Chapter 434 Madness?

Chapter 434: Has He Lost His Mind?

Cheng Ge slowly rose to his feet and stood still for a moment.

He looked at Zhou Mingqi's face, at those closed eyes, at the gradually calming breath.

Those two pills—who knew how much time they'd buy him.

Suddenly, he felt someone tug at his sleeve. He turned around.

Crown Prince Zhou Zhan stood behind him, the red mark of a slap still on his face, his eyes rimmed with red as well.

But in those eyes, there was no longer the panic and helplessness from before—only resolve.

He pulled at Cheng Ge's sleeve, yanking him hard.

He pulled Cheng Ge forward two steps, and before he could even speak, Zhou Zhan had already lowered his voice, leaning close to his ear: "Muyu, you need to go. Now."

Cheng Ge's brow furrowed slightly, but Zhou Zhan didn't give him a chance to speak.

He quickly turned his head and waved to someone in the distance.

Several burly soldiers immediately stepped forward, standing at Cheng Ge's side, forming a loose circle around him.

Zhou Zhan nudged them forward, lowering his voice, his words tumbling out fast:

"Just follow behind these men. When Chen Zhengqi makes his move, slip away in the chaos."

Cheng Ge said nothing. These were the Crown Prince's personal guards.

He turned his head, looking at Zhou Zhan's still-youthful face, at those red-rimmed eyes that stubbornly held back tears.

Zhou Zhan didn't look at him. He turned and walked briskly toward Zhou Yinyun.

"Yinyun." His voice was low, but carried a weight that brooked no argument.

Zhou Yinyun looked up at him.

"When the time comes, take Prince Jing and get out of here," he said. "Make sure nothing happens to them."

Zhou Yinyun's eyes narrowed sharply.

He looked at Zhou Zhan, at that face, so much younger than his own.

"What about you?" he asked.

Zhou Zhan didn't answer. He just pulled his hand back, turned around, and looked back at the imperial bed.

At the man lying there—his father, the Emperor. "My father's still here. I have to stay with him."

Zhou Yinyun opened his mouth, as if to speak, but nothing came out.

Zhou Zhan stood with his back to Cheng Ge, his back to everyone, his shoulders rigid as a bowstring stretched to its limit.

He didn't dare look at Cheng Ge. If he turned around, he'd never be able to let him go.

He was afraid his voice would shake if he spoke.

He was afraid that one more look would make him beg him to stay.

But he knew he couldn't stay.

His father was still lying there.

He was the Crown Prince—the heir.

His father lay here, Chen Zhengqi's soldiers were outside—he couldn't leave.

Cheng Ge was different. They wanted the throne, and they were after him.

Cheng Ge didn't have to stay. He could leave, and as long as he did, he'd live.

Zhou Zhan's eyes burned again.

He suddenly remembered confessing his feelings to Cheng Ge not long ago. Back then, he hadn't understood what love was. He only knew that seeing that person made him happy, and not seeing him made him miss him.

When he was rejected back then, he only felt anger and resentment—a bitter torment that was hard to bear.

But now, he just felt relief.

Thank God.

Thank God Cheng Ge hadn't agreed to be with him back then.

Thank God there was nothing between them.

It was better this way.

Cheng Ge stood there, the Crown Prince's Imperial Guards at his side.

But he stayed put.

He simply watched Zhou Zhan's back—that silhouette looking so fragile in the flickering candlelight.

He suddenly realized Zhou Zhan had grown a bit taller since he'd left the capital.

His shoulders were broader, his back straighter, and standing there, he had the faint bearing of a grown man.

Cheng Ge stared at him for a long time.

Then, all of a sudden, he moved.

He took a step, then another, walking toward Zhou Zhan.

His footsteps echoed loudly in the silent hall.

Zhou Zhan heard it, and his whole body went rigid.

He didn't dare to turn around.

But the footsteps got closer and closer, until they finally stopped right behind him.

Then a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

A pat. So light.

Zhou Zhan finally couldn't help but turn around.

Cheng Ge stood right in front of him, his expression giving nothing away.

But he just stood there, facing Zhou Zhan, looking him in the eye.

Zhou Zhan's eyes went red instantly.

"You—" his voice was shaking badly, "Why aren't you gone yet—"

Cheng Ge didn't answer.

He just looked at Zhou Zhan, at the face still marked with a handprint.

Looking at those eyes, red beyond belief, he asked, "Your Highness, how many troops do we have right now?"

Zhou Zhan froze.

He blurted out, "Right now, only Commander Zhou is holding the line outside the hall with the Four Guards Battalion... maybe... maybe ten thousand or so."

Over ten thousand.

