TBR CH162

Chu Huaicun looked at him, then reached out and took the object from his hand.

Ji Ying’s posture at this moment was truly provocative; his deep, dark eyes held a hint of a smile as he stared directly at Chu Huaicun. He knelt on the cold, stone floor of the Golden Throne Room, while the old emperor convulsed beside him, clutching his neck—a truly ironic scene.

However, all eyes in the room converged like flames on the piece of paper in Chu Huaicun’s hand, as if to burn it.

A piece of paper—a yellowed, aged memorial.

An incredible thought involuntarily arose in everyone’s mind. These thoughts made their pupils contract, their breathing quicken, wishing they could immediately step forward to examine the words on the memorial, to confirm if their suspicions were true.

But they could only watch Chu Huaicun calmly take the memorial. This powerful official, who already held sway over the entire court, seemed not to particularly care what he was about to see. His slender, jade-like fingers rested on the memorial, yet it made people wonder if the memorial would be torn apart. After all, those were hands that had wielded a sword, and still bore blood.

“Read it,”

Ji Ying smiled, licking his lips. “Huaicun, do you still remember how we met? Bingzhou was under lockdown due to a plague. That was the first time I saw you. I remember it clearly; you were also dressed in white, just like now. But why—as the Eldest Son of the Lin family, would I travel lightly to Bingzhou at that time? And why did I feel an immediate connection with you, even inviting you to stay at the Lin family for a long time? If all of this was mere coincidence, then how grateful I should be to unpredictable fate.”

Chu Huaicun’s gaze was almost about to touch the memorial. Upon hearing this, his eyes flickered slightly, as if sunlight illuminated ice and snow. His gaze once again shifted to Ji Ying, with a hint of understanding.

Meanwhile, in the crowd, some impatient individuals couldn’t help but shout:

“Young Master Lin, tell us, where did this memorial… where did it come from? Could it be the one the late Emperor left with the Lin family before his death…”

Ji Ying turned his head, his face still bearing a peculiar expression. He smiled faintly, “Precisely.”

His affirmation and the preceding suggestive words achieved a mysterious effect, as if handing the final key to unlock a secret into everyone’s hands. The other party’s face turned pale with shock, almost instantly comprehending the terrifying implications behind this secret.

Trembling, he looked at Chu Huaicun with reverence, who was now reading out the words on the memorial:

“The Crown Prince is rebellious and unfilial, tyrannical and bloodthirsty; my life is in peril. For the sake of the common people, the throne must not be given to him. Fortunately, thanks to the loyal official of the Lin clan, I secretly conspired with the Lin family during the Jingde era, entrusting their eldest son, Lin Ying, to find the imperial bloodline that had fallen into obscurity, now named Chu Huaicun. Hearing of his exquisite talent and mastery of both civil and military arts, my heart is greatly pleased. Alas, he is still young. Now, on the night of the thirteenth of September in the fourth year of Chengping, I secretly entrust this edict. Should anything happen to me, and the Crown Prince remains unrepentant, let the Lin family serve as ministers assisting the nation, and the great task of the country shall all be entrusted to this child alone. Proclaim this to all under heaven, that all may know.”

Chu Huaicun’s voice remained calm and composed from beginning to end.

So much so that as these shocking words were slowly read out by him, no one involuntarily cried out. Prime Minister Chu stood tall and slender, as if possessing an inherent authority. He carried the unique quality of a superior, which made his change in identity not seem abrupt.

“I should call you Your Majesty now.”

Ji Ying’s eyes curved.

But this memorial was certainly not well-received by everyone. For instance, the dying emperor, who had been lying on the ground, began to struggle again. He wished he could swallow Ji Ying whole, his eyes bloodshot and teeth gnashing, even forcing himself upright, pointing at him and cursing:

“Lies! All lies! This is a crime of deceiving the monarch, no, this is so absurd it’s like a joke. Do you think I’ll believe it? This memorial is fake, the late Emperor could never have left such an edict. This is all fabricated by this fraud—”

His voice was frozen by a hint of cold light. Chu Huaicun’s gleaming sword blade stopped right before him. This powerful minister, just proclaimed to have the late Emperor’s bloodline, now spoke with undeniable authority, like a great villain:

“Speak another word, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

Ji Ying smiled at him again, then slowly stood up, took the memorial, and handed it to the stunned officials. Every word on the memorial, having endured the tempering of time, was still clearly legible. Several elderly ministers carefully touched the paper of the memorial, then cautiously scrutinized the handwriting and the imperial seal at the end, before nodding gravely.

