CT - 71

When Zhou Chuyin saw Ye Tingyan again, it was after the morning court the next day.

In the morning, as he played the zither in the garden, he heard the sounds of carriages and horses outside the residence and, unusually, got up. Although Ye Tingyan often stayed overnight in the palace these days, Grand Tutor Yu Qiushi’s death yesterday must have felt different to him.

Bo Senseng appeared from nowhere, carrying a plate of peanuts, and approached him. Zhou Chuyin glanced at him, frowning, “Why are you dressed like that?”

Bo Senseng had pasted a flowery white beard on his face, disguised as an old fortune teller, looking quite comical.

Hearing Zhou Chuyin’s words, Bo Senseng mysteriously said, “Do you know? I’ve received a letter from the southwest, saying someone has been secretly looking for me recently.”

Zhou Chuyin frowned and asked, “Many people look for you. Besides, you’re in Bianjing; if someone goes to the southwest to look for you, what are you afraid of?”

Bo Senseng shook his head, “No, no. I’m here today to tell you about this matter, do you know who is looking for me?”

Zhou Chuyin snorted, “Who?”

Bo Senseng said, “It’s the Empress!”

“The Empress?” Zhou Chuyin was quite surprised. “Why would she send someone to look for you? Is anyone in the inner palace seriously ill?”

“I don’t know either. The Empress’s assassins are the tightest-lipped; you can’t get anything out of them,” Bo Senseng tossed a peanut into the air but missed catching it. “After I found out, I had no choice but to dress like this. Although few people in Bianjing know what I look like, what if someone recognizes me? It’s better to tell him before deciding what to do.”

As the two chatted, they walked to the mansion gate, where they happened to see Pei Xi and Ye Tingyan getting out of a carriage together.

The morning sun was already high, and Ye Tingyan’s eyes were covered with the white silk ribbon. Despite this, both of them immediately noticed his excessively pale complexion.

Bo Senseng shoved the peanuts in his hand to Pei Xi and sternly ordered, “Quickly, help him inside!”

Ye Tingyan had just stepped over the threshold, stumbled, and hearing Bo Senseng’s words, he even let out a helpless laugh: “Why are you so fierce...”

Zhou Chuyin turned and dismissed the accompanying guards, then dragged him into the shade of the corridor.

As soon as they were out of the sun, Bo Senseng sighed and quickly took out a long needle from his sleeve, applying two needles to the Daling and Neiguan acupoints on Ye Tingyan’s wrist, then lightly struck the Xinyu acupoint on his back.

Ye Tingyan held onto a pillar on the side of the corridor and coughed heavily a few times, then actually spat out a mouthful of blood.

Zhou Chuyin was startled and quickly supported his arm, calling out, “Lingye!”

Bo Senseng withdrew the needles and stroked his beard, but unexpectedly, he pulled too hard and plucked off his fake beard. Waving the fake beard in his hand, he was so agitated he almost jumped up, but finally managed to suppress himself, and said in a disheartened whisper, “‘Withered Orchid’ is a strange poison known throughout the world. Removing the poison has exhausted all my life’s learning. If my master Juemingzi were alive, there might be a better way, but my skills are not refined, causing you to suffer so much to completely remove this poison, and still inevitably damaging your heart. I know you have great ambitions, and working diligently is unavoidable, but you should still try to relax. Internal stagnation and congealed blood are by no means signs of longevity.”

Ye Tingyan reached out to wipe the bloodstain from his chin, staining his sleeve. He looked at the defilement and laughed intermittently, “Even sages seeking eternal life and immortality cannot attain it, let alone us. A few years for me... is enough.”

Bo Senseng flicked his sleeve and walked away, heading towards the medicine room: “If you don’t mind yourself, then I have nothing to say!”

Zhou Chuyin silently helped him to his room. Ye Tingyan walked through the corridor and suddenly reached up to remove the silk ribbon from his eyes.

The sun was strong. He stood under the corridor, his eyes red, looking at the swaying branches and leaves in the sunlight. After a long silence, he suddenly asked, “Chuyin, is there a secret room in this residence?”

