TBR CH139

Chu Huaicun rarely invited outsiders to dine with him. In the capital, there were simply too few people who could share a table with the Chancellor.

General Zhenbei was one, but Chancellor Chu had no intention of openly associating with him. Mr. Fang and Young Scholar Liang sometimes dined together; Chancellor Chu treated them with respect, but with the strict hierarchy in the capital, they wouldn’t overstep the bounds.

In the dining hall, there was only one carved rosewood table, limited in size. The two men sat across from each other, feeling unusually close. This was clearly not a place for entertaining guests, but where Chancellor Chu usually had his own meals. Ji Ying quietly raised his eyes, glancing towards the door at the back of the dining hall, and the row of corridors dimly lit by lanterns behind it.

“That way is the study,” Chu Huaicun said, “and the bedroom. I don’t like things to be too troublesome.”

The table gradually filled with dishes, not many in quantity, but all exquisitely prepared. It wasn’t until the last servant bowed and left that Ji Ying realized that since he had just said he didn’t like fish, there wasn’t a single fish dish on the table. Chancellor Chu did not disregard his wishes, so he had no intention of making an issue of it. Ji Ying’s hand holding his chopsticks lightened with his thoughts, and the bamboo chopsticks made a soft clatter on the table.

This place was already very close to Chu Huaicun’s most private quarters. Warm lamps hung in the room, softly illuminating Chancellor Chu’s snow-white robes, giving the immortal from beyond the mortal world the illusion of being pulled into the mundane.

Ji Ying was lost in thought when Chancellor Chu calmly picked up a piece of tender, stewed beef and placed it in the bowl in front of him: “Mr. Fang told you to eat more. He says you’re too thin now.”

“Oh,” Ji Ying said slowly, “…Alright.”

He stared at the piece of meat in his bowl for a long time, as if it were a strange but priceless treasure, then carefully picked it up, put it in his mouth, and chewed a few times. The chef of the Chancellor’s residence was quite skilled; this dish had tender bones and melting meat, and the soup and meat aroma dissolved together, melting in his mouth. But Ji Ying stubbornly chewed slowly for a while.

Chu Huaicun watched, and without a word, added another piece to his bowl.

Ji Ying then ate faster.

This routine was used intermittently by Chu Huaicun throughout the meal. When Ji Ying finally looked up, he saw a rare hint of a smile in Chu Huaicun’s cold pupils, observing him, and he felt a little embarrassed by his own behavior. Lord Ji, after all, was a prominent court official; he had tasted every delicacy imaginable, yet always had a poor appetite, barely touching his chopsticks. Now, because of the person in front of him, he had eaten half a bowl more rice.

“Chancellor Chu, presuming on my affection and my covetous heart towards you,” Ji Ying’s voice took on a hint of harshness, as if to save face, “you find it easy to coax me, and thus tease me so effortlessly.”

“Where is it easy?” Chu Huaicun’s eyes curved slightly as he looked at him.

—Sometimes, he was clearly very difficult to coax.

Chu Huaicun looked very relaxed, as if chatting and laughing with a close friend, their relationship so good that they didn’t even need to avoid such topics.

Ji Ying felt speechless for a moment, only feeling that at this moment, even if Chu Huaicun were to ask him for the stars in the sky, or for him to chop down the cassia branches in the moon palace, he might lose his mind and do it. But he was quickly pulled back to reality; this dirty and heavy husk of a body could never fly up to the heavens.

He could only nonchalantly change the subject.

But then, with some unknown intention, he brought up the most sensitive topic.

“Is Chancellor Chu still looking for the Lin family member? Have you found anything?”

Chu Huaicun turned his head and glanced at him, his gaze like an arrow brushing past his cheek, fleeting. When he spoke of that ‘white moonlight,’ his expression always became serious. Chancellor Chu, who held immense power in the court, often reverted to the sword-wielding, infinitely broad-minded youth of yesteryear when reminiscing about old acquaintances.

The more raw and passionate the attachment, the more Ji Ying’s heart pounded when he heard it.

And at this moment, his heart was almost leaping out of his lips, impossible to catch. Chu Huaicun seemed to be looking at him, yet not looking at him, and said softly:

“I will not stop looking for him, Ji Ying, but I have made a new discovery.”