Cheng Ge's brow furrowed. The capital's three main camps had a total of two hundred thousand troops.

Chen Zhengqi brought twenty thousand men into the palace, but that was just the advance force.

No one knew how many more were waiting outside the city walls.

Ten thousand against two hundred thousand.

No less than an ant trying to shake a tree.

They needed to find someone.

Cheng Ge's mind quickly ran through who they could use—

He lifted his gaze to Zhou Zhan.

"What's the situation with the Ministry of War?"

Before Zhou Zhan could answer, a voice cut in from the side.

"The Minister of War... has already gone over to Chen Zhengqi."

Cheng Ge turned.

Zhou Yinyun stood there, still clutching that stack of medicine bottles, his voice fairly steady.

Cheng Ge's eyes darkened.

The Minister of War had defected.

He knew better than anyone what that meant.

The Twenty-Six Upper Guards and the Patrol Battalion—all these troops were under the Ministry of War's control.

Without the Ministry's seal or the Minister's writ, moving those troops would be nearly impossible.

He paced a few steps inside the hall, his steps light, but each one felt heavy.

"Where are the Grand Secretaries now?"

Zhou Zhan's face went pale too.

"They're... trapped in Wenhua Hall by Chen Zhengqi's men," he said. "No one's come out since they got trapped during that court session."

Cheng Ge stopped in his tracks.

The Grand Secretaries were trapped.

The Ministry of War had defected.

The imperial jade seal... where was it?

He abruptly looked up at Zhou Zhan.

"What about Eunuch Fuquan?"

Zhou Zhan's expression fell.

"Fu Quan..." his voice dropped, "was taken by Chen Zhengqi's men. Only he knows where the jade seal is."

Cheng Ge's eyes narrowed a little.

The jade seal wasn't with the emperor, the Grand Secretaries, or the Crown Prince—it was with Fuquan, and Fuquan had fallen into Chen Zhengqi's hands.

What did that imply?

It meant that as long as Fuquan handed over the seal, Chen Zhengqi could produce it, lean on the Grand Secretaries, and forge any imperial decree he wanted.

"Purging the court of traitors" or "the Crown Prince killing the emperor"—with the jade seal, he could make black into white.

Cheng Ge stood there in silence for a long time.

The hall was dead silent.

Everyone was staring at him.

Prince Jing had gotten up from beside the dragon bed at some point, standing not far off, but didn't dare make a sound.

Cheng Ge suddenly lifted his eyes to Zhou Zhan.

"Your Highness," he said, "the jade seal is with Fuquan. Besides Chen Zhengqi's men, who else knows?"

Zhou Zhan was taken aback, then shook his head.

"I... I don't know..."

Cheng Ge didn't say anything.

He just stood there, his gaze landing on the tightly shut doors of the hall.

Cheng Ge turned to Zhou Yinyun.

"Prince Heir."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made you instinctively want to obey.

Zhou Yinyun looked up at him, still clutching the medicine bottles tightly in his arms.

Cheng Ge's gaze rested on his face, pausing for a moment.

“Come with me when we go out,” he said. “Whatever happens, do not panic.”

Zhou Yinyun’s pupils narrowed slightly.

Go out?

Out where?

It was crawling with Chen Zhengqi’s men out there—what was the point of going out?

But he looked into Cheng Ge’s eyes, those bottomless depths, and said nothing.

He just nodded.

“Alright.”

Cheng Ge didn’t look back at him.

He turned and walked, step by step, back to stand before Zhou Zhan.

Zhou Zhan was still standing there, watching Cheng Ge, his heart suddenly pounding with fear.

He didn’t know what Cheng Ge was planning.

He didn’t know why Cheng Ge hadn’t left.

Cheng Ge came to a stop in front of him.

He spoke, his voice low, yet every word was perfectly clear to Zhou Zhan: “Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

Zhou Zhan’s lips parted slightly.

Cheng Ge looked at him and said each word deliberately: “When the time comes, listen to me.”

………

The night was deep and still, the firelight blazing bright.

Zhou Zhan kicked open the hall doors and charged out, sword in hand.

“Out of my way—all of you, out of my way—!”

His voice was hoarse, nearly shattered, with a madness that had been suppressed for too long.

The doors burst open. He stood on the steps before the hall, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, a bright red handprint on his face.

The sword in his hand swung wildly, hacking at the corridor pillars beside him, slashing at the empty air, completely without technique.

Behind him followed a squad of Imperial Guards.

Those men also carried blades, still stained with blood, and were shoving along several prisoners with lowered heads and hunched shoulders.

The prisoners stumbled, pushed along, crying out “Spare me, Your Highness” as they were shoved forward.

