TBR CH137

When Chu Huaicun withdrew his hand, Ji Ying looked up blankly, stumbling as he suddenly lost his support.

This wasn’t right. Someone who truly wanted to leave wouldn’t unconsciously lean their body’s balance, defenselessly, onto another person. But he was indeed clutching his secret tightly, and even under the bright moonlight, he seemed like a creature forcibly dragged out of the shadows.

He quickly pulled at the corners of his lips and smiled:

“Chancellor Chu exaggerates. Even if a deal isn’t struck, goodwill remains. If I leave now, Chancellor Chu can’t truly be so cruel as to ignore me forever. Even so, at court banquets, or during official duties, we will always meet, I think—”

Ji Ying had already silently taken a step back. But Chu Huaicun had never seen anyone walk so slowly. Rather than speaking to Chu Huaicun at this moment, he was weaving a lie sufficient to deceive himself, to cover his own eyes.

However, Chu Huaicun mercilessly exposed him:

“Lord Ji,” his voice sounded coldly, like someone groping forward in the dark suddenly touching a piece of ice. Ji Ying’s movements stopped abruptly. He put his foot down as if he had done something wrong, feeling as if he wasn’t stepping on solid ground, but on ice that was about to shatter, and Chancellor Chu’s voice had never been so distant in front of him:

“If I don’t wish to see you again, do you think I cannot achieve that? In the past two years, I don’t recall how many times I’ve spoken with Lord Ji. If we returned to that state, you wouldn’t even have the chance to glance at me in public.”

“…Chancellor Chu, speaking like this is too much.”

Ji Ying’s smile stiffened, and he said in a low voice.

He should take another step back. The night was so thick. Although the moon cast a silver-white salt over the human world, as long as he retreated to where the shadows of branches piled up on the ground, he would surely be able to harden his heart and leave.

He had to harden his heart and leave, at all costs, otherwise the situation would become uncontrollable.

“How is it too much?” Chu Huaicun continued calmly, “According to Lord Ji’s meaning, I must both forget everything you’ve said to me, and disregard the poison in your body. You must revert to being that treacherous official, reviled by thousands and scorned by all. On what grounds, then, should I care about you?”

Ji Ying’s steps were as heavy as if filled with lead.

Clearly, this was the fate he had long envisioned, the path he had chosen for himself. His imagined resolve should have been like last time, merely a unilateral declaration, maintaining some dignity even in disarray.

However, Chancellor Chu insisted on brutally revealing the ending before him. Ji Ying wanted to reach out and cover his heart, which was already aching beyond recognition, but he merely curled his fingers.

“This is fine,” Ji Ying said, “Chancellor Chu and I were never on the same path.”

Chu Huaicun lowered his eyes slightly, but his gaze met Ji Ying’s unguarded eyes: “Only I can decide with whom I walk, and I am waiting for your answer.”

He pressed forward relentlessly. Even when Ji Ying managed to utter a word of weakness, he did not relent his sharp offensive. Like his sword, the blade light was as cold as snow, a single bright line; once drawn, it could not stop, only be shattered, never softened.

Chu Huaicun knew that this was the only way to deal with Ji Ying at this moment.

To prevent him from self-exile, a strong dose of medicine was probably necessary.

The person standing before him suddenly fell silent; even his breathing was light. Behind him was a large grove of trees planted in the Chancellor’s residence, their branches secretly intertwined in the night, their leaves rustling silently against each other in the gentle breeze. The wind blew, carrying the faint incense scent from Chu Huaicun to Ji Ying.

He suddenly couldn’t bear it and lowered his eyes, even turning his back.

“After I die,” Ji Ying’s voice carried an empty laugh, yet trembled uncontrollably: “For the sake of this acquaintance, Chancellor Chu wouldn’t even refuse to collect my corpse, would he?”

As he said this, he took a few steps in the opposite direction. His boots had already ventured halfway into that heavy darkness, but the other half simply wouldn’t move.

Ji Ying desperately wanted an answer. “No” would make him give up, at least everything would be cut off cleanly; “yes” would give him a little solace from the depths of his soul. He had already prepared for death, why wouldn’t they even grant him this small comfort?

