TBR CH136

Chu Huaicun smoothed his snow-white sleeves; his robes were spotless, like branches laden with snow.

Before him, Qin Sangzhi, the young master universally praised for his aloofness, independence, talent, and character, had his face contort for a moment. He gritted his teeth and stated his true purpose. He had held it in for so long, evidently pushed to his limit by Chu Huaicun’s feigned obtuseness; the bloodshot in his eyes was clearly visible.

Ever since that list spread like wildfire and Ji Ying began his ruthless displays, Qin Sangzhi had tried to maintain the facade of a pure, noble, and detached scholar, but in reality, he couldn’t close his eyes. He was terrified that Ji Ying would barge into his residence, and he would wake up to the sunless imperial prison.

After speaking, he let out a sigh of hope, even relaxing the fingers that had been clutching his fabric. But his heart tightened abruptly the next second.

Chancellor Chu had always been inscrutable, but now the look in his eyes held a touch of unfamiliarity:

“Young Master Qin means… that I should bypass official procedures to protect you? That’s not difficult, but I had originally thought, given your character, you would never tolerate such disregard for royal law.”

Qin Sangzhi and his circle of supporters had written no shortage of articles condemning Chu Huaicun as ambitious and conniving. Qin Sangzhi was also happy to use this method to place himself on a high moral ground, granting Chu Huaicun permission to approach him as if bestowing a favor. If Chancellor Chu protected him in private, he wouldn’t care, accepting it all; but if he helped him openly, he would instead hypocritically refuse.

After all, he was Chu Huaicun’s “white moonlight”—pure as the bright moon and flawless.

Qin Sangzhi’s mind shifted. He immediately realized that what he had just said didn’t align with his usual image; he should never have brought it up himself. He quickly made an excuse: “No, I didn’t mean that—”

Chu Huaicun’s expression softened then, even a hint of a smile in his gaze as he looked at him: “I have always valued Young Master Qin’s character, Sangzhi. Rest assured, I will have the Dali Temple and the Torture Department swiftly advance the investigation, and they will certainly clear your name, without betraying your aspirations. If it weren’t for Young Master Qin’s noble integrity, never allowing me to directly intervene, I would never permit you to suffer in the imperial prison.”

The system’s voice arrived as expected, coldly reminding Qin Sangzhi with a mechanical tone at his most anxious and uncertain moment.

He finally realized that although he had stolen Chu Huaicun’s affection by playing the role of the “white moonlight,” this also meant he had to perfectly embody the flawless person in Chancellor Chu’s mind. Compared to the days he would have to endure in the imperial prison, Chu Huaicun’s conquest progress was more important.

Moreover, he might stay in this world forever.

Qin Sangzhi bit down his teeth and swallowed blood, going against his own wishes to speak with difficulty:

“Chancellor Chu understands my intentions, then that is for the best. I would rather wait for the outcome in the imperial prison than sully my integrity!”

He spoke with an air of unyielding integrity, but his heart was bleeding. Qin Sangzhi vaguely began to doubt the purpose of his arrival here. He dared not think deeply, for further contemplation felt like touching icy cold water that sent shivers from head to toe. His gaze flickered, yet he couldn’t help but entertain the thought again:

“If the investigation continues, will this case truly be entirely unrelated to me?”

On the third day of the third month, by Green Fish Lake, the Qu Shui Liu Shang banquet. It was a banquet he had personally organized, and the guests were invited by him, and all the scholars related to the cheating scandal were among this group.

The worst part was that on that very day, he had indeed had a copied set of this year’s imperial examination questions on his person.

As Qin Sangzhi’s reputation grew day by day, he achieved a high position in the Hanlin Academy at an unprecedentedly young age. Even the old scholars who drafted examination questions would ask him to review and revise them. That day, he had just received the newly drafted questions from the Hanlin Academy, paid no mind to them, and had his young attendant put them into a parcel before rushing to the Qu Shui Liu Shang event.

Qin Sangzhi had not shown the examination questions to any student, absolutely not. He would not be foolish enough to risk his reputation doing something thankless.

