TBR CH141

Chapter 141: A Night of Bitter Rain

A gentleman possesses six arts: rites, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and mathematics.

Ji Ying’s hand rested on the white-feathered arrow. Chu Huaicun had given him a good bow; one could tell just by touching it that it was perfectly adjusted, the bowstring twanging lightly with a pull, practically custom-made for him.

His gaze pierced through the snow-white feathers of the arrow to look at the hay target opposite. The dazzling sunlight shone on his eyes, but he paid no mind, utterly focused.

He did not turn to look at Chu Huaicun; he knew Chu Huaicun was watching him.

The field offered no cover. A bird’s shadow flitted across his feet. Ji Ying was accustomed to exposing himself to public scrutiny, playing the role of a showman’s clown. He knew his strength was insufficient to draw a stiff bow, so he wisely kept his distance, clearly separating himself from the archery he had learned through immersion as a gentleman of a noble family. But today was different. What was different today?

He clumsily yet expertly adjusted his sight, his drawing posture impeccably graceful.

When the arrow flew out, it was like a silvery-white meteor. The silence on the scene grew even deeper in that instant. People held their breath, looking towards the end. At the end, the arrow was crookedly stuck in the hay target.

It hit.

Unfortunately, it was a bit off, and lacked power.

Ji Ying let out a soft breath. He turned his head, his gaze skipping over the astonished expressions in the crowd, directly meeting those cold eyes, which reflected a person holding a bow and arrow. He felt vaguely unfamiliar, yet told himself there was no need to lie, at least not to himself.

Who was that? He suddenly felt his blood boiling, and the bow in his hand became lighter.

Everything was so clear, so manifest.

“Give me another arrow,” Ji Ying said.

He drew his bow and notched an arrow again, but his movements became skillful and natural. A skill ingrained in one’s bones only needed a brief reawakening to be mastered anew. The eldest son of the Lin family had been proficient in the six arts since childhood; archery was naturally no exception for him. Ji Ying, for the first time in a long while, was bathed in bright sunlight. His fingers were taut against the bowstring, aching, yet showing no signs of faltering.

He boldly aimed for the very center of the hay target’s red tassel.

This time, the arrow tore through the air even faster. A silver glint flashed, and the snow-white fletching stopped on the hay target, the gleaming arrowhead precisely piercing that crimson spot.

Muted whispers erupted in the crowd. Ji Ying’s lips curved upwards. He suddenly couldn’t suppress his pride and smiled towards Chu Huaicun.

Whether this smile would be interpreted as a provocation or a prelude to a conspiracy, he cared not a whit for the moment; nor did he consider what trouble such a flamboyant victory might bring him.

His hand ached from the bow, and the red marks constricted by the bowstring were cold due to poor blood circulation. But he momentarily forgot everything that had happened, indulging in an accessible dream. The dream was exceptionally real because of its rarity, and so captivating because the admired youth was present.

Ji Ying attempted to walk towards Chu Huaicun.

One step. Two steps. The people around him frantically cleared a path, and Chancellor Chu stood at the end of the path, his gaze still as cold as a handful of ice and snow, but softening slightly when he saw him. That was a color that should only belong to him alone.

Three steps, four steps, five steps.

But was there a warning in Chu Huaicun’s eyes?

While everyone’s eyes were fixed on him, Chu Huaicun silently shook his head at him.

He stopped, his blood running cold. Ji Ying lowered his head, realizing that he was not wearing plain white robes, but purple robes embroidered with serpents. The gazes around him, filled with malicious scrutiny, pricked his skin, unchanged by his recent actions. He was still the emperor’s lackey whom everyone wished to kill.

Behind Chu Huaicun, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince watched him with tension and hostility.

The emperor and the Seventh Prince had not come to the training grounds. Prince Duan was also among the crowd, similarly casting a look as if at an anomaly—but a usable anomaly, one that should be flayed and drained of its last bit of utility.

The dream quickly ended, leaving him no time to breathe.

