The autumn air was bleak, and with no sunlight for several days, everyone felt lethargic.
Ji Zhen was sprawled lazily on the couch with one hand holding a storybook, and the other tossing nuts into his mouth, occasionally sipping some hot tea, completely at ease.
Just as he was getting sleepy, Ji An rushed into the room, shouting, “Young Master, the Eldest Young Master has arrived at the Shen Mansion and is on his way here now!”
He instantly snapped awake, dropped his book and tea, and asked, “How come Gege is here?”
It had been exactly four years since Ji Zhen and Shen Yanqing were married, yet Ji Jue had never once set foot in the Shen Mansion. This unusual visit made Ji Zhen’s heart pound uncontrollably.
He looked at the dreary, rainy sky, and a bad feeling suddenly arose within him.
A small stove was already lit in the room, the silver charcoal crackling. Perhaps there was sand in the charcoal, as it suddenly made a popping sound, and a string of tiny flames leaped up.
Through the faint firelight, Ji Zhen saw two tall, umbrella-wielding figures pass through the courtyard gate. His elder brother walked briskly in front, with Shen Yanqing a half-step behind.
He ran to the eaves, and seeing his elder brother’s heavy expression, his originally joyful tone wavered slightly. “Gege…”
Ji Jue took a few quick steps forward and got straight to the point. “Zhen Zhen, come back to the Ji Mansion with me.”
Ji Zhen was still confused, but he nodded without hesitation and quickly told Ji An to get an umbrella. Then he glanced at the equally serious Shen Yanqing and asked in a low voice, “What happened?”
Both of them remained silent.
Ji Zhen felt his unease growing. Just as he was about to leave with his elder brother, Shen Yanqing said, “Wait.”
He stopped, puzzled.
“Ji An, go to the room and get the white fox fur cloak for the Young Madam to wear.”
Only after Shen Yanqing mentioned it did Ji Zhen feel the chill. This kind of concern was unprecedented, and Ji Zhen couldn’t help but smile sweetly at Shen Yanqing.
But Shen Yanqing’s expression was heavy, and he slightly averted his gaze, as if he couldn’t bear to look at his smile.
Wrapped in the white fox fur cloak, Ji Zhen placed his hand in his elder brother’s palm and was quickly led out of the courtyard.
Shen Yanqing stood under the eaves while holding the umbrella, as he watched the fleeting shadow disappear around the corner. The jade-like joints of his fingers slowly tightened.
Yu He reminded him, “My Lord, the fog is heavy. Let’s go inside.”
After a long pause, Shen Yanqing finally replied, “Get the carriage ready.”
—
“Gege, what’s the rush?”
Ji Zhen turned and sat on the soft couch in the carriage. The white fox fur cloak was too warm for deep autumn, so he felt a bit hot. He undid the ties, took it off, and placing it to the side.
“Zhen Zhen,” Ji Jue’s face was half-hidden in the shadows, “You’ll be twenty-one in a few months.”
Ji Zhen didn’t understand why his elder brother suddenly brought up his age and simply replied, “Yes.”
What was Ji Jue doing at twenty-one? He had already been an official for three years, had become accustomed to deceitful schemes, and understood the tricks of false righteousness. After feigning civility with colleagues at court whose loyalty was hard to determine, his greatest joy was returning home to tutor Ji Zhen.
Ji Zhen had started his studies late and was not particularly quick-witted. He would teach him over and over again, and even when Ji Zhen couldn’t grasp a concept, he never felt impatient.
What did it matter if he was naive? The Ji family only needed one person, Ji Jue, to be bound by power, there was no need for Ji Zhen to also be drawn into the treacherous web.
But after so many years, in this precarious capital where everyone was on edge, how could Ji Zhen avoid it?
He was merely postponing the unavoidable, pushing back the moment he would have to confront the sudden storm—first by a day, then by an hour.
Ji Jue looked at Ji Zhen’s clear eyes, he had once vowed to protect this innocence, but his wish ultimately could not be fulfilled.
The carriage stopped.
Ji Zhen took a couple of steps to hop off the carriage. He hadn’t been back to the Ji Mansion for nearly four months and missed it dearly.
After the Southern Garden incident, he had privately asked his elder brother why their father hadn’t attended the banquet. He learned that his father had caught a cold and had visited him once. Although his father was ill in bed, he didn’t seem to be in any serious danger, so he was relieved.
