Chapter 436 Found

Chapter 436 Found

Fu Quan's head still hung low, his whole body hanging limp from the rope, as if he had already lost consciousness.

His graying hair hung in tangled strands across his face, hiding the bloody, mangled face underneath.

The fresh burn on his shoulder was still weeping blood, drop by drop, pooling on the ground in a dark red puddle.

The man crouched down, leaning in.

His voice was so low it was almost a whisper, but every word hit Fu Quan's ears clear as day:

"Fuquan."

Fu Quan didn't react.

The man reached out and gently pushed the tangled hair from his face. The candlelight revealed the gruesome mess beneath.

The man's hand hesitated, but he said nothing.

He only lowered his voice even further, leaning close to Fu Quan's ear, and said again: "Fuquan."

Fu Quan's eyelashes trembled slightly. Faint, barely perceptible.

But the man's eyes lit up.

He leaned in closer, his voice breathless with urgency: "Sir, it's me."

Fu Quan's eyelids twitched.

After a long while—so long the man thought he had passed out again—those murky eyes finally opened slowly.

The candlelight caught them, a faint glimmer flickering inside.

Fu Quan looked at the man before him, studying him for a long time.

The face was smeared with ash, streaked black and white, with the hat brim pulled low—you wouldn't have recognized him at first glance.

But the brow, the features, the way he talked—

Fu Quan's lips moved. Slow, faint, barely a sound.

The man leaned in, ear close. "You... are Lord Cheng?"

Cheng Ge nodded. "Yeah... it's me."

Fu Quan said nothing. He simply looked at Cheng Ge, at the face so close before him.

In those murky eyes, something suddenly flickered—the joy of someone who'd waited forever and finally got what he wanted.

Cheng Ge waited, but Fu Quan said nothing more. He tilted his head, meeting Fu Quan's eyes.

Fu Quan's face twitched faintly—an unsettling sight.

He was smiling.

Blood all over his face, lips cracked, not an inch of unbroken flesh—but he was smiling.

Cheng Ge froze for a second, then snapped back to business. "Sir, I don't have much time.

The Emperor is gravely ill. Chen Zhengqi has marched troops in and surrounded the Qianqing Palace.

The Crown Prince is trapped in there, and the Grand Secretariat is boxed in. I need the Imperial Seal to summon reinforcements."

Hearing this, Fu Quan fought to open his eyes and look at Cheng Ge, his lips twitching.

Cheng Ge leaned in close again.

Fu Quan was hurt too bad. Every word cost him a long pause for breath.

The words were dragged up from deep in his throat, wet with blood, broken and barely audible.

"Lord Cheng... the seal..." Cheng Ge's brow furrowed.

Fu Quan swallowed another mouthful of blood before going on. Cheng Ge held his breath to hear: "The seal... is in..."

Cheng Ge leaned in, listening hard, memorizing every word.

When Fu Quan finished, he wheezed for a long time. Cheng Ge straightened up and looked at him.

He hadn't expected Fu Quan to give it up so easy. He'd figured he'd have to pry it out of him.

"Sir," he said, voice dropping lower. "Hold on. Once I've put down the rebels, I'll come back for you."

Fu Quan shook his head. "Lord Cheng... I'm just a eunuch... a worthless life... don't bother with me..."

Fu Quan paused, catching his breath. "If... I can help His Majesty... then this life... wasn't wasted..."

Cheng Ge said nothing. Everyone's made of flesh and blood. Everyone hurts, everyone dies. There's no such thing as a worthless life.

Cheng Ge reached into his robe, pulled out a small porcelain bottle, and shook out a few pills.

He pushed the pills into Fu Quan's mouth and held his chin up to help him swallow.

Fu Quan swallowed them down with whatever spit he had left.

Cheng Ge leaned down again, close to Fu Quan's ear, and said, one word at a time: "Sir, you have to believe me."

Fu Quan's eyes met his.

The candlelight danced in his murky eyes.

"I..." Fu Quan's voice was barely a whisper, "naturally believe in His Majesty."

Cheng Ge blinked. He didn't know why Fu Quan would say that.

But this wasn't the time to think about it.

From the side room, the laughter and chatter went on. Cheng Ge stood up and gave Fu Quan one last look.

Fu Quan looked back at him, the skin around his eyes crinkling, like he was smiling.

Cheng Ge didn't say anything else. He turned and hurried to the door.

He cracked the door open, slipped through, and vanished into the night.

………

Cheng Ge followed Fu Quan's directions, feeling his way through several palace walls in the dark.

The place was indeed remote, with no lanterns around at all—just wild grass and crumbling ruins.

A dry well lay hidden deep in the overgrowth, its mouth covered by a stone slab strewn with dead leaves.

Cheng Ge lifted the slab and peered down. The well was pitch black; nothing could be seen.

He lowered himself over the edge and felt along the well wall with his hands.

