A Thousand-Mile Exile, An Encounter with an Old Friend - Chapter 38

Under the eaves, the spring light was soft and shimmering. The staggered shadows of the high rooftops fell upon the ground, outlining two slender, elegant figures.

Zhu Qinghou lowered his voice to say a final word to Lou Changqing, who widened his eyes and nodded repeatedly in agreement.

In just a few steps, Zhu Qinghou had finished his instructions. By the time they reached the main hall, both men had tucked away their smiles, maintaining an air of polite distance.

Lou Changqing lifted his gaze slightly, his eyes inadvertently sweeping across the central hall. He caught sight of a snow-white hem and looked up, glimpsing the man’s face.

Prince Su?!

He was a mere sixth-rank county magistrate. By what merit did he deserve a personal reception from the Prince?

Lou Changqing knelt in fear and trepidation to pay his respects. The Prince gave a cold, detached response before turning to lead the way into the hall.

The three of them took their seats. Lou Changqing sat stiffly in the lower seat, Zhu Qinghou occupied the right seat of honor, and Li Zhen sat at the head of the room.

Having already said what needed to be said, Zhu Qinghou remained silent, allowing Lou Changqing to report his official duties to the Prince.

For a minor official to bypass layers of superiors and report directly to a vassal king was an extraordinary honor. Lou Changqing was visibly nervous, recounting his achievements in Pei County over the past few months in a precise, formal manner.

The Prince listened quietly. At first, he said nothing, but as the report went on, he interjected with a question or two.

After Lou Changqing departed, Zhu Qinghou asked Li Zhen with a smile, “Well? What do you think of my judgment? Does he count as a talent worth cultivating?”

The Prince’s tone was icy. “Mm.”

“So you don’t dislike him anymore?”

Zhu Qinghou asked softly. He had long noticed that Li Zhen harbored a distaste for the people around him. Others might have the ability to protect themselves, but Lou Changqing was just a minor official; in Li Zhen’s hands, he might meet a bitter end.

Rather than persuading Li Zhen to accept Lou Changqing, it was better to let Li Zhen see the man’s value.

Useful people tend to live a little longer.

Li Zhen “looked” toward Zhu Qinghou through his world of hazy, chaotic darkness. After a long pause, he asked, “What is he to you?”

“What?” The question baffled Zhu Qinghou. Lou Changqing was his father’s former student, a member of his own camp, a source of support, and perhaps a friend.

He replied casually, “A friend.”

“You gave him the jade bracelet?”

Zhu Qinghou blinked. He had plenty of those bracelets in his quarters; Li Zhen had provided so many that he could wear a different one every day. He hadn’t thought much of it, simply taking one off to reward Lou Changqing.

“Do you want it back?” Zhu Qinghou stood up, ready to chase down the magistrate.

“No need,” Li Zhen said.

“Will you be angry if I give your things to others?” Zhu Qinghou asked, a delayed realization hitting him. He had lived a pampered life of luxury since childhood, never placing much value on gold or jade, and was used to gifting things away on a whim.

Still, that bracelet technically belonged to Li Zhen.

A faint, strange emotion rose in Zhu Qinghou’s heart. How had he started treating Li Zhen’s things as his own? This increasing intimacy and lack of restraint… it didn’t seem like a good sign.

Li Zhen felt a flicker of emotion through the sub-parasite. His brow twitched as if he had realized something. He said calmly, “Since you wish to reward him, a single bracelet is not enough. I will have more things sent to him.”

Zhu Qinghou was surprised. Didn’t Li Zhen dislike the man? But since the sorghum had been grown successfully, it was necessary to reward the contributor to encourage others to develop Yongzhou’s agriculture.

With that in mind, he did not block the gesture.

With the matter of Lou Changqing settled, the central hall fell into a sudden silence. Outside, the wind curtains swayed gently, and the sunlight danced in the quiet air.

Zhu Qinghou was lost in thought regarding Li Zhen’s birthday, remaining silent for a time.

Li Zhen, habitually taciturn, did not initiate conversation either. The echoes of Zhu Qinghou and Lou Changqing’s happy laughter still seemed to ring in his ears.

Yet now, in front of him, the man wouldn’t even say a word.

Li Zhen suddenly let out a cold sneer.

Startled by the sound, Zhu Qinghou snapped back to reality, looking bewildered. What is it now?

“You’re about to take a wife, and you’re still unhappy?” he teased. As soon as the words left his lips, he sensed something wrong. Why did that sound so much like jealousy? What did Li Zhen’s marriage have to do with him?

The sub-parasite transmitted a sour, strange emotion—heavy and damp, like waterlogged cotton.

Li Zhen calmly savored this unprecedented, familiar yet foreign emotion—it was coming from Zhu Qinghou.

He was silent for a while, then he smiled.

The smile made Zhu Qinghou feel restless. He took a sip of tea and, when he looked up again, his expression had returned to its usual playful mask.

“I am indeed very happy,” Li Zhen’s cold voice gained a hint of warmth, becoming calm and steady.

Zhu Qinghou smiled and raised his tea bowl in a mock toast. “Then let me congratulate Your Highness in advance on your grand wedding.” His voice was peaceful and light, revealing no sign of distress.

Li Zhen nodded. “The joy is shared.”

Zhu Qinghou twitched his lips and took another sip of tea, trying to swallow down the frustration bubbling in his gut. Fine, Li Zhen. Was everything in the past just a dream I had alone?

