Hongzhi Year 18, Third Month.
The wind in Beijing was whipping up sand that stung the face.
I squatted in the courtyard of the Eastern Palace, clutching a broom and staring blankly at a carpet of locust tree leaves.
It had been three days since I transmigrated.
Three days ago, I was a nursing graduate student at Khon Kaen University in Thailand, holed up in my dorm tweaking the discussion section of my thesis—a systematic review on "Digital Health Interventions for Postpartum Depression." My supervisor had nagged me a thousand times about it. My desk still had a copy of Orthopedic Nursing brought from back home, dog-eared at the chapter on fracture reduction.
Then I woke up, and I was lying in this scrawny body, transformed into a lowly palace maid named "Jiang Li" in the Eastern Palace of the Ming Dynasty's Hongzhi era.
My monthly wage was three hundred copper coins. My job was sweeping the yard and occasionally helping in the kitchen.
I didn't even have a nurse's uniform.
"Sigh." I sighed, dragging the broom across the ground. "My meta-analysis isn't even finished yet..."
Just as I was wallowing in self-pity, a rustling sound suddenly came from above.
I looked up—
A figure in bright yellow was perched on the branches of the old locust tree in the center of the yard. The branch was bent dangerously low, teetering on the edge of collapse. The teenager was clutching the trunk with one hand and frantically digging into a magpie's nest near the top with the other, chattering excitedly, "Don't run, don't run—"
His voice carried that distinct, reckless energy of youth.
Bright yellow—only the imperial family could wear it. In the Eastern Palace, there was only one person who wore bright yellow.
This was the Crown Prince, Zhu Houzhao.
When I was studying at Peking University Health Science Center (North Med), I took an elective in Medical History. The professor mentioned Ming Wuzong Zhu Houzhao while lecturing on ancient Chinese medical systems—the most restless emperor in history, loved playing around, and eventually played himself to death.
Judging by the looks of it, the signs were obvious even when he was young.
"Your Highness! Your Highness, please come down!" A group of eunuchs and maids stood under the tree, craning their necks and shouting, stomping their feet in anxiety, but not a single one dared to climb up.
I set the broom down and looked up, carefully assessing the angle and load-bearing status of that branch.
No good. The toughness of the wood and the cracks in the bark showed it wouldn't hold much longer.
During my rotation in the Emergency Department at the North Med Affiliated Hospital, my attending physician said one thing: Falls from height are the most treacherous type of trauma. Assessing the environment is priority number one.
I opened my mouth to shout—
Snap—
A crisp, cracking sound.
The branch broke cleanly.
The figure in bright yellow, wrapped in broken twigs and leaves, plummeted straight down from over ten chi (approx. 3 meters) high. Below was nothing but blue brick pavement, no cushioning.
"Your Highness—!"
A chorus of screams erupted.
My brain entered a strangely calm state in that split second. I was very familiar with this calmness—it was the instinctive reaction of an ER nurse facing a sudden crisis. In teaching hospitals in Thailand, I had followed cases of car accidents, drownings, and cardiac arrests. The first principle my teachers taught was: Assess, then act.
I quickly scanned the scene: Fall height over three meters, head-first trajectory, no obstacles at the landing zone.
Before the sound of Zhu Houzhao hitting the ground had even dissipated, I was already running over and crouching down.
He lay face down on the blue bricks, motionless.
"Your Highness! Your Highness!" The eunuchs and maids tried to rush forward, but I blocked them with an arm, my voice sounding harder than I expected: "Don't touch him! Don't move him!"
Everyone froze.
I didn't have time to explain. I crouched down near Zhu Houzhao's ear. "Your Highness, can you hear me?"
No reaction.
I gently patted his shoulder, with moderate force. "Your Highness."
Zhu Houzhao groaned and moved slightly.
I breathed a sigh of relief internally—there was a reaction, no loss of consciousness. Probably no severe traumatic brain injury.
"Your Highness, don't move. Slowly turn over, let me take a look."
He slowly rolled over. His face was pale, covered in cold sweat. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle, with an obvious deformity in the middle of the forearm.
My fingers twitched involuntarily.
Bilateral radius and ulna fracture. Displaced type.
I had seen this kind of fracture in the ER at North Med Affiliated Hospital, and I had seen it in the teaching hospital in Thailand—Thai kids loved climbing trees too.
"Your Highness, your hand..." Liu Jin, his personal eunuch, leaned in, his voice trembling.
Zhu Houzhao looked down at his right arm, his face turning a few shades paler. That section of forearm was already swelling slightly.
"Summon the Imperial Physicians! Hurry and summon the Imperial Physicians!" Liu Jin shrieked.
I squatted nearby, not moving, my gaze fixed on Zhu Houzhao's right arm. The fracture was closed, no open wounds, no obvious signs of vascular or nerve damage. If reduced now, the timing was perfect. If we waited, the swelling would worsen, making reduction much harder.
