PCA Chapter 206

The day Su Cen left, Chang’an experienced its first snowfall since winter began.

 

A faint “creak” sounded as a small door in Changle Ward opened just a crack. Apart from startling some accumulated snow from the branches, it left no other disturbance.

 

A figure emerged from the door, accompanied by the remaining moon on the horizon, leaving a string of lonely footprints that slowly disappeared into the vast snowy mist.

 

Two years ago, he had come with youthful spirit. Now worn down and depleted, it was time to leave.

 

He left a jar of yellow wine in his room. When Ah Fu and Qu Ling’er woke up, they would discover it—fulfilling his promise to Qu Ling’er from that day. Under the wine jar were two pieces of paper: one was the deed to the house in Chang’an, left for Qu Ling’er. Though he and Qi Lin were well-matched, he should still have his own place. This house would serve as his dowry. The other was Ah Fu’s indenture contract, returning his freedom—from now on, he would no longer be anyone’s servant.

 

Chang’an’s city gate appeared as expected. Su Cen looked back one last time. The vast snow fell heavily, covering Zhuque Avenue, covering the markets and residential wards, and covering the roof of the Huae Xianghui Tower.

 

His Chang’an was finally frozen in this snowfall—frozen solid, iced over. The great gates slammed shut, never to open again.

 

Qu Ling’er was awakened by the rustling sound of a broom sweeping the ground. Opening his door, he saw heavy snow had suddenly fallen, and Ah Fu was taking advantage of the snow’s pause to clear a small path.

 

Qu Ling’er immediately perked up, wrapped himself in cotton clothes and rushed out of his room. He grabbed a handful of snow, formed a snowball, and threw it forward, hitting Ah Fu squarely on the forehead.

 

“What are you doing?!” Ah Fu looked up in embarrassed anger, indeed seeing a large red mark on his forehead.

 

Qu Ling’er leaned against a tree, laughing so hard he swayed back and forth. Snow from the branches fell rustling down, messing up the courtyard Ah Fu had just cleaned.

 

Ah Fu brushed off the snow fragments and complained in a low voice: “Don’t wake up Second Young Master!”

 

“Brother Su isn’t up yet?” Qu Ling’er’s mischievous thoughts arose again. He bent down to grab another handful of snow and headed toward Su Cen’s bedroom.

 

“Don’t…” Ah Fu tried to stop him but couldn’t. Watching Qu Ling’er push open his young master’s door, he mentally counted down, waiting for Qu Ling’er to be thoroughly scolded.

 

After waiting a long time without hearing any commotion, Ah Fu couldn’t help but put down his broom and peek in. He saw Qu Ling’er standing by the window, frowning at something on the table.

 

“Where is Second Young Master?” Ah Fu looked around but didn’t see Su Cen, so he also went in.

 

“What is this?” Qu Ling’er handed the two papers to Ah Fu. Having been forced to copy the Three Character Classic for a year, he still couldn’t recognize many characters and had to consult with Ah Fu at crucial moments.

 

Ah Fu actually couldn’t read them all either, but he could recognize his own indenture contract, puzzled: “Why did Second Young Master bring this out?”

 

It wasn’t until the snow in Qu Ling’er’s hand gradually melted and the snowwater dripped through his fingers that the two suddenly realized something, as if awakening from a dream.

 

Ah Fu’s face turned deathly pale, “It’s over, Second Young Master has given me to you…”

 

Qu Ling’er threw down the two pieces of paper and rushed out the door, “I’m going to bring Brother Su back!”

 

In Xingqing Palace, the morning court session had just ended, and memorials from the Imperial Secretariat had just been delivered. Servants were busy delivering meals and memorials—it was the busiest time of the day.

 

Li Shi went straight to his study upon returning. Ever since Li Sheng returned to court, not only had government affairs not decreased, but all sorts of trivial matters had emerged. The court was in chaos, and the surrounding areas were also unstable. Li Sheng’s purpose was clear and his goals specific—he only wanted to seize power and never concerned himself with the people’s suffering. In the end, Li Shi not only had to coordinate all the court’s affairs but also clean up the messes Li Sheng left behind. After being busy for over half a month, he had barely managed to move back from the palace to live here, yet still couldn’t find a moment’s peace.

 

Li Shi leaned back in his chair and pressed his brow. When servants carried in stacks of memorials, they didn’t dare breathe loudly. The sandalwood fragrance in the air grew increasingly rich, even developing a faint bitter note.

 

After a while, when there was no more movement around him, Li Shi slowly opened his eyes. Glancing at the desk before him, he asked: “That’s all?”

 

A servant replied quietly: “This is all for now.”

