A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 24

“Ready?” Zhu Qinghou tilted his head, a look of doubt in his dark eyes. What kind of preparation could this girl, Zhu Liujun, have possibly made?

Zhu Liujun scanned their surroundings as if terrified of being discovered. She leaned in and whispered, “I’ve asked around. On the Shangsi Festival, everyone goes to the water for the spring outing. The guard at the manor will be lax then; we can take the opportunity to escape.”

The Shangsi Festival was a time-honored tradition for purification rituals by the water and excursions into the countryside. He hadn’t expected the custom to be popular in Yongzhou as well.

Zhu Qinghou leaned back lazily against a brocade stool. “Let’s hold off on running away for now.”

Zhu Liujun’s eyes widened in anxiety. “Xiao Yu, if you keep staying at the Prince’s manor, won’t he bully you?” Her urgency, at its core, stemmed entirely from her worry over his safety.

After all, times had changed. The Prince of Su was no longer the gentle, quiet Fourth Prince of the past. He was now a fierce and violent young vassal, a “Yama” guarding the border, and a temperamental blind man. What if the Prince took a disliking to Xiao Yu and decided on “an eye for an eye,” making Xiao Yu blind as well?

The mere thought had Zhu Liujun on the verge of tears.

“Sit down,” Zhu Qinghou said lightly. Zhu Liujun immediately sat beside him obediently, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she stared at him in silence.

Facing his simple-minded younger sister, Zhu Qinghou explained patiently, “Escape?” He shook his head. “If we run, what will we eat? What will we use?”

While there were countless people in the world he could manipulate for his own ends, the unpredictable twists and turns of such a life were too much trouble. He couldn’t be bothered.

Looking at it purely from a practical standpoint, Li Zhen was currently the most powerful man available. He looked tough, but his heart was soft—like a tiger made of dough, or a whole Lion-King Chongyang cake.

Zhu Qinghou leaned back nonchalantly, looking at the bewildered Zhu Liujun. “Just wait peacefully for your brother to take you back to Yejing in glory.”

At the mention of Yejing, a tear escaped Zhu Liujun’s lashes. She muttered gloomily, “I want to personally settle scores with the Xiao family of Lanling.”

Hearing the name of the Lanling Xiao family, Zhu Qinghou’s eyes narrowed, a faint chill flickering within them.

Xiao You, the head of the Xiao family, was the Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate. His son, Xiao Shengjue, had once been Zhu Liujun’s fiancé. Before the Zhu family fell, the Xiao family had scrambled to flatter them. Xiao Shengjue had played the part of the devoted lover, claiming he would do anything for Liujun even die.

At the time, seeing the man treat his sister well, noting his handsome appearance and his background in a prestigious, scholarly family, and seeing that Liujun loved him, Zhu Qinghou had reluctantly nodded his approval and called him “brother-in-law.”

Who could have guessed that the Lanling Xiao family would be the first to turn their blades against the Zhu clan? Xiao Shengjue had even had the audacity to say he was willing to “overlook the past” and take his sister in as a concubine.

Zhu Qinghou suppressed the coldness in his eyes and gently patted Zhu Liujun’s head. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them off easily.”

As for the Shangsi Festival in a few days, he did indeed want to take her out to see the world. Granted, the Prince’s manor was currently the safest place, but he didn’t want her moping inside forever, unable to move past her trauma.

“You want to go out for a spring outing?”

Li Zhen sat by the window, stroking a scroll, his figure bathed in the warm, morning light.

“Xianpu, won’t you agree?” Zhu Qinghou stood by the window, leaning against the frame. The wind tossed his hair and the purple silk ribbons of his robe.

Li Zhen couldn’t see him, but he could feel the faint movement of the air—light and ethereal, carrying the subtle scent of night-blooming cereus. He didn’t look up, offering only a calm assessment: “If you go out now, you will die.”

The people of Yongzhou, and indeed the entire Jin Dynasty, loathed Zhu Qinghou. If his identity were revealed in public, he would face unimaginable hostility.

Zhu Qinghou moved, walking toward Li Zhen. He rested one hand on the desk and said nonchalantly, “Xianpu, would you really let me die?”

Didn’t Li Zhen say before that if he were to die, it could only be at his hands? Had he changed his mind in just a few days?

Li Zhen lowered his eyelashes, the white silk band looking translucent in the sunlight. He did not respond.

How boring. He won’t even bicker with me anymore.

Seeing he wouldn’t get a rise out of the Prince, Zhu Qinghou stretched and let out a long sigh. “Staying in this manor is so dull. I can’t go here, I can’t go there. If I’d known, I would have just cleared off to someone else’s”

Before he could finish, the young Prince looked up and gave him a measured, heavy look. It was cold and detached, but it was enough to make Zhu Qinghou go silent instantly.

He hadn’t forgotten the last time Li Zhen told him to “get out.” In his life as a handsome, charismatic nobleman, even those who cursed him did so with poetic flair and flowery prose. No one had ever told him to “get out” with such blunt simplicity.

Zhu Qinghou grumbled inwardly, pondering how to get Li Zhen to agree to the outing with Liujun.

“Do you truly wish to go?”

Li Zhen gazed toward him and suddenly smiled.

Zhu Qinghou didn’t understand the source of the smile, but he nodded instinctively, acting the part of the charming subordinate. “I’ll go out quietly. I’ll wear a veiled hat (mili) so no one recognizes me.”