But I didn't have the final say. I was just a maid who swept the floor.
The Imperial Physicians arrived very quickly. Or rather, they came rolling and crawling.
An elderly imperial physician with white hair rushed into the courtyard clutching a medicine box, followed by four or five middle-aged physicians, all panting heavily, their official hats askew. When they saw Zhu Houzhao's arm, their faces looked worse and worse.
"Your Highness, we... we..."
The old physician gently touched Zhu Houzhao's forearm. Before he even reached the fracture site, Zhu Houzhao hissed, his face scrunching up.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!"
The old physician's hand retracted as if burned, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"This injury of Your Highness... the bone is misaligned, it requires orthopedic reduction. However..." The old physician hesitated, "The reduction process is excruciatingly painful. We are afraid Your Highness cannot endure it..."
"I can endure it!" Zhu Houzhao glared. "Just get on with it!"
The physicians looked at each other, then lowered their heads again.
I knew what they were thinking—this was the Crown Prince.
"Our medical skills are inadequate.不如 we wait for the Director of the Imperial Hospital to arrive before..."
"Wait for what!" Zhu Houzhao was so angry his face turned red. The fourteen-year-old's voice had lost its childishness, but his temper hadn't shrunk. "My arm is practically broken and you still want to wait!"
I stood outside the crowd, gripping the broom handle tightly.
My palms were sweating.
Not from fear, but from anxiety.
I could tell the old physician's technique was wrong—that grip he used earlier, the direction of force was incorrect. If he really pulled hard like that, he would only aggravate the soft tissue damage.
And I knew I could do it. In the ER at North Med Affiliated Hospital, I had practiced forearm fracture reduction techniques with orthopedic teachers no less than twenty times. In Khon Kaen University Hospital, the Thai teachers taught me hand-in-hand, saying my technique was steadier than most Thai students.
But I didn't dare speak up.
A sweeping maid saying she knew how to set bones?
Who would believe that if I said it? If anything went wrong, it wouldn't be as simple as having my thesis rejected by my supervisor—it would be a capital offense.
Over there, the physicians were still shuffling responsibilities. The old physician bit the bullet and stepped up, gripping Zhu Houzhao's forearm with both hands. Just as he was about to exert force—
"Waaaaah, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Let go!" Zhu Houzhao kicked out.
The old physician stumbled back from the kick, falling to the ground with his medicine box, his hat askew to the side.
Zhu Houzhao gasped in pain, his eyes reddening, but he stubbornly refused to shed a single tear.
I don't know why, but seeing him like that, something moved in my heart.
Fourteen years old. In modern times, that's just a middle schooler. Climbed a tree, broke his arm, in this much pain but still holding it together.
I took a deep breath.
The broom handle left a red mark in my palm.
Forget it.
At worst, I'd get kicked out. Better than watching his arm get ruined right in front of my eyes.
I took a step forward.
"Your Highness, this lowly servant knows how to set bones."
My voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet courtyard.
Everyone turned to look at me in unison—a sweeping maid in a drab gray skirt, hands stained with mud, a hole worn in the knee of her pants.
Zhu Houzhao was also stunned, tilting his head to size me up. Even while sweating from pain, he didn't forget to act the part: "Where are you from?"
I fell silent for a second.
I couldn't exactly say I was from Thailand, right? That would be even more complicated to explain.
"Replying to Your Highness, this servant is from... very far south." I chose my words carefully. "Back in my hometown, I studied some bone-setting techniques under a village doctor."
"Studied some?" Zhu Houzhao was skeptical, his fourteen-year-old voice trying to sound mature and arrogant. "Do you know that if you mess up my arm, it's a death sentence?"
I looked at him, my tone as calm as answering a teacher's question in a classroom at Khon Kaen:
"If Your Highness lets those Imperial Physicians keep messing around, I'm afraid this arm will be ruined on its own before I even touch it."
Silence fell over the scene.
The faces of the several Imperial Physicians turned green and white in turns. Their lips trembled, wanting to say something, but they felt like... she had a point?
Zhu Houzhao looked down at his arm, which was swelling more and more, then looked up at the shivering physicians, and finally landed his gaze on me.
"What is your name?"
"Jiang Li."
"Jiang Li," Zhu Houzhao took a deep breath, thrust his right arm forward, and lifted his chin. "You do it."
"Your Highness, this is impermissible!" Liu Jin cried out shrilly. "A sweeping maid, how can she—"
"Shut up." Zhu Houzhao glared at him, then looked at me, his tone carrying a hint of petulance. "Anyway, they can't fix it. Let her try."
I didn't say another word. I walked up to him and squatted down.
