A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 34

Once midsummer passed, the height of the season arrived. The trading markets beyond the pass were finally complete, and the Commissioner of Mutual Markets sent by the Imperial Court had arrived.

A caravan of carriages traveled across the rugged plains toward Yongzhou. As they passed through Pei County, they noticed the vast stretches of emerald green on either side swaying in the wind.

“What is this?”

The members of the delegation were all of noble birth; none of them had ever seen sorghum before. They simply assumed it was some wild grass or flowers planted by the local herdsmen and paid it no mind.

“It’s been years since we last met. It seems Prince Su has been busy planting grass in his fiefdom,” someone joked.

As subordinates of the Eastern Palace, they were well aware of how much of a threat Prince Su had once been to Li Jue during the struggle for the succession. It was said that the Emperor’s favored choice for heir was Prince Su, and the court’s expectations had rested on him as well.

Had it not been for his blindness, his position as the Crown Prince would have been set in stone; it never would have been the current Prince’s turn to “pick up the scrap.”

“Yongzhou is a place where neither sorghum nor wheat can grow. What else can he do but plant grass?” The man let out a low, long laugh, and the others joined in, though their volume remained subdued.

This was, after all, Prince Su’s territory. They didn’t dare laugh too loudly for fear of being detected.

Rumors said that over the past few years, Prince Su had become increasingly unpredictable, violent, and cruel. They didn’t know if it was true or not.

Upon entering Yongzhou, the group prepared themselves to have an audience with the Prince. The estate was not large; it was cold and secluded. Servants were rare, but soldiers in black holding swords were visible everywhere.

It didn’t feel like a princely residence; it felt like a forbidden military camp, brimming with a murderous aura.

They instinctively stiffened their bodies, holding their breath and tempering their voices. For the first time, they felt the weight of the rumors.

Stepping into the study, they found the furnishings lean and orderly. In the details, it was slightly warmer than the desolate exterior: a large folding screen stood to one side, tea and snacks were set on a table, and wind chimes hung beneath the window frames…

One official glanced inadvertently at the massive screen, feeling its presence was somewhat out of place. He suspected something might be hidden behind it.

Behind that very screen, Zhu Qinghou lay on a low couch, his legs crossed, his toes dangling lazily over a footstool.

He had retreated behind the screen too hastily and forgotten to bring the plate of snacks and the tea. Now, with nothing to eat or drink, he could only read his scrolls in boredom.

After the Commissioner and his men finished their formal greetings to Prince Su, they offered a few high-sounding platitudes before finally getting to the point.

“The mutual trade between the three dynasties is of great importance. We shall assist Your Highness and work together with one heart to ensure this matter is handled well, promoting harmony and friendship between the states.”

The subtext was clear: they were here to take over the management of the markets. If Prince Su was sensible, he would proactively hand over the relevant documents for them to review.

Clearly, Prince Su was not “sensible” in that regard.

Seated at the head of the room, the Prince gave a slight nod. The white silk covered his eyes, hiding his expression. “I shall trouble you all then.”

After that single sentence, silence followed.

The delegation: “…”

Your words are pleasant enough, but where are the documents?

They endured for a moment, making several indirect probes to get him to produce the records. However, the Prince—who was rumored to be brutal, cold, and socially inept—simply played Tai Chi with them, deflecting every move until they were left at a total loss.

They had never heard that Prince Su was such a smooth, sophisticated negotiator.

Zhu Qinghou, listening to their verbal sparring, nearly couldn’t suppress his laughter. This was far too entertaining. These officials from the capital were usually as slippery as loaches, talking in circles and refusing to be direct. Now that they had met Li Zhen, they were finally tasting defeat.

There were old foxes among the delegation as well. One of them stared absentmindedly at the table in front of the Prince. There were two tea bowls on it, and the tea still seemed hot. There was also a plate of snacks shaped like lion heads—Prince Su did not look like the type of man who would eat such trifles.

So, to whom did the extra cup and the snacks belong?

The man looked toward the screen with his peripheral vision, but behind the fluttering, beautiful flower embroidery, he couldn’t see anything clearly.

The delegation talked until their mouths were dry. Seeing that Prince Su maintained his polite but stagnant attitude, they had no choice but to take their leave.

Once they were gone, Zhu Qinghou stepped out and said leisurely, “It wouldn’t hurt to let them interfere. They are members of the Mutual Market Commission; they’ll get their hands into it sooner or later anyway.”

Wouldn’t it be better to have more people doing the work?

Li Zhen lowered his head to “look” at him. Zhu Qinghou was the one who had insisted on excluding outsiders, and now he was the one suggesting they be let in. The way of an official was indeed fickle.

Zhu Qinghou knew nothing of other matters, but he was an expert at playing with people’s hearts. He said with a grin, “If you let them in proactively, they’ll only suspect a trap. If you let them fight for it themselves, they will believe in it without a doubt.”

Since those people had come to Yongzhou, he didn’t believe that with his skills, he couldn’t win over these former subordinates of the Eastern Palace. It was just a matter of time. He had no power or wealth right now, but what he lacked least were time and methods.

The young man’s voice was full of laughter, laced with cunning and self-assurance.

Listening to his voice and imagining the triumphant smile on his face, Li Zhen instinctively tightened his grip on a medicine bottle hidden in his sleeve. This was not the bottle from before; it was filled with various kinds of pills. It was heavy and made no sound when shaken.

Zhu Qinghou’s nose twitched, and he suddenly asked, “Xianpu, have you started taking medicine again?”

The “medicine” he referred to was the pills Li Zhen used to control the “Two Hearts as One” parasite. He remembered tossing the previous bottle into a corner, but he didn’t rule out the possibility that Li Zhen had retrieved it to continue taking it.

