#216: Joy and Sorrow (3)

The joys and sorrows of the world often contrast starkly. While the Qi family celebrated their hard-won happiness with laughter, the depths of the Ministry of Justice’s prison remained as cold and terrifying as ever.

The moonlight over Jiankang seemed especially frigid here, silently blanketing the darkest corners of this ominous place. Within its confines sat a condemned traitor—once the most powerful military official in Great Liang, Han Shouye. Now, he was awaiting execution.

He sat alone in the corner of his cell, eyes closed, disheveled and covered in wounds. His body reeked of blood, motionless, as if already dead.

The prison was eerily silent. In the deep night, all sounds had faded; there was none of the daytime clamor. Even the members of his lineage, who had shouted defiantly during the day, were now likely exhausted and asleep.

At some indeterminate hour, slow, deliberate footsteps echoed faintly in the empty corridors. Han Shouye suddenly opened his eyes, straining to see through the dim moonlight. Standing outside his cell was his nephew, Han Feichi.

Han Shouye seemed to smile, though his expression in the shadows was dark and inscrutable. His voice rasped as he said, “Isn’t this my dear nephew?”

The faint echo of his words lingered in the cell.

“How thoughtful of you to visit your uncle at such a filthy place, late at night,” he spoke slowly, as if lacking strength, yet his tone dripped with icy sarcasm. “The prison isn’t easy to enter—you must have gone to great lengths.”

Unlike Han Shouye’s biting sarcasm, Han Feichi remained calm and composed.

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he gazed at his blood relative through the iron bars of the cell. “Uncle may not know, but recently, His Majesty promoted me to Chief Justice. This place now falls under my jurisdiction.”

Though merely stating facts, these words infuriated Han Shouye. If not for his injuries leaving him too weak to move, he would have surely exploded in rage and curses. Instead, he could only sneer, “Was it truly His Majesty who promoted you? Or was it that Qi Jingchen? Are you so satisfied with this petty position of Chief Justice that you’re filled with gratitude? If you and your father hadn’t betrayed me, you’d have gained far more today!”

He erupted into violent coughs, clearly enraged.

Yet, as Han Feichi observed him, he realized he felt no sorrow—only a faint contempt.

This uncle of his… even in his final moments, remained deluded and consumed by obsession.

Unwilling to waste more words, Han Feichi simply stated, “I’ve come tonight on my father’s behalf. He asked me to grant you one last wish.”

Han Shouye responded with a cold laugh.

Ridiculous. Though defeated, he was still a hero who had once accomplished great deeds. He didn’t need Han Shousong or this wretched son to bid him farewell! Fulfill his wish? Hmph, he had only one wish—to regain power, rebuild his forces, kill Qi Jingchen and Xiao Zitong’s son, ascend the throne, and rule Jiangzuo. Nothing else mattered…

Before he could finish that thought, he saw Han Feichi lead a child toward him.

It was… his Li’er.

His youngest son, the only child he and Lady Yan shared—Li’er.

The boy had grown thin. Once sturdy like a young calf, his cheeks were now sunken, his body dirty and neglected. He looked terrified, no longer the carefree, laughing child he used to be. Seeing this broke Han Shouye’s heart.

He tried to stand, but his legs had been shattered. Overcome with pain and numbness, he could only crawl toward the cell door, calling out hoarsely, “Li’er! Li’er! Father is here! Father is here!”

Li’er, trembling and frightened at Han Feichi’s side, perked up upon hearing his father’s familiar voice.

He looked around, finally recognizing the disheveled man crawling inside the cell as his once-mighty father. Instantly, he burst into tears, crying out, “Father! Father!”

Han Feichi watched this poignant reunion with an impassive face. Feeling nothing but cold indifference, he silently unlocked the cell door. Li’er immediately ran in, throwing himself into his father’s arms.

Li’er cried loudly, telling Han Shouye that his mother was dead.

Han Feichi had almost forgotten. Reminded by Li’er, he recalled—yes, Lady Yan was dead. She had taken her own life in the prison, smashing her head against the wall in front of Li’er. Blood had splattered everywhere. The child had been so terrified that he lost his voice for several days, only regaining it recently.

Now, Han Shouye held Li’er tightly, stunned and heartbroken by the news of Lady Yan’s death. But he knew he was all his son had left. A father could bleed, but he couldn’t cry.

Closing his eyes briefly, he gently stroked Li’er’s head, soothing him. “Li’er, be good. Don’t be afraid. Father is here. There’s nothing to fear.”

He continued comforting the boy for a long time until Li’er’s sobs gradually subsided. Still, the child clung tightly to Han Shouye’s clothes, afraid his father might disappear again.

Pulling at his father’s sleeve, Li’er asked, “Father… when can we go home?”

“Li’er wants to go home…”

Just those few words brought tears streaming down Han Shouye’s face.

