Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In the thirty-second year of the Chongning era.

The corruption scandal of the Zhu Faction, which had long dominated the court, involving the embezzlement of salt and iron taxes, was exposed. Chancellor Zhu was executed by lingchi (death by a thousand cuts), and the entire Zhu clan was branded and exiled to Yongzhou.

The remote borderlands were in the bitter grip of deep winter.

The prisoner cart rumbled over frost-covered tumbleweeds, its wheels creaking loudly. A young and beautiful prisoner huddled inside.

The prison escort knocked on the iron bars, muttering a warning: "After entering the city, there will be the customary public parade. You..." The guard looked into the prisoner's opened eyes and suddenly fell silent, lowering his head. "I'll try to hide you at the back."

Zhu Qinghou was the son of Chancellor Zhu, a pampered young villain raised in luxury. In principle, he should be placed at the very front to face the people's wrath against treacherous officials.

But it was all because he was simply too beautiful.

With a face like that, who could bear to see him pelted with rotten vegetables and stinking eggs?

Zhu Qinghou smiled at him, his voice weak and gentle: "I don't want to make things hard for you. Put me at the front." He added casually, "After all, the people all want to see me."

The guard hesitated, wanting to say more. It wasn't just about wanting to see him; the common folk practically wanted to tear the Zhu Faction limb from limb, to drown him alive with their collective spit.

The guard wished to go easy on him, but orders had come down from above, layer upon layer of pressure, leaving them no choice but to comply.

Ultimately, Zhu Qinghou's prisoner cart was placed at the very front.

As the cart was about to enter the city, Zhu Qinghou used his fingers as a comb, slowly smoothing his raven hair, which was disheveled and cascaded down to his waist.

He bit his fingertip, smearing the bead of blood onto his pale, chapped lips, then dabbed it lightly on his cheeks, creating a faint flush of crimson.

The towering city gates swung open with a thunderous roar. From the beacon towers, pavilions, covered corridors, and along the long streets, countless complex, hate-filled gazes fell upon the beautiful convict.

In the broad daylight, his snow-like, rosy complexion was illuminated. Zhu Qinghou knelt upright inside the cage, barefoot, with disheveled hair, wearing thin red prison garb. He was as exquisite as spring blossoms, a red mark between his brows resembling a Guanyin mole.

Unlike other convicts who hung their heads in shame, he looked up, curiously surveying the imposing border fortress and the many scrutinizing, disgusted stares.

"Mother, he's so beautiful."

A child by the roadside said innocently.

The woman hurriedly covered her mouth. "Hush, don't say such things."

Zhu Qinghou heard this, turned, and smiled at her. The woman was stunned, then hastily averted her gaze.

Seeing the appearance of the villain's son, Yongzhou fell silent for a moment, then erupted in uproar:

"Traitor! Vermin!"

"Thirty million taels of silver! Ten years of the national treasury's tax revenue! The poison of the Zhu Faction has spread across the land; they deserve to be hacked to pieces!"

"Despicable! Vile! Death by a thousand cuts wouldn't be enough!"

Stones, rotten fruit, vegetable leaves.

Fell like rain.

The escorting guards couldn't help but frown. Judging by the intensity, they feared he might be pelted to death. Since the founding of the dynasty, there had been cases of corrupt officials being stoned to death by the people.

But according to the law, they could not intervene or stop it.

Zhu Qinghou picked up a sticky, rotten apricot, wiped it with his dark red sleeve, and slowly ate it.

A sharp stone struck his brow bone, drawing blood. He gently spat out the apricot pit, casually wiped his face, a smear of red spreading from the corner of his eye. His voice was not loud: "If I die, no one will ever know where those thirty million taels of silver are."

Thirty million taels of silver.

Enough to fill the entire city of Yongzhou.

With that one sentence, Yongzhou instantly fell silent.

Amidst the city-wide hush, Zhu Qinghou laughed softly, his laughter unrestrained and arrogant.

Next would be the official assignment of convicts as slaves. There would likely be many who wanted to buy him, this lowly registered convict.

*

After the public parade ended.

The other members of the Zhu family were lined up openly for selection. Zhu Qinghou was just about to look out when, before he could see much, a black cloth was draped over him, isolating him from the outside world.

Through the thick black cloth, not a sliver of light penetrated. Zhu Qinghou was somewhat surprised. Others didn't get this treatment; why was he the one covered with a black cloth?