One brick, two, three—

At the third brick, he found one that was loose.

He pulled the brick out, reached inside, and his fingertips brushed against something cold.

A long wooden box.

Cheng Ge took it out and opened it in the moonlight.

A heavy jade seal wrapped in bright yellow silk.

The jade was warm and smooth, carved with a chi-tiger finial, and the seal-script characters beneath were faintly visible in the moonlight.

Cheng Ge set the wooden box on his knee and peered inside by the moonlight.

Beneath the bright yellow silk, alongside the heavy jade seal, lay a thick stack of something else.

What he pulled out were a few sheets of paper.

Cheng Ge unfolded them in the moonlight—they were covered in dense handwriting: prescriptions.

He read them line by line.

Poria, white atractylodes, licorice, astragalus... all common detoxifying herbs, yet the combinations were extremely precise, with dosages measured to the gram.

At the end of each prescription was a line of small, neat script, every stroke betraying care:

"This prescription can slow the poison afflicting Muyu, but cannot eradicate it."

"Combined with the previous two prescriptions, with careful nurturing, it can delay the poison's onset by three months..."

Cheng Ge's hand stilled.

He stared at those lines for a long while.

The moonlight was faint, falling on the paper, illuminating every stroke clearly.

Every stroke, every mark, seemed carved into the paper—and into something else as well.

He kept flipping through.

Beneath them were several letters, newer than the prescription papers.

The letters bore place names—Dianzhou, Lingnan, Weichuan… each followed by the same name: Bai Yuxing.

Cheng Ge's brow furrowed. These places were scattered across the land, some he'd heard of, some he'd never even heard of.

Each place name had a date in small script beneath it—some long past, some very recent.

The Emperor… had been searching for Divine Doctor Bai all this time?

He folded the prescriptions and letters, set them aside, and reached back into the box.

This time, he pulled out a hu tablet.

The instant his fingertips touched the tablet, Cheng Ge froze—

Moonlight fell on the tablet, revealing ivory's unique fine grain, its edges worn smooth like jade.

He held it up to the moonlight and turned it over.

It felt somehow familiar.

But he couldn't remember where he'd seen it.

It wasn't until his gaze landed on the little figure of "Donghuang Taiyi" drawn on the underside that it suddenly hit him—

Cheng Ge's eyes went wide.

He turned the tablet over and over, examining it carefully in the moonlight for a long time.

He looked up at the box.

Moonlight fell into its depths, illuminating a thick stack of things at the bottom.

Cheng Ge reached in and pulled out the stack.

They were little portraits.

The paper was thin and soft, some edges worn fuzzy with age, some crumpled and smoothed flat again, covered in fine creases.

Each one bore a little figure—a person with two horns on his head, wearing a winged crown, a dragon tail coiled below...

The drawings were hideous.

Crooked and lopsided—the dragon tail looked like a snake, the horns were uneven, and the winged crown was about to topple off.

Cheng Ge stared at those little portraits, his gaze faltering.

He flipped through them one by one, growing slower with each one.

Those crooked lines, those ugly scribbles—now spread across his hands, one after another.

Moonlight fell on the paper, illuminating every stroke clearly.

He looked at the drawings for a long time. So long he lost all track of time.

Then he set the portraits down gently.

His gaze wandered back to the hu tablet.

In the moonlight, the ivory's warm grain glowed softly.

He picked up the tablet and ran his fingers gently over its surface.

As his fingertip slid across the back of the tablet, he suddenly felt something.

Cheng Ge's fingers stilled.

He turned the tablet over, held it up to the moonlight, squinted, and looked closer.

The line was hidden at the very bottom of the hu tablet, with several lines of small text tucked beneath.

The writing was extremely faint, extremely fine, almost merging with the ivory's natural grain.

"The spring breeze once brushed the jade steps, all mountains and rivers seen through longing.

Longde 16th year, winter, 11th month, 15th day, written by Jingzhao."

Cheng Ge's finger came to rest on that line.

The spring breeze once brushed the jade steps, all mountains and rivers seen through longing.

He silently recited these fourteen characters, once, then once more.

The moonlight was faint, but it fell on those shallow carvings, illuminating them clearly.

Every stroke, every line, seemed carved into the tablet, yet also into something else.

Longde 16th year, winter, 11th month, 15th day.

Cheng Ge's gaze fixed on that date, and he stared for a long time.

At that time, he was investigating a case in Yuanzhou, having been away from the capital for a while.

Cheng Ge's fingertip gently traced that line, the shallow carvings pressing against his skin.

Finally, his fingertip came to rest on those two characters: Jingzhao.

Cheng Ge stared at these two characters for a long time.

If he remembered correctly, this was Zhou Mingqi's courtesy name.

What does this mean?

Why would Zhou Mingqi keep these things?

Cheng Ge's fingertip still lingered on those two characters: Jingzhao.