He was not the glorious eldest son of the Lin family, but merely a treacherous official whose name was tarnished beyond cleansing. Drawing a bow, he was neither so bad as to make others doubt his nature, nor so good as to make Chu Huaicun like him because of a past shadow.

The world of the past collapsed before his eyes. Ji Ying’s lips curved, naturally settling into a sinister and venomous smile, a more artificial expression than which there was none. He walked directly past Chu Huaicun. As they brushed shoulders, their robes seemed to touch for a fleeting moment; whether real or imagined, it was gone in an instant. He did not linger, but went directly to Prince Duan’s side.

“Your Highness,” he said respectfully.

Prince Duan finally smiled with satisfaction, saying dismissively:

“I never thought Lord Ji had such good archery skills.”

When Chu Huaicun entered the palace hall where the banquet was held, many prominent court officials were already seated. Most of them were impatient with baking under the sun at the training grounds and went directly to their tables to savor cool, smooth wine. The palace maids respectfully led Chancellor Chu to the main seat.

The seat beside him was still empty. The Emperor sat at the head of the table, and the three princes sat opposite. Only Ji Ying had been pre-arranged to sit beside him. Fortunately, this matter had been settled long ago. As for the recent incident, Chu Huaicun clearly saw regret in Ji Ying’s eyes. He didn’t want to lose his composure too much in front of him, and he should have realized—

Ji Ying arrived late, pausing as he entered the banquet hall, then still walked to Chu Huaicun’s side.

“Chancellor Chu certainly has excellent methods.”

He said in a voice too low for others to hear, a rustling whisper accompanied by the soft sound of his robes as he sat down. “I feel like a rat sniffing out meat, chasing after a poisoned bait. You set this trap for me right from the wutong tree, didn’t you?”

“Your official identity, as far as I can ascertain,” Chu Huaicun said, no longer attempting to conceal anything, “is that you are a descendant of a palace servant named Ji, who gained the emperor’s favor by chance. But he specialized in tending to flowers and plants in the palace. If that’s true, you shouldn’t be so unaccustomed to using a tree-planting shovel.”

Ji Ying did not refute.

Not only did he not refute, he didn’t even turn his head. He poured himself a cup of wine and drank it in silence. Chu Huaicun paid no mind to his reaction, merely continuing patiently:

“Similarly, with a background in tending to flowers and plants, one shouldn’t have such an understanding of archery. Ji Ying, your stance and finger placement when drawing the bow, I fear, even the famous young masters of noble families in the capital today could only sigh in self-pity and admit their inferiority… Is there nothing you wish to explain to me, or are you just at a loss for excuses right now?”

For days, his actions and words had woven a meticulous net, and Ji Ying had unknowingly fallen deep into it. He had promised not to resist Chu Huaicun, and this had indeed led him to greater trouble. But these mere baseless suspicions, vague doubts, and misleading evidence were not enough to pry open his mouth.

“For Chancellor Chu,” they sat very close, yet suddenly they were distinctly separate. Just now, as they brushed past each other, it was as if Ji Ying had made up his mind to soften his heart for the last time that night. He said rather coldly, “What exactly does this evidence prove?”

He poured himself another cup of wine.

At this moment, the emperor, seated at the head of the table, had already ordered gifts to be bestowed upon the people below: fine and precious jewels and jade, elegant and profound antique paintings, and fragrant and expensive century-old vintage wines.

When it was Chu Huaicun’s turn, the gifts were the most generous. The imperial attendant by the emperor’s side called out the treasures to be carried to the Chancellor’s residence in a high-pitched voice. Chu Huaicun raised his eyes, his gaze like ice and snow, and bowed calmly:

“Your Majesty’s kindness, your subject is naturally grateful.”

Ji Ying chuckled beside him with a hint of sarcasm, laughing at Chancellor Chu’s high-sounding lies. It wasn’t his turn yet. Chu Huaicun also poured himself a cup of tea. The pale, ink-colored liquid swirling in the cup reflected Ji Ying’s expression, reminding him of Ji Ying’s look after drawing the bow and shooting the arrow: that moment of restrained pride, and the eyes that unhesitatingly looked at him.