Wash hands first. I asked the eunuchs to bring a basin of clean water and scrubbed thoroughly with soap nuts twice. The Imperial Physicians watched my routine, looking even more confused—how did this maid's hand-washing technique look more particular than theirs?
After washing, I gently supported Zhu Houzhao's forearm.
When my fingers touched the swollen area, I clearly felt his body tense up. But I didn't rush. I used my fingertips to gently palpate several points—proximal, distal, radial artery pulse, skin temperature, capillary refill time.
Assessment complete. Mid-shaft double fracture of ulna and radius, overlapping displacement, no vascular or nerve damage.
"Your Highness, this servant needs to align the bones first. It might hurt a bit." My voice was very calm. "If you can't take it, you can scream."
"I won't scream—"
My fingers pressed onto the site of the displaced fracture, applying gentle pressure.
"Hiss—! Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!"
Zhu Houzhao's voice instantly pitched up an octave, tears almost bursting out.
I remained expressionless and continued the palpation. After confirming the fracture type and displacement direction, I knew what to do.
"Your Highness, I need two people to hold your shoulder and upper arm. Do not move." I looked back at the surrounding eunuchs. "In a moment, no matter how much it hurts, do not struggle. The more you struggle, the harder it is to align the bones, and the longer the pain will last."
Zhu Houzhao gasped in pain but nodded. "Okay."
Two strong eunuchs were called over to hold his shoulder and left upper arm on either side.
I took a deep breath, gripping his right wrist and the distal end of his forearm with both hands.
Traction.
I slowly exerted force, pulling steadily along the longitudinal axis of the forearm. The resistance of the muscles transmitted through my fingertips. I slowly increased the force until the fracture ends were distracted from their overlapping displacement.
Zhu Houzhao gritted his teeth, not making a sound, but the veins on his neck bulged, and his face turned red from holding his breath.
Next was correcting the lateral displacement. I used my thumbs and index fingers to press on the fracture ends of the ulna and radius respectively, coordinating with the traction force to gently adjust the alignment direction.
That subtle click sensation transmitted through my fingertips.
Success.
From start to finish, the reduction took about thirty seconds.
I let go, rummaged a few splints out of the nearby medicine box. Although the Imperial Hospital's splints weren't as good as modern polymer casts, the basic structure was similar. I deftly used cotton strips as lining, fixed the splints onto Zhu Houzhao's forearm, adjusting the tightness so that one finger could fit underneath.
"Done." I clapped my hands and stood up.
The scene was dead silent.
Zhu Houzhao panted heavily, sweat covering his forehead, looking like he had just come out of the water. But he looked down at his arm—the terrible deformed angle was gone, the forearm had returned to its normal shape.
And, the pain had lessened by half.
He blinked, looked up at me, and there was something more in his eyes—not trust, but rather curiosity.
The old physician trembled as he approached, feeling the position of the splint fixation, then carefully examining the shape of the arm after reduction. The expression on his face turned from shock to disbelief.
"This... this reduction technique..." he stammered. "Such steady and precise technique, I have rarely seen it in forty years of practice. Young lady, may I ask who your teacher was?"
I fell silent.
I couldn't exactly say my teachers were from the ER at North Med Affiliated Hospital and P'Nam from Khon Kaen University Hospital, right?
"...A country bumpkin doctor, not worth mentioning." I mumbled vaguely.
Zhu Houzhao sat in the chair, looked down at his arm which was now neatly fixed with splints, and then looked up at me.
"Jiang Li." He called me.
"This servant is here."
"From today on, you don't have to sweep the floor anymore."
His tone carried a distinct teenage arbitrariness, but his eyes were serious:
"You stay by my side."
I opened my mouth, wanting to say something—like "Your Highness, you'd better not get injured again."
But Zhu Houzhao didn't give me the chance. He looked down at his arm and suddenly muttered:
"Pretty effective."
His voice was soft, like he was talking to himself.
Then he looked up at me and added: "If I get injured again in the future, I'll find you."
It wasn't trust. It was thinking I was "useful."
I looked at him and suddenly wanted to laugh.
The fourteen-year-old Crown Prince, the future Son of Heaven of the Great Ming Empire, was looking at me with the same expression as the half-grown kids I met in the Thai ER—thinking this nurse didn't hurt when giving shots, so I'll find her next time.
"Your Highness," I couldn't help but say it, "You'd better not get injured again."
Zhu Houzhao paused.
Then he smiled, revealing two little tiger teeth, full of youthful spirit. That arrogance vanished instantly, revealing the look a fourteen-year-old boy should have.
"Alright," he said. "I'll try."
I lowered my head, hiding my fingers behind my back.
I had used too much force during the reduction, and now my fingers were trembling slightly.
Not because I was scared. It was because after the adrenaline tide receded, my body finally remembered—I had just set the arm of the Crown Prince.
(End of Chapter 1)