A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 1

The thirty-second year of the Chongning era arrived with a thunderclap.

The powerful Zhu faction, which had long dominated the imperial court, finally collapsed following the exposure of their massive embezzlement of salt and iron taxes. Chancellor Zhu was sentenced to death by a thousand cuts, and the entire Zhu clan was branded and exiled to the desolate frontiers of Yongzhou.

It was the height of winter in the borderlands.

The prison carriage rolled over frosted weeds, its wheels creaking rhythmically. Inside, a young and strikingly beautiful prisoner curled into a tight ball against the biting cold.

The escorting guard tapped on the iron bars and whispered a warning, “Once we enter the city, there will be a routine parade through the streets. You…” The guard caught the prisoner’s opening eyes and suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He lowered his gaze and muttered, “I’ll find a way to hide you toward the back.”

Zhu Qinghou was the son of the former Chancellor a “little traitor” raised in the lap of luxury. By law, he should have been placed at the very front of the procession to face the full brunt of the people’s fury.

But his face was simply too beautiful.

Looking at him, it was hard for anyone to find the heart to pelt him with rotten vegetables or foul eggs.

Zhu Qinghou gave the guard a faint smile, his voice weak yet gentle. “I don’t want to make things difficult for you. Put me at the front.” He laughed softly, with an air of casual indifference. “After all, the people have been waiting to see me.”

The guard opened his mouth to protest, but stayed silent. It wasn’t just that they wanted to see him; the commoners wanted to tear the Zhu family limb from limb. They wanted to drown him in their collective spit.

The guard wanted to show him mercy, but orders had come from the highest levels. They had no choice but to obey.

Ultimately, Zhu Qinghou’s carriage was placed at the head of the line.

As the carriage approached the city gates, Zhu Qinghou used his fingers as a comb, slowly smoothing his raven-black hair until it draped over his waist in messy silken waves.

He bit his fingertip and smeared a drop of blood onto his pale, cracked lips, then rubbed the remaining color onto his cheeks to create a thin, deceptive flush of health.

The towering gates groaned open. From the watchtowers, the balconies, and the crowded streets, a thousand gazes filled with hatred and complexity fell upon the beautiful prisoner.

Under the bright daylight, Zhu Qinghou sat quietly in his cage, barefoot and draped in thin red prison robes. With his disheveled hair and elegant features, the red brand on his forehead looked less like a mark of shame and more like a beauty mark on a bodhisattva.

Unlike the other prisoners who hung their heads in shame, he kept his chin high, looking back at the imposing border fortress and the sea of disgusted faces with an air of mild curiosity.

“Mother, he’s so pretty,” a child on the roadside whispered innocently.

The mother quickly covered the child’s mouth. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Zhu Qinghou heard them and turned to offer a smile. The woman froze, hurriedly averting her eyes.

For a moment, Yongzhou fell into a stunned silence at the sight of the traitor’s son. Then, the uproar began.

“Traitor! Filthy rat!”

“Thirty million taels of silver! Ten years of national taxes! The Zhu faction is a plague upon the world; death by a thousand cuts is too good for him!”

“Despicable! Base! He should be executed a thousand times over!”

Stones, rotten fruit, and vegetable scraps began to rain down like a storm.

The escorting guards frowned. At this rate, the man would be beaten to death before they reached the end of the street. It wouldn’t be the first time a traitor had been killed by a mob.

However, according to the law, they were not allowed to intervene.

Zhu Qinghou picked up a slimy, rotten apricot that had landed in his cage. He wiped it against his dark red sleeve and slowly began to eat it.

A sharp stone struck his brow, drawing blood. He calmly spat out the apricot pit and wiped the blood away, leaving a crimson streak at the corner of his eye. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly: “If I die, no one will ever know where those thirty million taels are hidden.”

Thirty million taels of silver.

It was enough to fill the entire city of Yongzhou to the brim.

With that one sentence, the city fell abruptly silent.

In the stillness, Zhu Qinghou laughed softly a sound that was arrogant and entirely unrestrained.

Once the official distribution of prisoners began, he expected there would be many people eager to buy a slave who held such a secret.

After the parade ended, the members of the Zhu family were put on display for selection. Zhu Qinghou tried to look out, but before he could see anything, a heavy black cloth was thrown over his cage, plunging him into isolation.