At that time… he had indeed felt a stir in his heart.

The scent of tea, mixed with bitterness, permeated his lips and teeth. Chancellor Chu, instead, lowered his eyes and said softly, “Perhaps I don’t need to wait for them to prove anything.”

His words were without beginning or end, and Ji Ying clearly didn’t understand what he meant.

But it didn’t stop his false smile from remaining on his lips: “Chancellor Chu, you’re so intent on uncovering my identity. I’m starting to worry that if Chancellor Chu finds my identity to be unremarkable, you won’t be willing to contend with me anymore. Ultimately, I know what Chancellor Chu is thinking now. How could there be such a coincidence in the world?”

Ji Ying was very clever. He wouldn’t still be unaware of Chu Huaicun’s suspicions at this point.

Chu Huaicun suddenly felt a strange sense of shared honor, turning his head to look at him, his dark hair cascading like ink, brushed back by his fingers. Ji Ying’s breath hitched for some reason. He averted his gaze and said:

“Chancellor Chu, don’t look at me with that kind of gaze—aren’t you suspecting that I am the eldest son of the Lin family you’re looking for? What a joke. Don’t I know who I am? I’m afraid Chancellor Chu will waste his painstaking efforts, mistaking me, a ‘raccoon dog,’ for the Crown Prince. You see, not only will the one who was replaced feel betrayed, but even the ‘raccoon dog’ wouldn’t want to be seen as another person.”

“You’re saying you’re not him.”

Chu Huaicun said calmly, his emotions unreadable.

“…Of course, I’m not. In this world, would Chancellor Chu suspect everyone who doesn’t want to reveal their background directly?”

Even while discussing such a topic, they still tacitly kept their voices low. The people around them wisely moved away from the two who were at daggers drawn. This was a crucial interrogation. Ji Ying ensured that he showed no flaws. He calmly held his wine goblet, his face pale, with only his distinctive, unfathomable eyes lending him a somber hue.

“Not lying?”

Ji Ying was about to agree, but his smile deepened. “Even if I swear, Chancellor Chu might not believe me.”

He then quickly continued, without waiting for Chu Huaicun’s answer: “But Chancellor Chu, you must think carefully. If you mistake me for your ‘white moonlight,’ then when he truly appears, how will you explain it to him? If I were you, unless the evidence is conclusive, it would be a betrayal and a disappointment. Or perhaps, Chancellor Chu just wants a substitute, like Qin Sangzhi.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Chu Huaicun’s voice finally grew cold.

Only when discussing that person did Chu Huaicun’s attitude become so unyielding, allowing no transgression. The more he was like this, the more Ji Ying wanted to step on the landmine, a painful sensation like licking honey from a blade. His pupils slightly dilated, and he said with strange excitement:

“If that were truly the case, I should be very happy to take on the role. Chancellor Chu detoxified me, said he would save me, treated me in a thousand ways, but only disliked me. Does Chancellor Chu like that person? If I were like him, perhaps I could gain Chancellor Chu’s favor. Chancellor Chu and I have also spent a night together; compared to that person, I—”

“Lord Ji, mind your words.”

Chu Huaicun finally interrupted him, his voice never as cold as at this moment.

“Do you understand now?” Ji Ying’s eyes curved. “In Chancellor Chu’s eyes, that person is not someone an insignificant person like me can idly discuss.”

He insisted on self-torment, making himself bleed, distancing his current self from the person in Chu Huaicun’s memory. The deeper he sank into the mud, the more unrestrained his speech, the further he was from that noble and unparalleled Young Master Lin. Although he himself knew that the graceful Young Master Lin had also never obtained what he desired most.

Chu Huaicun was silent for a moment.