Since then, with the struggle for power between the Crown Prince’s faction and the Third Prince’s faction, his father and elder brother had been busy with court affairs, and they had seen each other even less.
Ji Zhen stepped through the main gate. All the servants in the mansion lowered their heads to him, and though the sight was no different from usual, Ji Zhen could not shake the feeling that the Ji Mansion resembled a dying old man, radiating an air of lifelessness.
His steps slowed, and he turned to look at Ji Jue.
His elder brother stood in the middle of the courtyard, and in Ji Zhen’s confused and uneasy gaze, he said mournfully, “Zhen Zhen, come with me to bid farewell to Father.”
The rain and mist were as hazy as a veil, and Ji Zhen felt a chill run through his body.
The room was filled with the strong smell of herbal medicine. The physician fed a bowl of ginseng soup to Ji Zhong, whose face was as withered as dry grass on the bed. He stammered, “Lord Ji Jue, Lord Grand Secretary… You should say what you need to say quickly.”
Ji Zhen stood there in a daze. Ji Jue waved his hand to dismiss the servants.
The door softly closed, enclosing the Ji father and sons along with the scent of decay.
Ji Zhen slowly blinked, staring at his gaunt father. Having not seen him for a few months, his father’s eyes were sunken, and he was so thin that he was just a skeleton, bearing no resemblance to the stern and proper image he held in his memory at all.
His legs gave out, and he staggered to the bedside while trembling. “Father…”
Ji Zhong’s chapped lips moved.
Ji Zhen held the hand that was so thin it was just skin over bone, his teeth chattering, “Why, why did this happen?”
He was completely baffled, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to his silent elder brother and desperately asked, “Just a few months ago, Father was strong and healthy. You never told me he was sick. Where’s the physician? The physician…”
Ji Jue grabbed Ji Zhen, who was about to rush out, and called out sharply, “Zhen Zhen.”
Ji Zhen halted suddenly, his eyes fixed on his elder brother, panic written across his face.
“Listen to me.” Ji Jue grasped Ji Zhen’s shoulders firmly, his voice heavy with solemnity. “Father had a sudden serious illness, and the physician is helpless. You are here to bid him farewell, so don’t make him uneasy in his final moments.”
Ji Jue pulled Ji Zhen down, forcing him to kneel by the bed and press his head to the floor without question. Ji Zhen knocked his head three times with heavy thuds, his ears ringing and his vision blurring.
Everything had unfolded too quickly. He never imagined that coming home today would turn into their final farewell.
Ji Zhong’s eyes on the bed suddenly widened. Ji Zhen crawled to the edge of the bed and saw that his father’s eyes were cloudy and his lips were moving continuously. He was in his last moments. He clenched his jaw, wiped away a torrent of tears, and shakily leaned in to hear his father’s final words.
Suddenly, Ji Zhong seemed to use all his remaining strength, bursting out a hoarse sentence from his throat, “When the cunning rabbit is dead, the good hound will be cooked[mfn]It’s a proverb meaning that once someone has served their purpose, they may be discarded or even eliminated, even if they were loyal or useful.[/mfn]. When the cunning rabbit is dead, the good hound will be…”
The last word was replaced by a spray of blood. Ji Zhen couldn’t dodge in time and felt the warm blood splash onto his cheeks and the side of his neck. The blood slowly trickled down his skin, soaking into his collar.
Ji Zhen looked again. His father’s eyes were wide open, his mouth was full of blood, and he had already stopped breathing.
His body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground in shock. His lips were slightly parted, but he couldn’t utter a single sound.
Ji Jue pulled him into his arms, pressing his face tightly against his chest, and called out to him again and again, “Zhen Zhen, Zhen Zhen…”
The clean fragrance of his elder brother’s clothes could not mask the stench of blood clinging to him. When he raised his hand to his face, it came away covered in cold, sticky wetness. He wanted to look at his father one more time but was too afraid to move.
After a moment, a gut-wrenching cry of grief rang out in the room, saddening all who heard it.
The events of today not only utterly devastated Ji Zhen but also marked the fall of a powerful official in the Great Heng Empire.
Things were about to change.
Ji Zhen sat there blankly with his face streaked with tears, allowing his elder brother to wash his hands and face for him. The clear water turned red. He remembered the sight of his father’s death, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably.
“Don’t be scared, Zhen Zhen.” Ji Jue meticulously wiped away the blood, put the bloody cloth aside, and held Ji Zhen’s hands in his own hands. “I’m here.”