But when he returned to his residence and unfurled that fragile yellow paper again, were the creases on it deeper, more chaotic? Was the paper worn thin from other people’s fingers, did it carry an unfamiliar scent? He didn’t always keep his parcel by his side, and the attending young servant couldn’t recall if anyone had approached it.

He only remembered this matter when the fire started burning him.

If that were truly the case… Qin Sangzhi’s face turned a little pale. Actively leaking questions and unintentionally leaking questions might sound different, but before the emperor, they were certainly the same crime. He remembered that when he left the Hanlin Academy, those white-haired old scholars personally saw him off, repeatedly admonishing him to guard the questions with utmost care. But he hadn’t really taken it to heart.

Even if this was a trap, he had walked into it himself.

Qin Sangzhi had just made this solemn vow when he saw Chancellor Chu gently clap his hands. His robes swayed with the movement, appearing crisp and clean, with an indescribable sense of detachment. Chu Huaicun spoke to him earnestly: “Rest assured, this matter will be thoroughly investigated until the truth is revealed. The truly guilty party will be punished, and I will show no mercy.”

As he listened, Qin Sangzhi’s heart began to pound again. His eyes couldn’t help but flicker incessantly.

He wanted to rise and take his leave, and in his haste, he bumped into the tea table in front of him. The tea in the cup was almost untouched; fine, valuable aged tea swayed like amber in the cup, spilling a portion. He thought of returning to his residence, then felt a desolate chill in his heart, and his feet couldn’t help but stay glued to the spot. Right, he suddenly thought, wasn’t he supposed to be conquering Chancellor Chu? Showing weakness now, while not the best choice, wasn’t impossible either.

“I…” The young man’s eyelashes lowered, his cool voice tinged with fear, even the slightly revealed glimpse of his gaze carrying a subtle hint of dependency as he looked at Chu Huaicun:

“Chancellor Chu… Huaicun, I’m still a bit scared. Tonight, can I…”

The room was silent, the atmosphere just right. His “white moonlight,” usually aloof and unapproachable, was finally willing to bend, condescending to wait for Chu Huaicun’s response. However, the door was heavily knocked twice, then directly opened, and the outdoor air, carrying a dim coolness, rushed in.

Chu Huaicun raised his eyes; his mirror-like pupils reflected an unfamiliar attendant. The attendant had probably never been scrutinized so sharply by Chu Huaicun’s gaze before, and his face instantly turned a little pale, as he understood:

“This subordinate has overstepped. I will go and receive my punishment later,” he said respectfully. “It’s just that the matter is urgent. Lord Ji Ying is currently waiting at the gates of the Chancellor’s residence, claiming to be acting on His Majesty’s orders to apprehend those involved in the case. Please instruct, Chancellor Chu.”

Qin Sangzhi’s expression immediately tensed; he no longer had any thoughts of romance. He desperately raised his eyes, trying to hint at Chu Huaicun, but Chancellor Chu merely smiled with an unreadable emotion, then said faintly:

“Then what are you waiting for? Why aren’t you inviting Lord Ji in?”

Ji Ying had originally thought things would be much more difficult. He knew that Qin Sangzhi wouldn’t wait passively in his residence to be captured, and he had already learned of his escape to the Chancellor’s residence. When he heard this news, his face turned terrifyingly dark, but his subsequent actions were swift and deadly, like a lurking venomous insect or snake.

He resolved to expose his worst side before Chu Huaicun, showing his most vicious and tyrannical demeanor, to make the other party completely see his ruthlessness; he mentally prepared himself that no matter how Chu Huaicun protected that person, he must not waver even a little.

He intended to use this action to make Chancellor Chu thoroughly understand that there was an insurmountable chasm between them from their very allegiances.

…But the matter seemed to be resolved in less than a quarter of an hour. Beside Chu Huaicun, the usually arrogant Qin Sangzhi turned pale upon seeing him, yet for some reason offered no resistance. Instead, he put on a brave front of heroic sacrifice, trembling and casting a scornful glance at him. Ji Ying actually found it a little amusing, especially as the other man cursed him vehemently, appearing helpless yet having to inch his way towards the carriage used to transport criminals.

“No matter how you slander me,” Qin Sangzhi spoke righteously once more, “I am innocent and pure. Hmph, what is an imperial prison? Only a corrupt lackey like you would think such methods could make me yield and confess.”