Ji Ying was right. Everything was based on vague suspicion, which put their relationship in a predicament. He had made one mistake already, even under the system’s influence, mistaking Qin Sangzhi for his lost and rediscovered ‘white moonlight.’ He couldn’t make another mistake; that person was too important to him, so there was no room for error.

But as for Ji Ying.

When Chu Huaicun spoke again, he was not as furious or cold as Ji Ying had expected. His voice, instead, was calm.

“You’re just trying to provoke me, Ji Ying,” he sighed softly. “I won’t fall for your trick. If I think you shouldn’t judge him, it’s only because you haven’t seen him, and there’s no such thing as being worthy or unworthy. If he were to see me now, perhaps he would also be disappointed.”

When they were young, they had sung by the banks of Qingyu Lake, both saying they would become loyal ministers and good generals, and be ennobled as marquises and chancellors.

Now, he was ruthlessly ambitious, immensely powerful, manipulating the Crown Prince to control the regional lords.

Ji Ying’s expression flickered slightly. He couldn’t help but turn his gaze, only to see a hint of confusion and regret in Chu Huaicun’s usually cold and seemingly unchanging eyes, which pricked his heart with a pang of sorrow. He had endured the bone-deep pain just now, but at this moment, he almost couldn’t maintain his composure.

“However, don’t speak nonsense about love.”

Chu Huaicun lowered his eyes. His robes were snow-white, like a gleaming sword, exuding an aloof and transcendent aura. “The eldest son of the Lin family and I have no such entanglements. That is an insult to him, and to me as well.”

He was indeed displeased because of this.

Ji Ying pressed his lips together, the bitterness in his heart welling up, almost overwhelming him. He forced a smile, then subconsciously reached for his wine glass. With these words, there was nothing more to say. He felt as if he had hidden his identity deeper, yet also exposed it more.

Until the conversation had ended for too long. He said in a hoarse, almost inaudible whisper:

“What about me?”

As night fell, a heavy rain suddenly began.

Thunder roared, huge lightning bolts split the sky, their brilliant light illuminating half the heavens. This was undoubtedly a bad omen; the land had just been sacrificed to during the day, yet the weather turned out like this at night—some low-ranking officials could only resign themselves to bad luck, spurring their horses to return to the capital through the rain. Due to lack of preparation, they didn’t even have full rain gear.

As for those of high rank and power, they didn’t need to leave and stayed directly in the temporary palace overnight.

The court officials all decided to stay, and Chu Huaicun had no intention of unnecessarily defying orders under such circumstances, besides, he hadn’t prepared rain gear in advance either. The temporary palace was left from the late emperor’s time, with vermilion pavilions and green buildings, ample space for accommodation. Chancellor Chu occupied a separate palace chamber, and also arranged for Liang Kechun and Mr. Fang.

As for Ji Ying, there was no need for him to stay and invite more dislike.

He was sent back to the capital by the emperor to handle affairs, braving the rain.

Liang Kechun pushed open the palace door and entered. His boots and the hem of his robe were soaked, and the folded umbrella in his hand was still dripping water. As he entered the chamber, he nervously paced back and forth at the doorway, afraid that the muddy water he brought in would stain the palace carpets. While he was being so constrained, Mr. Fang had already boldly walked in, passing by him.

Liang Kechun, thinking how improper this was, called out to him.

But he found the old man smiling broadly, not a speck of mud on his shoes: “Young Scholar Liang, I’m not like you. I brought a coarse cloth for my boots, and I even painted them with a waterproof lacquer. There are some advantages to getting old, for instance, I can know about the weather earlier and prepare in advance.”

Liang Kechun stared blankly at his triumphant expression, and after a long moment, hesitantly said:

“Mr. Fang, but you didn’t tell Chancellor Chu.”

“What’s there to tell—” Mr. Fang said rather nonchalantly, but turned his head just in time to see Chu Huaicun standing behind him.

Chu Huaicun looked at him and smiled slowly and deliberately. Chancellor Chu rarely showed such an expression; he had a face like ice and snow, so even his smile carried a sharp, cold quality.

