A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 10

The young man’s voice was soft and casual, as if he were discussing what he had eaten for his evening meal rather than the brutal tortures of the Ministry of Justice.

This time, Li Zhen did not pull away from Zhu Qinghou’s touch. Instead, he covered those slightly trembling fingers with his own hand, remaining silent, his thoughts impossible to discern.

Zhu Qinghou was suddenly reminded of an old matter—though it was hardly “old,” merely a fleeting thought that had crossed his mind last year while he sat alone in a narrow prison cell.

The embezzlement case had begun in October. For the nearly six months that followed, the entire Zhu clan had languished in prison, their confinement stretching through the New Year festivities.

During last year’s New Year, he wondered if Li Zhen, as a vassal king, had traveled to the capital to pay his respects to the Emperor.

He forced himself to stop dwelling on the past. He leaned his head gently against Li Zhen’s shoulder, tilting it slightly to watch the “floating wine cups” drifting along the water during the banquet.

Their intimacy was striking, a sight that left many onlookers amazed.

The guests exchanged glances, finding the scene surreal. However, Shang Qingyun, who was also in attendance, had his own suspicions. He surmised that in order to save his own skin, Zhu Qinghou must have revealed the location of the hidden silver to Prince Su, thereby winning the Prince’s favor.

Thinking of it this way, the Prince’s recent erratic behavior finally had an explanation…

In contrast to Zhu Qinghou’s relaxed ease and the hidden agendas of the other officials, the exiled scholars who had finally been allowed to sit felt as if they were sitting on needles. Even though Zhu Qinghou had intervened for them, no one initiated a conversation. They could do nothing but drink tea incessantly to mask their awkwardness.

From his seat of honor, Zhu Qinghou clearly observed the reactions of everyone at the feast. He leaned in and whispered to Li Zhen, “They’ve been wronged at your banquet. Shouldn’t you offer them a little consolation?”

Li Zhen had never known the meaning of “consolation,” but Zhu Qinghou’s intent was transparent. “You want to use my influence to support these people?”

“Xianpu, no one knows me better than you.” Zhu Qinghou didn’t feel the slightest bit of shame at being seen through. Instead, he smiled and summoned an attendant, whispering a few instructions.

The attendant looked hesitant. Seeing that the Prince said nothing an obvious sign of silent permission—he had no choice but to obey and depart.

Zhu Qinghou found the attendant rather amusing; the man was expressionless, wary, and awkward. Ever since his arrival, everyone in the Prince’s manor, from the highest official to the lowest servant, had treated him with that exact same attitude.

Zhu Qinghou idly played with the white silk ribbon hanging from Li Zhen’s temple, whispering to him in fits and starts.

A moment later, the attendant returned carrying a jade tray covered with a black cloth. Its contents were hidden, though the item appeared small.

The guests turned their heads one after another, speculating on what lay beneath the cloth and wondering who the Prince intended to bestow this gift upon.

The exiled officials paid little mind to it; whatever it was, it surely had nothing to do with them.

To their surprise, the attendant walked straight to them and placed the jade tray down. Stepping aside, he pulled back the black cloth to reveal a sliver of cold light—it was a short blade.

A blade from the Prince’s manor.

Prince Su was gifting them a weapon.

A stir went through the hall. Countless gazes crossed in the air, filled with suspicion and uncertainty.

Was the Prince protecting these exiled officials from Yejing? Protecting the remnants of the Zhu faction? How could that be?!

Then, the guests looked at the young man in purple leaning against their Prince’s shoulder, and they fell into deep thought.

It seemed. It wasentirely impossible?

The exiled officials were equally stunned. They stood up in unison, looking first at the blindfolded Prince leaning on his staff, then at Zhu Qinghou. After a moment of hesitation, one of them stepped forward to accept the blade. “We dare not refuse His Highness’s kindness. Our deepest thanks to the Prince.”