“Is that so?”

Ji Ying’s smile instantly deepened, like a venomous snake tightening its back upon sensing danger, beginning to bare its fangs and flick its tongue at its prey:

“Young Master Qin is quite resolute, but I wonder if you will still be able to speak so hypocritically when you see the tortures in the imperial prison? They will break your bones, leave you bloody and bruised, then pour salt water on you, and you will only be able to endure in the darkness in vain…”

The more he spoke, the more he sounded like a standard villain, and a rather low-class one at that, a petty man who took pleasure in persecuting gentlemen. Chu Huaicun listened as his voice grew lower and the content he spoke became increasingly grim and terrifying, chilling even to contemplate. Qin Sangzhi initially maintained his persona, but as he listened, his face suddenly turned ashen, his heart pounding almost as if it would break through the barrier of flesh.

“I…” He couldn’t help but cast a pleading glance at Chu Huaicun.

“Lord Ji,” Chu Huaicun interrupted him. Ji Ying’s expression in the darkness had almost fallen into a sinister fascination, listing off countless ways to torment people in the imperial prison. Now, startled by Chu Huaicun’s voice, a hint of confusion, visible only to Chu Huaicun, appeared in his eyes. Chu Huaicun pretended not to notice and continued,

“Lord Ji, do not exaggerate. Young Master Qin is innocent. The court will certainly not inflict torture before a conviction. I will also oversee things. If you intend to do something—”

Ji Ying’s expression quickly returned to its sinister normal, and he curved his lips again: “Of course, the imperial prison is reserved for true criminals. If Young Master Qin enters, he will be treated as an honored guest. All this is thanks to Chancellor Chu’s merit.”

Qin Sangzhi’s heart, suspended in mid-air, finally began to settle.

Ji Ying’s words, inside and out, exuded a sense of intimidation. Only after Qin Sangzhi was escorted away by the people behind him did the Chancellor’s reception hall fall silent. He lowered his eyes to look at the tea table before him; two cups of tea sat opposite each other, one of them half-spilled. Ji Ying knew his heart was heavy, so he couldn’t stay there long and intended to turn and leave as well.

Chu Huaicun, however, stopped him, his expression cold and sharp enough to cut someone:

“Lord Ji, you come to my residence, arrest someone, and then just want to leave? I have a few questions for Lord Ji.”

The guards behind Ji Ying froze, instinctively wanting to step forward, but Chancellor Chu unhurriedly raised his hand, his movement crisply cold, placing it on the hilt of the sword at his waist. That lethal weapon must have drunk much blood; at this moment, as if sensing something, it hummed aggressively under Chu Huaicun’s hand, seemingly ready to be drawn and kill.

Chancellor Chu came from a military background; no one wanted to taste the blade in his hand.

The guards exchanged glances. Although the palace had assigned them to cooperate with Ji Ying, they were also instructed to monitor him and were not ordered to protect Lord Ji’s safety. Ji Ying’s finger joints curved slightly. His deep purple official robe clung tightly to him, and he, in turn, clung tightly to the darkness, whispering an order:

“You go first, leave the sedan bearers at the gate to wait, the rest escort Qin Sangzhi to prison.”

Since their master had spoken, Ji Ying’s guards bowed respectfully and disappeared into the narrow path behind him. When the last footsteps faded away and Chu Huaicun’s keen perception confirmed there were no outsiders around, he turned to look at Ji Ying.

“Lord Ji,” Chu Huaicun said softly, “long time no see.”

Ji Ying had considered many possibilities when he stood before the Chancellor’s residence. For days, he had been avoiding Chu Huaicun, just as he had said during their last conversation—never again to approach him proactively, absolutely not. But as he walked through the Chancellor’s residence, he was almost entirely rigid, silently anticipating an impending judgment.

If it had been earlier, he thought, perhaps he wouldn’t have had to come to the Chancellor’s residence to take Qin Sangzhi. But Qin Sangzhi was, after all, close to Chancellor Chu; if he were allowed to stay in the Chancellor’s residence, he would probably keep seeking shelter there. This trip, Ji Ying had to make, no matter what.