Zhou Chuyin thought for a moment and said, “There is one in the back garden.”

Ye Tingyan said, “Could you take me to see it?”

So the two bypassed the study and went to the back garden. Following the old steps downwards, Ye Tingyan walked in a circle, covering his sleeve and saying, “It’s... so cold here.”

Zhou Chuyin asked, “What do you need a secret room for?”

Ye Tingyan didn’t say anything. After they came out, Zhou Chuyin turned his head and saw that his face was completely blank, showing no expression whatsoever.

“Could you find another secluded courtyard for me?” Ye Tingyan didn’t notice his gaze, lowering his eyes and murmuring, “That place is too cold. A courtyard would be better; even if the doors are closed, you can still see the sunlight.”

Zhou Chuyin seemed to understand his meaning and stopped in surprise. Ye Tingyan, completely unaware, continued walking on his own. After a few steps, he seemed to regret it and turned back, saying, “No, don’t let any light in! Seal all the doors and windows, not a single ray of light!”

With that, he didn’t care about Zhou Chuyin’s reaction. He turned and left dejectedly, waving his hand to dismiss everyone in front of the room.

His room rarely had lights on, even at night, let alone during the day. But at this moment, it was bright and sunny, so the room was not dim.

Many light-blocking gauze curtains hung in front of the half-open circular moon-shaped window. He leaned against the newly closed door, feeling his vision grow darker and darker. As he fumbled and took a step, he brushed the sickly plum tree by his hand, knocking it to the ground.

The ceramic flowerpot shattered upon landing, making a dull, heavy sound as it mixed with the dust.

Ye Tingyan slid down the doorframe to the ground, eagerly fumbling for the scattered sickly plum tree. The withered branches of the plum tree had been almost completely pruned, leaving only a main trunk covered in scars. He looked down for a long time, wanting to get up, but he had no strength.

His vision completely faded, pulling him into a bottomless memory.

He was in Luo Wei’s palace secret room, collapsing by the door, watching helplessly as she disappeared between the slowly closing walls, taking away the last trace of light.

Cold sweat trickled down his spine. He crawled a step outwards, reaching out to her, wanting to say “save me,” but it was as if an evil spirit had clutched his throat, and he couldn’t utter a single word.

Ye Tingyan frantically fumbled along the wall, trying to find the row of air holes he had found last time. But perhaps because his mind was greatly shaken today, he searched for a long time and found nothing.

Faint, indistinct voices drifted from beyond the wall.

“...You haven’t come to see me for a long time, so I can’t help but feel suspicious. I agreed to A-jie’s plea today, so please don’t blame me.”

“I wonder why you’ve opened a secret room here?”

“I naturally...”

He heard Song Lan’s voice, occasionally interspersed with a laugh or two from Luo Wei. The two voices gradually drifted away from beyond the wall, heading somewhere unknown. He knelt on the ground, pale-faced, almost disregarding what would happen if he were discovered. He simply continued to grope wildly at the wall, wanting to open the door.

However, everything was as Luo Wei had said: he was too unfamiliar with this place. He couldn’t even find where to light a lamp, let alone the mechanism to open the door.

Unable to find anything, he clenched his fist and helplessly slammed it heavily against the cold wall.

The voices in his ears grew even more chaotic.

When he opened his eyes again, the darkness was gone.

He was inside a jade sedan permeated with incense. Fireworks suddenly bloomed in the sky, illuminating his surroundings with flickering light. He reached out to grasp the cold, intricately carved gold handle. Just as he was about to speak, a surge of overlapping voices rushed towards him.

“—Crown Prince, peace and well-being on Lantern Festival.”

The sedan chair lowered. He suppressed his discomfort, dizzily being helped down, and walked up the steps covered with red silk.

The sound of water mixed with ritual music, as if he were in a dream.

He finally realized, belatedly, that this place was Tinghua Terrace.

There were no stone tablets, no golden statues, only various bright lanterns hanging high—this was Tinghua Terrace on the Lantern Festival night of the third year of Tianshou!