“I think he’s probably not far from me, do you believe it? Perhaps his gaze has fallen on me countless times already.”

Ji Ying was a very suspicious person. After he stopped his frantic struggles, Chu Huaicun was finally able to investigate his background without hindrance. However, this person became more and more like a mystery. According to palace records, he came from a humble background, a descendant of a palace servant named Ji, who had served in the palace since childhood and gained the emperor’s favor by chance.

But upon closer scrutiny, there were no traces of his past existence.

His identity was false, and due to anorexia and the effects of poison, his skin was almost clinging to his bony frame, making him pale and emaciated, perfectly fitting the image of a malevolent ghost. He was underdeveloped, and his actual age was probably a few years older than his slight frame suggested. This removed the veil of inconsistent age, and Mr. Fang, upon request, deduced Ji Ying’s age to be the same as Chu Huaicun’s.

It was difficult to pinpoint from which year Ji Ying left concrete traces of his existence in the world.

But Chu Huaicun clearly remembered that spring was in a certain month of a certain year, with willow catkins floating in the air. He remembered that tomb was erected before the sun rose, and he remembered that person’s eyes. For a long time, he had completely failed to connect Ji Ying with those eyes. The moon illuminated Lord Ji’s well-hidden, unfathomable gaze, but even then, he hadn’t noticed.

Affection. Adoration. Pain.

And then, it was something he only realized later.

When Ji Ying was hysterical, there was a strange sadness in his eyes, revealing a gentle tenderness.

Chu Huaicun was struck by a peculiar thought, like hearing the whistle of an arrow flying past on a blood-soaked battlefield. But the rule on the battlefield was calmness and composure, and it was the same between him and Ji Ying. Only hearing the sound of the arrow piercing the air, but not seeing the glittering arrowhead, would always be suspected as an illusion.

He had misidentified once before; Qin Sangzhi still bore some resemblance to that person. He shouldn’t make a mistake a second time; he had to be very careful and use every method to confirm. Anyway, this didn’t prevent him from acting towards Ji Ying—

No matter who Ji Ying was, Chu Huaicun had already drawn him into his territory.

Chu Huaicun took down the black-bound book from the bookshelf. He didn’t see it often, but the black book would always appear unexpectedly on the shelf, like now. The cover felt slightly cool to the touch, indicating that the book hadn’t always been there.

When he opened the flyleaf, he saw the same line of text as always. It had started half a month ago; after all, the Dao of Heaven knows everything. If it were willing to help, wouldn’t conspiracies and schemes have nowhere to hide? But the flyleaf was emphatically inked:

“I cannot answer anything related to the people around you. Telling you he is still alive is already very dangerous. Answering ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will interfere with the order of this world.”

“Dao of Heaven,” Chu Huaicun had felt a little helpless the first time he saw this line. “While I understand what you mean, isn’t this—telling me he’s right beside me, somewhere I can meet him?”

The black book stiffened in his hand, its spine feeling rigid.

Chu Huaicun said softly, “If I was fine when I read this line just now, it means this information disclosure hasn’t touched the bottom line of world order and there’s no need to worry yet. But before you successfully discover a way to maintain stable order, the less heavenly secrets you reveal to me, the better. Didn’t you say that as your influence deepens, that so-called system will become easier to detect?”

This was why the black book didn’t appear on the bookshelf often.

However, since Qin Sangzhi was imprisoned by him, the Dao of Heaven should indeed have come to inquire. Chu Huaicun was actually taking a bit of a risk. He knew this action might have some impact on the stability of the Son of Heaven’s fortune, but he could also guarantee that such minor setbacks would not shake his previous image, especially his attitude towards his ‘white moonlight’.

Chu Huaicun turned to the next page and paused slightly.

He could tell that the Dao of Heaven was in a good mood at the moment; it even drew a small smiling face in the corner of the page.

“Chancellor Chu,” the Dao of Heaven’s handwriting slowly appeared before him, a standard, impeccable brush script, “How did you do it? I observed the Son of Heaven and found that he believes even more firmly in your love for him than before. But you put him in prison! Why did things I didn’t notice before resurface at the worst possible time?”