What he dared not think was:

Qin Sangzhi was the reason, and also an excuse.

The night wind blew softly. As he led the palace guards deeper into the residence, he saw that large peach grove again. Unlike the flower buds he had seen last time, a light, sweet scent could be smelled up close, and the branches were covered in crystalline jade-white flowers, weighed down low. From a great distance, he saw Chu Huaicun; that person suddenly reappeared in his sight, leaving a small, almost searing mark on his iris.

“…Long time no see.” Ji Ying closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that when he opened them again, the other person would still be before him.

“Do you still feel unwell?”

Ji Ying paused in a daze before understanding what Chu Huaicun was asking. Mr. Fang had clearly told Chu Huaicun everything. He was still running a fever, but he felt he had adapted to living with the high temperature; those sensations had become a blur. When Mr. Fang applied the needles, his numb heart suddenly felt a distinct pang of pain for a few days, and then now.

“No, not anymore.” Ji Ying wasn’t sure if such an answer was overstepping. He lowered his eyes.

He lowered his eyes, only to see a pair of boots embroidered with dark patterns step before him, bringing with them a familiar fragrance. Ji Ying dug his nails into his palm, enduring an uncomfortable silence, knowing he should move his feet, otherwise the promises he had made would seem light and worthless. Perhaps if I don’t look at him, Ji Ying thought, just give me a little more time.

A cold hand covered his forehead.

Chu Huaicun stood still, the jade pendant at his other hip gently swaying, rubbing against his clothes, yet making no sound. The jade pendant swayed in Ji Ying’s eyes; he recognized it, it was the birthday gift he had once given to the other person. As if leaving a mark on Chancellor Chu’s body, he suddenly felt joy again, pure and trembling.

Compared to that pair of hands, his own body was indeed a little too hot, Ji Ying defended himself:

“I’m not that delicate,” he said, “Chancellor Chu, I really don’t feel anything particularly uncomfortable, this is just…”

“That depends on what you’re comparing it to,”

Chu Huaicun withdrew his hand, observing the person before him. Ji Ying seemed to tense all over under his gaze, even his shoulders hunching into a stiff curve. Chu Huaicun sighed imperceptibly, feeling the lingering warmth in his hand:

“Compared to the tortures in the imperial prison, this really isn’t much.”

The imperial prison, that topic had just concluded, but was now brought up again. Ji Ying quickly reviewed the recent conversation, then slowly tasted a sting. He had just used the imperial prison’s cruel tortures to threaten Qin Sangzhi, and Chu Huaicun was right beside him. At that time, he had almost been possessed; that was indeed due to the fever, his mind unclear, so he had said frightening things.

So, was Chu Huaicun holding him accountable because of Qin Sangzhi?

He was startled by this thought. From an observer’s perspective, Ji Ying couldn’t help but wonder what chaotic thoughts were running through his mind now, as if he were tormenting himself—bitter, sweet, sour, spicy, and a living, beating heart—all self-inflicted worries.

“I misspoke just now,” Ji Ying said softly, “Chancellor Chu, how would I know about the imperial prison? That was just a pre-planned intimidation, but Qin Sangzhi won’t suffer any substantial harm. He has your backing. I originally never thought he would follow me so smoothly. Hasn’t Chancellor Chu always protected him? But given Young Master Qin’s character, Chancellor Chu’s favoritism and indulgence towards him are indeed reasonable.”

Chu Huaicun’s gaze fell on him, but then he suddenly changed the topic:

“Then, Lord Ji, what do you think should happen if Young Master Qin, with such character, were truly convicted in the imperial prison?”

“Won’t Chancellor Chu protect him?”

Ji Ying curved his lips, his voice tinged with a smile.

“What if I weren’t there?”

Chu Huaicun calmly added, his gaze still on Ji Ying, his thoughts stirring slightly. He saw Ji Ying’s curled fingers again. When this person was conflicted or in pain, he always seemed unwilling to show it, as if only a part of his body could slightly expose his true self. “At a time I don’t know, or in a place I can’t find.”