The young Crown Prince stood on the platform. Buddhists and Taoists were arrayed on opposite sides, one tapping a wooden fish and chanting scriptures, the other waving a whisk. An imperial official unrolled a scroll in his hand, reciting a benediction loudly. He knelt and rose like a puppet, then knelt and rose again. Two beautiful palace maids sprinkled water and burned incense beside him. Amidst the hazy, fragrant mist, someone shouted from afar: “Ceremony—complete—”

Song Ling always felt a sense of unease, as if a stone was lodged in his heart. He clutched his chest and stood up, stumbling in his splendid robes. His personal guard immediately came to support him, asking in a low voice, “Your Highness, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, “I just... always feel a bit uneasy...”

But the sacrificial ceremony was complete, so why the unease?

The platform was surrounded by Imperial Guards. Although the crowd was like a flowing river, it was generally orderly. Song Ling glanced around, the pearls and jade on his crown clanging chaotically before his eyes.

Perhaps seeing his increasingly poor complexion, the guard supporting his arm noticed a faint darkening around his wrist and exclaimed in alarm, “Your Highness, you may have been poisoned!”

He suddenly couldn’t take another step.

His chest was suffocatingly tight, like death. Ever since passing through the imperial street, he had felt unwell, but had simply endured to complete the ceremony.

Now that the ceremony was finished, a stronger and stronger spasmodic pain surged from his chest. Song Ling’s face was ashen, and he maintained his last shred of consciousness, saying, “Nothing. Help me to the jade palanquin. Urgently summon imperial physicians to wait outside Mingguang Gate. Do not... disclose... those who disobey... beheaded...”

Before his voice faded, a string of bright lanterns above his head suddenly swayed and fell.

He looked up. Bright lanterns fell everywhere, like a rain of falling stars. The crowd, which had been calm, became chaotic with the extinguishing of these light sources. Tinghua Terrace was not close to the prosperous area of the Bian River. If it suddenly lost so many light sources, it would likely plunge directly into complete darkness.

The guard beside him suddenly became alert, dragging his almost strengthless body back onto Tinghua Terrace, drawing his sword and shouting loudly, “Golden Heaven Guard, protect the Emperor!”

But the chaotic crowd had already engulfed the Imperial Guards who had been stationed below the platform. Someone had crossed the long steps and was rushing towards the platform. Chaos erupted all around. Song Ling’s close attendant led him to a concealed spot behind the sacrificial altar, saying as they walked, “Your Highness, hold on.”

Could someone have planned an assassination here?

Song Ling’s anger flared. He raised his hand, wanting to draw the sword at his waist, but he found that he now lacked even the strength to draw it.

What was being said earlier... poisoned?

Yes, poisoned. He must have been poisoned by someone. All of this was planned in advance!

But he hadn’t eaten or drunk since morning. The sacrificial wine wasn’t the only thing he had drunk. The guards were strict. How could there be a mistake? If there was anything he had consumed, it seemed to be...

The bright lanterns had all fallen, and the surroundings finally plunged into complete darkness. He shakily gripped the hilt of his sword. Before he could think clearly, he suddenly felt a sharp pain below his right shoulder.

An ordinary, sharp short knife had plunged into his chest.

Song Ling looked up in disbelief. In the distance, fireworks happened to ignite, allowing him to see Lu Heng’s face for a moment.

The Golden Heaven Guard’s saber was still hanging from Lu Heng’s waist. The bright red tassel on the hilt was tied by Song Ling himself. On every Golden Heaven Guard’s scabbard, the words “Goodness,” “Truth,” and “Compassion” were engraved.

But now, the owner of that saber expressionlessly plunged another, most common, sharp weapon from the market into his chest. He was in too much pain to speak. His lips trembled, and he barely managed to squeeze out a “you” before Lu Heng reached out and lightly pushed him.

In the darkness of oblivion, he looked up defiantly, suddenly falling from Tinghua Terrace into the cold and turbulent Bian River.

Fireworks flashed across the distant sky, serving as his final farewell.