Feeling the thick fabric block out every ray of light, Zhu Qinghou felt a flicker of surprise. No one else had received this “special treatment.” Why was he being hidden?

He reached out to lift the cloth, but the bars were suddenly struck by something hard. A completely unfamiliar voice one that didn’t belong to the original guards snarled.

 “Don’t move.”

Zhu Qinghou withdrew his hand and fell silent.

The men outside assumed he was terrified. They thought this pampered little traitor was finally showing his true colors; he had been bold enough during the parade, but now he was likely weeping in the dark.

In reality, inside the darkened cage, Zhu Qinghou had simply found a comfortable corner. As the carriage began to move, he leaned his head against his hand and began to doze off.

He had spent the entire journey laying the groundwork. The rumor that he alone knew the location of the missing millions had spread far and wide, and his fearless display during the parade would only solidify that belief.

It was almost poetic. The very crime his family had been framed for was now serving as his ultimate life-saving charm.

Thirty million taels. Though he had grown up surrounded by wealth, even he had never seen that much money. The officials in the Ministry of Justice were certainly bold to invent such a staggering figure.

After an unknown amount of time, the carriage finally came to a halt. It felt as though they had entered a heavily fortified courtyard.

The unfamiliar voice spoke again: “Your Highness, it took some time to travel from the capital to Yongzhou, but we have delivered the man as requested.”

Who is it?

Someone had gone to the trouble of tracking him across nine thousand miles of exile.

Several names flashed through Zhu Qinghou’s mind before he dismissed them. None of those people should be in Yongzhou.

Before he could think further, the black cloth was ripped away. The sky was pitch black, but the courtyard was filled with the blinding, flickering light of torches.

Zhu Qinghou’s eyelashes fluttered as he squinted at the figure before him. His gaze traveled upward: from the snow-white hem of a robe to a dark silk sash, then to a slender black cane, and finally to the white silk ribbon tied over the man’s eyes.

It was Li Zhen, Prince Su of Yongzhou.

The man who, in the eyes of the world, had been blinded as a youth because of Zhu Qinghou. His ultimate arch-nemesis.

After all these years, Li Zhen hadn’t changed; he was still as possessive as ever, sending men to stalk him all the way from the capital.

Zhu Qinghou grumbled inwardly as he looked Li Zhen up and down.

Even though Li Zhen’s eyes were covered, Zhu Qinghou could feel the weight of his gaze. Compared to the last time they had met years ago at Consort Cui’s funeral, Li Zhen had shed every last bit of boyish softness. He was now a man of cold, hard strength—towering, dignified, and terrifyingly composed.

Nearby, the Prince’s soldiers were taken aback. This prisoner, a mere slave, wasn’t begging for mercy; instead, he was staring at their master with utter audacity.

In fact, when the cloth was pulled back, he looked like he had been having a pleasant nap.

Prince Su stood tall, his eyes veiled, waiting to savor the sight of his enemy’s pathetic state.

A moment later, Zhu Qinghou closed his eyes and prepared to go back to sleep.

This blatant lack of fear was infuriating. Li Zhen heard the prisoner’s calm, sleepy breathing and let out a short, cold laugh. He gestured for his men to open the cage and drag him out.

Zhu Qinghou was forced into a half-kneeling position at Li Zhen’s feet. With his loose hair and bare feet, he looked like a lazy, pampered cat.

Li Zhen reached out. He touched Zhu Qinghou’s face, tracing the features that had matured into something even more devastatingly handsome. His fingertips brushed against the prisoner’s thin eyelids. “You aren’t going to beg for mercy?” Li Zhen asked softly.

Zhu Qinghou leaned into the touch, using the movement to slip away from the guards holding his arms. 

If I don’t beg, He countered, “Are you actually going to kill me?”

Li Zhen’s hand stilled.

The soldiers were stunned. This man was clearly at their mercy, yet he spoke as if he held all the cards, certain that his life was not in danger.

It was pure arrogance.

Li Zhen moved again. His fingers slid down to Zhu Qinghou’s throat, pressing against the pulsing vein. He slowly tightened his grip, forcing Zhu Qinghou to tilt his head back until his neck was a taut line and his heart began to race.

“Do you still think I won’t kill you?” Li Zhen’s voice was as cold and smooth as jade.