Mr. Fang, being old and caught in the act of being disrespectful, could only blink and feign ignorance, saying with a troubled expression as if swallowing a bitter herb: “Actually, my recent weather predictions haven’t been very accurate either…”

Outside, the rain grew heavier, just as Mr. Fang had said. The sound of trees being snapped in half by the fierce wind even came from outside the window. Such a dramatic change in weather within a single day was indeed unusual. Chu Huaicun looked at the forest outside the window. Being in a high position, he chose a secluded palace chamber to avoid disturbance.

Outside, it was pitch dark, and water continuously rolled down from the eaves, like a transparent curtain. Nothing could be seen clearly in the forest.

In sudden incidents, it was always the low-ranking individuals who were troubled first. The temporary palace was not originally intended for overnight stays, but now it housed the core ministers of the court. The attendants who arrived fetched necessities from the storeroom and delivered them one by one through the rain, getting soaked themselves to ensure the items were safe and sound. Besides regular hot water and silk cloth, they also had to deliver fine wine, fruits, and delicacies… they were so busy their feet barely touched the ground.

Hot water was quickly delivered to Chancellor Chu’s chambers. The palace servants were efficient, swiftly tidying the chamber and even setting out a complete tea set and wine arrangement, bringing the tea leaves Chancellor Chu had consumed the most during the earlier banquet.

Once everything was prepared for Chu Huaicun, they went forward to report, then hurried off to the next location.

Although rushed, the overall effect was quite satisfactory.

Conveniently, Chu Huaicun’s confidants were all present, and it was still early. Chancellor Chu simply converted the palace chamber into a study and began to discuss important matters with the trusted insiders around him. The hall was lit by bright candlelight; everything was illuminated with minute detail by the candlelight, even their shadows deepened by a few shades.

In such an atmosphere, discussing the subtle secrets of the previous dynasty was quite fitting.

“Chancellor Chu is right,” Liang Kechun said in front of the advisors, now possessing a steady demeanor that was neither humble nor arrogant. “If the current emperor’s ascension was illegitimate, there should be a new reason. When His Majesty was still Crown Prince, besides his past conflict with Prince Ping, there were no other threats. Normally, the late emperor had no other choice but to pass the throne to him.”

Privately speculating about the emperor was a serious crime in this dynasty.

The people present were few, mostly those who had followed Chancellor Chu since his military campaigns, and had long entrusted their lives and fortunes to him. As for others, they were also people Chancellor Chu did not shy away from. They naturally understood the principle of choosing a good tree to nest in. For them, the emperor, under Chu Huaicun’s authority, held no special significance.

“Perhaps the current emperor…”

When touching upon the taboo subject, someone paused, “was found not to be of the late emperor’s bloodline?”

“His Majesty was born to the Empress when she was young. How could there be any question of his bloodline? The late emperor’s relationship with the current emperor was strained in his later years. Perhaps he had another bloodline in the common folk, carefully raising them, intending to pass the throne to a new person?”

“I think Prince Ping isn’t completely out of the picture either,” Liang Kechun listened attentively, offering his opinion. “His birth mother, Consort Wang, was the one who accompanied the late emperor the most in his twilight years. If the late emperor had had a change of heart, there wouldn’t have been no opportunity for a turnaround.”

Mr. Fang snorted: “Prince Ping, who is disloyal, unfilial, and harms his own siblings, even if the emperor intended it, he would be difficult to convince the masses. I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Then, according to your opinion, what is it?”

“The current emperor is skilled in using poison,” Mr. Fang said, seeing everyone’s gaze turn to him. “Poisons can kill someone without anyone knowing. But if they encounter someone knowledgeable, they might be exposed quickly.”

“Poison?” Someone questioned, “How can you say that?”

Mr. Fang then remembered Ji Ying’s situation. Their Chancellor Chu guarded that matter even more tightly than others, as it involved opposing forces, and even Liang Kechun only had a vague understanding. He looked inquiringly at Chu Huaicun, seeing the other merely tapping his finger on the table, not offering a word. On the tea table in front of him, a servant came to refill his tea; hot steam rose, obscuring his face.

