LBLCPCB C25

Chapter 25

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“Bring Duan Zhenghong.” Zhu Song gave the order the moment he left the dungeon.

By the time he returned to the main hall, Duan Zhenghong was already waiting—breath uneven, dark circles under his eyes, lips pale, the very picture of weakness from overindulgence.

Seeing Zhu Song enter, Duan rose. “My lord.”

Zhu nodded, took the upper seat, and spoke directly: “The skies have cleared. Lord Zhang read the heavens: this spell of floods has passed. It is time to let the people return home.”

Duan’s heart sank, though he answered quickly: “Yes. The shopkeepers have come to me too—they say they cannot keep this up.”

Zhu said, “The remaining fifty thousand on the ledger has already been used up. And the prior one hundred fifty thousand taels of relief silver—have you recovered it?”

Duan’s face did not change. “That matter was always handled by Yi‑daren. I do not know.”

“Yi Kangning is imprisoned and under severe interrogation,” Zhu cut in, pausing just long enough for the shock to hit—Duan had not known of the arrest.

“Yi‑daren is a provincial baron. Even with your rank, my lord, you cannot seize him at will—does this not trample the law?”

“Duan‑daren.” Zhu’s voice rose; he stood. “Yi Kangning embezzled with iron evidence. More—he imprisoned the Crown Prince, which is treason. And you defend him.”

“The Crown Prince?” Duan reeled. A face flashed in his mind—beauty famed under heaven. Him? He is the Crown Prince?

Zhu said, “Whether Duan‑daren played a part remains to be examined. If you did, that hat on your head will rest on someone else’s.”

Duan rushed out: “I knew nothing! Give me a hundred lives, I would not dare confine the Prince.”

Zhu smiled faintly. “Do not panic. His Highness has said nothing—for now. He is kind and low‑key. But the people cannot go home—his heart is heavy. I believe he will forgive the ignorant. Should his mood not improve, however—if he presses the matter—it becomes clan‑execution.”

Though ignorant in truth, Duan knew the Prince had been shut in the yamen all this time. If blame were sought, ten tongues would not clear him.

“You know His Highness sought leave to convalesce in Suzhou,” Zhu went on. “Yet he was delayed here and met with this insult—his spirits will be low. I do not wish to make a spectacle. Once the people return, I can report in the capital. But if the silver is not found… there will be a hard investigation. It will not end prettily.”

His tone was mild, tending to compromise. Duan hesitated—perhaps better to produce the money and end it?

Seeing the shift, Zhu said, “Think on it. But if I do not see silver by suppertime, there will be a formal case.”

Duan bowed and left. Zhu watched him go and murmured to the attendants, “Shadow him.”

“Yes.”

After a moment, Zhu left the hall. “To the dungeon. See if Yi Kangning has confessed.”

“Yes.”

When proper business was done, Zhu returned to his quarters. A dozen officers still stood at the door, swaying on their feet. Seeing him, they chorused: “My lord.”

“You have worked hard,” Zhu said, and moved to enter. As he pushed the door, the nearest guard called nervously, “My lord—”

Zhu turned. “What is it?”

The man forced a smile, lowered his voice: “My lord… what are we guarding for?”

Zhu deadpanned, “I did not summon you. How would I know what you are guarding?”

The guard nearly wept. “Please, my lord, release us. We were wrong.”

Zhu only wanted to prove his and Wen Fengxuan’s innocence, not grind them down. “You were not kept for nothing. His Highness is within. His health is poor, and he suffered a shock—no disturbances. Leave two men; the rest may go.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Relief washed the group, but choosing who would stay proved awkward; eyes darted, no one volunteered. Zhu waved them off. “Go rest. We’ll speak at night.”

“Thank you, my lord.” They tottered away on stiff legs, stumbling from long standing.

The sight amused Zhu; a small smile touched his lips as he opened the door and entered.

The lingering, sultry scent had not dispersed. At the whiff, Zhu’s face flushed. He shut the door, flung the windows wide, took in fresh air, forced the strange pull down—and went inward.

