled an infection.
And at this moment, she had only one solution.
Liu Mingyi felt as if he were trapped in an eerie void. Before him stretched a long, unending dirt road, disappearing into the misty horizon. No sun, no moon, no stars—only an oppressive gray fog. The silence was suffocating; there was no wind, no chirping insects, not even the sound of his own breath.
He reached for his chest, where his heart should have been beating—but there was nothing.
This state was neither a dream nor reality. A creeping unease settled in. Am I on the brink of death?
On the battlefield, he had witnessed countless deaths and often pondered what awaited after life’s end.
Buddhism taught of reincarnation: the virtuous would return as humans, while the wicked fell into the realm of beasts. Taoism spoke of transcending mortality and achieving immortality. Confucianism emphasized honoring the dead as if they were still alive, preserving status and duty beyond death.
“Is this death?” He reached into the emptiness. As a physician, he had never feared death itself, yet an unbearable agony tore through his chest.
Wei Lan is still waiting for me. She must be waiting.
“Xiao Lan…”
As if responding to his thoughts, a faint sound broke through the silence. It grew clearer—soft sobbing, full of sorrow.
Wei Lan was crying.
She never cried. Always strong, always composed. Yet now, she was calling his name, voice choked with anguish.
Her cries were like knives piercing his soul.
“Lan… Lan… I’m here!” He ran toward the sound, and through the fog, he glimpsed a faint light.
Suddenly, his body felt heavy, pain ripped through his abdomen, and a groan escaped his lips. He opened his eyes.
Wei Lan, clutching his hand, shuddered. Seeing his eyelids flutter open, she hurriedly wiped her tears away with her sleeve, her voice quivering, “Mingyi-ge, you’re finally awake…”
Her red-rimmed eyes brimmed with relief and worry.
Liu Mingyi’s gaze fell upon her swollen eyes, then drifted down—he suddenly noticed the bloodstained bandages wrapped around her arm.
His voice was hoarse with alarm, “How did you get hurt?”
From the shadows, Huan Da stepped forward and blurted, “She did it for you! That penicillin had never been tested on a human before, so she experimented on herself first!”
Wei Lan shot Huan Da a sharp glare, signaling him to stop talking, but he had already spilled the truth.
Without hesitation, Liu Mingyi pulled Wei Lan into his arms, his grip tightening as he tried to examine her injury. She resisted, instead pressing her ear against his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heartbeat.
For days, she had been tense, running on nothing but willpower. Now, in his arms, she finally let herself relax—and drifted into a deep sleep.
From then on, Wei Lan became the most peculiar “maidservant” in the government office, never leaving Liu Mingyi’s side. The military had never seen the governor with a woman before, and even more astonishing was the fact that this “maid” attended military strategy meetings.
During discussions in the main hall, high-ranking officials, including the provincial governor and generals, sat in attendance, while Wei Lan remained behind a screen. When Liu Mingyi’s tea cooled, she poured him fresh hot water. When it was time for medicine, she personally brought it to him. The officers soon noticed that this “maid” dared to sit on the armrest of the governor’s chair, and what’s more—Liu Mingyi willingly made space for her.
Among the guards, rumors spread quickly: “That girl must be the future governor’s wife.”
Meanwhile, Kaifeng stood on the brink of collapse.
In May of the 15th year of Chongzhen (1642), Li Zicheng’s forces besieged the city for the third time. Kaifeng was a critical stronghold in central China, controlling the strategic passage between the Yellow River and the south. Conquering it would give Li Zicheng control over the region and sever Ming Dynasty supply lines.
The provincial governor pointed to the sand table, face clouded with worry. “The siege has lasted over three months. Our food supplies are nearly depleted.”
The military commissioner suddenly slammed the table. “Then let’s break the dike of the Yellow River! It will flood the enemy and destroy their farmlands—two birds with one stone!”
Several officials immediately agreed, nodding in approval.
But the Kaifeng magistrate stood abruptly, furious. “Unacceptable! There are hundreds of thousands of civilians inside the city. Breaking the dike would drown them all! That would be slaughtering our own people for survival—absolutely forbidden!”
The debate erupted into chaos. The pro-war faction, led by the military commissioner, insisted on flooding the enemy. The opposing faction, led by the magistrate, believed that reinforcements would come.
But in truth, no reinforcements were coming. The imperial army, controlled by regional warlords like Zuo Liangyu, refused to move. The emperor had no authority over them.
After the meeting, Wei Lan studied the sand table, her brows furrowed. “Would they really dare to flood the city?”
Liu Mingyi shook his head with a sigh. “Li Zicheng’s camp is on high ground. If they break the dike, Kaifeng will suffer first. As long as I’m here, I won’t let them do such a thing.”
He traced his fingers over the encircled city, his expression grim. “But the real problem is that we have only seven days’ worth of grain left.”
Wei Lan pondered. “Without reinforcements, how do we break the siege?”
Liu Mingyi’s eyes glinted with determination. “Our only option is to strike first and force Li Zicheng to retreat.”
He pointed at Zhuxian Town on the map. “The best strategy is a pincer attack, but without external reinforcements, we must rely on deception. I will dispatch elite troops disguised as Zuo Liangyu’s vanguard for a surprise night raid. At the same time, we spread rumors that ‘a hundred thousand reinforcements have arrived.’”
“A bluff!” Wei Lan’s eyes lit up.
Liu Mingyi nodded. “Meanwhile, our main force will circle behind the enemy and set fire to their supply depots. Once they lose their provisions, their morale will crumble.”
With no other options, the plan was set into motion.
By dawn, Li Zicheng, believing he was under siege from both inside and outside the city, ordered a full retreat. And just as he realized the deception, the real reinforcements finally arrived.
Kaifeng was saved.