LBLCPCB C14

Chapter 14

 

When Zhu Song entered Chen Yurong’s room, the steward lay collapsed across his desk, already lifeless. On the table sat a half‑finished teacup.

Zhu ordered the tea and the corpse taken away. The Imperial Uncle Chen followed him closely, murmuring in dismay:

“Ah, how could this be? Yurong was always so honest—served in my household twenty‑odd years, not a word against him. How could he commit such a crime?”

Zhu halted suddenly, turning. His gaze landed meaningfully on the scar at Chen’s mouth. “Indeed—why would he wish to kill the Lin family?”

Chen sighed heavily, yet met Zhu’s eyes without wavering. “He lost his wits, I suppose. Had he only told me, my household yet holds an imperial immortal‑granting token¹. Surely I could have spared his life.”

Zhu’s eyes went cold, though his lips curled in a smile. “The Imperial Uncle’s house keeps treasures indeed.”

Chen’s tone was equally weighty. “Yes. Treasures beyond price.”

Zhu swallowed back his anger. “I’ll trouble you no further then. I take my leave.”

Chen bowed with smooth courtesy. “Farewell, Lord Zhu. Whenever you require me, I await your word.”

Back at the Judicial Court, Madam Zhou fell to her knees at once upon seeing the steward’s body. “It was him! That night—it was him!”

With her testimony, the Lin case was officially closed.

Yet both Zhu Song and Gu Huaiyu knew: this was not the truth. But His Majesty’s deadline had been met, and every person tied to the affair was dead. No further trail remained. Even Chen Yurong himself had died alone—fifty‑three, never married.

Zhu straightened the case files and went to deliver his report.

When Emperor Liang heard that no one had truly been creating Qingxing, his face showed disappointment. On the rest of the details, he cared little.

Exiting the palace and returning to the Court, Zhu sought Gu Huaiyu. There he found him at the gates, holding an umbrella as heavy winds rose. “Any later, and I’d have brought it inside for you,” Gu said.

The two stood beneath the halls as the black storm clouds heaved above. Zhu gazed upward. “The capital’s skies are about to change.”

Gu turned. “I feel the same.” The wind whipped his hair, scattering strands.

Zhu moved inside, muttering: “When Lin Feng died—why did you cry?”

Gu halted, watching Zhu settled inside—a proud, untamed air about him. His eyes lingered long. He answered softly: “Because he was pitiful.” And because I pity myself.

Zhu shrugged, catching none of the deeper meaning. “Truly pitiful,” he agreed.

“Best you rest now. You’ve labored enough.” Gu turned and left.

Staring at his back, Zhu did not call him to stay. He leaned against the window, watching clouds above roil dark. Rain was coming. Yet even after all this, the truth thirteen years past still lay buried.

“Lord Zhu.”

The call from the doorway pulled him back. Xu Lizhu and Xu Songlan stood awaiting permission.

“Come in,” Zhu said, straightening.

They entered. “Sit.”

But neither sat. Instead, Xu Lizhu dropped to his knees, his kinsman following.

“In the name of the Lin family, I thank Lord Zhu for his immense virtue.”

Zhu startled. “This is too much. Rise, please—such praise I cannot bear.”

But Xu spoke on: “We know not how else to repay this debt. I myself have little but medicine. Please, allow Songlan to serve you for three years, to repay your grace.”

His kinsman dropped his forehead in a bow. “I beg my lord accept me.”

Zhu’s first instinct was rejection. But in that instant, an idea struck—Wen Fengxuan. The frail Crown Prince had no trustworthy physicians at side. To allow Songlan would mean a healer nearby at all times. That could only help.

So Zhu gave no refusal. Songlan took his silence as assent. “Thank you, my lord!”

Thus resolved, Xu rose, said farewells, leaving his kin behind. Outside, he gave final words:

“Zhu Song is good. Only through him may your aunt’s bloodgrudge one day be avenged. Follow him faithfully, Son.”

Songlan nodded.

Wind tugged Xu’s robes as he departed into the storm. The case had ended in haste, truth unsolved. But he had seen the struggle of these men. If Zhu Song did not relent, someday truth would dawn.

