A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 2

When Zhu Qinghou woke up, he could hear the muffled sound of whispering from behind a screen. They were murmuring about a pulse being thin and weak or sunken and sluggish.

 The medical jargon left him in a haze of confusion.

He remained motionless, straining his ears to catch any further information, but the voices grew fainter until they vanished entirely.

The sound of footsteps approached, and a snowy-white hem came into view. Li Zhen stopped before the bed, the white silk ribbon covering his eyes fluttering slightly. “The Governor of Yongzhou has offered a massive reward. He wants me to hand you over.”

The Governor couldn’t fathom why the Prince of Su hadn’t agreed immediately. After all, the Prince and this son of a treacherous official shared a deep-seated grudge; it was because of Zhu Qinghou that Li Zhen had lost his sight. He should have hated him to the bone.

Torturing Zhu Qinghou to find the whereabouts of the lost silver seemed like a perfect plan. It would bring profit to the state and vent the Prince’s long-standing rage. The Governor assumed the only reason for the refusal was that the Prince wanted to keep the prisoner in the manor to torment him personally. He likely suspected the “sinner” hadn’t even survived the previous night.

Zhu Qinghou, who was very much alive, sat up and asked with a faint smile, Xianpu, why didn’t you hand me over?

If Li Zhen truly wanted to give him to the Governor or personally extract the location of the silver through torture, Zhu Qinghou wouldn’t be lying so comfortably on this couch right now.

There was no need, Li Zhen replied flatly. Do you want to see Zhu Liujun?

Zhu Liujun was the daughter of the late Chancellor Zhu, also known by her childhood name, Qingxi. She was Zhu Qinghou’s twin sister.

Threatening me with my family? That doesn’t seem like your style. Zhu Qinghou’s expression shifted. He feigned a look of sorrow and whispered, Is it because of me. That you no longer seem like yourself?

Li Zhen didn’t take the bait. Instead, he reached out and lightly traced the brand on the other man’s brow the mark of a criminal. It was a tattoo that ensured anyone who saw him would know he was a lowly slave.

Your words are always so moving, Li Zhen remarked, his voice devoid of emotion. But you are a man driven by profit, caring only for your own luxury and leisure.

Zhu Qinghou accepted the critique in silence. Under the heavens, who didn’t love wealth? Who didn’t crave a life of ease? But his current situation was dire. He had to find a way to survive under a Li Zhen who had become unpredictable and moody.

I genuinely want to tell you where the silver is. In all of the Great Jin, you are the only one I am willing to tell. Zhu Qinghou paused to catch his breath. The nine-thousand-mile journey into exile had exhausted him; he felt he needed years of sleep to recover. But, Xianpu, I am afraid of death.

He was terrified that the moment he told Li Zhen the secret, he would lose his only leverage and be killed instantly.

Li Zhen remained silent. The physician’s words echoed in his mind: Zhu Qinghou’s injuries were severe, and his constitution was frail. Between the dungeons of the Ministry of Justice and the grueling exile, Zhu Qinghou had become like a stalk of grass on the frontier—frozen by frost and ready to snap in the wind.

“If you don’t speak, you will simply die sooner,” Li Zhen said with eerie calm. “You survived the Ministry’s dungeons; perhaps you’d like to try the Jiantai of Yongzhou?”

Zhu Qinghou’s eyes widened. He recalled rumors of Yongzhou. Bordering the two Wei states, it was a strategic military outpost filled with fierce generals and ruthless enemies a land of wolves and tigers.

When Li Zhen, a blind prince who had just come of age, was sent here, everyone expected him to die. Some in the capital had even opened betting pools on how many years he would last. No one expected that in his first month, Li Zhen would personally oversee the construction of the Jiantai a terrifying earthen prison that had quickly become infamous for its brutal tortures.

Despite the fear, Zhu Qinghou kept his mouth shut. A truth told too easily is rarely believed. It wasn’t until he was actually taken to see the horrors of the Jiantai with his own eyes that he finally broke.