A cold shiver ran down Zhu Qinghou’s spine. His chest heaved as he reached up, grabbing Li Zhen’s fingers in an attempt to pry them away, but he couldn’t budge them.

This blind man is incredibly strong, he thought. Could he really be willing to kill me?

Zhu Qinghou looked at the face so close to his own. He suddenly reached upward as if to touch Li Zhen’s face, but the Prince let go of him abruptly.

Zhu Qinghou fell back onto the ground, clutching his throat and gasping for air.

 “Do you hate me because you still remember what happened back then?”

A glint of cunning flashed in his eyes. In a heartbeat, he had crafted a story.

After a moment of silence, he spoke in a dying, fragile voice. There was no trace of a will to survive only a sense of suppressed, agonizing love.

I was only eighteen then. young and foolish. Because I loved you, I couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at anyone else. That is why I made such a terrible mistake.

He gave a tragic, broken laugh. “To die at your hands now… I have no regrets.”

The courtyard fell into a deathly silence.

Prince Su listened without expression. He leaned on his cane and bent down, his hand searching until he found Zhu Qinghou’s sweat-soaked hair. He brushed it aside to touch the brand on his forehead, his voice turning soft and eerily twisted.

If you feel such a way toward me, how could I have the heart to let you die so easily?

His fingers accidentally brushed the wound on Zhu Qinghou’s brow. It was still wet and unhealed, smelling faintly of copper.

Sensing Li Zhen’s hesitation, Zhu Qinghou let out a small whine. “It hurts… everything hurts.” He paused, then asked, “Where is Qingxi?”

In the entire Zhu family, the only ones who hadn’t made an enemy of Li Zhen were his mother and his sister, Zhu Liujun Qingxi.

He had planned everything out. Once he reached Yongzhou, he would use the “thirty million taels” as a shield to keep them all alive. He hadn’t expected the unpredictable Li Zhen to intercept him.

For the first time, a shadow of genuine fear crossed his mind. His plans were in ruins, and now his sister’s life was tied to Li Zhen’s whims.

But Li Zhen offered no answer. He withdrew his hand, took up his cane, and turned to walk away without a second glance.

It was as if he had only come to satisfy a fleeting curiosity.

Zhu Qinghou watched his retreating back with a flash of anger. He moved to follow, but the soldiers blocked his path.

What exactly was Li Zhen thinking? Why bring him to the Prince’s manor just to lock him up? Was this some kind of game?

Zhu Qinghou pondered this as he applied ointment to his wounds, hissing at the sting. He was currently confined to a side hall of the manor. It wasn’t large, but it was heavily guarded, both openly and from the shadows, making it impossible for him to gather any news from the outside.

Once he finished tending to his injuries, he stood up and walked toward the door.

After so many years apart, how could he remain indifferent in this courtyard after finally seeing the man he loved?

At the closed red doors, a guard with a sword across his chest glanced at him. “The Prince has ordered that you are not to take a single step outside.”

Zhu Qinghou lowered his gaze, his voice thick with sorrow. He won’t let me out, yet he won’t come to see me. What does he want? The raw grief in his voice was enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

The guard’s lip twitched. Did this traitor really love the Prince that much? Like hell he did.

The guard remained silent and refused to budge.

Zhu Qinghou was about to say more when his body suddenly swayed. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor.

Inside a nearby hall, a porcelain cup fell, shattering on the ground and spilling tea everywhere.

The Governor of Yongzhou scrambled to pick up the pieces, offering a nervous smile. “Broken pieces bring peace, and flowing water brings wealth.” He gathered the shards and said casually, “Your Highness, in this bitter winter, even the Wei River has frozen over. Life is hard for the people of Yongzhou. The Zhu faction stole millions; if we can squeeze the truth out of that boy, it would be a great service to the people.”

Prince Su sat in his chair, his expression unreadable. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

The Governor felt his skin crawl, but he pressed on boldly. “Why not hand the prisoner over to me? I guarantee I can find the location of those thirty million taels. Once we report it to the capital and replenish the treasury, it will be a monumental achievement for you, Your Highness.”

The Ministry of Justice in the capital hadn’t been able to get the truth, but perhaps they just hadn’t been cruel enough. After all, the traitor’s son looked perfectly fine; his limbs were intact and his face was unmarred.