The paper was correct; only the emperor’s memorials in the palace could use this special paper. Moreover, the texture of paper differed across dynasties, and this memorial clearly had years on it. The writing was also correct; every stroke on it was identical to the late emperor’s handwriting, and even the vermilion seal paste was unique in the world, perhaps not seen for many years.

The Seventh Prince stood rooted, his face paler than paper. He rushed forward, actually wrenching the memorial from someone else’s hand, then read it clearly from beginning to end. He murmured, “Impossible, this is impossible,” but could say nothing else.

The Crown Prince, who had built his influence for years, knew he had always relied on Prime Minister Chu’s power. Recently, Chu Huaicun’s ambiguous attitude had made him anxious, and he could only comfort himself by believing he was Prime Minister Chu’s only choice. But now, Chu Huaicun himself had become one of the candidates, so where was his chance of winning? The Crown Prince thought this and suddenly felt a strange sense of relief in his heart.

Chu Huaicun ascending the throne actually seemed… well-deserved.

It was just a pity he couldn’t see his old rival Prince Duan’s expression. Prince Duan had left to rally troops and never returned. Now, with the Golden Throne Hall surrounded, he could never imagine the situation within, likely still pacing anxiously. Little did he know, he no longer had even a sliver of a chance to contend for that position. And the person he had proposed to kill just a few hours ago appeared to be on the verge of ascending the great throne.

Chu Huaicun was already Prince Duan’s shadow; how much more would it deepen now?

Someone suddenly began to sob, whether genuinely or opportunistically: “I never imagined the late Emperor would suffer such a cruel fate. The late Emperor treated this official with utmost kindness; I truly don’t know how to repay him…” As he cried, he knelt neatly before Chu Huaicun.

The surrounding people were first in an uproar, then reacted.

Chu Huaicun’s name alone could explain a lot, especially as he was about to legitimately become the next emperor, and his soldiers had tightly blocked the entire hall. So, people began to kneel one after another, almost as if the speed of their prostrations could dictate a list for promotions and titles.

Everyone called him “Your Majesty,” shouting “Long Live the Emperor.”

And Chu Huaicun, slightly helpless, whispered to Ji Ying: “I haven’t ascended the throne yet.”

No one had anticipated how the situation would unfold tonight. But even the longest night would pass. As the flickering candles in the palace shortened by half, and the delicacies prepared for His Majesty’s birthday banquet turned into cold leftovers, Chu Huaicun finally finished explaining the necessary matters in the hall.

He dismissed the soldiers surrounding the Golden Throne Hall and properly appeased the General who had led the troops. Prince Duan, the Crown Prince, and the Seventh Prince were all politely invited back to their residences for the time being, though effectively placed under house arrest. Chu Huaicun specifically called for a palace carriage for Qin Sangzhi and had him sent back, a gesture that filled the latter with joy.

As for the protagonist of the birthday banquet, His Majesty the Emperor, he was left behind in the empty hall.

The old man stared with wide, distorted, and resentful eyes. Ji Ying’s footsteps were light; his dark python-skin boots made a crisp sound in the quiet palace chamber. The old emperor laboriously raised his head, seeing the serpent on the deep purple official robe flick its tongue at him, revealing its venomous fangs.

“You lied.”

He still tried to speak with that majestic tone, but almost choked on his constricted throat. The old emperor’s face flushed, and he coughed heartbreakingly, his muddy eyes fixed unblinkingly on Ji Ying.

“So what?”

Ji Ying leaned down, still looking at him from a condescending height:

“This is the generous gift I prepared for Your Majesty’s birthday. I wonder if Your Majesty is satisfied?”

