A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 29

A timid “Brother-in-law” echoed through the deathly silent, narrow dungeon. The surrounding officials and jailers looked on with shock, quickly lowering their heads and daring not to look again.

Zhu Liujun had actually called His Highness her brother-in-law.

But did the Zhu family not have only one daughter? They had never heard of her having any older female cousins either. No matter how they turned it over in their minds, it made no sense. Afraid to speculate further, they kept their eyes glued to the floor, wishing they could transform into the very stone pillars of Juntal.

Li Zhen stood in the shadows. A candle flickered and popped; for a fleeting second, the dim firelight illuminated his cold, desolate features. It shone through his white silk blindfold, faintly revealing the rising and falling contours of his eyes.

The onlookers grew even more apprehensive, their gazes toward Zhu Liujun shifting to pity. Who told her to speak such nonsense? His Highness would surely not let her off easily.

“Mm.”

Li Zhen responded with a faint, indifferent acknowledgment.

The crowd: “…”

He accepted it? He actually accepted it?

Using their peripheral vision, they cautiously stole glances at His Highness and then at Zhu Liujun. Amidst their mounting horror, they felt a prickle of curiosity: just who was that “woman” she was referring to?

Zhu Liujun herself felt a wave of panic the moment the words left her mouth. She wanted nothing more than to slap herself—it was broad daylight, yet here she was talking nonsense.

However, hearing Prince Su’s lukewarm response, her racing heart slowly began to settle. What did Prince Su mean? Was he admitting to being her “brother-in-law”?

Then again, was Prince Su technically her brother-in-law  or her sister-in-law?

“Of course you should call him sister-in-law.”

Zhu Qinghou reclined on the soft couch, draped in a silk quilt that cascaded around him like drifted snow. His dark hair was loose, spreading across the cushions. He held a scroll in his hand, a careless, playful smile on his face.

His sister calling Li Zhen “sister-in-law”…

It actually sounded quite fitting.

Zhu Liujun sat at the table eating her meal. Watching his indolent posture, one would never guess he was in the potentially dangerous Prince Su estate; he looked as comfortable as if he were in his own home. His attitude toward the Prince was casual and irreverent, showing not a hint of fear.

He had even told her to address Prince Su as “sister-in-law.”

For a moment, Zhu Liujun’s head buzzed. She didn’t dare think too deeply about the nature of the relationship between her brother and the Prince.

She consciously decided to move past the subject, not daring to ask more. Since the words were already out, there was no point in hiding the rest. “Xiao Yu, sister-in-law…” She caught herself halfway and quickly corrected: “Prince Su helped me deal with that man.”

There was no need to name him; it was self-evident who “that man” was.

Zhu Qinghou didn’t change his posture. Even his eyelashes didn’t flicker as he leisurely scanned his scroll. “Oh?” He chuckled softly. “How did he deal with him?”

Zhu Liujun involuntarily recalled the scene. When she saw Xiao Shengjue, his clothes were still relatively neat, but his mental state had turned bizarre. He looked as though he were on the verge of a total collapse.

She pushed the thought aside, not wanting to dwell on the details. “I don’t know exactly.”

Zhu Qinghou raised an eyebrow. His fingertips brushed against the paper of the scroll, but he wasn’t really reading anymore. His thoughts began to drift.

He had told Li Zhen not to kill Xiao Shengjue, and Li Zhen had indeed spared him.

However.

Even he hadn’t expected that Li Zhen would force the man to kneel before his sister and apologize to her.

This was more than just venting Zhu Liujun’s anger; it was Li Zhen fulfilling a silent wish in Zhu Qinghou’s own heart.

It seemed Li Zhen had seen right through him, intentionally bringing his hidden desires to life.

To be honest, the feeling wasn’t bad. To have someone perceive his thoughts without a single word, completing the tasks he wanted done without him having to pay a price or take a risk…

…There was nothing wrong with that, was there?

The tactile bumps of the pinpricks on the scroll snapped Zhu Qinghou back to reality. He stared at the Braille-like dots, the clear dark depth of his eyes shifting slightly.

He stood up, gathered his fox-fur cloak, and walked straight toward Li Zhen’s private chambers.

Zhu Liujun started to ask where he was going so suddenly, but seeing his direction, she bit her tongue. He was going to find “sister-in-law.”

In that case, she had better not interfere.

Looking through the lattice doors, Li Zhen’s chambers were a void of darkness. No candles, no lamps—just a pitch-black silence. Aside from the necessary furniture, the room was as cold and desolate as an empty snowfield.

Zhu Qinghou was long used to this. He habitually raised a lantern and, without so much as a knock, walked straight past the guards and into the room.

A guard started to speak, but upon recognizing the visitor, he fell silent. He even offered a low-voiced warning: “His Highness just returned from Juntal. Be careful, Young Master.”

The Prince had returned in his black-trimmed white robes, carrying the heavy scent of blood. He had looked grim and terrifying, enough to frighten anyone.

If he could, the guard really wanted to warn this beautiful young man not to go in—or at least to pick a better time.

Zhu Qinghou understood the hidden meaning but didn’t take it to heart. He gave a slight nod and stepped into the hall.

As he entered, the light dimmed sharply. The faint glow from his lantern reflected off the walls and trailed along the hem of his clothes, casting a circle of pale, cold light.

Ignoring the gloom, Zhu Qinghou saw a tall, slender silhouette standing in the center of the hall. Walking toward it, he asked casually, “Xianpu, what did you do to him?” Had he let him go or kept him locked up? He needed to know so he could prepare for the future.

As he drew closer, he saw Li Zhen bowing his head, slowly wiping a walking stick in the darkness. The head of the cane was shaped like a beast; it was subtle yet carried an aura of dread. It looked to be made of jade, reflecting a jagged, cold light.

