A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 31

Zhu Qinghou was deep within the Prince’s estate; how did he know the news of Feng Chan’s return?

Li Zhen remained silent. He gently twirled a stray lock of Zhu Qinghou’s hair, gathering the cool, soft strands into his palm and slowly tying them back for him.

Zhu Qinghou offered no explanation. Back when he had parted ways with Feng Chan, they had made an agreement: when Feng Chan returned, he was to fly a kite outside the estate.

A few days ago, Zhu Qinghou had spotted the kite, letting him know that Feng Chan was back from beyond the pass.

“Did he send a formal visiting request?” Zhu Qinghou pressed.

Li Zhen had already bound the other man’s hair with a strand of purple silk. His long, slender fingertips were leisurely smoothing the ends of the hair, his voice flat: “Mm.”

Either he had or he hadn’t—what kind of answer was “Mm”?

Dissatisfied with the ambiguous response, Zhu Qinghou pulled his dark hair back from the Prince’s grasp. Li Zhen’s palm was suddenly empty; his wrist hung suspended in mid-air for a fleeting moment before he slowly lowered it.

“Tell me, has he actually been here or not?” Zhu Qinghou demanded.

“Yes,” Li Zhen’s voice was calm, cold, and desolate.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Zhu Qinghou’s tone was weary, carrying a faint hint of complaint, his voice drawling lazily.

If anyone were to witness this scene, they would never take him for a destitute prisoner. Instead, they would mistake him for the master of this great hall.

“You want to see him?”

Li Zhen sat with his robes gathered around him, one arm loosely circling the young man in his lap to prevent him from falling off the bed, the other hand resting at his side. He lowered his brow, his expression placid and indifferent.

His tone was utterly level, as if he were merely asking a casual question.

However, had Prince Su’s confidants been present, they would have already started trembling. It was common knowledge that the calmer Prince Su sounded, the more ruthless his methods were.

Zhu Qinghou was not afraid of him. He mimicked Li Zhen’s tone with a nonchalant “Mm,” admitting it without hesitation: “I want to see him.”

Li Zhen’s eyelashes flickered slightly. His lowered fingertips twitched, but in the end, he only reached out to catch Zhu Qinghou’s exposed ankle and tuck it back under the quilts.

Zhu Qinghou looked down, his gaze lightly skimming over the faint blue veins on Li Zhen’s fingertips. He curled his lips into a faint smile.

He loved seeing Li Zhen in this state of bottled-up restraint.

In the beginning, Li Zhen hadn’t been like this. Later, perhaps because he had been frightened by the sight of Zhu Qinghou coughing up blood, he had begun to constantly suppress his own temper and yield.

Having teased him enough and not wanting to actually provoke Li Zhen to death—Zhu Qinghou explained softly: “I want to see him to see if he brought back medicine to treat your eyes.”

Li Zhen was quiet for a moment. He whispered, “Mm.” Two heartbeats later, he added: “He sent another visiting request today.”

After sending the request, Feng Chan waited outside the Prince Su estate, holding his horse Tieli and fiddling with his iron whip, bored to tears.

Since returning from beyond the pass, he had sent a request to the estate three times a day for three consecutive days. Each time, the estate’s gatekeeper simply said His Highness was busy and asked him to return another day.

Another day, another day—how long was he supposed to wait?

Feng Chan had a notoriously explosive temper, but in front of Prince Su, he had no choice but to suppress it and wait patiently.

Deyu (Zhu Qinghou) was in the Prince’s hands; there was no telling how he was faring now…

Anxiety gnawed at him. His iron whip subconsciously coiled around his arm like a cold snake.

As the sun began to slant, the main gates slowly creaked open. The gatekeeper stepped out and said, “His Highness will see you.”

Feng Chan looked up and peered inside.

The dim, amber light of the study spilled over soft robes, casting a shimmering glow. The young man in purple reclined lazily in a horseshoe-back chair, nibbling on a piece of Shiman cake.