“You can ask Chancellor Chu about that,” Mr. Fang decided on his wording. “Anyway, Chancellor Chu knows what I’m talking about.”

His words were a bit roguish, but quite convincing.

Chu Huaicun listened calmly to their discussion, waiting for the steaming tea in front of him to cool enough to drink. The tea was still a light jade green, reflecting his cold eye, without a ripple. Following Mr. Fang’s words, he began to think about Ji Ying.

In fact, he still couldn’t fully trust Ji Ying, which was why he only let Mr. Fang know about Ji Ying’s specific situation, and then his absolutely trustworthy secret guards. Otherwise, how could he explain his relationship with Ji Ying?

As things stood, the two had been pushing and pulling for several rounds, but neither was willing to show weakness first. But Ji Ying had weaknesses, whether it was General Zhenbei’s matter or other vulnerabilities, he had never mentioned them, nor had he ever used them against him.

Who would yield first? Who would finally soften first?

At this moment, Ji Ying had probably already reached the distant palace city.

The torrential rain outside showed no sign of stopping. He had hurried back to the capital, and the journey must have been miserable. The storm could sweep through forests and destroy houses. Chu Huaicun felt a vague anxiety. He rubbed the edge of the now less-scalding teacup with his thumb and middle finger, helplessly realizing that this emotion of his was called worry.

Chu Huaicun brought the teacup to his lips, and a slightly bitter fragrance spread. He had always loved green tea; it hadn’t undergone lengthy processing, and had a somewhat aggressive aroma. The tea had just been brewed; at this moment, the scent of tea could be smelled everywhere in the hall.

After all, the finest Longjing in the palace was among the best.

“Perhaps His Majesty didn’t want to wait any longer that year, after all, he was Crown Prince for a full forty years—” Mr. Fang was arguing with someone when his voice suddenly lowered, as if he sensed something was wrong. “Wait, everyone wait, I think I feel something.”

Chu Huaicun took a small sip of tea.

Mr. Fang suddenly turned his head. At that instant, his face showed a peculiar awareness, so much so that his goatee clenched tightly together. He frowned and meticulously scanned the palace chamber from top to bottom, as if no detail could be overlooked. But this premonition was too vague, making it very difficult to fully grasp.

Fortunately, the people in the hall, hearing his tense voice, involuntarily fell silent and slowed their movements.

Was it eavesdroppers? Or an ambush?

Chu Huaicun wasn’t worried about eavesdroppers; having spent long years on the battlefield and being half a jianghu figure, he would have sensed that.

But he patiently waited for Mr. Fang’s judgment.

For a moment, the unfamiliar palace chamber suddenly seemed dim. After the silence, the pattering sound of heavy rain resumed outside, as if countless bamboos were being split simultaneously. Wind leaked in through the unsealed window crack, and all the candlelight in the room flickered for an instant. Chu Huaicun suddenly frowned; the teacup in his left hand had not yet been put down, and his right hand had already silently pressed against the sword at his waist.

In the pouring rain, he heard footsteps.

Not the footsteps of palace servants. The palace chamber he chose was secluded; the palace servants had prepared everything early and dared not disturb them after retreating. Moreover, palace servants’ footsteps would not be so urgent. That person was splashing through the water, running quickly in the storm, his exhaled breath turning into white mist in an instant, only to be scattered by the heavy rain just as quickly.

Mr. Fang circled the palace chamber, seemingly searching for something.

The sword in Chu Huaicun’s hand seemed to understand his thoughts, ready to be drawn at any moment. The sword’s light was colder than the heavy rain outside. Chu Huaicun was practically a reassurance; the others present, looking at Chancellor Chu, could almost put their minds at ease.

The sound of the rain effectively masked all other noises. When everyone realized there was someone outside the palace gate, that door was already forcefully pushed open, and the rain poured in, bringing with it damp moisture. Rainwater streamed in through the open door, appearing almost black in the unlit areas. The downpour had a highly aggressive scent.