He reached out to lift the cloth when the cage was suddenly knocked upon. It was a completely unfamiliar voice; the escorting personnel had been changed at some point. "Don't move."

Zhu Qinghou withdrew his hand and fell silent.

The person outside thought he was scared, thinking this pampered young villain was nothing special after all. He had been so defiant during the parade, silencing the entire Yongzhou with a single sentence, but now he was meek.

He was probably weeping and wailing inside the cage right now.

In reality, inside the dark prison cage.

Zhu Qinghou found a corner, leaned against it, sat down, felt the cart beneath him begin to move forward, tilted his head, propped his cheek, and dozed off.

Along the way, he had already made arrangements. The news that he alone knew the whereabouts of the tens of millions in silver had already spread everywhere. Coupled with his fearless performance during the parade, it would only make people believe it even more.

It was laughable, really. Those who framed his family probably never imagined that the very crime pinned on them would now become his lifeline.

Thirty million taels of silver. He had grown up surrounded by gold and jade, but he had never seen that much silver.

Those people in the Department of State Affairs were truly bold, daring to write such an astronomical number.

After an unknown length of time, the prisoner cart finally stopped, seemingly having entered a courtyard surrounded by imposing buildings.

An unfamiliar voice sounded in his ear again: "Your Highness, it took considerable time from Yejing to Yongzhou. We have brought the person."

Who was it?

From Yejing to Yongzhou, a nine-thousand-li journey of exile. To go to such lengths to keep an eye on him.

Several candidates immediately flashed through Zhu Qinghou's mind, but he dismissed them one by one; none of them were in Yongzhou.

Before he could ponder further, the black cloth was abruptly lifted. The sky was pitch black, and the flickering torchlight in front of the hall was blindingly bright.

Zhu Qinghou's eyelashes fluttered instinctively. Dazed, he looked toward the light, his gaze traveling upward: from snow-white robe hems, to a dark upper garment, a long, black walking stick, finally settling on the white silk blindfold covering the man's eyes.

—Prince Su of Yongzhou, Li Zhen.

In the eyes of the world, his sworn enemy since youth, the one who had blinded him.

After all these years apart, he was still the same, his possessiveness as strong as ever, having sent people to follow him all the way from the capital.

Zhu Qinghou thought to himself, tilting his head to size up Li Zhen.

Though Li Zhen’s eyes were blindfolded with a white silk ribbon, Zhu Qinghou could vividly feel the other was “looking” at him. Compared to their last meeting years ago at Consort Cui’s funeral, Li Zhen had shed all traces of youthful naivety, now exuding the formidable, icy sternness of a young man. His frame had grown taller and more imposing, his countenance cold and dignified, radiating a startlingly calm and restrained aura.

Beside them, the prince’s guards of Prince Su’s estate were taken aback. This mere slave, instead of begging for mercy, dared to scrutinize His Highness so brazenly.

When the black cloth was removed earlier, hadn’t he seemed to be fast asleep?

Prince Su, with his eyes covered by the white silk, looked down from his height, ready to observe the pitiful state of a man facing death.

A moment later, Zhu Qinghou closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Such audacious composure was infuriating. Hearing his steady, drowsy breaths, Li Zhen chuckled softly and ordered the prisoner’s cage opened, commanding the man be dragged out.

Restrained by others, Zhu Qinghou half-knelt, half-crouched at Li Zhen’s feet, disheveled and barefoot, like a languid, boneless cat.

Li Zhen reached out, touching his face—now fully matured, with snowy, cool skin and handsome, smooth features. His fingertips brushed lightly over the convict’s thin eyelids as he asked gently, “You’re not begging for mercy?”

Zhu Qinghou leaned in closer, letting him touch and indirectly freeing himself from the grip behind him. He countered, “If I don’t beg, will you kill me?”

Li Zhen’s hand stilled.

The surrounding soldiers were astonished. This son of a treacherous official, clearly at a disadvantage, seemed to hold all the cards, utterly convinced his life was not in danger.

How… arrogant!

Li Zhen moved, his fingers sliding down to rest on Zhu Qinghou’s neck, gripping the pulsing artery, tightening inch by inch, forcing him to arch his neck and tense his body, his heartbeat growing frantic.

“Do you still think I won’t kill you now?”

Li Zhen’s voice, clear and distant, reached his ears, cold as jade.

A chill shot down Zhu Qinghou’s spine, icy and penetrating. His chest heaved unevenly as he gripped Li Zhen’s fingers with both hands, trying to pry them apart one by one, yet unable to break free.