 

Though there was no guarantee more wouldn’t arrive in the afternoon or evening.

 

Li Shi stretched his muscles and picked up the vermillion brush. As soon as he put brush to paper, he frowned.

 

The weather was getting cold, and ink solidified quickly, easily clogging the brush. This stroke left uneven ink color, staining a large blotch on the paper.

 

Li Shi looked down at the split brush tip, his gaze gradually darkening. The first image that flooded his mind was of someone grinding ink for him while chatting and laughing cheerfully.

 

The servant grinding ink beside him was immediately terrified out of his wits and quickly knelt to confess his guilt. He had only been slightly distracted while looking at the Prince’s face—how had the ink dried so quickly?

 

Li Shi said nothing, so the servant remained kneeling, not daring to rise, until someone gently patted his trembling shoulder and said: “You may go.”

 

It was Qi Lin.

 

The servant withdrew with relief. Qi Lin took over the ink stick and silently ground it, making the previously solidified thick ink flow again.

 

Li Shi dipped his brush in the ink stone again before he could write, asking aloud: “What happened?”

 

Qi Lin pressed his lips lightly before saying: “Young Master Su has left.”

 

Li Shi’s brush tip paused slightly, the vermillion spreading a bit, but after a moment he continued writing: “Let him go. There’s nothing left in Chang’an worth his attachment.”

 

Qi Lin was stunned and bowed before withdrawing.

 

Soon after, Qu Ling’er’s crying and shouting could be heard from the courtyard: “Doesn’t the Prince want Brother Su either? None of you want Brother Su! I’ll go find him myself!”

 

Qu Ling’er ran off, and Qi Lin sighed before following. The two rode hard and reached Luoyang from Chang’an in a day, watching every boat at the dock, but found nothing.

 

Su Cen had taken the land route.

 

He planned to head south after leaving the city gates, deliberately avoiding Luoyang and taking the route through Nanyang. He thought he had been discreet enough, but unexpectedly someone was already waiting for him outside the city gates.

 

The person was Song Fan.

 

Su Cen frowned slightly: “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to see Lord Su off,” Song Fan’s peach blossom eyes curved gently, “Oh, I shouldn’t call you Lord Su anymore. What should I call you? Young Master Su? Brother Su? Or Zixu?”

 

The Secret Door had spies everywhere, and after Li Sheng returned to court, they became even more rampant. Naturally, his every move couldn’t escape Song Fan’s eyes.

 

Su Cen was someone who had died once and was now alone in the world—he wasn’t afraid of him. He simply walked around Song Fan and continued forward, treating him like a stinking stone blocking the road, too lazy to acknowledge him.

 

Unexpectedly, Song Fan followed closely, saying as he walked: “Look at your friends—Zheng Yang, Li Shi—when you’re leaving, not one of them came to see you off. I kindly came to see you off, so why won’t you acknowledge me?”

 

His tone carried a hint of grievance. If Su Cen didn’t know Song Fan’s true nature, he might actually feel some sympathy.

 

Su Cen didn’t look back: “You’ve seen me off now. Please return, Your Highness.”

 

After Li Sheng returned to court, Song Fan had also moved into Prince Yu’s residence. No longer the young marquis of the Marquis of Ding’an’s residence, he had become the heir apparent of Prince Yu’s residence. This status was elevated by more than just a little—even more prestigious than Zheng Yang’s nominal heir position. No wonder Song Fan came to show off in front of him.

 

“You haven’t left the capital region yet, so how can it be called seeing you off?” Song Fan’s eyes sparkled as he suddenly smiled mischievously, “At the very least, you should leave the capital region—no, leave the Guannei Circuit… How about I escort you to Yangzhou?”

 

Su Cen stopped and turned back to frown at Song Fan: “What exactly do you want?”

 

Song Fan tilted his head to look at Su Cen, smiling with apparent sincerity: “I’m escorting you.”

 

Su Cen regarded him coldly, clearly not believing Song Fan’s words.

 

“I said I quite like you—did you not take that to heart again?” Song Fan raised his hand to point at Su Cen’s chest, his smile gradually becoming sinister, “I like you playing with me. Those people before—either they weren’t qualified to play with me, or I played them to death. How boring.”

 

Su Cen recalled the games Song Fan had played with him, feeling a chill in his heart. He stepped back to avoid Song Fan’s finger pressed against his chest, turned and walked forward while saying: “You’ve gotten everything you wanted. Now Li Sheng has returned to court, you’ve become heir apparent, and I’ve been dismissed from office and left the capital in disgrace. Aren’t you satisfied?”

 

Song Fan stood in place without moving, the curve of his mouth only increasing: “Who told you I wanted to be heir apparent?”

 

##

---