LBLCPCB C17

Chapter 17

Zhu Jingchen gave a long, leisurely sigh before donning his cloak and stepping into the heavy rain, heading straight for the Gu household.

Gu Huaiyu was taken aback by his sudden visit. His first thought was that something had happened to Zhu Song, and he hurried out to meet him.

“Uncle, has something happened to Zhu Song?”

“Let’s talk inside,” Zhu Jingchen said curtly.

Gu led him quickly into the study, shut the door, dismissed attendants, then turned. “Now there are no outsiders.”

“Your cousin used the Judicial Court’s token last night to open the city gates and ride out,” Zhu Jingchen explained flatly.

Gu already knew—but for Zhu Jingchen to come in the middle of a storm, it had to be serious. His brows tightened. “He left the capital? For what?”

Zhu Jingchen waved irritably. “A long story, but nothing proper. He left without imperial sanction—he’ll be impeached. Only you can help.”

“Rest assured, Uncle,” Gu said solemnly, “I’ll help him. I will enter the palace tonight.”

“That is well,” Zhu Jingchen agreed, then paused.

Gu asked carefully, “Where has he gone?”

“To the Xu family in Qingzhou.”

“He’s ill?”

“Not at all. Raving about fetching dragon bone as antidote—for some man utterly unrelated to us! The boy has no sense, and when he returns I’ll thrash him.” Zhu Jingchen showed no hint of revealing the Crown Prince’s involvement. He left at once, leaving Gu clenching his lip till it nearly bled. By now the Censorate surely knew of Zhu Song’s departure. Tomorrow, if he gave no explanation, disaster would fall harder.

Unable to think of any plausible pretext, Gu resorted to drastic means: he drove his own sword into his shoulder. Then, bandaged hastily by his household physician, he stormed toward the palace.

In Qinzhen Hall, Emperor Liang immediately perceived the blood seeping through his robes. His brows pinched tight. “You’re wounded. What has happened?”

Gu bowed low. “Your Majesty, last night this servant was set upon by assassins. Shoulder struck. By fortune, I met Zhu Song in pursuit. He chased them right out the city gates. I believed he would soon return, yet the whole day has gone with no news. I worry dearly. I therefore beg that Your Majesty grant me leave to take men beyond the city to find him.”

The Emperor’s brows furrowed deeper. Already that very afternoon he had received memorials impeaching Zhu Song for deserting the capital without sanction. But hearing this version, he weighed it.

“Have you any clue whose assassins they were?”

Gu shook his head. “Cases are few of late. Only Shuyun Manor’s massacre, and that is closed. I cannot imagine who else would want my life.”

“Then take men to seek him,” the Emperor ordered. “And whoever dared strike a minister—ferret out!”

Gu bowed humbly. “Grateful, Your Majesty. I will not rest until the hand behind is found.”

Dismissed, he breathed relief only upon leaving. Yet to make the cover true, he promptly assembled fifteen men from the Court, rode into the sheets of rain, and for three days scoured the environs as if truly searching.

On the third day at last, weary hooves clattered back. Dripping rain and mud, gaunt from four days without sleep, beard unshaven—Zhu Song hauled into view, clothes soaked flat to his skin. Seeing Gu waiting along the canal, his eyes shone bright.

“You—why are you here?” He leapt from his mount.

Gu lifted his oiled paper umbrella over them both. Rain pattered above like drums. His words were simple:

“I told His Majesty you pursued assassins. Got leave to exit. And waited here for you.”

“Thank you,” Zhu panted, too drained for more. His gratitude was genuine.

“Just remember,” Gu pressed, “when you face His Majesty, speak convincingly.”

Zhu nodded. Both men returned to the capital in silence beneath the roaring rain.

At Zhu Manor, Jingchen, on his rest day, eyed his son’s appearance with scorn. “You look like a beggar short one bowl. Shall I fetch it for you?”

Zhu ignored the sneer. “Wen Fengxuan—where is he?”

Jingchen scowled. “Not stirred enough trouble yet?”

Zhu frowned darkly. “I didn’t obtain the dragon bone. He needs Su Li again.”

“Bah!” Jingchen retorted. “The Prince left the capital the very next day. Claimed illness, begged leave to convalesce in Suzhou. The Emperor approved.”

“What?” Zhu’s brow knotted tighter. “He was dying of poison—barely breathing! Who petitioned the leave?”

“The Prince himself,” Jingchen said dryly. “Said he was wan, requested rest. By no means as you described.”

Zhu’s disbelief seared him. “Impossible—I saw him swallow oleander. The Ghost Valley Physician himself said no more than five days without dragon bone!”