Chu Huaicun, however, let out a soft laugh, as if hearing a faint, imperceptible sound of ice cracking in the night.

“Does Lord Ji only dare to entrust me after death?”

His voice finally carried a hint of Ji Ying’s sarcasm, “If I say yes, will it make you feel particularly satisfied in death, even making the endurance of pain meaningful? Ji Ying, I still mean what I said: this is your last chance to make a choice. If you withdraw, I will no longer consider any relationship with you.”

Ji Ying’s back swayed again as if unable to maintain balance.

Chu Huaicun sighed silently behind him. He didn’t want to play the role of a villain, but he also didn’t want to truly fulfill Ji Ying’s wish and, at some point in the future, hear the news of a treacherous official’s universally celebrated death.

He was a skilled hunter, expertly grasping every tremor of his prey; the wind would carry the other’s emotions to him.

Just like now.

He knew Ji Ying’s emotions were like a taut bowstring, a trembling crescent moon.

“Ji Ying,”

Chu Huaicun made himself sound calm, he chewed on the name,

“I’ve investigated you, but your information is buried too deep. Your superficial identity doesn’t hold up. From the year before last, you directly intervened in court affairs under His Majesty’s direct instruction, then rose swiftly. You have poison used to control people, and things you must be wary of. You approached me for certain reasons, and you are fond of me. What makes you suddenly want to retreat—”

“Enough.”

Ji Ying’s voice suddenly sounded tired. He stood still, still not taking that crucial step,

“Who do you think you are? Chancellor Chu, do you think everything will get better if you know everything? If I speak, can I be saved?”

He turned around. Chu Huaicun’s breath hitched.

For the first time, he saw Ji Ying’s face covered in tear stains, so utterly exposed and so profoundly shocking under the bright, dazzling moonlight.

Ji Ying stared at him uncontrollably. The distance between them was the distance he had just retreated, but his speed in returning was very fast. In just a few seconds, Ji Ying was in front of Chu Huaicun, his eyes red, his black hair soaked and glistening with moonlight, like a demon crawling out of a lake.

Chu Huaicun didn’t move, letting Ji Ying fiercely press his hands onto his shoulders.

The dynamic between the two shifted. Ji Ying obsessively gripped Chu Huaicun’s shoulders, rising onto his tiptoes, bringing their eyes as close as possible, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on Chancellor Chu’s eyes, his breath hot and moist, like a burning flame, igniting in his damp eyes.

They were very close.

Chu Huaicun seized the opportunity to think, this clearly violated the principles Ji Ying had once stated.

Ji Ying silently scrutinized Chu Huaicun for a second in this intimate posture. He had clearly thrown caution to the wind, and in a hoarse voice, he pressed:

“Chancellor Chu, do you think this can save me? Just by curing the poison in me, there will be no problem; as long as our relationship is not exposed in public, you can privately win me over as your force; as long as you pluck a flower for me, I will pour out all my love like a fool; as long as you are willing to help me, you will surely bring me salvation—”

“No,” his voice gradually mixed with suppressed sobs and countless pains,

“No, merely this is far from enough. I shouldn’t tell anyone, especially you. Don’t you understand yet? You can’t save me.”

His emotions came too fiercely. The tears on his face, illuminated by the moonlight, were like pure white mother-of-pearl. He used his greatest strength. Chu Huaicun could feel his knuckles bending with effort, leaving marks on his shoulders, and their current proximity was even closer than that kiss.

Chancellor Chu paused.

He said nothing, only reached out following the other’s posture and stroked his hair.

Ji Ying’s pupils trembled violently. He tilted his head, seemingly wanting to shake off Chu Huaicun’s hand like a leaf, but it was futile. In an instant, his composure, which he had maintained until now, utterly collapsed.

The high fever hadn’t broken yet, Ji Ying thought. But they both knew it wasn’t just the fever.

In that moment of overwhelming collapse.