___

When Ji Ying walked into the room, Chu Huaicun was already waiting for him.

Before, it was Chu Huaicun who smelled of blood; now he had changed into a pristine, snow-white robe. Ji Ying, meanwhile, had a mysterious smile on his face, and the blood on his body hadn’t been cleaned yet. He looked a bit like the ruthless, cunning officials who had just emerged from the interrogation office, but Chu Huaicun didn’t particularly care what he had specifically done.

Instead, when Ji Ying saw him, the expression on his face suddenly became blank for a moment, and then all those chaotic emotions faded. His voice involuntarily tightened, reaching out in a panic that bordered on losing composure:

“You’re hurt,”

He said, “I didn’t know… are you alright? Is it serious? I should have let you… let you…”

Ji Ying quickly opened Chu Huaicun’s white robes, seeing the wound beneath, already bandaged with medicine. It had originally been just an arrow wound, but Chu Huaicun had then audaciously gone on a rampage with a sword, so it had become a more severe laceration. Ji Ying stared at it, seemingly wanting to trace the wound beneath the gauze with his eyes.

Chu Huaicun was the first to feel a little overwhelmed. He grabbed Ji Ying’s wrist, and Ji Ying instinctively tensed, watching his movements anxiously, as if suddenly treating Chu Huaicun as a patient made of glass.

“It’s nothing,” Chu Huaicun said, “just a minor injury.”

“It doesn’t look like a minor injury,”

Ji Ying retorted, finding himself at a loss for words. He remained still, allowing the other to act, wishing the injury were on himself instead. His soon-to-be Majesty’s ice-like pupils stared at him, carrying a softer, almost plaintive look of vulnerability—the expression an injured person clearly shows when facing someone who could never regard their injury as minor, no matter what.

“Don’t worry about that first,”

Chu Huaicun lowered his eyes, pressing Ji Ying’s wrist, and whispered, “I think I should kiss you first now.”

When Chu Huaicun kissed him, besides his usual fragrance, there was also the lingering scent of blood and a stronger smell of herbs. Ji Ying’s breath came in ragged gasps from the kiss, and he felt somewhat parched from the fleeting vulnerability Chu Huaicun had just shown. Not only was he more cooperative than usual, but his ears flushed a persistent crimson.

Both were momentarily swayed.

Now they had a vast array of matters to attend to; in truth, they were even busier than before everything was laid bare. But stealing moments of leisure was always necessary, especially since tonight’s thrilling events had ended. The secrets that had been uncovered, the unbelievable truths, had now settled. It was time for lovers to sit together and have a good talk—to settle everything.

“You lied.”

Chu Huaicun said, a declarative sentence.

“That’s right.” Ji Ying felt there was nothing to deny. “The key is to make people believe. To make them feel that all of this is their own conclusion, that they have glimpsed a secret, and thus they are satisfied. This is… very necessary.”

He paused for a moment, and Chu Huaicun gently touched his palm. So he understood the other’s hint, knowing what he truly needed to explain. He then turned his head, and his unfathomable eyes met Chu Huaicun’s gaze, also seemingly illuminated without any concealment. He tried to curve his lips but failed.

Ji Ying gave up pretending he had only done something insignificant.

This wasn’t easy, for Chu Huaicun, and for him too.

“You understand,”

Ji Ying said hoarsely, “The first time I saw you, you were wearing black clothes.”

The truth was, monumental lies often begin subtly; a grand deception requires countless intricate details to reinforce its fabric. Ji Ying grasped this perfectly. In the version of the story he told everyone, there were many minute details, and all of it collectively constructed a “truth”: everything stated in the memorial was real because the Lin family indeed carried it out.

Chu Huaicun understood Ji Ying’s meaning in that instant.

The first time they met, the refined and radiant young master of a prestigious family was dressed in pristine white, gentle and polite, carrying a faint, elegant incense scent. Chu Huaicun, however, had been left behind by his master, who had gone off to meet friends somewhere unknown. The young man walked alone in the jianghu, dressed in practical, sturdy black clothes, with a knife strapped to his trousers.