Jingchen stared. “Son—how old is Wen Fengxuan this year?”

Puzzled, Zhu answered, “Eighteen.”

His father snorted. “And you still think him guileless, no schemes? Eighteen years in the inner palace, yet he lives—and rose to become Crown Prince. Do you believe that without guile?”

Zhu faltered. His memories of the boy’s weeping fragility flashed against this new claim. He wavered, but clung: “Why not?”

“Too young. Too naive,” Jingchen muttered. “Some truths you cannot be told—you must live to understand. One thing I’ll say: the Crown Prince is far from as simple as you think. For now, save your skin—go plead guilt. Were it not for Huaiyu, you’d already be ruined.”

Zhu yielded, muttering, “Fine. After a bath.”

But another thought seized him. “That night, I truly encountered an assassin within the Eastern Palace. With Wen gone, none else commands there. If Dali Si investigates, their halls belong to me.”

His father’s silence and raised brow were answer enough.

The result was not as Zhu expected. In audience, he was lashed with scolding and punished with half a month’s house confinement. Better spared than impeached further, yet frustrating—it wasted an opportunity. He dared ask, “Your Majesty, perhaps grant me leave to investigate further? That night’s assassin surely targeted the Crown Prince. Let me redeem my fault in pursuit of the truth.”

Emperor Liang nearly dismissed him outright. Only the memory of the sickly, almost dying Prince, so like the Empress Dowager on her deathbed, swayed him. He softened briefly—but seeing the stack of censors’ accusations, shook his head.

“Let Gu Huaiyu pursue it.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Enough! I already mitigated your sentence. Say no more. Rest—it’s written on your face. Go.”

There was no arguing. Zhu knelt, thanked his grace, and retreated.

Within his home, cloistered, he sulked at his desk. Xu Songlan, hearing, rushed in, face anxious. “Lord Zhu, did things not go well? Was the journey ill‑starred?”

Zhu raised his head gloomily. “Dragon bone—won by another.”

“What?” Xu gaped. “That cannot be!”

Zhu arched a brow. He hadn’t believed it either, until seeing the famed Medical Classic Tournament⁴ where the whole of Qingzhou witnessed it.

“By whom?” Xu demanded.

“A loner—called himself heir of ‘Jinghuafeng.’ Defeated all comers, seized the dragon bone, vanished at once.”

“Jinghuafeng…” Xu frowned. “I’ve heard that name before.”

But Zhu no longer cared. Half a month confinement—time wasted, leads gone cold. Xu fretted late into the night, trying and failing to recall.

Zhu, restless, donned night‑gear and climbed out the back wall—straight for Gu household.

He’d grown there as boy, so he knew every step blindfolded. In silence he slipped through garden paths to Gu’s courtyard. Lamp‑light glowed in the study.

He peered—in time to see Gu bent before his desk, absorbed in painting. Candle‑glow gilded his features—serene, too beautiful.

Zhu rapped gently. Gu’s frown flared. “Who?”

“It’s me,” Zhu said.

Shock flickered in Gu’s eyes. Hastily, he swept a white cloth over the portrait slanted on table, then rushed to open the door. “Why have you come?”

“I need your help.”

They sat across, Gu making tea. “Tell me.”

Zhu’s mouth tightened nervously. Words caught. Gu tilted his head, puzzled. “Since when do you dither so? Out with it.”

“Huaiyu—we’re best brothers, aren’t we.”

“Of course. Always.”

Zhu almost said it—about his family’s illicit tribute scheme. Almost asked Gu to help swap the counterfeit goods back. But the thought struck like an axe: if exposed, it would destroy not only his house, but the Gu family too. To drag his dearest friend into such ruin—impossible.

So instead he smiled weakly. “I heard you were wounded. I came to see you.”

Gu’s brows dipped. “You took such risk—for that?”

“It is important,” Zhu said earnestly.

“I’m fine. Please—go home. They’re watching you even now. The less rope you give them, the better.”

“Watching me? For what?” Zhu frowned.

“You’ve offended the Imperial Uncle. That means Prince Jin. Of course they lie in wait to seize fault, take credit with him.”

Zhu snorted. “Let them. The Three Princes’ struggle—Jin has no clear path yet.”

Gu shook his head. “Perhaps not. The Emperor favors Prince Su—but Consort De, mother to Prince Jin, rises in favor daily. Many ministers bend toward her son.”

He did not say more. With the Crown Prince still alive—if only barely—the matter was not ripe to debate.

“Go,” Gu said at last. “Half a month will pass quickly.”

Zhu nodded. He didn’t linger. The night gate whispered shut.