Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When Zhu Qinghou awoke, he faintly heard murmuring voices from behind a screen, saying something about a weak, thready pulse that was deep and slow, leaving him utterly bewildered.

He lay perfectly still, straining his ears to catch more information.

But the voices grew softer and softer until they faded away completely.

Footsteps approached, and the hem of a snow-white robe came into view. Li Zhen stopped before the bed curtain, the white silk blindfold hanging low. "The Governor of Yongzhou has offered substantial benefits in exchange for handing you over."

The Governor couldn't understand why Prince Su hadn't agreed immediately. After all, Prince Su had a longstanding grudge against the treacherous minister's son, who had caused his eye injury—he should hate him to the bone.

Torturing Zhu Qinghou to extract the silver's whereabouts seemed a perfect solution, killing two birds with one stone: profiting while also venting Prince Su's anger.

He thought the only reason Prince Su refused was that he wanted to keep the man in his own residence for personal torment. Perhaps that slave had already perished last night.

Zhu Qinghou, who might have already been dead, sat up and asked with a smile, "Xian Pu, why didn't you hand me over?"

If Li Zhen had wanted to give him to the Governor or personally interrogate him about the silver, he wouldn't be lying here so peacefully now.

"There's no need," Li Zhen said. "Do you want to see Zhu Liujun?"

Zhu Liujun, daughter of Chancellor Zhu, childhood name Qing Xi.

Zhu Qinghou's younger sister.

"Using family to threaten me isn't your style," Zhu Qinghou's expression shifted slightly, feigning sorrow as he whispered, "Is it me who has made you unlike yourself?"

Li Zhen didn't respond to his words. Instead, he gently touched the brand between Zhu Qinghou's brows—the convict's facial tattoo. Anyone who saw him would know he was a lowly slave.

"You always speak so movingly," Li Zhen praised him without emotion, "but you are only driven by profit, loving only your wealth and carefree life."

Zhu Qinghou quietly accepted his critique. Under heaven, who doesn't love wealth and ease?

But the situation was dire now. He had to survive under Li Zhen, who had become unpredictable and didn't follow reason.

"I very much want to tell you the silver's whereabouts. In the entire Jin Dynasty, you are the only one I'm willing to tell," Zhu Qinghou paused to catch his breath. The nine-thousand-li exile had left him weary; he needed more sleep to recover. "But, Xian Pu, I fear death."

He feared that telling Li Zhen would cost him his only bargaining chip and lead to his death.

Li Zhen remained silent. The physician's words still echoed in his ears: Zhu Qinghou bore critical injuries and had a weak constitution.

The Ministry of Justice's prison, the nine-thousand-li exile—Zhu Qinghou seemed to have become a withered grass on the frontier, freezing at the first frost and breaking at the wind's touch.

"If you don't speak, you will die sooner," Li Zhen said with unusual calm. "You've endured the Ministry of Justice's prison. Why not try Yongzhou's Juntai?"

Zhu Qinghou's eyes widened as he recalled some old rumors. Yongzhou bordered the Two Weis, a strategic location with formidable enemies abroad and fierce generals within—a land of wolves and tigers.

Li Zhen, a blind prince who had just reached adulthood—everyone worried he would die in Yongzhou. Some even started a betting pool in Yejing, wagering on which year Li Zhen would perish.

No one expected that in his first month as the feudal prince of Yongzhou, Li Zhen personally oversaw the construction of Juntai, a terrifying earthen prison notorious for its horrifying tortures.

Even so, Zhu Qinghou still didn't speak. Truths revealed too easily are often met with disbelief.

Not until he witnessed the conditions inside Juntai with his own eyes.

"Yejing," Zhu Qinghou said with a trembling voice. "My father hid all the silver in Yejing."

Yejing, the capital of the Jin Dynasty.

Adult feudal princes stationed in their fiefdoms could not leave without imperial decree, only permitted to enter the capital for court audiences during the New Year or the Emperor's birthday.

Now, the New Year had passed, and the Emperor's birthday was still half a year away. This meant it would take at least six months to verify the truth.