Since Chu Huaicun, for one person, had spent a long time transforming himself into a stern, white-robed power official, then that person could not possibly forget what kind of clothes the bright-eyed, sharp-edged youth wore when they first met, or how the sword’s gleam narrowly illuminated a corner of his black attire.

When Chu Huaicun heard Ji Ying say this, he essentially confirmed the content the other was hinting at.

So, when he read the rest of the memorial, he was remarkably composed. Most people in the world who discovered they had imperial blood would likely be overjoyed, feeling like a pie had fallen into their lap. Royal blood flowing in an ordinary person’s body seemed to elevate them, like the Crown Prince or Prince Ping’s son. But Chu Huaicun was definitely not among them.

In other words, he didn’t have a drop of royal blood in him.

He remembered his mother and father; he once had a happy family. Although it was a long time ago, his memory hadn’t blurred at all. The late emperor might have left some bloodline among the common folk, but he had probably become an ordinary face in the streets and alleys.

And Chu Huaicun, he had steadily climbed to the position of a cunning and ambitious official, someone even His Majesty feared, with absolutely no credit to any “noble” bloodline.

“This is a lie,”

Ji Ying stared at him, certain dark, spider-like emotions seemingly crawling back into his pupils. He tightened his grip on Chu Huaicun’s fingertips, which had touched his palm, and continued,

“I know you’re not, but so what? Prime Minister Chu, you don’t know, I’ve felt like I was going mad these past few days. I thought about what I had to do over and over again, and it felt like the answer only a most audacious madman would give. But I don’t regret it.”

He paused for a moment, then slowly and firmly said, “I don’t regret it.”

Chu Huaicun gave a soothing “Mm,” slowly stroking Ji Ying’s hair. On the summer night that still held a hint of warmth, his dark hair felt cool to the touch.

This was not what the Eldest Son of the Lin family should do; they both knew it well. Tampering with the late Emperor’s will, or forcefully adding an unrelated person into the imperial bloodline, this act almost rivaled the old emperor’s patricide. The Lin family, renowned for generations for their integrity and self-sacrifice for the sovereign, could not produce someone who would make such a decision, but Ji Ying could.

Ji Ying suddenly let out a low chuckle.

“Huaicun,”

He said gently, “If you hadn’t found me, do you know what I was supposed to do? I am now stained with infamy, finally having a chance to clear my name, but my hands are already covered in blood. I can’t go back. I can’t deceive myself that I am still that upright, moon-like person. So, for the sake of the Lin family’s reputation, I should die. I’ve thought many times that after I exposed His Majesty, I would only repay with death, and I would have to die by my own hand.”

He was covered in blood, utterly defiled. Ji Ying had just tried to use those tormenting methods on the already deranged old emperor, with remarkable effect, but when he left, he felt an indescribable self-loathing.

Chu Huaicun withdrew his free hand and touched his lips, and Ji Ying stopped.

“You haven’t changed,”

Chu Huaicun said, “The core part never has. Yuan Ya, I hope you can believe this. I wouldn’t want you to revert to any particular state, because a past image doesn’t exist. In my eyes, you have always just been you.”

Ji Ying slowly blinked his eyes.

He clumsily changed the subject, worried that if he continued to listen to Chu Huaicun, he might involuntarily choke up a little. He tried to make his voice sound more resolute.

“And you, Chu Huaicun,”

Ji Ying said, “A powerful minister who holds sway over the court, with immense influence. The old emperor must absolutely detest you. If I… if after revealing the truth and restoring my past status, I still wished to be a clear-conscienced eldest son of a prominent family, it would be impossible for me to stand with you. I should kill you for some emperor who will sit on the dragon throne in the future; that would be the right thing to do.”

He tried to make his words sound threatening, but the faint tremor in his voice betrayed his unease. Chu Huaicun continued to stroke his hair with the hand that wasn’t clutched, feeling as if he was caressing a wet animal, beautiful fur, dangerous, but willing to docilely collapse into a heap before him.

“But you didn’t,” Chu Huaicun softly denied.