Qin Sangzhi had been tormented greatly during this period.

Since coming to this world, he had always been praised and considered himself superior. He never imagined falling into such distress. Witnessing trial after trial, full of hope, yet having to return to prison repeatedly, his arrogant demeanor was shattered. He had to humble himself before the jailers, and his greatest hope was Chancellor Chu.

He began to recall Chu Huaicun’s kindness, his indulgence.

Although Chu Huaicun hadn’t anticipated this result, it didn’t prevent his expression from being as cold as ever, as he mused:

“Perhaps it’s because of human nature.”

The pages rustled, lightly printing the words “human nature” on the paper like ink diffusing, as if taking notes, then flipping back, stopping joyfully on a certain page. The Dao of Heaven solemnly announced a piece of news:

“The previous oversight has been checked and is no longer a problem. I have thoroughly examined the framework of this world and made some breakthroughs within reasonable and legal limits. I cannot directly tell you who he is, but perhaps I can provide some indirect information to help you.”

Chu Huaicun’s movements paused. He raised his eyes, which seemed to perfectly reflect everything, like a bright mirror.

“The eldest son of the Lin family is named Lin Ying, courtesy name Yuan’ya, and is the same age as Chancellor Chu. You met in Chu Prefecture in the tenth year of Jian’an during a city-wide quarantine due to a plague, and separated in the third year of Tianyuan during the great fire that brought about the Lin clan’s demise. Both his appearance and disposition are vastly different from before, and the evidence has been destroyed. Therefore, even though he is among the people Chancellor Chu can see, recognition is almost impossible.”

“But he should recognize me,” Chu Huaicun said softly.

“What good would it do for him to recognize you—” The black book suddenly realized what the aloof, white-robed powerful official before him meant. He had walked step by step from the battlefield to the court, transforming from a wild sword-wielding youth into a fiercely ambitious man with monstrous power, all for that one person, a fractured thought.

Chu Huaicun touched his sword. Beneath the hilt, the cold blade gleamed, and his fingers touched it through the sword guard.

On the other side was the coming-of-age gift that person had given him.

Even though they had parted ways before Chu Huaicun had come of age. But that person, for the first time, frantically and undignifiedly unfastened the jade pendant from his waist and pressed it into his hand. The air was filled with the smell of sulfur and fire. He pushed Chu Huaicun’s hand to his chest, and with his last bit of courage, smiled at him:

“I’m sorry, I wanted to give it to you for your coming-of-age ceremony, but I probably won’t have the chance.”

That warm jade pendant. Chu Huaicun feared that the other party wouldn’t recognize him when they met again, so he carried it with him every day. In his youth, his robes were always stained with dust from sword practice, and he was more accustomed to wearing black than white. Chancellor Chu, who always wore snow-white robes, was merely openly reminiscing about a noble and gentle figure from his memories. He had been looking for him, day after day, year after year.

But, “When you meet me, you will surely recognize me. You will guess how much I wanted to find you.”

The black book simply couldn’t write the words “what’s the use?” It saw Chu Huaicun’s hand, pressing the sword, tremble almost imperceptibly for the first time. He closed his eyes for a moment and said hoarsely, “I understand.” He didn’t ask why the other party, having recognized him, was unwilling to acknowledge it; nor did he complain about the countless hours he had spent, the countless detours he had taken.

Anyway, he would find him, or vice versa.

It would always be that way.

Spring always runs its course, and before it officially ends, the emperor must perform the spring sacrifice as per custom.

This perpetually pampered Son of Heaven, on this one day, needed to put on a show for the world, touching the plow and hoe.

The Ministry of Rites had already drafted this year’s procedures. After the emperor symbolically tilled the land, he would lead all civil and military officials to ascend Dan Mountain, the highest peak in the imperial suburbs. On the summit, a grand altar would be set up for sacrifices to heaven, and the fortune for the coming year would be divined. Afterwards, a banquet would be held in the temporary palace on Dan Mountain, inviting all officials to feast together. If the weather was suitable, a hunting event would also be arranged for military officials in the mountains.