The short sword was made of ordinary cold iron, a common sight in Yongzhou. But because it came from the Prince’s manor and was gifted personally at a banquet, its significance was extraordinary.

It meant that from now on, they had a protector in Yongzhou.

For the sake of Prince Su’s reputation, no one would ever dare to bully them again.

Zhu Qinghou remained in his lazy posture, still leaning on Li Zhen. He casually winked at the official who was looking his way. The man, holding the blade in both hands, froze for a moment before lowering his head, not daring to look at him again.

“Who are you looking at?” Li Zhen’s cold voice sounded right against his ear. Zhu Qinghou replied languidly, “At you.”

It was strange; Li Zhen seemed to possess an uncannily sharp perception. Though he could not see, he was fully aware of Zhu Qinghou’s every little movement.

Zhu Qinghou thought of the parasite in his chest, and the smile on his face dimmed slightly.

“This humble official offers a toast to Your Highness,” Shang Qingyun, who had been silent until now, stood up and raised his tea cup. “The tribute for this season is nearly collected, all thanks to Your Highness’s assistance.”

In the Jin Dynasty, it was common practice for vassal kings and their subordinate officials to work hand-in-glove, lining their pockets until the silver piled up like snow.

But Yongzhou was different. Ever since Prince Su arrived, he had used a heavy hand to draw a line between them, forbidding them from crossing it by even a single step.

They had endured this for four long years, nearly reaching the point where they were ready to plot his downfall. Fortunately, the Prince had finally changed his tune and stopped interfering with them, saving them a great deal of trouble.

Li Zhen raised his cup slightly but said nothing. The guests were long accustomed to his taciturn and cold demeanor. Shang Qingyun tilted his head and drained his tea; the golden cup caught the glint of the candlelight as he finished.

The pavilion by the water, the golden cups, and the fragrant tea…

Everything was reflected shakily on the surface of the water. As the wind rose, the ripples shattered the shimmering light into a thousand pieces.

After the banquet ended.

Li Zhen went to his study to attend to administrative affairs while Zhu Qinghou walked out alone. As he strolled, a figure appeared before him.

“Brother Qinghou,” Shang Qingyun said with a faint smile. “I have taken very good care of those members of the Zhu family for you. I wonder if you might do me a small favor in return?”

Zhu Qinghou stopped and returned the smile. “Brother Qingyun, why don’t you tell me what it is?”

Predictably, Shang Qingyun was pressing for the location of the thirty million taels of silver.

Zhu Qinghou hesitated, his eyes darting away. He didn’t answer immediately, saying with apparent uncertainty, “I cannot say. If I do, the Prince will…”

A look of realization dawned on Shang Qingyun’s face. So, it was true—the Prince already knew the location of the silver. If he knew, why was he suddenly so desperate to collect wealth and even accepting gifts for the first time?

Could it be that he was preparing for a rainy day, making arrangements to secure that massive fortune for himself? Yes, only a fortune of that magnitude could move a man as stubborn and incorruptible as Prince Su.

The more Shang Qingyun thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. He wanted to press further, but Zhu Qinghou adopted a frightened expression and hurried into the light, quickly putting distance between them.

Once out of Shang Qingyun’s sight, the expression on Zhu Qinghou’s face vanished instantly. He began to softly hum the new poem Zhu Xueting had written.

Do not speak of titles and honors; only of this cup of wine in my decline.

Following the banquet at the manor, the tension in Yongzhou County grew even more palpable. Soldiers kicked open the doors of humble homes, turning shacks upside down and forcing the common people to their knees in the streets to beg for mercy.

“If it weren’t for the massive embezzlement by the Zhu family, the court wouldn’t have increased the taxes,” a soldier said with a look of feigned difficulty. “We wouldn’t have to come to your doors demanding payment. When all is said and done, it’s all the fault of that traitorous clan.” He paused, then added, “Fine, just take these cattle and sheep away.”

The air was filled with piercing wails as a tug-of-war ensued over a single lead rope.