To mask traces, the soiled bedding had not been changed. Zhu had laid his own robe for Wen to lie upon. He had dressed Wen before leaving, yet the red marks at the throat could not be hidden. Zhu bit his lip at the sight.

Wen still slept quietly, brows like painting, lips swollen and red, cheeks flushed.

From the doorway, Zhu found the man exuded a ripened‑peach sweetness that parched the mouth and tongue.

He stood there long, hoping to cool; instead he only burned hotter. He shut his eyes and moved close—then sensed something wrong.

The heat of Wen’s breath scorched, just like the last time a fever had taken him. Zhu’s mind snapped back; he pressed a palm to Wen’s brow. As expected—fever.

Damn!

He cursed inwardly. He needed a discreet physician. Only the Xinglin Hall doctors would do. Panic muddied his thoughts. He rushed out, shouting, “Attend me! Attend me!”

Officers ran from all sides—never had they seen Zhu so undone. “My lord—what has happened?”

So many faces steadied him a fraction. “Fetch Zhu Lingye.”

“Yes!”

Two men sprinted off. The rest lingered for orders. Zhu took a breath. “Dismissed.”

“Yes.”

Lingye arrived quickly to find Zhu pale and sweating. “Brother—what is wrong?”

Zhu grabbed his arm like a drowning man. “The Crown Prince has a fever. You know every road—bring a trusted physician. Trusted.”

Lingye knew how strongly his brother reacted to fevers. He soothed him: “Do not fear. It is not always serious. Breathe. I go now.”

“Go,” Zhu urged.

Lingye ran at once. Zhu watched him race away, pacing in tight circles. He should have brought Zhu Fu, too.

“Attend me!”

The officers hurried back. “Yes!”

“Two basins of water.”

Two men went; the rest hovered, uneasy. “My lord—are you well?”

Only then did he notice them. “I’m fine. Go.”

They retreated, glancing back, whispering:

“What’s wrong with Lord Zhu?”

“Worked too hard—sick?”

“Looks like it.”

“He hasn’t stopped since he came.”

“Yi‑daren’s in the dungeon…”

“Watch it. Do you want to die?”

Out of worry, they did not go far.

Soon, the water arrived. Zhu carried a basin in each hand, set them by the bed, wrung a cloth, and laid it on Wen’s brow. Wen’s fever had flushed him pink all over. Guilt raked Zhu. He had known Wen’s body was fragile—and yet…

Damn Yi Kangning. Zhu clenched his teeth, itching to stab the man twice.

After ten changes of cloth, Lingye’s voice sounded at the door. “Brother—I found a physician.”

Zhu leapt, flung the door wide—straight into a silver mask.

“Su Li?”

Su Li’s face was ashen; his voice, colder than ever. “Where is the patient?”

Zhu stepped aside. Lingye tried to enter; Su Li blocked him. “All unrelated out.”

“Oh.” Lingye backed away. Zhu asked, “And me?”

Su Li skewered him with a glare. “Are you ‘unrelated’?” Before Zhu could answer, Su Li continued, “Shut the door. Come in.”

Zhu obeyed, closing the door and following.

The scent thickened as they advanced; Su Li’s face darkened behind the mask. He took Wen’s pulse with swift competence, then drew a white porcelain vial from his robe, shook out a pill, and fed it to him. Only then did he round on Zhu with a searing glare.

Zhu did not understand the man’s hostility, but had no time for it. “Is it serious? What medicines are needed? I’ll prepare them at once.”

Su Li snorted. “You have the mind to fetch herbs, but not to clean what you left in his body? Empty‑headed in the act, empty‑headed after? Do you not know his body is frail? Can he endure you?”

Zhu rarely suffered scolding—but here he had indeed been at fault. He swallowed pride. “Clean—what?”

Su Li rolled his eyes. “You’re twenty‑five—still a celibate fool? Don’t know this much? What you left in him—remove it. Remove it. Can you not understand human speech?”

Zhu feared the man might drop dead of anger. Face reddening, he muttered, “Understood.”

“Then why are you standing there?” Su Li snapped. “Want me to guide your hand?”

When Zhu told Lingye to prepare bath water, Lingye blinked. “At this hour?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Oh.”