Ji Ying seemed unable to suppress a laugh, suppressed and intermittent:

“Is Chancellor Chu joking? How could such a situation arise? If—if it were truly so, Chancellor Chu would probably not like my answer. I think I’d best not curse Young Master Qin. Isolated and helpless in a place like the imperial prison, any person with a conscience would choose to die. Those who survive either become evil spirits or inhuman Asuras.”

He paused, and his eyes curved, adding, “Of course, Young Master Qin will have a different ending; he has Chancellor Chu to help him.”

Chu Huaicun looked at him calmly for a while,

“Lord Ji, I once thought that the person I was looking for, to survive, would inevitably have to go through many things. Perhaps he would be completely different from his past self, perhaps he would have to give up some things, perhaps he wouldn’t want me to recognize him.”

“Ah,” Ji Ying’s smile seemed to pause for a brief moment, “Chancellor Chu is talking about the Lin family member.”

Chu Huaicun nodded slightly.

Ji Ying was one of the few people in this world he could discuss this topic with. He had discovered Chu Huaicun’s long-hidden nostalgia, yet had always been careful not to disturb it. But today, he was very unlike himself, to the point of wanting to be even more hateful and malicious.

“Hasn’t Chancellor Chu considered that he might already be dead?”

Ji Ying said, “The person you’ve been searching for all this time is likely just a pile of dry bones by now. As I’ve said, if His Majesty wanted him dead, there are naturally ten thousand ways. There’s no reason for him to be alive. Why are you still looking for him? If it were me—”

“He’s still alive.”

Ji Ying’s words were cut short by Chu Huaicun’s voice. Chu Huaicun sounded so certain, as if it were a matter of course, without a trace of doubt. Ji Ying seemed to want to continue, but he couldn’t open his mouth, no matter what.

“If it were me—” If it were him, what? What other possibilities were there? How could he say it?

Chu Huaicun did not show anger.

He merely gazed at Ji Ying before him, his thoughts stirring, subtly testing him with words for a moment.

However, he realized that the other’s emotions were almost out of control when touching upon this topic. He had not anticipated that Ji Ying could smile so falsely, like sugared poison, turning black at a touch. If Ji Ying had not uttered those words, almost amounting to a break, perhaps he wouldn’t have to suppress himself like this, able to pry open the other’s tightly clasped fingers.

But now, he couldn’t?

Chu Huaicun at least straightened his thoughts. His cold eyes softened slightly, and he took another step closer, but without overstepping, merely resting a hand on Ji Ying’s shoulder. But this was enough to startle Lord Ji; he instinctively raised his eyes to look at him, unable to conceal the layers of gloomy and damp emotions piled up in his eyes.

“Did you hear the message I had Mr. Fang convey?”

Chu Huaicun asked directly, “If you still want to maintain your distance from me, Lord Ji will probably need a new explanation.”

Ji Ying tightened his throat, momentarily speechless.

He had no choice but to turn his head away. Through the thin fabric of his robe, he felt a chilling sensation that didn’t belong to him, making his feverish and somewhat tired body involuntarily want to lean into it. He mumbled:

“I should go.”

Chu Huaicun said nothing. Ji Ying quickly realized he was at a disadvantage because he had no opportunity to turn and leave directly. Chancellor Chu, however, was sharp and exposed, like his sword, like the young man he had seen wielding a sword in his youth. He was immobile, and his words became exceedingly pale and powerless.

Moreover… Chu Huaicun had pinned him under the moonlight.

Chancellor Chu’s movements were direct but not rough. He was a man of action, and an experienced hunter, like a bright and beautiful carnivorous beast in the jungle, now in control of his prey from above, as if ready to bite into the prey’s throat the next second. Ji Ying was forced to lift his head, letting him constrain his shoulders, his neck trembling slightly.

The salt-white moonlight illuminated his eyes, making him feel as if there was nowhere to hide.

“Do you want to leave?”

Chancellor Chu, reflected in his pupils along with the moon, was sharp and aloof, like a streak of keen sword light, coming straight at Ji Ying. “I don’t like being suddenly informed, nor do I intend to pretend everything before didn’t happen. If Lord Ji still wishes to leave now and maintain distance from me, then I will give Lord Ji one chance. However, you should consider it carefully.”

He released the hand that was on Ji Ying’s shoulder.