PCA Chapter 224

Early the next morning, as soon as Xingqing Palace’s gates opened, Su Cen silently emerged from within.

 

Zheng Yang excitedly rushed forward, gesticulating animatedly as he walked: “Sure enough, more people stood up at morning court today—two more than yesterday! There was even a censor who wrote a lengthy scroll impeaching Li Sheng and read it aloud in court, cursing Li Sheng as a petty person disrupting government and corrupting court discipline. He also called him a treacherous minister persecuting loyal officials. I wanted to shout ‘well said’ on the spot! And Lord Zhang—he submitted a resignation letter this morning, which the young emperor immediately rejected. He even ordered Li Sheng to release those two people arrested yesterday, saying that the duty of censors is to attend court and discuss affairs, and no one may retaliate for personal reasons under any pretext. It was clearly directed at Li Sheng. Just go tell Uncle to wait patiently. As long as we investigate clearly, we won’t fear Li Sheng not releasing him.”

 

Su Cen lifted the carriage curtain and got in, sitting down without responding to a single word.

 

“Where are we going today?” Zheng Yang followed closely behind, asking Su Cen after taking his seat.

 

Su Cen stared blankly at the small space before him, momentarily not knowing how to answer.

 

Where to go? Where could he go now?

 

Su Cen’s gaze was unfocused for a moment before he spoke: “I want to go see Zhaoling Mausoleum.”

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Zheng Yang was surprised. Su Cen’s voice was terribly hoarse—he had been fine yesterday, but after one night, that melodious voice sounded as if it had been sanded.

 

Looking more carefully, he saw that Su Cen appeared visibly more haggard overall.

 

“Are you ill?” Zheng Yang reached out to feel his forehead, but Su Cen turned his head away. His throat hurt terribly, and he didn’t want to say a word now, only using his eyes to signal Zheng Yang to return to the topic.

 

Zheng Yang was helpless and shook his head at Su Cen: “Zhaoling is far in the western mountains outside the city. It would take us most of the day to get there, and we probably couldn’t return before curfew. Besides, without an imperial edict, the tomb guards won’t let you in…”

 

Zheng Yang suddenly came to his senses: “Why do you want to go to Zhaoling? What are you planning to do?!”

 

“Trespassing on an imperial tomb…” Su Cen swallowed saliva before continuing: “What crime is that?”

 

Zheng Yang frowned: “To prevent emperors of all dynasties from having their graves robbed, our dynasty strictly guards imperial tombs. Not only can you not force your way in, but even if you did get in, it would be a capital offense—this isn’t a joke.”

 

“What about damaging an imperial tomb?”

 

“That’s a crime punishable by exterminating nine generations,” Zheng Yang’s eyebrows shot up. “What exactly are you planning?!”

 

Su Cen shook his head lightly, and when he spoke again, he didn’t mention the imperial tomb at all.

 

“Let’s enter the palace,” Su Cen said softly. “I want to look at records of the former emperor’s illness from back then.”

 

In a small courtyard in the northwest suburbs, a young man in black clothes carrying a food box strode into the yard. Just as he was about to raise his hand to open the door, he faintly heard some sounds from inside.

 

The sounds were rustling, like fine metal lightly rubbing together—if you didn’t listen carefully, you’d almost miss it. The person inside seemed to have noticed the movement outside too. After a moment of silence, there was immediately a flurry of hasty tidying up, then silence returned.

 

The young man pushed open the door to see someone still lying on the bed, looking somewhat haggard but with an exquisitely beautiful appearance. Hearing the sound, the person opened his eyes with a drowsy look of just waking up, his voice also carrying some hoarseness as he asked: “Han Shu? How did you come? Where’s Xiao Hong?”

 

Han Shu set the food box heavily on the table, walked straight forward, and yanked off the cotton quilt covering Qu Ling’er, sneering: “Stop pretending.”

 

Looking at those pale ankles, there were still shining iron shackles wrapped around them. The lock had been scratched all over, and there was actually a small mark carved into the steel lock that was supposed to be impervious to knives and axes.

 

“This, this…” Qu Ling’er smiled awkwardly, “This big iron thing chained to my leg made my feet cold, so I… I had to do something about it…”

 

“Where is it?” Han Shu extended his hand with a cold face.