Zhou Yan stood at the head of the imperial troops, hand resting on his sword hilt. Seeing this, his brow furrowed slightly.

He didn’t know what kind of act Zhou Zhan was putting on.

But he asked nothing, only kept his hand on his sword, standing there, watching.

Chen Zhengqi watched from horseback in the distance.

He saw the Crown Prince Zhou Zhan standing disheveled before the hall, saw the sword flailing wildly in his grip, and his gaze darkened slightly…

Zhou Zhan stood on the steps before the hall and suddenly came to a halt.

He gasped for air, raised his head, and looked toward Chen Zhengqi on horseback in the distance.

His eyes were impossibly red, bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

His chest heaved violently, and the hand gripping his sword shook uncontrollably.

Through row after row of armored soldiers, across the fire-lit square, he could not make out Chen Zhengqi’s expression.

But he knew that man was watching.

He suddenly raised his hand and hurled the head he was holding with all his might!

The head arced through the air, sailed over the soldiers’ heads, tumbled across the gray bricks of the square, and came to a stop before Chen Zhengqi’s horse.

Chen Zhengqi glanced down.

It was Shen Zhen’s head.

The face was turned upward, eyes half-open, complexion deathly pale—clearly dead.

Chen Zhengqi’s brow furrowed slightly.

Zhou Zhan stood before the hall, watching the head roll away, then suddenly raised his hand, pointed at Chen Zhengqi in the distance, and erupted into furious curses:

“Chen Zhengqi—you treasonous dog—!”

His voice was hoarse, nearly broken, yet every word was shouted with all the strength he had.

“You sent this dog to coerce me—you had him force me to confess—you had him force me to take my own life—!”

“I’m telling you—I’d rather die than confess—!”

“I am the Crown Prince—the heir to the Zhou throne—!”

“Who the hell do you think you are—!”

“You want to kill me—come and get me then—!”

He suddenly raised his sword, pointing the blade at Chen Zhengqi in the distance.

“I’m right here—if you dare, come and get me—!”

The more he cursed, the more frantic and unhinged he became. Then, mid-rant, he suddenly spun around and slashed wildly at the guards behind him.

“Get the hell away—! All of you, get the hell away—!”

The guards scrambled aside, and the prisoners they were holding shrank back in the chaos.

Zhou Zhan turned back, slashed at the air a few more times, then suddenly crouched down, clutched his head, and broke down sobbing.

“Daddy… Daddy, wake up… I’m scared…”

The sobs came in spurts, mixed with his earlier curses, sounding pitiful and desperate.

Chen Zhengqi, mounted on his horse, watched from a distance the prince who crouched before the hall, cursing and sobbing, completely out of his mind.

He watched for a long time.

Then he suddenly smiled.

The smile was brief, just a fleeting moment.

Mad.

This young crown prince, barely in his teens, had finally snapped.

He pulled the reins and backed his horse a step, his gaze drifting past the palace gates.

It passed over the still-wailing prince and landed on the brightly lit Qianqing Palace.

Just another day or two of siege.

By then, with supplies cut off and no way in or out, this prince would go mad even if he hadn't already.

Once he broke, he'd kneel and admit his guilt himself.

Then the Chen family could take power fair and square.

The Great Zhou's realm would be theirs for the taking.

Suddenly, among the "prisoners" behind the prince, a few figures slipped out of line in the chaos, running toward the capital garrison's ranks.

A few of the prince's guards chased after them, trying to drag them back.

But those men ran fast, plunging straight into the soldiers at the garrison's edge.

Chen Zhengqi casually glanced over that way.

A few dark figures pushed through the crowd and quickly disappeared.

He looked away, not bothering to care.

…………

Cheng Ge pulled Zhou Yinyun along, sticking close to the wall, rushing through one narrow alley after another.

Behind them, the firelight and voices faded, growing more distant, until only the night wind and their quick breaths were left.

They stopped in a hidden corner.

No one was there—just the weathered palace walls and a sliver of black sky above.

Zhou Yinyun leaned on the wall, panting.

His legs were still shaking, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of his throat.

He raised his head to look at Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge stood there, breathing steady, just a light sweat at his temples.

He reached into his clothes and pulled out a letter, handing it to Zhou Yinyun.

The letter was neatly folded, sealed with wax, with no writing on it.

"Your Highness," Cheng Ge said in a low, quick voice, "once you're out, take this letter and find Yuli."

Zhou Yinyun paused. "Lin Nanshu..."

Cheng Ge pushed the letter into his hand. "He'll get what I mean."

Zhou Yinyun gripped the letter, his knuckles turning white.

Cheng Ge looked at him, his eyes calm and steady.

"Tell him," he said, "tomorrow at midnight, I'll come find him."