Chu Huaicun practiced his sword every morning; this was not an unusual habit for him, merely a daily routine. The gleaming sword light sharply cut through soft crimson petals, his movements fluid and powerful, the blade firm rather than flexible, like flowing wind and returning snow. He sheathed his sword, only to find Ji Ying had been standing quietly outside the peach grove, watching for quite some time.

He seemed to be lost in the sword movements, so focused that he hadn’t realized Chu Huaicun had walked towards him. Only when Chancellor Chu stood before him did Ji Ying let out a soft sigh: “I should think of some words of praise, but I truly can’t find appropriate descriptions. I wonder whose head Chancellor Chu plans to sever tomorrow? A mountain sparrow, a wild wolf, or a snake—no, these are all insignificant. If one day Chancellor Chu were to kill me—”

“Mm,” Chu Huaicun followed his nonsense, picking up the conversation, “Does Lord Ji wish to leave a last will and testament in advance?”

Ji Ying’s eyes curved at the corners: “I was just thinking whether I should ask Chancellor Chu to make it swift. However, perhaps Chancellor Chu should still be a bit slower, so I can see such beautiful swordplay one more time before I die. Anyway, I’m not very afraid of pain.”

He indeed wasn’t afraid. There was hardly any pain that could compare to what he had experienced before. Chu Huaicun gave him a cold glance, and he realized he had said the wrong thing. Chancellor Chu had gone to such great lengths to heal him, not to let him die.

“But, who knows?” Ji Ying murmured, “What if there is such a chance?”

He remained shrouded in his deep purple official robes, looking gloomy, seriously considering how he would die. However, his complexion was much better than before, so much so that Mr. Fang was even considering providing him with a disguise service after his treatment, making his face look grey and sickly again, so as not to appear too different from usual.

Chu Huaicun thought for a moment and asked him:

“Tomorrow is the spring sacrifice, Lord Ji, do you have any arrangements?”

“Oh, I certainly can’t draw a bow and shoot arrows like Chancellor Chu. I expect someone wants to see me make a fool of myself,” Ji Ying said carelessly. “It’s fine, just cut out their tongues. After sacrificing to the god of agriculture, we’ll climb the mountain to sacrifice to heaven and earth, then drink and feast. Will Chancellor Chu let me sit next to you?”

There were no more typical flippant remarks from a treacherous official.

“Chancellor Chu seems to be busy with something lately,” Ji Ying said softly again, as if genuinely just mentioning it casually. “However, that’s probably not something I should know. It’s just that these past two days coming to the Chancellor’s residence, I’ve almost tripped. Chancellor Chu spends so much time outside, and who knows where, won’t you give me a hush money?”

“Fine,” he said, having made a roundabout threat. Chu Huaicun found it a little amusing.

“The seating arrangement is handled by the Ministry of Rites, right? Just go interfere yourself, I won’t meddle.”

Ji Ying achieved his goal. He twirled the black jade thumb ring he wore on his left hand today, his expression still a little uncertain. The intimacy between them had been maintained like this, which was already very good. But what Chu Huaicun was investigating now made him a little uneasy. Yet Chancellor Chu was someone who clearly separated public and private matters, and he also knew that he had no standing to interfere in this.

If only they could be closer, or…

He stopped his fanciful thoughts. A servant from the Chancellor’s residence gradually appeared from afar. He clearly had urgent matters to report to Chu Huaicun. However, seeing Ji Ying standing nearby from a distance, his steps also slowed.

In the eyes of the Chancellor’s residence, Ji Ying was a guest who could enter the mansion without announcement, a close friend of Chancellor Chu. But he couldn’t shed the label of the emperor’s dog, and even he himself, given the opportunity to strike at Chancellor Chu’s forces, still wouldn’t miss it.

Chu Huaicun was the same; he wanted to help Ji Ying, but that didn’t mean he could completely trust this person of unknown background.

Moreover—the servant bowed and stepped forward to report to Chancellor Chu: “Young Master Liang requests Chancellor Chu to come over; he says he has made a new discovery.”