"You are stalling for time."

Li Zhen said calmly.

"I'm not lying to you," Zhu Qinghou unconsciously leaned closer to him, shivering. Yongzhou's Juntai was far more terrifying than the Ministry of Justice's prison.

"Are you afraid?" Li Zhen wanted to see the genuine emotion in Zhu Qinghou's eyes, so he touched his eyelids. Unfortunately, he couldn't feel his eyeballs.

Zhu Qinghou blinked his eyelashes sensitively under his palm, a mix of fear and novelty, his voice still trembling: "I..." He changed the subject. "Did you oversee the construction of this Juntai?"

"Yes," Li Zhen said. "There are many sounds here. I like them very much."

...Sounds?

Zhu Qinghou listened intently for a moment, an involuntary, bone-chilling cold spreading through his body. He unconsciously wrapped his arms around Li Zhen's arm, leaning in against him.

Li Zhen stiffened for an instant, his fingertips pressing against the warm, soft skin, wanting to push him away. He hesitated for a moment but took no action.

On the way back, Zhu Qinghou gazed at the vast scenery outside the window, his body still trembling slightly. He was deeply afraid of those bloody tortures; hearing the sounds and smelling the scents made him tremble instinctively.

This fear was not feigned. Words spoken under fear are often more believable. At least, Li Zhen temporarily believed him.

He had bought himself six months.

At least until the truth was verified, Li Zhen wouldn't kill him yet.

"Xian Pu," Zhu Qinghou said softly. "I want to see Liujun. Let me see her once, please?"

Back in Yejing, whenever Zhu Qinghou lowered his voice to make a request, no one would refuse him.

Li Zhen turned his head. The outline of his eyes and brows was faintly visible behind the white silk. Just as Zhu Qinghou began to doubt whether he would agree, Li Zhen said, "Alright."

The servants of Prince Su's residence blindfolded Zhu Qinghou, clearly not wanting him to know Zhu Liujun's whereabouts. He seemed not to mind, smiling gently at the servant.

The latter was momentarily stunned, lowering his head, not daring to look at him again.

Had Li Zhen lived like this for the past four years?

An extremely faint emotion flickered through Zhu Qinghou's heart, vanishing without a trace as quickly as it came.

The blindfold was removed. Zhu Qinghou opened his eyes and saw Zhu Liujun through the screen. She looked like a lotus flower drained of color, her face pale, gazing at him with hidden anxiety. "Xiao Yu, Prince Su... he didn't do anything to you, did you?"

Zhu Qinghou's childhood name was Deyu. Zhu Liujun, disrespectful as the younger sibling, always imitated their parents in calling him Xiao Yu.

At a time like this, Zhu Qinghou didn't mind her address. His smile faded, turning uncharacteristically serious as he lowered his voice. "Liujun, I will be fine. Stay here for now. One day, I will take you away."

Zhu Liujun held back her tears and briefly recounted what had happened these past few days. After the public parade, she was brought directly here. Servants delivered meals daily without fail but never spoke a word to her.

Zhu Qinghou seemed thoughtful. He was about to offer a few more words of advice when someone pushed the door open, blindfolded him again, and led him out.

The path grew more and more remote. In the distance, the sound of water gradually grew louder. Wind blew through the long pavilion, water stirred the ice.

Zhu Qinghou stopped and asked softly, "His Highness hasn't killed me yet, but you want to kill me. Aren't you afraid of offending His Highness?"

"His Highness hates you. Killing you is only a matter of time," the person whispered. "Your Zhu family embezzled taxes. The court increased levies, forcing us commoners to repay them. I'm taking your life. Do you admit your guilt?"

“I’m the only one who knows where the silver is. If you kill me, where will your Highness go to find it?”

Zhu Qinghou took a silent step back, his fingertips subtly hooking a loose strand of the blindfold. The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, so Zhu Qinghou continued, “Once your lord recovers the silver, he’ll naturally give it first to the people of Yongzhou. That much silver would be enough to bring prosperity to Yongzhou for years.”