Chu Huaicun felt a damp head pressing against his chest; Ji Ying burst into tears. Ji Ying’s hands also shifted from gripping his shoulders to clutching his collar tightly. Lord Ji was not physically strong, he was powerless, and Chu Huaicun could easily break free from him. But he did not move. Those eyes, always as indifferent as ice and snow, were replaced by a stinging pain he himself could not comprehend, as if being scorched by fire.

This man, burdened with countless curses, he thought, his tears were also scalding hot.

The tears seeped into Chu Huaicun’s snow-white robes, staining the Chancellor’s priceless garment, which countless embroiderers had worked on day and night, its dark patterns flowing with movement. The tears soaked his chest through the thin fabric, right where his heart was, a little to the left.

His heart, which had not been truly swayed by the other’s sweet words and retreats, now, under Ji Ying’s pressing questions, saw its layers of accumulated ice and snow melt by a hair’s breadth.

“You can’t save me.”

Ji Ying spoke incoherently, crying to the point of breathlessness for the first time, feeling as if all his strength was used to pull Chu Huaicun closer, and closer still.

“You can’t, you can’t. Then why do you ask? Chu Huaicun, please save me. If you are willing, then save me. If speaking it out can save me, then let me be saved immediately!”

As he spoke, he felt despair. He had never imagined such an unsightly display would be seen by anyone, as if a decade of grievances, in Chu Huaicun’s few unfeeling words, could no longer be concealed, nor stopped. He knew he had completely messed things up. Chu Huaicun, hearing his incoherent, muddled words, would probably only want to distance himself.

Was he not a madman?

At this moment, the moon hung high in the sky. The Chancellor’s residence was the safest place in the world, deserted, with only the faint chirping of insects, already present in late spring, in the nearby bushes, one chirp after another, one burst after another. Such an environment was also fitting for shedding all masks and crying freely, perhaps this was the only opportunity.

Chu Huaicun imperceptibly gently embraced him, slowly stroking his back from top to bottom, his palm touching Ji Ying’s trembling body, inadvertently tightening his own heart.

After an unknown period, his no longer suppressed sobs gradually subsided.

Not until the person in his arms became motionless like a sculpture, seemingly unable to shed any more tears, yet stubbornly refusing to release his grip first, did Chu Huaicun once again stroke the other’s hair. Perhaps it was the dampness of the night, coupled with Ji Ying’s inner turmoil; his hair was wet and cold, like a black spiderweb entwining Chu Huaicun’s hand.

“Ji Ying?”

Chu Huaicun waited patiently, but he still didn’t speak, so he called his name first.

Ji Ying’s spine stiffened for a moment, then he slowly straightened up from Chu Huaicun’s embrace, releasing his hands. He had used too much force, causing his knuckles to whiten. His movements were slow, as if he was struggling to savor Chu Huaicun’s gentle aura with his last moments, but even gentleness, on Chancellor Chu, carried a hint of sharp coolness.

“I’m leaving.” Ji Ying swayed as he stood firm, his first words being this.

He hoped it wasn’t too late.

He had said enough, having forcibly poured out the pain that should not have been vented on Chu Huaicun before him. He could not force the other to bear his pain, could not drag the other into his shadow. He could not be saved, and no one could save him. This incomplete soul should go where it belongs—

Chu Huaicun calmly spoke before him: “I will save you.”

“What?” Ji Ying defended himself blankly, “Oh, Chancellor Chu is talking about what I just said. It’s fine, those were all nonsense words. Chancellor Chu can just listen and forget them. I shouldn’t have been so undignified.”

He couldn’t see himself in a mirror when he spoke, otherwise he would have realized that in Chu Huaicun’s eyes, the usually pale and sinister Lord Ji Ying’s face was now diffused with red marks from the dampness and heat of tears, especially the part pressed against Chu Huaicun’s chest. Crimson spread, and he still looked like a demon not belonging to the light, a beautiful ghost with a birthmark on his face.

“I will save you.” Chu Huaicun repeated again.

Ji Ying was speechless.