That was the man's courtesy name—a name only those closest to him would use.

And now, these things lay spread out before him.

Prescriptions. Letters. Portraits. The tablet.

Every stroke, every line, carved into this.

Cheng Ge's hand trembled slightly, an indescribable feeling spreading through his chest.

He quickly rifled through the box again. At the very bottom, pressed beneath everything else, lay a bright yellow silk edict, folded neatly.

Cheng Ge took it out, unfolded it in the moonlight, and read it line by line.

"By the mandate of Heaven, the Emperor hereby decrees:

I hold that when a minister serves his lord, he gives his all; when a lord rewards merit, he must honor it with due ceremony.

Thus I address you, Cheng Ge, courtesy name Muyu, a man of profound insight and keen ability.

Since entering court, you have been diligent and unwavering; your loyalty and integrity are well known to me.

During the autumn hunt incident, when rebels attacked the imperial carriage, you stepped forward in that moment of crisis, shielding me from blades and arrows with your body.

Though grievously wounded, your composure never faltered—such loyalty and courage suffice to inspire the three armies and set an example for all officials.

In your former post in Yuanzhou, you traveled alone in a single carriage, venturing straight into the tiger's den.

You purged the corrupt officials who had accumulated over the years and cleared away the region's malpractices. The wicked were brought to justice, and the good were at peace.

On the day of your departure, the people blocked the road weeping, clinging to your carriage and lying in its path, stretching for a hundred li without end.

Such achievements merit eternal honor and a place in the ancestral shrine.

I hereby appoint you Chief Supervisor of the Household of the Heir Apparent, with the rank of proper third grade, with the additional title of Academician of the Hanlin Academy, serving in the Wenhua Hall, and concurrently as Lecturer in the Classics Colloquium.

I grant you one thousand taels of silver, one hundred bolts of colored silk, and a residence in the Anren Ward.

Further considering your wholehearted devotion to the state and your outstanding service, which ordinary rewards cannot fully repay,

I specially grant you an Iron Deed, exempting you from all crimes except treason. Your descendants will inherit this favor, forever bathed in imperial grace.

Ah! The office of the heir's household relies on proper guidance; the selection for the Classics Colloquium values upright persons above all.

You shall further inspire your original resolve, diligently fulfill your duties, assist the heir apparent, and together advance good governance. Respect this decree."

Cheng Ge's gaze settled on those lines.

Chief Supervisor of the Household of the Heir Apparent, rank proper third grade. Academician of the Hanlin Academy, serving in the Wenhua Hall, concurrently Lecturer in the Classics Colloquium.

This was a position close to the Crown Prince, one that allowed frequent entry into the palace, one to discourse on classics and governance with the Son of Heaven.

An Iron Deed. Exempt from all crimes except treason.

Cheng Ge's throat tightened slightly, and for a moment, it was painfully dry.

Previously, Zhou Mingqi had written in his letters, promising that once the court was cleansed, he would recall him to the capital.

He had taken it merely as offhand reassurance, never taking it seriously.

Now it seemed—so that was it—the man had arranged everything.

If he wished to enter officialdom, he would give him rank, give him honor, and pave the way for him to ascend the court and enter the cabinet.

Knowing he acted rashly, he gave him an iron deed of immunity to keep him safe for the rest of his life.

Cheng Ge's gaze slowly moved over that imperial edict, the characters neat and orderly, every stroke imbued with solemnity.

Not hastily written, not a whim—it had been drafted long ago, hidden in this wooden box alongside these prescriptions, these letters, these portraits, and kept together with the imperial seal.

Cheng Ge's throat tightened slightly, and suddenly his eyes burned.

He looked up at the moon in the sky, its light faint and cold, falling on his face.

So this was—the spring breeze once brushed the jade steps, all mountains and rivers seen through longing.

...

Lin Nanshu sat in the seat of honor, gently setting the teacup in his hand on the table.

The moment the cup met the tabletop, it made a soft, crisp sound.

That sound was not loud, but in the deathly silent hall, it was as clear as a stone striking every heart.

The water in the teacup rippled slightly, reflecting the flickering candlelight above.

Lin Nanshu raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the Clan Elders seated below.

Face after face—some aged, some shrewd, some feigning composure, some with shifty eyes.

They sat there, in the hall of this century-old family, beneath the candlelight and the ancestral tablets.

He didn't rush to speak; he just looked at them.

He looked for a long time.

So long that some began to fidget, so long that some averted their eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze, so long that the atmosphere grew heavier and heavier, thick enough to cut.

At last, an elder with graying hair and beard on the left side coughed, breaking the dead silence.

"Nanshu, ah..." He stroked his beard, drawing out his words in that typical elder's tone.

"It's not that we want to stand aside, but the situation at court is uncertain right now.

The old master is trapped inside, and we're anxious too, but what's the use of worrying?"