The man was taken aback, unable to resist envisioning the prospect. “Not just returning it to Yongzhou, but also making up for the taxes of other commanderies and cities, returning it all to the people.”

Zhu Qinghou smiled. “Naturally.”

Beautiful and aristocratic, the convict’s smile held the luster of pearls and jade. The more beautiful he was, the more detestable he became, which called to mind his carefree, lazy manner—his splendor and brilliance were all built upon the sweat and blood of the people.

The man’s tone suddenly shifted, turning ominous. “Have you told our lord the hiding place of the silver?”

Zhu Qinghou instantly grew alert. He tore off the blindfold, and in that instant, a powerful hand from behind shoved his head down, plunging him straight into the water. The frigid, newly-thawed lake water of early March rushed into his mouth and nose, choking him and making it hard to breathe.

“…Are you willing to talk now?”

A hazy, icy voice reached his ears through the water, as if from another world.

“I’ll talk…” Zhu Qinghou, weak and exhausted, struggled to squeeze a few hoarse, indistinct gasps from his throat.

The next moment, the other man grabbed his hair and yanked him up. Zhu Qinghou kept his eyes shut, his hands frantically groping in the lake until he seized a drifting piece of ice. He then stabbed it fiercely behind him—

The man behind him seemed not to have expected a counterattack. His eyes widened with intense hatred as he clutched his bleeding arm. “Treacherous scum…”

He reached out, lunged forward, and pressed Zhu Qinghou’s head down with all his might, momentarily overcome by the urge to drown him alive in the lake.

Zhu Qinghou, raised in luxury since childhood and further weakened by torture and a thousand-mile exile, was no match in strength. He was almost shoved under again.

In the midst of the struggle, the weight pressing on the back of his head suddenly gave way. Zhu Qinghou swiftly rolled over and retreated. Through the wet, disheveled strands of hair clinging to his face, he saw the man being dragged away like a dead dog, a trail of blood staining the ground. In his field of vision appeared a pair of black cloud-patterned boots.

Li Zhen bent down. “He was not sent by me.”

“I know,” Zhu Qinghou said, having accidentally swallowed some icy water earlier, leaving a piercing chill and pain in his abdomen. He demanded imperiously: “I want warm wine.”

The Prince of Su’s estate forbade alcohol—let alone warm wine, even cold wine was unavailable.

Zhu Qinghou lay on the couch, wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon, holding a cup of warm tea. He took small sips, frowning, clearly dissatisfied.

He wanted wine—not the refined and elegant Qianqiu wine from Yejing, but any wine would do, preferably a steaming pot, spicy and throat-burning, warming every limb and organ in his body.

After finishing the tea, he smiled lazily. “Your prince’s manor is more dangerous than the Justice Ministry’s dungeons.”

Li Zhen said meaningfully, “Burdened with the people’s resentment, where is not perilous?”

As if surprised that Li Zhen would retort, Zhu Qinghou shot him a glare. Fortunately, Li Zhen couldn’t see it, so he didn’t need to pretend.

“Was there really no one behind him?” Zhu Qinghou asked.

“No one,” Li Zhen replied calmly.

*The people’s resentment.*

The phrase lingered in Zhu Qinghou’s mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp its flavor. The only thing he sensed was a perception of danger. “So many people want me dead, Xian Pu. You can’t just stand by and watch me die.”

The young man’s voice was gentle and clear, tinged with laughter, as if pleading with him, yet also teasing.

Hearing this familiar tone, Li Zhen’s eyelashes trembled, and he suddenly felt a pain in his eyes. He remained silent, so Zhu Qinghou called out repeatedly, “Xian Pu, Xian Pu.”

Even in his youth, Li Zhen had been someone who couldn’t withstand pestering. In the eyes of outsiders, he was aloof and reserved, wholly dedicated to his studies. Yet when Zhu Qinghou winked at him, his earlobes would turn red, and he would obediently follow him out to drink and listen to music, straying from the orthodox path.

“I will save you,” Li Zhen said softly. “Because you will only die by my hand.”