PCA Chapter 203

Ministry of Justice Prison

 

As soon as Zheng Yang entered from outside, he shivered. After winter set in, it was already cold outside, but inside this prison it was even colder. The damp chill seemed to rise from underground, penetrating skin and bone—no amount of thick clothing could help.

 

Led deeper by the jailer, Zheng Yang’s heart grew colder. The outer cells still had some braziers for warmth, but the inner ones had no braziers at all—not even a spark could be seen.

 

Zheng Yang frowned and asked: “Why aren’t there any charcoal fires inside?”

 

“Charcoal fires?” The jailer sneered, then remembering the other’s status, restrained his laughter and replied: “Young Master doesn’t know—those inside are all death row inmates, people who will die sooner or later. Why waste money on charcoal?”

 

Zheng Yang’s expression clearly turned cold: “Are death row inmates not human? Besides, they’re not dead yet, are they?”

 

The jailer paused in his steps, still wearing a smile but with a colder tone: “If Young Master finds our place inadequate, you’re free to leave.”

 

Zheng Yang was momentarily speechless, choking for a while before saying irritably: “Just lead the way.”

 

The jailer snorted with laughter and turned back to continue walking carelessly inward.

 

Looking at that arrogant back of the head ahead, Zheng Yang’s anger flared. When had the young master of the Duke of Ying’s residence ever suffered such indignity, reduced to reading a jailer’s expressions? He gritted his teeth in frustration, but since he needed the man’s help and had hit walls everywhere else, this was his last resort.

 

The prison was frighteningly deep. Just as Zheng Yang felt he had twisted and turned almost to the underworld, the jailer suddenly stopped and pointed ahead: “Young Master, this is the cell.”

 

Zheng Yang looked up, his throat suddenly constricting. After a long moment, he remembered to take out a silver ingot to give the jailer, instructing him not to make any noise, and sent him away first.

 

This innermost cell was the coldest and dampest, with moss covering the walls from years without sunlight. Against the wall lay a stone slab several feet long that served as a bed, with what appeared to be some protrusion on it. Only by holding up the lamp for a closer look could one see it was actually a person. Perhaps because the stone slab was so cold, the person had curled up tightly into a ball, wrapped in a pitch-black quilt, sleeping as if dead to the world.

 

Zheng Yang stared at that back for a long time, momentarily unable to confirm if this was the person he sought. His nose stung inexplicably, and he bit his lip to hold back tears, forcing a smile as he gently tapped on the wooden bars: “Stop sleeping, see who’s come to visit.”

 

The figure on the stone slab didn’t move, as if it had merged with the stone, showing no signs of life.

 

Zheng Yang suddenly panicked—could this person have already frozen to death?

 

Momentarily forgetting he had snuck in through the back door, no longer caring about being careful, Zheng Yang stepped forward and pounded on the bars, making the iron chains on the prison door clatter loudly and causing a large chunk of earth to fall from the wall.

 

“Enough, stop pounding.” The figure on the stone finally spoke. After a moment, it moved slightly, accompanied by the sound of metal clashing as it stretched its arms and legs, forcibly extending that curled body by more than half. After another long while, the person finally gathered strength to sit up from the stone slab. Those eyes remained bright even in the darkness, and when they looked up, Zheng Yang suddenly felt choked up again. The scene from that day in court was still vivid—he had sought justice for Tian Pingzhi and Liu Cheng, but no one would ever run around calling for justice for him again.

 

A pair of long, straight legs stood up, causing the shackles on them to clatter. The figure swayed a few times before steadying, then approached while asking: “How did you get here?”

 

Zheng Yang forcibly swallowed several times to steady his voice, smiling as he said: “I came to see if you were dead yet.”

 

Su Cen’s voice still carried the hoarseness of just waking up. He tilted his head and smiled: “Then I must have disappointed you.”

 

“It’s not me who’s disappointed, but some people who will be. There are plenty outside hoping for your death,” Zheng Yang forced another smile, “You’d better show some backbone and not let them have their way.”

 

“Stop smiling, really,” Su Cen walked closer and sighed gently at Zheng Yang, “It looks worse than crying.”

 

Zheng Yang’s face instantly fell. Su Cen didn’t need to say it—he could barely hold on anymore. If he hadn’t given himself away now, it would be the next moment.