Li Zhen remained still for a moment. His eyes, the most expressive part of a face, were hidden by the silk. His cold, beautiful features betrayed no emotion, and his voice sounded calm and indifferent: “No.”

There wasn’t a single trace of a lie.

Zhu Qinghou felt a seed of doubt grow in his heart. He stood up and, under the pretext of grabbing a snack, walked over to Li Zhen. He leaned down, his fingers skimming past the plate. He reached across the long table and suddenly grabbed Li Zhen’s robe. Lifting his chin, he smiled: “Gotcha!”

He fumbled around the hidden pocket in Li Zhen’s robe, but after searching for a while, he found nothing.

Just as he was about to check the other side, Li Zhen suddenly clamped down on his arm, pinning him firmly in place.

Li Zhen’s voice was cool and flat: “Let go.”

“I won’t,” Zhu Qinghou struggled, but he couldn’t budge. Instead, the movement caused the tips of his fingers—which had once suffered the torture of the finger-crushing rack—to tremble uncontrollably. He stopped struggling with his hands but refused to give up with his mouth, beginning to interrogate Li Zhen: “Xianpu, are you taking medicine behind my back? Think about it, you’re only twenty-four, in the prime of your youth. Why take such medicine? What if you keep taking it and it ruins your health”

Before he could finish, Li Zhen interrupted him, his patience at its end. “Zhu Qinghou.”

His voice was icy, calling his name syllable by syllable.

“Yes?” Zhu Qinghou responded obediently.

He was always one to follow his instincts; he knew exactly when to push his luck and when to quit while he was ahead. He honestly withdrew his hand, planning not to argue with Li Zhen.

Zhu Qinghou tried to pull his hand back—but he couldn’t.

He looked at Li Zhen in surprise. “Why aren’t you letting go?”

Li Zhen still held firmly to the young man’s slender wrist, controlling the trembling fingers. The pressure wasn’t great, yet it was impossible to break.

“…Does it hurt?” Li Zhen asked in a low voice.

Zhu Qinghou paused. Other people’s sympathy could be useful, but Li Zhen’s sympathy was unnecessary to him. Furthermore, he didn’t really want to show weakness in front of Li Zhen right now.

He tried to pull his hand away, speaking dismissively, “How could it hurt?” He acted as if it were nothing. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

Li Zhen said nothing, appearing to believe him.

The next moment.

A surge of pain shot through his wrist. A firm pressure was applied to his old injury, triggering a dense, dull ache.

Zhu Qinghou gritted his teeth and remained silent. For some reason, he just didn’t want to show cowardice in front of Li Zhen. It was fine to rely on Li Zhen for other things, but did he have to rely on him for these petty pains too?

He certainly wouldn’t.

“Hiss.” Zhu Qinghou couldn’t help but let out a groan, sounding a bit aggrieved. “Xianpu, why are you taking your anger out on me for no reason?”

Li Zhen slowly released his hand, his expression shifting unreadably.

After a moment of silence, he pulled a roll of white silk gauze from beneath the table and a bottle of salve from a cabinet. He signaled for Zhu Qinghou to give him his hand.

Zhu Qinghou: “…?”

He tentatively reached out, wanting to see what Li Zhen was up to. Was he actually going to bandage him?

Li Zhen took his wrist. The grip was much lighter than before; he was almost cradling the wrist. He applied the salve and began to wrap the gauze around it, layer by layer. His movements were methodical, clean, and efficient.

It was as if he had practiced this thousands of times.

Zhu Qinghou stared at him blankly, forgetting to resist. The salve felt icy-cool, carrying the fresh scent of plum blossoms. It felt like melting jade, seeping into his skin and bones.

He instinctively wanted to ask: “Xianpu, you…” Can you see?

Li Zhen’s movements were so fluid that one could never tell he was blind.

Just as he let out two syllables, Zhu Qinghou looked at the white silk over Li Zhen’s eyes and sheepishly swallowed the rest of his words.

Sensing his mood, Li Zhen finished the last wrap, tightened the gauze around his wrist, tied a knot, and then reached for the other hand.

Zhu Qinghou looked at his bandaged hand, which now resembled a pig’s trotter. After a moment’s hesitation, he handed over the other one.

With the distraction, he nearly forgot what he was going to ask earlier. While he watched Li Zhen work, he quietly peeked at the other side of Li Zhen’s robe. He was certain the medicine bottle was hidden there.

It seemed it was time to ask Uncle Cui and find out exactly what medicine Li Zhen was taking.

Uncle Cui was standing in the outer hall, instructing the servants on the estate’s affairs. From a distance, he saw the young man in purple—with both hands wrapped like oversized dumplings tucked into his sleeves—walking toward him. A sudden sense of foreboding rose in his heart.

“Uncle Cui!” Zhu Qinghou beamed from a distance, waving at him happily. His hands were wrapped in so much gauze that even his fingers were individually bound.

Uncle Cui: “…”

He suddenly remembered seeing His Highness practicing bandaging techniques lately. Could it be that he was doing it specifically for Zhu Qinghou’s hands?

Uncle Cui’s mouth twitched. He suppressed the urge to turn and run, standing his ground as Zhu Qinghou hurried over.

Zhu Qinghou reached him and looked left and right, acting as if he were about to say something monumental. He looked incredibly mysterious.

“Uncle Cui, what medicine has Xianpu been taking lately? You have to keep an eye on him. Don’t let him be reckless; he shouldn’t be taking just any medicine. He’s in the prime of his life; there’s no need for him to endure so much, and there’s certainly no need for him to take drugs.”

Uncle Cui: “…”

His brow throbbed. He took a deep breath and looked at the chattering, beautiful young man. “Zhu Qinghou, you—”

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