Chu Huaicun’s robes were a little disheveled by Ji Ying, and stained with water marks, but he himself remained aloof and sharp, standing before Ji Ying in the moonlit night, like an exiled immortal descended from the heavens. The exiled immortal bent down, his fingers slightly damp, wiping Ji Ying’s still misty eyes, and promised softly but without doubt:

“Ji Ying, you chose me. I don’t need you to tell me more, nor do I need any other guarantees from you. Whether it succeeds or not, you should at least trust me first.”

Ji Ying remained in the palace sedan chair at the gates of the Chancellor’s residence. The coachman watched as Ji Ying’s attendants escorted the handsome Young Master Qin out, his wooden face showing no emotion. A person like him needed to conceal his emotions the most, remaining indifferent to anything that shouldn’t concern him.

But even after Young Master Qin was tearfully put into the carriage and driven away, his master had not yet emerged from the Chancellor’s residence.

Instead, a plain-looking servant from the Chancellor’s residence appeared. He had a typical servant’s face, and upon reaching the palace sedan chair, he first bowed with a smile, then informed the coachman that Chancellor Chu had detained Lord Ji. Lord Ji’s other subordinates could also corroborate this. The coachman’s expression hardened, revealing a hint of concern for his duty.

He was about to lower the curtain when the servant cast a meaningful glance that almost startled him.

This person’s eyes were completely out of sync with his other features, revealing a cunningness steeped in years of jianghu experience. The coachman almost couldn’t maintain his wooden expression. He stared at the face for a moment, then barely managed to recall that when Lord Ji arrived at the Chancellor’s residence, it was also someone like this who went in to announce him.

“You’re Lord Ji’s man, aren’t you?” the Chancellor’s servant said as if without any reservation.

The coachman said solemnly: “Naturally, we all obey Lord Ji’s arrangements…”

“No,” the other shook his head, smiling mysteriously, “You are different from them. They are from the palace, but you are not entirely. They only obey the emperor’s arrangements, but you have other ideas.”

“Who are you?” The area around the Chancellor’s residence was deserted under the cover of night. The coachman couldn’t help but whisper, “How dare you speak like that? Are you a servant of the Chancellor’s residence? What good does discovering this do you? Who are you going to tell this news to?”

The other merely wiggled his finger:

“I mean no offense to you,” he declared, “just trouble you to wait here a bit longer, find some excuse if necessary. Your Lord Ji probably won’t come out so early—there’s no benefit in revealing this matter, after all, I know your background. As for who I am, hmph, I am your Lord Ji’s savior.”

This inexplicably appearing “savior” was naturally Mr. Fang.

Liang Kechun had found a way to decipher the secret text, but couldn’t explain it clearly in a short while. Some tasks were better done by one person than two. Mr. Fang studied for a long time, then simply stepped aside, who made him not have a great scholar from the previous dynasty as a teacher. While wandering around the Chancellor’s residence, he happened to hear that Lord Ji was visiting, so he simply took on the duty of conveying information, and also took the opportunity to see what kind of person Qin Sangzhi, whom Chancellor Chu was currently receiving, truly was.

Who knew, what he heard happened to be Qin Sangzhi’s final, seemingly weak, plea: “Tonight, can I…”

A sense of crisis suddenly arose in the old man’s heart. He knew about the relationship between Chu Huaicun and Ji Ying, and naturally couldn’t stand to hear any newcomer flirting with Chu Huaicun. In an instant, his impression of this previously unknown Young Master Qin plummeted to a low point.

He simply wiped his face and burst through the door.

As for the punishment mentioned by Chancellor Chu, it naturally did not apply to Mr. Fang. Chancellor Chu glanced at him, and those sharp and indifferent eyes recognized him, after which it was merely an act.

Until now, he had spent half the night at the Chancellor’s residence, feigning profundity and speaking ambiguously, then, with the demeanor of a recluse, he swayed off in the direction of the capital’s outskirts. The coachman looked at his retreating figure with trepidation, deciding to keep this secret to himself, absolutely not letting anyone in the palace know, only reporting it to Lord Ji.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fang swayed all the way to the dilapidated little thatched hut in the mountains.