 

Qu Ling’er and Han Shu were at a standoff for quite a while before he reluctantly handed over the last butterfly dart on his person.

 

Han Shu snorted coldly, turned and walked away: “Tomorrow I’ll have them come replace it with a new one.”

 

“Han Shu, Han Shu!” Qu Ling’er hurriedly tried to grab him. Just as he caught the corner of Han Shu’s sleeve, Han Shu forcefully pulled away. The momentum sent Qu Ling’er tumbling off the bed.

 

This aggravated his old injuries, immediately causing him to grimace in pain.

 

Han Shu stopped and looked back, finally sighing helplessly before bending down to pick him up and put him back on the bed.

 

“Han Shu,” once Qu Ling’er grabbed Han Shu’s wrist, he wouldn’t let go. His slender fingers seemed ready to dig into the flesh. “Han Shu, listen to me. I have to get out. They’re using me to threaten Brother Qi. You have to help me.”

 

“How can you be so… so unable to learn from your mistakes!” Han Shu was so angry his teeth were clenched. “This is the person you said truly cared for you, and he turned around and stabbed you. Surprised? Unexpected?”

 

Qu Ling’er held the sword wound at his chest and shook his head gently: “Brother Qi didn’t do it on purpose.”

 

Han Shu wanted to pry open Qu Ling’er’s head to see if it was filled with mush. In the end, he could only sigh heavily: “My father went through so much trouble to get you back from the sect master. Stop trying to cause trouble and let the old man have some peace, will you?”

 

Qu Ling’er’s eyes suddenly lit up: “I want to see Master.”

 

“Don’t even think about it. My father won’t agree!” Han Shu said decisively. “My father served Crown Prince Chongde during the Wude years and has been with the Secret Door since its founding. He would never betray the Secret Door.”

 

“I don’t know what the situation is like outside, but it probably isn’t good,” Qu Ling’er lowered his eyes sadly. “Please help me ask Master one question: Is this what he’s been waiting for all these years?”

 

As year’s end approached, the Heaven Worship ceremony was scheduled as usual, but the procession was somewhat different from previous years. Prince Ning’s position had been replaced by Prince Yu Li Sheng, and the ceremonial officer was also an unfamiliar new face. Perhaps it was his first time with this duty—he was trembling all over, his posture not straight enough, his appearance inadequate. He accidentally took wrong steps, looking like a ridiculous large ape in his red robes.

 

Su Cen walked against the crowd, paying no attention to this grand procession.

 

These past days he had been busy going in and out of the imperial palace, prison, and Dali Temple, analyzing this case word by word, checking every key point. He had visibly grown thinner, his expression increasingly cold. Often a single glance would chill people to the bone, and no one dared provoke him. But as soon as curfew came, he would return to Xingqing Palace, sometimes even twice a day. Upon seeing Li Shi, he wouldn’t say a word but would immediately start undressing him, always giving his all. If Li Shi didn’t move, he would work hard himself, finally crying and shouting until exhausted before being able to sleep for a short while.

 

Since it began as a physical transaction, let it end as such. If he could truly die in bed, that would be a good death.

 

Every day he would leave before dawn and stay busy until New Year’s Eve without stopping.

 

He even encountered Li Sheng in the palace, who asked with a smile how the case investigation was going and whether he was counting on Su Cen to be as glorious as last time at tomorrow morning’s grand court assembly.

 

Su Cen looked haggard, as if he could be blown over by the wind, yet still said hoarsely: “I will not disappoint Your Highness’s expectations.”

 

“That voice of yours won’t do. I’m afraid the court ministers won’t be able to hear you clearly,” Li Sheng suddenly raised his hand to touch Su Cen’s Adam’s apple. Before Su Cen could retreat, he had already tightened his grip. The bone structure there was clear and fragile. The Adam’s apple moved with difficulty a few times before being forced still under the overwhelming pressure.

 

Li Sheng only slowly released his grip just before the bone could be dislocated, chuckling: “I have some excellent autumn pear syrup. I’ll have someone send it to you later.”

 

Su Cen bent over coughing violently, his protruding shoulder blades stark and obvious.