To keep Songlan by Zhu’s side was to ensure the Lin tragedy was never forgotten. Zhu himself would drive forward. Xu felt it was the best plan.

News soon reached Gu Huaiyu—but before he could confront Zhu, the man had already taken Songlan home.

Three days without rest left Zhu exhausted. After settling Songlan, he collapsed into sleep.

At midnight the gale howled awake. Rising in impatience, he found sleep again impossible. He sat and penned a calling card, then dozed once more.

At dawn, bleary and still weary, he handed the card to a servant for delivery to the Eastern Palace.

After breakfast with his father Zhu Jingchen, talk turned to weather and politics.

“Busy finished?” the elder asked.

“For now,” Zhu answered listlessly.

“You should have ended before confronting the Imperial Uncle. That step was already prepared for you. Instead, you’ve offended him. Foolish.”

“If not for his pardon pass, I’d dig to the end,” Zhu replied bitterly.

“That’s the Empress’s own brother. Prince Jin’s uncle. You think you could?” Jingchen rolled his eyes. “Still too young.”

“To let them off? Is that what you mean?”

“No. Wait for the right time.” Jingchen shook his head. “Patience. Leads will come again.”

Zhu pressed lips shut. His father smiled faintly. “By the way—you’ve brought home that Xu youth. To what end?”

“Nothing. Just wanted him here.”

“Ha! You’re twenty‑five, no wife yet. Your mother will scold me again.”

Zhu ignored him.

“Haven’t you a sweetheart?”

“I’ve no time.”

“They said Zhang girl is the capital’s first beauty. No thoughts for her?”

“Not until I clean your messes, Father.”

“You wicked brat! Middle of a meal and you jest of filth!”

Zhu only muttered, “I know.”

The sky outside hung heavy still. His father peered out. “The Emperor’s Astronomer should be consulted. These clouds are strange.”

“It’s only the rainy season,” Zhu dismissed.

“Too young!” the elder snapped again, blocking further argument.

After breakfast, Zhu prepared for the Court. Just then, the servant he’d dispatched returned.

“Young master—the Eastern Palace replied. The Crown Prince is too ill to meet.”

“Are you certain?” Zhu frowned.

“Beyond doubt. Said by the spindly fellow with jaundiced hair by his temples. Arrogant as a monkey.”

Zhu rose at once. “Then I’ll see what dirt he hides. Not one of his kin without guilt!”

At the Prefecture, Qu Zhoubai was still in session. Zhu waited, sipping tea, until his friend entered grumbling.

“These days, endless couples quitting marriages—petition after petition!”

Zhu blinked. “Divorce not just a signed contract?”

Qu groaned. “Sometimes, splitting dowry, furniture, always dispute. Then they march here to fight it.”

“But must you preside yourself?”

Qu laughed bitterly. “These are no commoners. Royal kin, noble sisters. If I do not, tomorrow it’s the Emperor’s ear they reach.”

Zhu grimaced. “No wonder your face is gray.”

After brief sympathy, he leaned forward. “Do me a favor—find someone.”

Qu groaned again. “Everyone wants favors. Whose face must I risk now?”

“Dinner tomorrow, my treat,” Zhu coaxed.

Qu managed at last a chuckle. “Fine. Fine. Monkey or man, I’ll find him.”

“That ‘monkey’ is a servant in the Eastern Palace. Thin, dirty‑haired.”

Qu winced. “A monkey? Better go to the zoo.”

“Xiao Baibai, please…” Zhu teased, voice exaggeratedly sweet.

Qu shivered. “Enough! You’ve chilled me. I’ll look. I’ll find your monkey.”

“Thank you, Xiao Baibai.”

“Ugh!” Qu fled in mock horror, Zhu laughing behind.

Footnote

1. 免死金牌 (miǎnsǐ jīnpái) – “death‑exempt gold medallion”: Imperial passes bestowed rarely, granting bearer immunity from capital punishment, often once only. To say the Imperial Uncle’s household had them implied just how untouchable he was.