The Capital, Zhu Qinghou gasped  his voice trembling. My father hid all the silver in the capital, Yejing.

Yejing was the seat of power for the Jin Dynasty. A prince stationed in a fief was forbidden from leaving his post without an imperial decree, except for the New Year or the Emperor’s birthday. Since the New Year had passed and the Emperor’s birthday was six months away, it meant Li Zhen couldn’t verify the claim for at least half a year.

You are stalling for time, Li Zhen said calmly.

I am not lying to you. Zhu Qinghou instinctively leaned closer to him, shivering. The Jiantai of Yongzhou was far more terrifying than the dungeons back home.

Are you afraid? Li Zhen wanted to see the genuine emotion in the other’s eyes. He reached out to touch Zhu Qinghou’s eyelid, though he could not actually see the reaction.

Zhu Qinghou’s lashes fluttered nervously against Li Zhen’s palm. He felt a mix of fear and a strange, new sensation. His voice remained shaky as he tried to change the subject: This Jiantai… you really built this?

“Yes,” Li Zhen replied. There are many sounds here. I find them quite pleasant.

Sounds?

Zhu Qinghou listened for a moment. The realization of what those sounds were sent a bone-chilling shiver through him. He instinctively grabbed Li Zhen’s arm and leaned his entire body against him for protection.

Li Zhen stiffened for a fraction of a second. His fingers pressed against the soft skin of the man’s arm. He moved as if to push him away, but after a moment’s hesitation, he remained still.

On the way back, Zhu Qinghou stared out the window at the desolate landscape, his body still trembling slightly. He had an innate, visceral horror of bloody torture; the mere sound or smell of it made him shake. This fear wasn’t an act, and a lie told out of genuine terror is always more convincing. At the very least, Li Zhen seemed to believe him for now.

He had bought himself six months of time. Li Zhen wouldn’t kill him until the truth was verified.

“Xianpu,” Zhu Qinghou said softly, I want to see Liujun. Let me see her, just once, please?

Back in the capital, whenever Zhu Qinghou lowered his voice and made a request like that, no one could ever refuse him.

Li Zhen turned his head. Even behind the white ribbon, the outline of his features was sharp. Just as Zhu Qinghou began to doubt he would get an answer, Li Zhen simply said “Fine.”

The servants of the Su Manor blindfolded Zhu Qinghou with a silk scarf, clearly intending to keep his sister’s location a secret. He didn’t seem to mind; he even offered a gentle smile to the servant. The servant froze, looking away immediately, not daring to meet his gaze.

Being blindfolded was an unpleasant experience a world of pitch black where only a faint, hazy red glow hinted at the existence of light. Had Li Zhen lived like this for four years? A flicker of complex emotion crossed Zhu Qinghou’s mind, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

When the blindfold was removed, he saw Zhu Liujun through a screen. She looked like a lotus flower that had lost its color, pale and anxious. “Xiaoyu,” she whispered, The Prince… he didn’t hurt you, did he?

Xiaoyu Little Jade was Zhu Qinghou’s childhood name. Even in their current state, Liujun ignored formalities and called him by his nickname. Zhu Qinghou didn’t scold her this time. He stopped smiling and looked uncharacteristically serious as he lowered his voice. “Liujun, I will be fine. Just stay here for now. One day, I will take you away from here.”

Zhu Liujun fought back tears as she explained what had happened to her. After being paraded through the streets, she had been brought directly here. The servants brought her meals every day without fail, but they never spoke a single word to her.

Zhu Qinghou was deep in thought, about to give her more instructions, when the door was pushed open. He was blindfolded again and led away.

The path grew more secluded. The sound of running water grew louder, accompanied by the whistle of the wind through a pavilion and the clinking of ice in a stream.

Zhu Qinghou stopped walking. The Prince hasn’t killed me yet, he said softly but you intend to? Aren’t you afraid of offending him?