Prince Su sat quietly by his side, his expression calm. Even behind the white silk blindfold, his gaze remained cold and piercing, as if it had physical weight as it swept over the visitor.

Feng Chan was not to be outdone, returning the gaze with equal intensity.

It was strange. Every time he wanted to see Deyu, Prince Su was right there. Could a high-ranking vassal king truly be this free?

He didn’t look like he was guarding a prisoner; it looked more like…

Like he was guarding some precious treasure.

“Feng Chan,” Zhu Qinghou said softly, “did you find anything at Tong Pass?”

Feng Chan raised his eyes, using his peripheral vision to glance at Prince Su. The meaning was clear: with the Prince there, he didn’t want to speak.

Undercurrents surged within the study. The atmosphere was bizarre and tense, like a string being pulled tight from both ends in a silent confrontation.

Zhu Qinghou chuckled. He picked up a piece of the cake and held it to Li Zhen’s lips. The latter paused for a moment before opening his mouth and taking it.

Zhu Qinghou turned back to Feng Chan: “Speak freely.”

Feng Chan’s grip on his iron whip tightened imperceptibly. He stared at the cake in Prince Su’s mouth for a few heartbeats, a dark, unreadable spark flashing in his eyes.

Suppressing his jealousy, he feigned composure. With a single sentence, he made Zhu Qinghou look at him with rapt attention: “I found the medicine.”

Feng Chan briefly skimmed over the hardships of finding the drug, his gaze fixed intently on Zhu Qinghou. “I have come specifically to present it to Your Highness.”

Zhu Qinghou’s eyes widened slightly. He had been hoping for this for so many days, and it had finally arrived. He didn’t rush to ask about the medicine’s location, choosing instead to praise him first: “Feng Chan, you are incredible!”

Feng Chan couldn’t help but squeeze his whip. The tips of his ears turned a faint crimson, the sparks in his eyes fading into a downcast look. “…I don’t deserve such praise.”

Prince Su had finished the cake, his jaw working as he swallowed. He could still taste the faint sweetness on his teeth.

He lifted his brow, not sparing Feng Chan a single glance. His gaze, though veiled by silk, fell upon Zhu Qinghou with a silent, possessive intensity.

Feng Chan sensed a growing oddity. Why did Prince Su seem completely indifferent to the medicine? He hadn’t even asked a single question about it. His attention had been tethered to Zhu Qinghou from start to finish. This was not how one treated a mortal enemy.

He chose his words carefully and said in a low voice: “I am willing to offer this medicine to Prince Su, on the condition that Your Highness grants me one small wish.”

“What wish? Let’s hear it,” Zhu Qinghou interjected eagerly.

He was impatient for an answer, but he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulder. Glancing sideways, he saw a powerful, pale hand resting there.

Li Zhen pressed down on his leaning shoulder. He reached out to touch the plate of cake and pushed it toward Zhu Qinghou, signaling for him to eat.

Then, he looked up, granting Feng Chan a single glance through the white silk. His voice was cold: “Speak.”

Feng Chan stared at the hand Prince Su had placed on Zhu Qinghou’s shoulder. His gaze darkened; he wanted nothing more than to take his whip and strike that hand away.

“I do not want gold, silver, or treasures. I do not seek fame or fortune. I only ask for one person.”

Only ask for one person.

Li Zhen ground those words between his teeth. It was self-evident who he was asking for.

The temperature in the study plummeted to freezing. High above, a wind chime swayed, letting out a distant, ethereal ring that sounded as if it were trying to shatter the ice.

Prince Su’s voice was calm and icy: “And if I refuse?”

Feng Chan remained unfazed, his tone clear. “Then consider it as though I never went beyond the pass.” And as though he had never brought back the medicine.

Clang.

The chime swayed again, its sound desolate.

The atmosphere was one of daggers drawn.