 

“Why did it come to this? How did we reach this point…” Zheng Yang repeated several times, “You’re usually so clever, why didn’t you know to leave yourself a way out?”

 

“There was never a way back on this path,” Su Cen smiled at him, “Let’s sit down and talk. I’m a bit tired from standing.”

 

The two sat on the ground. Su Cen’s cell didn’t even have any straw to cushion the floor. Zheng Yang felt a chill travel up his spine, yet saw Su Cen carelessly sit down and even lean against the moss-covered wall.

 

Zheng Yang asked: “What have you been doing these past days?”

 

In Zheng Yang’s memory, no matter how harsh the conditions or bleak the prospects, this person could always turn misfortune into fortune and find life in desperate situations. So despite his current downfall, as long as that little brain was still working, he could always think of solutions. Perhaps he had already figured out how to defend himself and fight for a way to survive.

 

But unexpectedly, Su Cen replied frankly: “Sleeping.”

 

Zheng Yang: “…”

 

He watched the person lean against the wall and stretch: “I truly haven’t slept this peacefully in a long time. No troublesome matters, no roosters crowing or dogs barking, no Qu Ling’er and Ah Fu bickering. Here there’s no day or night—I can sleep for a very long time.”

 

Zheng Yang’s expression of “frustrated by his lack of ambition” was written all over his face. In the end, he couldn’t bear to scold him further. Looking at the heavy iron chains on his hands and feet, he frowned: “Have the people in this prison given you trouble? What about the food? You sleep all day, but why do you look thinner?”

 

“I haven’t seen many people since I arrived. Who would come to trouble me?” Su Cen yawned listlessly, “The food… it’s not bad, I suppose. I’ve just forgotten what it tastes like.”

 

Zheng Yang frowned: “What do you mean you’ve forgotten what it tastes like?”

 

Su Cen tilted his head, looking at Zheng Yang: “It’s just that this place is too deep inside. The old woman who delivers food has a poor memory and forgets there’s someone in here every few days. If I’m lucky enough to be awake, I can call out to her. But I’ve been sleeping a lot lately, so I don’t often get to eat when food comes.”

 

“That’s prisoner abuse!” Zheng Yang stood up angrily, “When did you last eat?”

 

Su Cen’s eyes showed some confusion, and Zheng Yang knew this person had slept through it again. Gritting his teeth: “I’ll have someone bring you food. Yes, and quilts too—covering yourself with that rag, I’m amazed you can sleep. What else do you need? I’ll have someone bring it all.”

 

Looking at this bare cell, he couldn’t help but grimace. What wasn’t lacking in this wretched place?

 

Zheng Yang finally waved his hand: “Forget it, I’ll decide what to bring myself.”

 

“Forget it,” Su Cen raised his hand, really too lazy to stand up again, resting his head against the wooden bars, “There aren’t many days left anyway. No need to go through the trouble.”

 

Zheng Yang immediately flew into a rage: “What do you mean there aren’t many days left?!”

 

Su Cen looked at him quietly, those eyes calm and untroubled, clearly having long understood his situation.

 

“Come on, come over here,” Su Cen patted the cold ground, “Come sit with me and talk.”

 

Zheng Yang clenched and unclenched his fists several times before sitting back down with a thud, his face dark, refusing to look directly at Su Cen.

 

“How are you doing?” Su Cen looked at Zheng Yang, “After you stood by me that day, did they give you trouble?”

 

Zheng Yang snorted coldly: “Who dares trouble me? Mother said if anyone touches a hair on my head, she’ll fight them to the death. With her seniority, no one dares provoke her.”

 

“That’s good.” Su Cen smiled gently, “What about Lord Zhang? Is he alright?”

 

“Don’t you know Lord Zhang’s skill at staying out of trouble? Slippery as a loach—who could catch him?” Zheng Yang said irritably, “Can you stop worrying about others and worry about yourself!”

 

“Mm,” Su Cen nodded, then asked: “What date?”

 

“…” Zheng Yang was momentarily speechless, gritting his teeth hard, “That’s all you’re worried about?!”

 

Su Cen couldn’t help but smile bitterly: “You have to let me know the date so I can prepare. I’m scared too—what if I wet myself when the time comes? That would be too embarrassing.”

 

“You still know fear? You still know fear!” Zheng Yang nearly ground his teeth to powder, “If you knew fear, how could you say those things in the great hall? How could you dare stand up and take on all those crimes? I think you’re not afraid—you think your life is too long and won’t be satisfied until you’ve thrown it away!”