This matter not only concerned himself but also the Lin family from over ten years ago, and Liang Kechun’s master. Chu Huaicun did not believe he had unquestionable decision-making power. Liang Kechun was still unaware of Ji Ying’s and Chu Huaicun’s current relationship. Mr. Fang was very tight-lipped and would not casually speak to unrelated people. Only a very few people in the Chancellor’s residence had seen them together.

Two days ago, Liang Kechun had told Chu Huaicun with considerable worry: “That Ji Ying visits the Chancellor’s residence daily; I fear he comes with ill intentions. Chancellor Chu must be careful in dealing with him, lest he be bitten by a venomous serpent.”

Chu Huaicun paused, then helped Ji Ying explain:

“Lord Ji, Young Master Liang has no need to view him as an enemy.”

Young Scholar Liang, after all, had only just begun to interact with Chancellor Chu’s network of influence. Hearing this, he was still a little confused and asked tentatively:

“Then, is Lord Ji, perhaps, Chancellor Chu’s ally?”

Chu Huaicun sighed softly. Liang Kechun’s “either an enemy or a friend” mindset was indeed a bit simplistic, but he also truly couldn’t view Ji Ying as an ally with whom to share secrets. Their recent awkwardness was precisely due to the unchangeable lines drawn between their factions.

Sometimes, Chancellor Chu felt that meeting Ji Ying made him less rational.

He trusted his intuition too much. Rationally speaking, Ji Ying was someone one should absolutely not get close to, only keep away from, to be mutually murderous enemies. Strictly speaking, Ji Ying was assigned by the emperor, and the possibility of him being sent to gather intelligence was very high. Everything before could have been an act, as he himself admitted in the dilapidated garden.

If this was a conspiracy, he had already stepped right into it.

Chu Huaicun realized that he felt quite calm when thinking this way. He thought, then he would observe slowly, not indulge him too obviously, and he would always be able to see what his heart was truly like.

And whenever Ji Ying needed to think this way, he clearly realized his differing stance, ultimately just an outsider who was kept separate.

—Fortunately, he had nothing left to ask for.

Ji Ying smiled: “Since Chancellor Chu has business, I shall not disturb you. Remember the promised hush money. I will see Chancellor Chu again tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Chu Huaicun suddenly remembered and called out to him, “For tomorrow’s hunt, does Lord Ji have a suitable weapon? I picked a bow yesterday that might suit you. It has no markings, so it won’t look like it came from me.”

Ji Ying’s physical condition was poor. If he were to use the standard bows and arrows issued by the palace, he would indeed only make a fool of himself.

“I wouldn’t hit anything anyway,” Ji Ying quickly glanced at Chu Huaicun, but clearly couldn’t suppress his happiness. “But since this is Chancellor Chu’s first gift to me, I must, of course, have it. Does this count as…”

He seemed to whisper the words “token of love,” but it was unclear.

Chu Huaicun then had the steward take him to the storeroom to retrieve the bow.

He himself walked to the study. Compared to the study of a few days ago, at this very moment, all the messy drafts of foreign documents had been cleared away, replaced by stacks of historical records taken from the library. Liang Kechun had translated the content of the manuscript on a rainy spring night, taking a lot of effort, but it was actually a very simple sentence.

The manuscript was encrypted in a foreign language: “Sixth day of the first month, third watch of the hour of Zi, the emperor secretly summoned an inner minister, giving secret instructions at night.”

Could such a simple sentence lead to a deadly disaster?

This sentence, after more than ten years, finally saw the light of day, carrying a strange scent of decay. Liang Kechun immediately went to consult the history books of the previous dynasty but found nothing. Perhaps it was wrong; there was no year on the note, so it might not be the year his master died. The note also didn’t say which inner minister it was or what the secret instructions were. But every word was as heavy as black iron, pressing tightly on one’s heart.

Chu Huaicun walked into the study, where Mr. Fang was also present.

As soon as Liang Kechun heard footsteps, he stood up, holding a historical record, and said to Chu Huaicun with a trembling voice:

“Chancellor Chu, I think I’ve found when this record is from. This book is missing a page. The original paper was torn out, and a new sheet was carefully pasted back in; if you don’t look closely, you won’t even notice it. It’s very well concealed. But I felt through it page by page, examining the paper. Chancellor Chu, look—”