The Prince hates you; your death is only a matter of time, the man leading him hissed. 

Your family embezzled the taxes, and the court forced us commoners to pay it back. I am taking your life for justice. Do you accept that?

Only I know where the silver is hidden, Zhu Qinghou countered.  If you kill me, how will your Prince ever find it?

He quietly stepped back, his fingers hooking into the edge of his blindfold. The man hesitated. Zhu Qinghou continued, Once the Prince recovers the silver, he will surely distribute it among the people of Yongzhou first. That much money would bring prosperity to this region for years.

The man dithered, his mind wandering to the possibilities. It shouldn’t just be for Yongzhou. The taxes of the other prefectures must be repaid to the people as well.

Zhu Qinghou smiled. Of course.

The prisoner was beautiful and refined, his smile as radiant as pearls. But that beauty only made him more loathsome to the man; it was a reminder that this elegance was built upon the blood and sweat of the people.

The man’s tone turned cold and suspicious. Have you told the Prince the location yet?

Zhu Qinghou suddenly sensed danger. He ripped off his blindfold just as a powerful force slammed into the back of his head. He was shoved downward, his face plunged into the freezing water. The icy March lake water rushed into his nose and throat, making him choke and struggle for air.

Are you ready to talk now? A muffled cold voice asked from above the water.

“I’ll speak Zhu Qinghou gasped weakly, the words barely audible over the splashing.

The man grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up. Zhu Qinghou kept his eyes shut, his hands scrabbling in the water until they closed around a sharp shard of floating ice. With a desperate surge, he stabbed backward.

The assailant hadn’t expected a counterattack. He gasped in shock, clutching his bleeding arm with a look of pure hatred. “You traitorous filth!” He lunged forward again, pinning Zhu Qinghou’s head down with lethal intent, determined to drown him right there.

Zhu Qinghou, raised in luxury and weakened by torture and exile, was no match for the man’s strength. Just as he was about to go under again, the weight on his head suddenly vanished. He scrambled away, flipping over and gasping for air. Through his wet, tangled hair, he saw the man being dragged away like a dead dog, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. A pair of black embroidered boots appeared in his field of vision.

Li Zhen leaned down. “He was not sent by me.”

“I know,” Zhu Qinghou wheezed. He had swallowed too much icy water, and his chest burned with a piercing cold. He didn’t bother with etiquette, demanding sharply, “I want warm wine.”

The Su Manor was a dry house no wine was allowed, warm or otherwise.

Later, Zhu Qinghou lay on a couch, wrapped tightly in blankets like a silkworm in a cocoon. He held a cup of warm tea, sipping it with a dissatisfied frown. He wanted wine not the refined, fragrant brews of the capital, but any wine, as long as it was steaming hot and strong enough to burn his throat and thaw his frozen limbs.

He finished the tea and gave a lazy smile. Your manor is more dangerous than the Ministry’s dungeons.

Li Zhen replied with a meaningful tone, When you carry the weight of a nation’s resentment, where isn’t it dangerous?

Zhu Qinghou shot him a glare, surprised by the verbal jab. Since Li Zhen couldn’t see it anyway, he didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. “Was there really no one behind that man?”

No one, Li Zhen said flatly.

Resentment. The word circled in Zhu Qinghou’s mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp the weight of it. All he felt was the lingering sense of danger. So many people want me dead. Xianpu, you can’t just stand by and watch me die.

The young man’s voice was gentle and clear, carrying a hint of a smile that sounded somewhere between a plea and a flirtation.

Hearing that familiar tone, Li Zhen’s eyelashes trembled. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his eyes. He remained silent as Zhu Qinghou called out to him over and over, Xianpu.

In their youth, Li Zhen had always been unable to resist such persistence. To outsiders, he was cold and studious, but one look from Zhu Qinghou would make his ears turn red, and he would follow the other boy out to drink and listen to music, abandoning his duties.

I will save you, Li Zhen said softly, because you are only allowed to die by my hand.