Ji Zhen’s nose quivered, and tears gushed from his eyes like a dam that had burst.
The two brothers remained seated in silence, leaning against one another as the minutes stretched on.
As darkness fell, a servant’s voice called from outside, “My Lord, Lord Shen requests an audience.”
Ji Zhen raised his swollen red eyes and looked toward the door.
Ji Jue’s lips were pressed into a tight line. Finally, he said, “I will take care of all of Father’s funeral arrangements. You should return to the Shen Mansion first. Tomorrow…”
Ji Zhen shook his head. “I want to stay here and keep watch over Father’s coffin.”
Ji Jue was silent for a few moments, then squeezed Ji Zhen’s hand and said heavily, “Alright, then stay here at home.”
—
The attendant led Shen Yanqing to the front of the courtyard. “Please wait a moment, Lord Shen; this humble one will go and announce your arrival.”
As he spoke, a pale-faced, red-eyed Ji Zhen emerged from the wet flagstones.
The drizzle fell without end, enveloping the withered autumn plants in a soft, watery haze. The two looked at each other from a distance through a blurry haze. Ji Zhen had changed into a plain white mourning robe, and his dark hair was tied simply with a green ribbon. He had never worn such simple clothes before, and the sorrow etched on his face was so profound that at first sight, he seemed as if he could crumble to dust at any moment.
Before he could walk to Shen Yanqing, Shen Yanqing stepped forward first.
“My condolences.”
The moment Ji Zhen heard those words, his eyes blazed with emotion. He choked, saying, “Shen Yanqing, can you stay at the Ji Mansion with me? I’m a little…”
He remembered his father’s final moments and the blood that had sprayed onto him. His fingers trembled.
Shen Yanqing didn’t say anything but extended his hand behind him.
Ji An placed a white fox fur cloak on his arm. “My Lord, I’ve brought it.”
Shen Yanqing draped the soft, heavy cloak over Ji Zhen and took his cold hand, leading him inside.
This was the courtyard Ji Zhen had lived in before he was married. It had been cleaned and tidied by servants for years. The floor heating had already been lit, filling the room with warmth.
Yet, Ji Zhen still felt cold. He sat on the bed wrapped in the fox fur cloak, a person who was normally so lively and loved to laugh, now listless with his eyes cast down.
A servant was hanging a white lantern from his eaves. Ji Zhen curled his feet up and closed his eyes, refusing to look.
This was the second time Shen Yanqing had been here. The first time was to convince Ji Zhen not to insist on marrying him. The world had changed, and it felt like a lifetime had passed. Their states of mind had also changed.
Ji An entered with a porcelain bowl. He had also cried twice and was sniffling. He said, “The Eldest Young Master asked the small kitchen to warm up some pumpkin and millet porridge. Young Master, please eat a little.”
Ji Zhen shook his head.
Shen Yanqing took the bowl. Ji An looked at Ji Zhen worriedly, blew his nose, and left.
The room was utterly silent, broken only by the soft sound of Ji Zhen’s quiet sobs.
Shen Yanqing set the porridge aside and slowly pulled the fox fur cloak away, revealing the tear-stained face buried within.
Ji Zhen sobbed, “I don’t have an appetite.”
Even the finest delicacies had lost their flavor at this moment.
Perhaps because of his overwhelming sadness, he glimpsed a rare hint of warmth and pity in Shen Yanqing’s eyes.
So, when the steaming porridge was lifted to his lips, Ji Zhen compelled himself to take a bite.
In his panic and grief, the food was tasteless. He vaguely recalled a phrase from his father’s last words that he hadn’t heard clearly.
“Shen Yanqing,” Ji Zhen murmured, seeking help. “What is a dead rabbit, a dead hound…”
When the cunning rabbit is dead, the good hound will be cooked.
Shen Yanqing’s movements froze, his eyes darkening slightly.
Ji Zhen waited patiently, but all he got was a faint, “I don’t know,” from Shen Yanqing.
He dropped his head in disappointment. If even the knowledgeable Shen Yanqing didn’t know, it was probably just his father’s confused ramblings at the end.
Ji Zhen took a small sip of the hot porridge, and large tears plopped into the bowl. He was crying so hard he couldn’t speak. “From now on, I only have you and Gege…”
The author has something to say:
Lord Shen: My silly little wife is so pitiful. I guess I won’t tell him…
😭