Chu Huaicun’s hand, pressing the sword, paused slightly.

To say that the person at the doorway was almost distraught would not be an exaggeration. He had not brought any rain gear; the rain had drenched him completely. He was dripping wet from head to toe, his hair like tangled black seaweed, clinging in strands to his cheeks. His cheeks were pale, and rainwater dripped from his eyelashes onto his pale lips.

“Ji Ying?”

Chu Huaicun felt that the person outside the palace gate was more like a ghostly water demon. He called out the other’s name, and his confidants around him stirred, as if facing a formidable enemy. This was the most dangerous and ruthless enemy in the court, especially recently, constantly clashing with Chancellor Chu.

His appearance in the midst of a late-night, private palace discussion was simply the most absurd thing.

Ji Ying clearly paid no heed. After pushing open the door, he didn’t hesitate for a moment but raised his eyes to look at Chu Huaicun. Chu Huaicun had never seen such eyes before—they were damp, as if the entire heavy rain outside in the darkness had been contained within them. They were also eyes filled with such fear and pain, such desperation, that he seemed to disregard everything.

At the moment he looked at Chu Huaicun’s current action, Ji Ying’s pupils constricted slightly.

He rushed in, leaving a trail of wet footprints. His deep purple official robes were an unbearable sight, crumpled and torn by the storm, as dishevelled as he was. Someone tried to stop him, for he looked every inch an assassin. But Chu Huaicun spoke at the same instant:

“Don’t stop him.”

Ji Ying rushed heedlessly to his front. He was excessively cold, his skin frozen to a bloodless white. He gritted his teeth, struggling to extend a finger, and with all his might, struck at Chu Huaicun from the closest possible distance.

“Crack.”

The teacup shattered.

Only then did Chu Huaicun realize that everything had happened too suddenly, so much so that he hadn’t yet put down the tea cup in his hand. The cup of Longjing tea, held in a fine mutton-fat jade teacup, had grown cold due to the wind from outside. Now, the cup shattered with a sound, and all the tea spilled onto the ground, slowly spreading.

“It’s poison!” This happened too quickly, so much so that Mr. Fang also rushed over at the same time, lowered his head for a moment, and then shouted out his conclusion, “Oh heavens, the tea’s aroma was too faint, too faint. Otherwise…”

Ji Ying stood rooted, practically breathless, like a taut puppet. He suddenly raised his eyes, ignoring everything else, and urgently questioned Chu Huaicun, his voice almost pleading,

“Did you drink it? Did you drink this just now? I beg you, tell me quickly. I—”

He then went for broke, his peripheral vision catching sight of the kettle on the table, which he also swung his sleeve to knock to the floor. He looked as if he was about to collapse under the sudden weight of terror and despair, no longer even feigning composure. He pressed down on Chu Huaicun’s shoulder, the coldness of his fingers penetrating through the snow-white robes. Chu Huaicun even felt a chill from the heavy rain reach his heart.

He was practically insane.

Mr. Fang urged him in a low voice from behind. Liang Kechun was startled out of his daze; at least he knew a little about the secret, so he finally stood up to close the palace door. But the others were simply dumbfounded by this unexpected scene.

“Is that Ji Ying?” Someone whispered, “What…”

“Please tell me,” Ji Ying was still on the verge of breakdown. Chu Huaicun reached out and touched his forehead; beneath a faint trace of cold water, it was indeed scorching hot. He didn’t know how long he had been running in the heavy rain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Huaicun, I never knew, they suspected me. What if it’s too late? Did you drink it? You—”

Chu Huaicun reassuringly stroked his hair; it was soaking wet, water could be wrung out of it.

Who would show weakness first? Who would yield first?

He had just been thinking about this question, but now he suddenly felt that he had never been so soft-hearted.

“It’s fine,” Chu Huaicun said softly. “I only took a small sip. I know my body’s condition, nothing will happen. Don’t worry.”