 

As soon as the sky darkened, Chang’an was already decorated with lanterns and colored streamers, presenting a scene of “singing girls know not the sorrow of a fallen nation, still singing palace songs across the river”—a facade of peace.

 

Unusually for today, just after nightfall Su Cen came to the Xingqing Palace gates carrying a food box, along with two bundles of firecrackers and two fireworks. It being New Year’s Eve was understandable. The two guards carefully inspected everything before letting him in.

 

Su Cen found Li Shi in Nanxun Hall, where imperial dishes from the palace had already been delivered—unusually sumptuous compared to usual days, very much like a last meal.

 

Su Cen stepped forward to clear away those dishes one by one, then set out the food he had brought. Each dish and plate contained homestyle cooking—delicacies replaced by radishes and cabbage. Su Cen said without changing expression: “Ah Fu isn’t here anymore. I made all of these. They might not compare to the palace imperial cuisine, but they won’t kill you.”

 

Li Shi smiled and took a bite of vegetables and tofu: “You can cook?”

 

“I learned from the monks at the temple. I only know how to make vegetarian dishes, nothing else.”

 

Su Cen went to Li Shi’s private wine cellar to select a jar of wine, filling both their cups and raising his in a toast.

 

“What happened to your neck?” Li Shi frowned. As soon as Su Cen moved, he noticed the faint bruise on his neck. He reached out to gently caress it, as if trying to smooth away the mark.

 

“It’s nothing,” Su Cen blocked his hand and continued raising his cup in toast. “This first cup I drink to thank Your Highness for your care over these years. Without Your Highness, given my temperament, I probably wouldn’t have lived to see today.”

 

Without waiting for Li Shi’s response, Su Cen raised his cup and drained it in one gulp. The spilled wine flowed down his neck, crystal clear under the lamplight like a trail of tears.

 

Li Shi silently raised his cup and drank with Su Cen.

 

“This second cup I drink to thank Your Highness for granting me a grand dream. When all the splendor fades and the dream awakens, I fear my grand dream is about to end.”

 

This cup was drunk too hastily, and Su Cen choked a few times. Li Shi stepped forward to hold him in his arms, gently comforting him. The black jade thumb ring lightly traced along his spine, only then noticing that this small frame had long since become painfully thin.

 

“You’ve always been a master strategist. I want to ask how you’ve arranged things for me this time?” After finishing coughing, Su Cen asked while clinging to Li Shi’s wrist.

 

“After tomorrow, go find Zhuo’er and take him through Xuanwu Gate. Wen Xiu will be there to meet you. He’ll first take you to a safe place. When the army arrives and Li Sheng is brought to justice, you can come out. By then, you’ll have the merit of protecting the master, so naturally you can be exceptionally employed to continue supporting Zhuo’er.”

 

“Good, very good,” Su Cen took a deep breath and straightened up. “Then today’s farewell should be our final farewell. This third cup… this third cup…”

 

Su Cen suddenly choked up: “That day’s wedding wine was drunk with everyone at the Heaven Worship ceremony. This time I want to drink alone with you again, to fulfill… to fulfill that small private wish of mine…”

 

Li Shi’s eyes looked deeply down at him. Su Cen felt as if he was already drunk, reaching up to touch those eyes, his fingertips seeming to catch a trace of moisture.

 

“Alright, I’ll drink with you,” Li Shi took the wine pot and personally filled both their cups. The two pressed their heads together, arms intertwined, like an affectionate newlywed couple bringing the wedding wine to each other’s lips.

 

Just as midnight struck, firecrackers began sounding throughout Chang’an. Amid the sound of exploding firecrackers, another year passed—unknowingly it was already the sixth year of Yuanshun.

 

Suddenly there was a tremendous “boom” from somewhere, and the ground seemed to tremble. The two guards at Xingqing Palace gates both startled awake. Just as they were about to investigate, they saw fireworks blooming across the sky, instantly illuminating half the heavens.

 

The silver fire trees crackled and burst in mid-air, lighting up the roof of Huae Xianghui Tower that hadn’t seen light for days, the unfathomable surface of Dragon Pool Lake, and a small crack in Xingqing Palace’s supposedly impregnable wall.

 

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