Having never noticed it before, Zhu Qinghou looked at it with curiosity.

Li Zhen said, “He’s not dead.”

Hearing this, Zhu Qinghou let out a breath of relief.

Not dead. Not dead was good. Dead men were hard to explain to the court—kill the young one and the old one comes knocking. It was nothing but trouble.

Li Zhen continued to wipe the cane with measured movements. “But he might as well be.”

Zhu Qinghou: “…”

He fell silent for two heartbeats before asking with a final shred of hope, “What does ‘might as well be’ mean?”

While he wanted to see Xiao Shengjue suffer, he wasn’t interested in a pyrrhic victory. The most important rule of being an official was self-preservation. Having been a vassal king for years, Li Zhen surely understood that.

“He’s gone mad,” Li Zhen said succinctly.

He spoke with the same calmness one might use to discuss the weather.

Mad? Well, that was fine. At least he wasn’t dead or crippled.

Zhu Qinghou was about to nod when it suddenly hit him. Xiao Shengjue was mad? A sixth-rank Senior Imperial Censor, the legitimate son of the Deputy Chief Imperial Censor, a man in his prime—just like that, he was mad?

He was stunned. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly scare a man into insanity. The only thing he could think of was the horrific tortures of Juntal.

But no matter how terrifying the torture, could it really drive a man to madness so quickly? Even the Decree Prison, the most feared dungeon in the land, wasn’t so.

Zhu Qinghou realized he couldn’t remember the details of the Decree Prison. All memories related to it seemed covered in a layer of mist, blurred and indistinct.

The three months he had spent in the Decree Prison.  He couldn’t remember them.

A biting chill slowly climbed up his spine. He stopped trying to remember and didn’t bother asking exactly how Xiao Shengjue had lost his mind.

“Without the man named Xiao, the Eastern Palace will just send someone else. Besides, Li Jue is not one to be trifled with.”

Zhu Qinghou was the type of person who would lie down rather than sit, and sit rather than stand. Looking around and seeing no comfortable chairs, he didn’t stand on ceremony. He simply lay down on Li Zhen’s bed.

Hearing the rustling sound nearby, Li Zhen thought of the medicine bottle he had hidden under his pillow. His hand, which was wiping the cane, paused slightly.

“He won’t have time to trouble me.”

Li Jue was likely very busy right now—too busy to come after him.

Hearing this, Zhu Qinghou sensed something. He instinctively pressed, “What is Li Jue busy with?”

Li Zhen didn’t explain. The power dynamics in the capital were complex, a sea of undercurrents. With just a small push, one could stir up the mud and leave the Eastern Palace struggling to keep its head above water.

Zhu Qinghou knew he wouldn’t get an answer, so he didn’t bother asking further. It was simply Li Zhen causing trouble for Li Jue, making life miserable for that “dear cousin” of his.

It was a pity he couldn’t see Li Jue’s frantic face for himself.

After a brief moment of regret, Zhu Qinghou remembered his main business.

Now that Xiao Shengjue was mad, the rest of the officials sent by the court were leaderless. They would have no choice but to follow Li Zhen’s arrangements. Conveniently, the trading markets were nearing completion. Li Zhen could now seize total control of the Eastern and Western markets, expanding trade and revitalizing commerce.

Lying in Li Zhen’s bed, Zhu Qinghou lazily claimed his credit: “I told you I would help you. Now, both markets are in your hands.” His voice was weary but held a faint, arrogant edge. “Well? Am I not impressive?”

Li Zhen had finished cleaning his cane; not a trace of the scent of blood remained. He ran his fingers over the white jade handle and said softly, “Yes. Impressive.”

How rare. To actually hear Li Zhen verbally yield to him. Wasn’t he usually so stubborn?

Zhu Qinghou’s mood brightened. As he shifted his sleeping position, he felt something hard under the pillow. He quietly pulled it out—it was a medicine bottle.

Judging by the weight, there were very few pills left inside.

He said nothing and tucked it back, acting as if nothing had happened. “I’ve done so much. Shouldn’t you give me some kind of reward?”

Even though he was the one with the ideas, Li Zhen had been the one doing all the work from start to finish. But what did that matter? Zhu Qinghou shamelessly asked for a prize.

Li Zhen walked closer, aided by his cane. He was intimately familiar with the room; the cane tapped lightly on the floor, making almost no sound.

“What do you want?”

Li Zhen’s voice was getting closer.

Zhu Qinghou looked up. Through the layers of gauze curtains hanging around the bed, he saw the tall figure in black and white standing just outside.

What did he want?

He thought for a moment and signaled for Li Zhen to lean in. “Come here.”

Li Zhen didn’t move at first. It was only after a second urge that he slowly stepped forward, “looking” at him silently through the gauze.

“Lower your head.” Zhu Qinghou hooked a finger, catching the white silk ribbon hanging from Li Zhen’s temple. He pulled the other man down, forcing him to bow his head to listen.

With his other hand, he pulled the medicine bottle back out from under the pillow. He opened it, held it before Li Zhen, and asked curiously, “What is this?”

Zhu Qinghou’s tone was light and clear, filled with feigned innocence.

Before Li Zhen could react, he snapped the bottle shut. Aiming for a soft patch of carpet, he casually tossed the bottle away.

With a soft thud, the bottle rolled a few times and stopped, vanishing into some dark corner.

Zhu Qinghou straightened up, once again gripping the white silk blindfold over Li Zhen’s eyes. He smiled softly.

“Didn’t you ask me what I wanted?”

His voice was soft and seductive: “I want you.”

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