“Only one person?” Zhu Qinghou spoke up lazily. “And who would you be asking for?” He gave a languid smile. “Me?”

Feng Chan had asked Li Zhen once before, and Li Zhen had ignored him. This time, he was offering the eye medicine in exchange. If the medicine was real, it was of immense value to Li Zhen.

If Zhu Qinghou were in Li Zhen’s shoes, he would have agreed first, then found a way to stop the person from leaving later. It was just a matter of a little effort—a very profitable trade.

Feng Chan’s grip on the whip loosened slightly. He lifted his lashes, his light brown pupils fixed unblinkingly on the young man in purple. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either; he just stared at him while monitoring Prince Su’s reaction from the corner of his eye.

Rumor had it that Prince Su hated Deyu to the bone so much so that he called out his name in his sleep. If that were true, the Prince should be willing to hand him over.

But after just two meetings, it was obvious that the rumors were entirely false.

Prince Su didn’t hate Deyu. Quite the opposite, he seemed very…

In any case, this medicine was of extraordinary significance to the Prince. He should at least show some willingness to negotiate.

There is room for discussion, Feng Chan thought to himself.

Li Zhen said tonelessly: “Men, see the guest out.”

This move caught Feng Chan completely off guard. His pupils dilated, but he quickly reined in his emotions. “Your Highness, surely you don’t want—”

Zhu Qinghou was also surprised. He hadn’t expected Li Zhen to be so dismissive. “Xianpu, you still need to take the medicine. Think of something; use something else to trade for it.”

The Feng family of Sizhou was one of the few remaining connections the Zhu family had. Zhu Qinghou wanted to support anyone he could. He wanted to use this opportunity to let the Fengs take a share of the profit from the markets, establishing a cooperative relationship so he could later recruit the family to assist Li Zhen. It was a win-win.

Why end the conversation before it even began?

Zhu Qinghou reached out and tugged on Li Zhen’s sleeve, trying to make the man understand his well-intentioned efforts.

Li Zhen allowed him to pull the sleeve, remaining as immovable as a mountain.

In the study, the lattice doors had already opened. The guarding soldiers walked in silently, preparing to escort Feng Chan out.

Feng Chan stood up, a sharp edge to his brow. His gaze lingered for a few heartbeats on the young man in purple with the red cinnabar mark between his brows. Then, he turned to leave.

Zhu Qinghou looked at him, then at Li Zhen, and couldn’t help but frown. Under the table, his fingers poked at Li Zhen’s firm waist, urging him: “Xianpu, say something!”

Why do you always keep that expressionless, dead face? How are you supposed to win people over like that? The medicine is right in front of you—are you really going to just watch it walk away?

Li Zhen caught the mischievous fingertips and held them firmly in his palm, preventing him from moving. He “looked” toward Feng Chan.

The intent to expel the guest could not be clearer. The soldiers dared not delay any longer; they crossed their swords and politely escorted Feng Chan out.

Just as Feng Chan stepped out of the study, he turned around and tossed a small medicine bottle into Zhu Qinghou’s lap. “It’s yours.”

Zhu Qinghou caught it securely and gave him a smile. “Feng Chan, thanks.”

Feng Chan huffed and strode out of the study. Since he couldn’t get the person out, the least he could do was make sure Deyu fared a little better inside the estate.

Zhu Qinghou held the bottle, inspecting it with curiosity. He opened it and took a sniff; inside were two snow-white pills, pure and translucent without a single speck of impurity.

He handed the bottle to Li Zhen. “Have someone check this.”

Li Zhen didn’t even look at the bottle. His voice was flat and matter-of-fact: “It’s useless.”

He had known exactly what Feng Chan had brought back. That kind of “Vision-Clearing Pill” from beyond the pass only worked for common eye ailments.

But he… he had been poisoned.

Speaking of which, should he feel lucky? Back then, the drink Zhu Qinghou had handed him was only a poison to blind him—not a lethal venom to take his life.

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