In the past, his outings were grand affairs, surrounded by crowds and as flashy as could be. Just as he was thinking of how to persuade him further, Li Zhen nodded calmly. “Very well.”

That easy?

Zhu Qinghou felt a prickle of suspicion but didn’t dwell on it.

The wind blew across the plains, whistling through the white veil of Zhu Qinghou’s hat. He quickly pulled his head back into the carriage, thinking the winds of the grassland were far too fierce.

Sitting across from him, Zhu Liujun was fearless. She poked her head out with excitement. “Xiao Yu, look! So many sheep and cattle!”

She turned back to point them out to him, but her gaze landed on Li Zhen sitting beside him. She immediately fell silent, not daring to breathe loudly.

The grassland sky was boundless, the earth rich and yellow, and the grass a lush green. A patch of white moved slowly across the land—grazing livestock.

Zhu Qinghou saw them too. He had lived long in Yejing, where the water meant rivers and streams, and the land was a grid of city walls and roof tiles like fish scales. He had never seen such open, vast terrain.

However, why had Li Zhen brought him here to see sheep?

As if sensing his confusion, Li Zhen said flatly, “This river is called the Ruoshui. It flows down from the Qilian Mountains. The people of Yongzhou depend on it for their lives and often graze their animals here.”

The Ruoshui?

Zhu Qinghou was less interested in the geography and more interested in Li Zhen’s motives. But he wouldn’t ask; he knew Li Zhen would eventually tell him.

“I want to go down and herd them,” Zhu Qinghou said enthusiastically. He leaned out to look, but was immediately buffeted by the wind. His veil blew back, the gold ornaments at his temples jingled wildly, and his hair whipped into his mouth.

The sound of wind, rustling silk, jingling metal, and the chaotic fluttering of robes—it was a mess.

Li Zhen listened for a moment. Today was the Shangsi Festival; there were not just herders by the river, but also young men and women gathering to find love. If Zhu Qinghou were recognized, then…

“Go on,” Li Zhen said simply.

He listened as the young man thanked him joyfully and practically dragged Zhu Liujun out of the carriage. Li Zhen remained seated, unmoving, and whispered to a secret guard, “Protect them.”

The guard acknowledged the order and vanished.

Everyone was gone. Li Zhen sat alone in the carriage. Because of his eyes, if he appeared in public, he risked being recognized and causing unnecessary trouble. He simply sat in the silence, listening. As they moved further away, the voices grew faint and eventually disappeared.

In his darkness, there was only a deathly silence.

“Baa—”

“Xianpu!”

A sheep’s bleat followed by Zhu Qinghou’s call rang out suddenly, making him wonder if it was an illusion.

“Xianpu, why are you ignoring me?” Zhu Qinghou’s voice was closer now, tinged with dissatisfaction. He leaned against the carriage window, leading a lamb. The little creature nudged his leg, acting quite docile.

Li Zhen: “…”

“Xianpu, let me tell you, when I led the lamb away, the ewe kept chasing me. I almost tripped!” Zhu Qinghou chattered away while feeding grass to the lamb.

In the distance, he could hear Zhu Liujun shouting, “Xiao Yu! Help me!”

Zhu Qinghou turned and shouted back helpfully, “Run faster, don’t let it catch you!”

It was a lively, vivid scene of playfulness. Li Zhen’s eyelashes flickered; he wanted to open his eyes and see, but there was not a trace of light.

“Yongzhou has over forty thousand head of cattle and sheep,” Zhu Qinghou said suddenly, picking up the lamb and standing by the carriage. “That averages to about a dozen per household. If you increase the tax by just ten percent, you’re taking away three animals from each family.”

The young man’s voice was calm, the playful cynicism replaced by a serious clarity.

The young Prince sat inside, the square window of the carriage acting like a frame, capturing the dim light within. In the half-light, his snow-white face and the silk band over his eyes were revealed.

“You’ve calculated correctly,” Li Zhen said flatly.

Zhu Qinghou was quiet for a moment. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t boast or ask for credit. He held the lamb nibbling grass at his feet, feeling the vibrant energy of the tiny life. He whispered, “Xianpu, you are suited to be a ruler.”

In the past, his father had chosen Li Jue because his mother and Li Jue’s mother, Empress Wei, were cousins; both came from the Jingzhao Wei clan. It wasn’t so much a choice as a destiny; from the moment his parents married, the Zhu family was bound to the Wei clan, for better or worse.

Now the Zhu family had fallen, but the Jingzhao Wei clan had survived by shifting the blame onto the Zhus, severing ties, and flourishing under the protection of Empress Wei and the Eastern Palace.

Zhu Qinghou found a patch of lush grass and set the lamb down to eat freely. He said softly to Li Zhen, “Regarding the trade between the three regions… have you petitioned that old man?”

To put it kindly, “that old man” was cautious. To put it bluntly, he was a coward who stayed holed up in the Mingguang Palace, dreaming of immortality. How could such a man have the courage to expand borders and open international trade? Convincing him would be difficult.

The identity of “that old man” was obvious. Baopu, who was nearby, was startled. That was the current Emperor, the Prince’s own father. He expected the Prince to reprimand Zhu Qinghou for his insolence.

Li Zhen only said calmly, “He has already consented.”

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