How could this blind man have such strength? Could he really be willing to kill him?

Gazing at the face so close to his own, Zhu Qinghou tilted his head up, attempting to touch Li Zhen’s cheek. But the moment he drew near, he was abruptly released.

Zhu Qinghou sprawled backward onto the ground, clutching his neck as he gasped with difficulty. “…Do you hate me because you still resent what happened back then?”

His eyes flickered, a glint of cunning flashing briefly as he quickly devised a response.

After a moment of silence, Zhu Qinghou spoke weakly, his tone devoid of any will to survive, instead filled with suppressed, hidden affection.

“That year, I had just turned eighteen, young and ignorant. Because I loved you, I couldn’t bear to see anyone else in your eyes, and so I made a grave mistake.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Now, if I can die by your hand, I’ll have no regrets.”

—The estate fell into dead silence.

Prince Su listened expressionlessly, leaning on his cane as he bent down, reaching out to brush aside the sweat-dampened hair at Zhu Qinghou’s temples. His fingers traced the branded mark between his brows, his tone gentle yet eerie.

“…With such devotion from you, how could I bear to let you die like this?”

His fingers inadvertently touched Zhu Qinghou’s bloodied brow bone, still wet and unhealed, reeking of blood.

Noticing his hesitation, Zhu Qinghou murmured a complaint, “It hurts… everything hurts.” Then he asked, “Where is Qing Xi?”

In the entire Zhu family, the only ones who held no grudge against Li Zhen were his mother and his sister, Zhu Liujun.

He had long planned that once they reached Yongzhou, he would use the three million taels of silver as a bargaining chip for their lives.

Who could have expected the unpredictable Li Zhen to appear halfway?

Only now did Zhu Qinghou begin to feel a faint trace of fear. With his plans disrupted, were his and his sister’s heads now entirely at Li Zhen’s mercy?

His mind filled with concern for his sister’s whereabouts, but the spiteful Li Zhen deliberately ignored his question, withdrawing his hand and leaning on his cane as he turned and walked away without hesitation.

As if he had merely spared a moment to see him, nothing more.

Watching his retreating figure, Zhu Qinghou felt a surge of anger. He wanted to chase after him and demand answers, but the prince’s guards stopped him.

*

What exactly did Li Zhen mean? Bringing him to Prince Su’s estate, confining him here—what was the point? For amusement?

Lost in thought, Zhu Qinghou applied medicine to his wounds, wincing in pain. He was now in a side hall of the prince’s estate—a small space, but heavily guarded both openly and covertly, making it difficult for him to learn any news from outside.

After tending to his injuries, Zhu Qinghou stood up and walked toward the door.

After years apart, finally reunited with the one he deeply loved, how could he remain idle in this small courtyard?

Before the tightly shut vermilion gate, a guard with arms crossed and a sword in hand glanced at him, then extended his blade horizontally, his voice cold and firm. “His Highness has ordered that you are not to step beyond this place.”

Zhu Qinghou lowered his gaze, sorrowfully saying, “He forbids me from leaving, yet he won’t come to see me. What does he intend?” The grief and resentment in his words were almost suffocating.

The guard’s lips twitched. Could this slave truly be so deeply devoted to His Highness? Who would believe that!

He remained silent, refusing to yield.

Just as Zhu Qinghou was about to speak again, his body swayed, his knees buckling as he fell to the ground.

A porcelain cup tumbled, spilling tea across the floor and shattering into pieces.

The Governor of Yongzhou hurriedly reached to pick them up, forcing a smile. “Breaking brings peace, spilling water brings wealth.” Gathering the fragments, he remarked casually, “Your Highness, in this harsh winter, even the Wei River has frozen. The people of Yongzhou are suffering. The Zhu Faction amassed millions in wealth—if we could truly uncover something, it would be a blessing for the people.”

On the seat above, Prince Su’s expression remained calm, revealing no clues, making it difficult to discern his stance on the matter.

The Governor felt a twinge of apprehension but mustered his courage to continue. “Why not hand him over to this official? I will surely uncover the whereabouts of those three million taels of silver. Once reported to Yejing, it could replenish the treasury, benefit the realm, and add to Your Highness’s achievements.”

If the Ministry of Justice and the Secretariat in Yejing failed to extract the information, perhaps their methods weren’t harsh enough. Look at that son of a treacherous official—his face intact, limbs unharmed, clearly still in good shape.

Author’s Note:

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