He broke a few branches along the way, disturbed countless chirping insects, and circled around winding paths several times before finally reaching his destination. He pushed open the door of the hut directly with one hand, and in an instant, a flash of bright sword light emitted a chilling gleam right against his neck. Then, the sword was re-sheathed.

“Hey,” Mr. Fang grumbled to the old swordsman, “I brought wine and food!”

“Did Huaicun tell you this place?” The old swordsman revealed a bright eye from under his bamboo hat, and a hint of a smile appeared on his face, “You’re still coming uninvited.”

“Indeed.”

Mr. Fang said, “Your disciple is very capable. You don’t know, not only did he hook up with the most notorious treacherous official of the current dynasty, Ji Ying—that child is actually not bad—I also heard another person confess to him today. You say, how troublesome is this? No, the next time you see him, you must ask him clearly who he truly likes; he can’t mess around.”

Mr. Fang was enthusiastically gossiping on this end, while the night grew thicker. The carriage escorting Qin Sangzhi also arrived at the gates of the imperial prison.

The imperial prison was built in a heavily guarded area behind the imperial palace, with its main section underground. Qin Sangzhi’s forced courage had long since dissipated along the way. Now, pushed out of the carriage, he staggered to his feet and looked up to see the entrance of the imperial prison.

A dark, cavernous entrance, with a chilling draft blowing from within. Even though there was a long distance from the large iron gate at the entrance to the actual cells where prisoners were held, Qin Sangzhi felt as if he could already hear the dying wails of prisoners and smell a strong scent of blood. He panicked for a moment, almost turning to flee.

But he was tightly bound by the palace guards and could only be roughly pushed step by step into the dungeon.

The iron gate was about to fall, and fear had never descended upon Qin Sangzhi so intensely.

“I am Qin Sangzhi,” he could only say, his face pale, repeating his identity to people over and over again. But the guards in the imperial prison seemed to have faces carved from stone, completely unresponsive to his self-assertion. He had no choice but to continue shouting, “I am the foremost scholar in the world. How dare you treat me like this? You will all face retribution in the end. You… you dare to offend me like this—”

The iron gate slammed shut. The jailer behind him mercilessly tapped Qin Sangzhi’s back with a stick. The force wasn’t heavy; Qin Sangzhi was, after all, only a suspect. But Qin Sangzhi had always lived a life of luxury, and at this moment, he still stumbled, almost falling to the ground.

His breath hitched. In such a place, he couldn’t care about the demeanor of a renowned scholar.

It was too dark in there. Qin Sangzhi stumbled forward, feeling countless eyes hidden in the dense shadows around him, feeling a chill down his spine. He dared not speak stubbornly anymore, but instead cautiously appeased the jailers, fearing another blow. He was soon driven into his cell like cattle or sheep.

The place reeked of old blood and an unknown foul odor of decay.

Qin Sangzhi slumped to the ground, swaying. Behind him, the cold cell walls offered him no comfort. Darkness surged from all directions. He seemed to hear the groans of prisoners again, and for a moment, his emotions were taut like a startled bird, looking around in a panic, yet seeing nothing.

“How did I end up in this place?”

Qin Sangzhi murmured to himself.

He didn’t close his eyes all night, hoping every moment that Chu Huaicun would come and take him away from there. However, no matter how timely Chu Huaicun arrived, it would be impossible to take him away in just a few hours, especially since Qin Sangzhi was only imprisoned, and no one had laid a hand on him. But the young man was still so frightened that he almost lost half his soul. By the latter half of the night, he even began to curse Chu Huaicun.

“It’s all the fault of the ‘white moonlight’ in Chancellor Chu’s heart,” Qin Sangzhi thought wildly, “How can there be such a person in this world? It’s all just an act. And I even have to go to prison for this person, playing a hypocritical role.”

He had almost forgotten all the special treatment he had enjoyed by replacing the “white moonlight.”

Qin Sangzhi resolved that after finishing this act of unyielding integrity and further gaining Chu Huaicun’s favor, he would absolutely not give him a good look. But even this “revengeful” thought offered him no comfort.

Qin Sangzhi’s first night in the imperial prison, for him, successfully became the darkest day of his life so far.