Ashamed of crying in front of his child, he quickly wiped them away, holding Li’er tighter. Out of the boy’s sight, he wept soundlessly. Li’er, unaware of what had happened, grew restless and began crying again. At this, Han Shouye gently pressed a point on the back of the boy’s neck. Li’er immediately lost consciousness, falling into a deep sleep in his father’s arms.

Han Feichi watched all this unfold, his face still devoid of emotion.

He observed as Han Shouye carefully laid Li’er on the ground, then painfully crawled inch by inch to the cell door, gripping the hem of Han Feichi’s robe. The man who had nearly turned Great Liang upside down now looked up at him, his eyes brimming with desperate pleading.

He begged, “Zhongheng… even if I, your uncle, must beg you, just this one thing… spare Li’er… He’s innocent. He’s just a child…”

Dragging his shattered legs, he knelt before Han Feichi—a senior kneeling before his own nephew.

Yet, Han Feichi felt nothing.

His heart was like stone, unmoved no matter how much blood or tears were poured upon it. His voice was cold and flat as he replied, “The law shows no mercy. If roles were reversed, would Uncle spare the offspring of a criminal?”

His words were so chilling that they elicited a bitter laugh from Han Shouye, particularly unsettling in the eerie prison.

“A criminal?” Han Shouye laughed bitterly, questioning, “Am I a criminal?”

He laughed, but tears streamed down his face.

“No, Zhongheng, I am not guilty.”

“I have only failed.”

Failure—that was his sole sin…

He laughed maniacally, the wounds on his legs reopening, releasing a strong metallic stench mixed with the rust of his shackles, making Han Feichi slightly nauseated.

Han Shouye then accused him, venom dripping from his words, “Qi Jingchen wants to exterminate me, but why does he spare Xiao Zitong’s son? Does he truly trust Xiao Yizhao? That cub will one day take his life!”

His tone was venomous, turning the statement into a curse. Yet, deep down, he believed it. The young Emperor carried the blood of the Xiao and Fu families—both notoriously ruthless. How could Xiao Yizhao be any different?

Impossible!

Han Shouye expected Han Feichi to refute him, but instead… he smiled.

A darker, subtly unhinged smile.

He bent down, locking eyes with Han Shouye. “Who says he’ll survive?”

His voice was clear and resolute. “Second Brother is too merciful—he won’t act until the very end. But what does it matter? I only need to push the Xiao heir until he crosses Second Brother’s line.”

For a fleeting moment, malice and excitement flashed in his eyes.

“What happens then?” he mocked, answering his own question. “He’ll destroy himself, and Jiangzuo will welcome a new master.”

“…One truly worthy of this land.”

Han Shouye was speechless.

Looking into Han Feichi’s sinister eyes, he suddenly felt he had never truly known this nephew. He was mad—but not for himself.

…How perplexing.

Han Shouye couldn’t understand, but one thing was clear—Li’er would never escape alive from these devils.

He would follow him into hell.

Han Shouye let go of Han Feichi’s robe, defeated. At that moment, Han Feichi tossed a small vial onto the straw-covered floor in front of Han Shouye.

Startled, Han Shouye looked up, asking, “…What is this?”

Han Feichi, having regained his usual composure, answered, “This is from Father. He said it would allow Uncle to leave this world with dignity.”

Han Shouye understood.

It was poison.

Taking it would end his life instantly, sparing him public humiliation and decapitation before the masses.

Indeed… dignified.

This act was bold. Han Shousong must have risked angering Qi Yin to do this. Even if Qi Yin chose to overlook it, the Han family would pay dearly in unseen ways. For instance, many of the favors owed to them by Qi Yin would be nullified by this single act.

Yet, despite everything, Han Shousong had done it—to give his brother a final dignity.

Tears welled up in Han Shouye’s eyes again.

With trembling hands, he picked up the small vial, examining it for a long while before asking Han Feichi, “How much… is in this?”

Han Feichi answered emotionlessly, “Two doses.”

Thoughtfully prepared—for father and child.

Han Shouye understood. Smiling through his tears, he asked, “Will it hurt?”

Han Feichi sighed, replying, “Extremely potent. Death upon contact.”

There wouldn’t even be time to feel pain before life was extinguished.

Hearing this, Han Shouye finally felt at ease.

He turned to look at the sleeping Li’er. The cold moonlight stretched his shadow long across the prison floor, flickering faintly.

Turning his back to Han Feichi, he said softly, “…Thank your father for me. Tell him… I go first. May the Han family… prosper for eternity.”

Han Feichi nodded, then turned and walked step by step out of the prison.

Behind him, he heard Li’er’s voice from the cell—he must have woken up, crying and fussing with his father.

His father comforted him, saying, “Li’er, do you want candy? Father has candy—very sweet candy.”

Li’er seemed delighted, clapping and laughing, while his father’s voice carried deep sorrow and anguish.

And… a barely perceptible tremor.

Han Feichi didn’t linger to hear more. Without hesitation, he strode out of the Ministry of Justice’s prison.

Outside, the moonlight was bright and beautiful.