Ji Ying seemed to give a bitter laugh, then he realized he had been clutching Chu Huaicun’s hand tightly, perhaps a little too tightly. He released it with a start, and Chu Huaicun naturally held his hand. Even when not exerting force, this hand was uncontrollably trembling with emotion.

“I was too excited,” Ji Ying explained, noticing Chu Huaicun’s observation, “Tonight was a form of revenge for me; I should be happy.”

But Chu Huaicun was not someone so easily deceived.

“Alright,” Ji Ying averted his gaze, his hair falling again, casting a small shadow over his pupils. “I just… I just haven’t recovered yet. Just now, I really was excited, but everything that happened tonight feels like a half-finished dream to me, or perhaps this is true awakening. When I close my eyes, for a moment I can’t immediately believe the nightmare ended so easily.”

The dark, sunless imperial prison, the nights constantly waking up in terror, the bone-crushing, flesh-shattering pain. The blood on his hands, the look in his family’s eyes, subtly concealed yet unconsciously revealed, like seeing a stranger.

He then spoke, masking the slight abnormality in his voice, as if not wanting to wait for Chu Huaicun to offer comfort:

“Where was I?”

“You were saying you should kill me,” Chu Huaicun paused, then added, “But you didn’t.”

He then guided Ji Ying’s tightly clasped hand to his own chest, slightly above the injured area, but also where his heart lay.

“Yuan Ya,” he said softly, “You did very well.”

“Why should I die?” Ji Ying stared at him blankly, finally relaxing after a long moment, then smiled carelessly at him, but tears streamed uncontrollably from his moist eyes. “Why should I personally kill you? I couldn’t bear to; it took you so long to fall in love with me. Even if the current Ji Ying is stained and his reputation ruined, incomparable to the bright and virtuous Young Master Lin of yesteryear, I am already this kind of person—”

Chu Huaicun gazed at him, wiping away his continuous tears. He cried suddenly, yet it was as if he had held it in for a long time, finally able to shed tears after a night permeated with the scent of blood. His face was wet, flushed with an abnormal redness.

“I won’t die, and you must also live well.”

Ji Ying choked, gritting his teeth, “I won’t let them have their way.”

Chu Huaicun whispered, “Mm.”

Ji Ying continued: “Among the late Emperor’s descendants, besides the current Emperor, there is only the family of Prince Ping, exiled to Lingnan. Prince Ping’s two sons are incapable of great service, but the world believes that only those with that imperial bloodline are worthy of ascending the great throne. Huaicun, you can, of course, control the Eastern Palace and gather your own forces. But you will forever be a thorn in the new Emperor’s side; one slip-up, and you lose everything.”

Even though he was warning himself of the dangerous situation, Chu Huaicun curved his lips and smiled at him. The person who was usually as cold as ice now showed a slight smile, which was most captivating.

“I don’t want you to be disgraced, nor do I want you to die. I’m not afraid to lie; I’ve already told enough lies. He who steals a hook is executed; he who steals a nation becomes a lord. You can be a wise ruler, only lacking the legitimate title to convince the world. If that’s the case, then all that has transpired before will become your leverage.”

Ji Ying, as if entranced, lowered his eyes, gradually feeling the slight vibration of his fragile heart beating where their palms met.

“Huaicun—no, Your Majesty, this is my answer.”

They remained motionless in that position for a relatively long time, as if achieving a subtle balance, which was enough to make Ji Ying feel at ease. Chu Huaicun knew that Ji Ying’s inner strength was greater than anyone else’s, so in this quiet, silent corner, he indulged him, comforted him, watching Ji Ying slowly mend his own wounds.

Finally, the other curved his lips at him once more.

“That’s it,”

Ji Ying embraced him very gently, seemingly worried about disturbing his wound.

He smiled a little bashfully: “Actually, most of tonight I was truly joyful, it was just earlier… where were we, Huaicun? Do you have any other questions?”

Chu Huaicun thought for a moment and indeed remembered a mystery that hadn’t been unraveled.

“The late Emperor’s edict,” he began, “What was its true content?”