“Let go!”

A minor official accompanying the group stepped forward and barked the command.

The soldier turned a furious glare toward the commoner. “Did you hear that?! Let go at once!”

“I was telling you to let go!”

The soldier looked up in confusion, seeing the official glaring at him. He then remembered that this man was merely a demoted scholar from the capital. Why should they listen to him?

Caring nothing for the man’s rank, the soldier pushed the official aside, kicked the commoner, and grabbed the animals to leave.

The surrounding crowd erupted in protest.

The official was shoved into the dirt, nearly cracking his head open. He scrambled up, his face bruised and covered in dust, and held the short blade high. His voice rang out with authority: “This is a dagger personally bestowed by Prince Su! Whoever dares to disobey me, I will use this blade to gut them!”

In the manor, Zhu Qinghou was tracing a finger over his heart, seemingly contemplating how to cut open the skin to remove the parasite within.

As if sensing his thoughts, the creature grew restless. He pressed a hand over his chest and whispered soothingly, “Good child, stop acting up.”

Zhu Xueting was nearby writing poetry. Hearing this, he looked up at Zhu Qinghou and quickly averted his gaze before he was noticed. When he looked back at his paper, the trail of ink had broken.

His train of thought was gone. He stared blankly for a while before giving up on the poem. He gestured to Zhu Qinghou: You are sending messages to them. There is no guarantee the Prince won’t find out. It is better to be careful.

Writing poetry required inspiration, so when he was bored, Zhu Qinghou would chat with Zhu Xueting. Since they used gestures, they didn’t have to worry about anyone eavesdropping.

Zhu Qinghou gave a lazy smile. “Are you so afraid of him finding out?” He leaned against the window, his features softened by the light. “Shouldn’t he feel honored to be used by me?”

After saying this, he looked up at Li Zhen, who was standing outside the hall. “Xianpu, wouldn’t you agree?”

Protecting the weak in the marketplace and leading the people against corrupt officials—Zhu Qinghou and those exiled scholars had put on quite a show together.

Li Zhen, who had been standing still outside the door for some time, finally moved. His long, black staff struck the soft carpet with a sound so faint it was almost non-existent.

Zhu Xueting stared at the Prince, mesmerized by the snowy-white blindfold and the dark staff. He finally snapped out of it as the man approached, hurriedly moving out of the way to reveal Zhu Qinghou behind him.

Zhu Qinghou remained reclined on the low couch. Instead of rising, he patted the spot next to him, signaling for Li Zhen to come over.

Li Zhen sat beside him, catching a faint scent of ink on the other man. His brow twitched slightly. “Get out,” he said to the room.

Zhu Xueting cast a worried glance at Zhu Qinghou before lowering his eyes and walking out.

Zhu Qinghou signaled to him that there was no need for concern. Once the door closed, he said softly, “Why are you taking it out on him? Technically, he is my cousin.”

Li Zhen said nothing, sitting in a silence that was impossible to read. As the silence stretched, a slight pain began to spread. Zhu Qinghou clutched his chest and leaned back, his dark hair spilling across the couch.

Despite the discomfort, he still managed a lazy, playful smile. “You really are a petty man.”

Li Zhen ran his hand over the curved hook of his black staff. He did not “look” at Zhu Qinghou, his voice calm and detached. “Do you intend to have those exiled officials take over their positions?”

The current officials were on the verge of being exposed. Once the group led by Shang Qingyun fell, many vacancies would naturally open up in Yongzhou.

“I don’t have that power right now,” Zhu Qinghou said, his smile fading as he remained lying on the couch. “That depends on them.”

He had given them the opportunity. If they proved to be useless, why should he bother supporting them?

Li Zhen understood the implication. He reached out, found the jade plaque around Zhu Qinghou’s neck, and used it to pull him upright. He asked warmly, “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Even in such a wretched state, the man was still using him and still deceiving him.

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