 

After finishing his tirade in one breath, Zheng Yang finally exhaled deeply. When his anger had mostly subsided, he realized Su Cen had been silent the whole time. Looking over, he saw the person leaning back against the wall with eyes slightly narrowed, not entirely unmoved after all.

 

So he pathetically felt sorry for him again. Even now, thinking about that day’s events made his heart race with fear. How much inner torment Su Cen must have felt when he decided to make everything public.

 

“The seventh day of the eleventh month,” Zheng Yang quietly gave the date, then after a long while added: “Outside the East Market Gate, public beheading.”

 

Su Cen actually sighed with relief: “At least it’s beheading.”

 

If it were some extreme punishment like death by a thousand cuts, he’d rather follow Liu Cheng’s example and dash his head against the prison wall.

 

“Don’t prepare too thoroughly,” Zheng Yang said urgently, “Uncle is still working hard. Maybe things will turn around at the last moment.”

 

Hearing about Li Shi, Su Cen’s heart suddenly clenched again, and for a moment he could barely breathe. After a long while, that piercing pain finally passed, and Su Cen asked softly: “Is the Prince… doing well?”

 

Zheng Yang pressed his lips together: “Uncle has been staying in the palace every day. He hasn’t returned to Xingqing Palace for half a month now.”

 

Su Cen worried about Li Shi’s old ailment. Now that the weather was turning cold, it was precisely when his headaches would flare up. Li Shi already couldn’t sleep well at Xingqing Palace—could he sleep at all in the palace?

 

“Has court business been busy lately?”

 

“It’s all because of that mess of troubles,” Zheng Yang sighed. “Before the dust has even settled on your case, those ministers are clamoring again to welcome back the descendants of Prince Yu to court.”

 

Su Cen’s brow furrowed: “Li Sheng has the ambitions of a wolf, coveting the throne. He absolutely cannot be allowed to return.”

 

“I know, Uncle knows too. Anyone with eyes can see that Li Sheng has the heart of Sima Zhao, but somehow he managed to incite so many people to speak for him in such a short time. These days, as soon as court convenes, there’s nothing else—they all kneel down in droves, clamoring for Li Sheng’s restoration. Beat them down one day, and another batch will emerge the next. They come in waves, but Uncle is just one person. Two fists can’t fight four hands—I can see Uncle has grown much more haggard.”

 

Su Cen thought quietly for a moment, then said: “Li Sheng has his own methods of controlling people. It’s impossible to win over so many people in such a short time. Most of these people probably aren’t truly submissive, but rather threatened or coerced. Tell the Prince that wearing down these ministers isn’t the solution—he needs to target Li Sheng directly. Li Sheng relies on the Secret Door, and the Secret Door suffered heavy losses at Lu Family Village, so it’s actually quite weak now. Find the breakthrough point and strike decisively—that’s the only way to truly solve the problem.”

 

Zheng Yang nodded, then sighed after a while: “If only you could be outside helping him.”

 

Su Cen silently lowered his head. All of this had started because of him—what virtue or ability did he have to stand beside Li Shi again?

 

Knowing he had touched on a sore subject again, Zheng Yang changed the topic: “I saw Cui Hao when I came. He’s already resigned from office and left the capital, taking Prime Minister Liu’s memorial tablet with him. He said he wants to take Prime Minister Liu to see his hometown.”

 

Su Cen remembered the place Cui Hao had mentioned that “embraces three rivers and girds five lakes,” and smiled gently. Prime Minister Liu would probably like it.

 

“He also asked me to tell you that you don’t owe him anything anymore.”

 

Su Cen felt relieved and turned back with a gentle smile. Looking at that moss-covered wall, he seemed to see clear skies and bright daylight.

 

“Actually, I haven’t been sleeping all the time these days. When I’m awake, I think about the past,” Su Cen said softly. “I’m not unfamiliar with this prison at all. Gao Miao stayed here, Xiao Yuanchen stayed here, Prime Minister Liu and Cui Hao both stayed here. Some of them got out, others remained here, but I feel I’ve done my utmost. When I go down there and meet them, I should be able to hold my head high.”

 

“When I die, please find my complete remains and burn them on the spot. Scatter the ashes in Chang’an—after all… this is the place I can never forget.”

 

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