Ji Ying looked at him with a sudden realization, as if only now realizing he hadn’t explained this to Chu Huaicun.

“Actually, I had planned to tell you beforehand what I was going to do,” he said, “but I didn’t expect it to be put to use so quickly. As for the late Emperor’s edict, this item was the beginning of everything. His Majesty obsessed over it for over ten years, like a poisonous snake under his pillow, a curse in his dreams. However, the words he never believed were the truth.”

Chu Huaicun was prepared to hear a secret.

But Ji Ying spread his hands: “There was no such edict at all.”

There was no such edict at all. The late emperor tossed and turned under the flickering lamplight before his death. He felt pain; his life was nearing its end, and the loyal minister he fully trusted stood by his bedside, ready to faithfully carry out his every command. At that moment, he thought of his Crown Prince, his own son, wanting to kill him, waiting for an opportunity like a leopard.

But had it always been like this?

He began to think of when the Crown Prince was just born, and he had just ascended the throne. This was actually the root of the problem; the Crown Prince’s age was too similar to his. The Crown Prince had waited too many years, and he too began to harbor apprehension towards the Crown Prince. Father and son began to contend, he intentionally suppressed the other, and the other’s eyes, looking at him, their father, gained a few more shades of resentment. By the time it came to this, he should have realized it earlier. He was not entirely blameless either.

The late emperor’s hand fell weakly to the edge of the bed. A blank edict lay open before him, already bearing his seal, but he could not write a single word. His dying gaze shifted to the waiting minister, finally making a decision like an emperor.

“Minister Lin,”

He slowly shook his head, “The Eastern Palace being as it is, is my failure. But I have only ever recognized him as the Crown Prince. If I were to change my mind now, the realm would inevitably fall into turmoil. If he… if he makes any mistakes in governing hereafter, you must assist him, help him correct them. Take this blank edict with you; do not leave it in the palace to be seen by him.”

With these words, the dying emperor essentially relinquished his last chance to defeat his son.

“Day is breaking,”

He said hoarsely, watching his minister carefully wrap the edict before calling in the eunuch who had been waiting outside. “Gao Changji, see Minister Lin off carefully.”

Minister Lin respectfully bowed his last great bow to him. This was also the last time the monarch and his minister saw each other.

And thereafter, Mr. Wei Gong, who happened to witness the Lin family’s secret visit to the late Emperor, grew anxious about this matter until he personally visited the Lin family, only to learn that all his suspicions were unfounded. At that time, did he feel relieved, as if a great stone had been lifted from his heart, preparing to wholeheartedly assist the newly appointed monarch?

Unfortunately, he was ultimately enveloped by that heavy stone and sank into the mud and sand of Qingyu Lake.

“So,”

Ji Ying tried to curl his lips but failed, “If His Majesty had done nothing, nothing would have happened. The late Emperor trusted him at the last moment, but His Majesty, even facing death himself, never trusted the late Emperor. Without this memorial, His Majesty would rather torment all those who knew the truth to death than admit it… Is this a form of retribution?”

His Majesty almost obsessively believed such a memorial existed, and now, it truly appeared. It was as if the divine punishment he feared had roared for over ten years with heavy thunder and bright lightning, finally striking him down.

Admitting to the cycle of cause and effect was not Chu Huaicun’s style. All of this was not a punishment inflicted by heaven, but the result of people’s struggles. However, the belated retribution had indeed fallen upon His Majesty, just as he had treated the late Emperor.

“This is not destiny,” Chu Huaicun said, “It is your accomplishment, but you are too tired. You should rest now.”

Yes, he should rest.

After the last shred of worry in his heart burned out, Ji Ying carefully found a spot in Chu Huaicun’s arms, resting his head on his uninjured shoulder, then let out a long, relieved sigh. He whispered in Chu Huaicun’s ear:

“But what I said today, I truly meant it.”

“Hmm?”

“My meeting you was truly a coincidence of fate. I am truly, truly grateful that it happened.”

Chu Huaicun turned his head and kissed his forehead:

“Me too.”