Refusing to show weakness, he continued, “The Princess Consort is the legitimate daughter of the Xie clan. With the Xies as your in-laws, it will be like adding wings to a tiger. Congratulations, Your Highness.”

He spoke with conviction and apparent sincerity, without a trace of falsehood.

“Are you happy?” Li Zhen asked. His voice was as clear as jade and as cold as ice, like a mountain spring pouring into one’s heart.

Zhu Qinghou was about to keep bickering when his thoughts shifted. Why bother arguing with Li Zhen over this? It was a waste of time.

He decided to be blunt. “I am not happy.”

Li Zhen froze.

The hall was deathly quiet; one could even hear the chirping of birds outside and the faint rustling of leaves.

“You are not happy,” Li Zhen repeated. “So?”

Zhu Qinghou said he was unhappy, which should mean he didn’t want the marriage to happen. Yet he had done nothing, offered no objection, and hadn’t even said, “Xianpu, I don’t want you to marry.”

He had even offered his congratulations.

Zhu Qinghou fell silent for a moment, feeling an indescribable irritability. He knew how to weigh the importance of things. If he were Li Zhen, he would almost certainly choose to marry the Xie daughter; with their support, the chances of winning the throne were much higher.

Unwilling to discuss the topic further, Zhu Qinghou stood up. His tone was light. “Qingxi is likely waiting for me. I’m heading back.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strode out of the hall.

The sound of his footsteps reached Li Zhen’s ears, carrying a hint of panicked flight. Li Zhen sat still, his hand tracing the cold beast-head on his walking stick. His face was calm, marked by a detached, observant coldness.

He doesn’t want me to marry, yet he won’t say it. He is torn.

This was very unlike Zhu Qinghou’s usual character.

Was he torn because he truly didn’t want Li Zhen to marry someone else, or was he worried about power—thinking of the throne Li Zhen had lost because of his blindness?

Or, did he simply not want Li Zhen to gain an ally that could rival his “dear cousin,” the Crown Prince? Perhaps his silence was a calculated show of grievance, designed to make Li Zhen refuse the marriage on his own.

Li Zhen’s heart grew increasingly calm. He began to look forward to what kind of “surprise” that letter addressed to the Eastern Palace would bring.

As for the marriage…

He lowered his lashes, masking the coldness in his eyes.

Zhu Qinghou was entirely unaware of the thousand thoughts racing through Li Zhen’s mind. He lay under the shade of the flowers, lazily soaking up the sun.

Strangely enough, the Narantia flowers were extraordinarily precious. Even in the wealthy capital, they were difficult to keep alive. In the past, the Zhu estate had barely managed to keep two plants alive, and they had been kept specifically outside Zhu Qinghou’s window.

Yet, inside and outside Li Zhen’s halls, they grew in a massive, vibrant sea of light and dark purple, swaying in the breeze.

“When were these flowers planted?” Zhu Qinghou loved Narantia flowers, but he wasn’t narcissistic enough to think they were planted for him. After all, they were already lush and blooming before he had ever set foot in this estate.

…They couldn’t have been planted in advance just for him, right?

Lately, Uncle Cui’s gaze toward him had been very complex—a mix of hatred and faint sympathy. He didn’t even bicker with him anymore. “Four years ago.”

Four years ago, when Li Zhen had first arrived in Yongzhou to take up his post.

At that time, danger was everywhere. He was busy overseeing the construction of the prison, yet he had the leisure to plant flowers?

Zhu Qinghou gently pulled down a branch and sniffed. The scent was light, elegant, and carried a touch of mystery.

Zhu Liujun came running over. Noticing the flowers, she remarked casually, “These flowers are just like Xiao Yu. Even the scent is similar.”

Zhu Qinghou sniffed his own sleeve and realized there really was a resemblance.

“Uncle Cui,” Zhu Qinghou said with a beaming smile, “could it be that Xianpu planted these for me?”

Uncle Cui recalled four years ago. The Prince had been overwhelmed with work, taking over the administration of Yongzhou and calculating against treacherous officials. Every time he returned to his chambers, he was exhausted, yet he would spend time every day tending to these purple flowers.

Beautiful and impractical. They weren’t things the Prince would naturally like, but they were exactly what Zhu Qinghou loved.

Uncle Cui hesitated for a second before saying coldly, “Zhu Qinghou, please remember your place.”

If the Princess Consort entered the house and heard such words, wouldn’t it throw the entire household into chaos?

Zhu Qinghou, having finally gained the upper hand in a spat with the old man, burst into laughter. Seeing the man’s face turn increasingly grim, he offered some comfort: “Alright, alright, Uncle Cui. I’ll remember.”

Uncle Cui: “…”

He didn’t feel comforted at all.

Zhu Liujun crouched by the rattan chair, looking at the purple sea of flowers. She seemed to remember something and said with absolute certainty, “Xiao Yu, these flowers were definitely planted for you. Years ago, before Prince Su left the capital, he asked me for the seeds.”

Back then, after Li Zhen went blind and suffered successive blows, he had closed his doors to everyone. Zhu Qinghou had tried to visit many times but was always refused. In the end, he only saw Li Zhen once—at Consort Cui’s funeral.

After that, Li Zhen left for Yongzhou. Separated by thousands of miles, they had no chance to meet.

At that time, the Zhu family was firmly on Li Jue’s side, and the two were as incompatible as fire and water. He never imagined that Li Zhen would go to the Zhu family to ask for flower seeds before he left.

The wind rustled the petals. Zhu Qinghou’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

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