Chapter 34 [VIP]

Ziyan: "It looks like it was just cut off; the blood is still warm."

Lu Xuejin's gaze sharpened slightly, and she said, "It seems they were released this morning. I wonder how the person with the severed finger is doing now. Just send them back to the Qiu residence."

Ziyan responded and carefully packed the black box back into its original place. The box was heavy, and Ziyan carried it away from Fangze Palace.

Early in the morning, Lu Xuejin learned that Xue Yi had drunk too much the day before and would be unable to attend the morning court session, which was cancelled. He saw the court officials waiting outside the Golden Palace and asked the guards, who told him that Song Zhao had already returned. He then went to the Criminal Trial Council in person.

Outside the courtroom, the guards saw him and let him pass. The dark ceiling was bathed in sunlight. Inside the hall, Song Zhaoren stood before a table piled high with books. All the matters Xue Yi hadn't had time to handle had been delivered here.

"I apologize for bothering you so early in the morning, Lord Song," Lu Xuejin said.

Song Zhao saw him and put down the memorial. He could tell that Song Zhao had some complaints about him because of what he had done the day before. Song Zhao went to look at the memorial again and treated him coldly.

Seeing this, Lu Xuejin pretended not to notice and explained her purpose, "A few days ago, I was reviewing memorials for my brother and came across the case of the lantern vendor. Yesterday, I went there myself and found the vendor's suicide note. Every word in it was heartbreaking, and the evidence was irrefutable. After I returned to the palace, Qiu Xiong then sent me two large gifts. His actions were a self-incriminating confession. This man... you don't want to arrest him?"

As he spoke, Song Zhao gradually put the memorial aside. His clear, moon-like eyes reflected his gaze, a crescent moon shimmering within them, while his lips tightened.

Song Zhao: "You understand the interests involved better than I do. If I arrest Qiu Xiongcai, the people may have no salt to eat tomorrow."

Lu Xuejin: "I understand the difficulties Lord Song faces between the two powers. But this matter cannot set a precedent. If it is not punished, it will undoubtedly set an example for the people, showing them that money can buy power, making our Wei officials subservient, disregarding human life and ethics. Weighing the pros and cons, I would rather the people eat coarse salt. Our ancestors did not perish because of the lack of salt control laws."

“If this is inconvenient for you to do, give me the imperial edict, and I will arrest the person,” Lu Xuejin said.

He suddenly noticed something. On Song Zhao's tea table were some memorials that had been presented, and he saw the character "Qiu." He picked up the memorials, and they were all written by newly appointed officials. The accusations were all against Qiu's youngest son. This man spent his days either indulging in pleasure in taverns or causing trouble with a group of dissolute young men. Among them were several women, frequent acts of humiliating the elderly, and the abuse of servants to death... Just from the ones he had read, several lives had been lost.

Lu Xuejin stared at the words above. He recognized each one, but when they were put together, they seemed to bleed. The black characters had transformed into writhing ghosts within them, and when he looked over, the faces had all vanished.

"Have you shown these memorials to your brother?" he asked.

Song Zhao: "I haven't shown it to His Majesty yet. He's too busy right now, and his health hasn't been good lately, so I don't want to cause him any more trouble."

“In that case, brother, you can rest assured with me here,” Lu Xuejin said. “Leave this matter entirely to me. Whether it’s a beautiful jade or a severed finger, whether it’s humility or contempt, how we are treated is not important. Officials still have their positions and can speak frankly to the Emperor. But the common people, though under the Emperor’s nose, are actually thousands of miles away from him, and they can hardly speak the truth. Even if they have grievances and submit memorials to the Emperor with their lives, their fate depends on the mood of the officials. In this light… it’s clear at a glance who is in a more miserable situation.”

"..." Song Zhao looked at the person, as if he had returned to the time when they were studying. The person in front of him always became the focus of attention in the crowd. He was appreciated by the late emperor at their first meeting when he was young. He was righteous and kind by nature. Like a beautiful jade, he had not been eroded by the erosion of time. His heart was still bright and passionate.

This person's demeanor and words were like the blazing sun, burning away all the filth and darkness in the world.

The imperial edict was placed on the table. Lu Xuejin thanked him and then left the criminal trial committee.

Lu Xuejin led his men to the Qiu residence that day. He was lucky; Qiu Fuze was not at the residence. He had gone to inspect the salt fields, and only Qiu Fuze's dozen or so wives and Qiu Xiongcai, who was still sleeping in his room that afternoon, were at home. The guards dragged Qiu Xiongcai out. This man was about the same age as the Ninth Prince, but his spirit and energy were completely different.

His slanted eyes were cloudy and dark, and his hair was disheveled and fell to his sides. Qiu Xiong was only wearing an undergarment, which could hardly conceal his thin and bony body. His face was swollen from years of drinking, and his limbs were heavy. When he was dragged out by the guards, he had no strength to resist. He could only stare at people with his large, white slanted eyes, staring at Lu Xuejin as if she were a dead person.

"You... just you wait. When my father comes back, I won't let you get away with this."

"A bunch of sons of bitches... can't you tell who the master is?" Qiu Xiong spat viciously, the sticky phlegm staining Lu Xuejin's robe.

Lu Xuejin remained unmoved. A group of women were weeping at the entrance. He could see them from afar; there were quite a few girls, the youngest of whom was only about eleven or twelve years old. When Wei Ning was eleven or twelve, he spent his days catching insects and cicadas in the trees.

He observed them quietly for a while. Some women resembled flowers, others wild grasses, along with the servants in the mansion. Their expressions, shrouded in the vermilion walls, ranged from fear and triumph to rage, arrogance, and weariness… a multitude of emotions coalesced, turning the mansion into a scorching hell.

Five years ago, when he was in power, he arrested a large number of corrupt officials. Many people in the court had reservations about him because of his upright conduct. Later, he encountered many influential people, and he firmly believed that the rewards for righteous actions were far more noble than those for despicable deeds.

Instead of sending the man back to the criminal trial committee, he directly escorted him to the imperial prison.

In the palace.

Although it was summer, Xiyuan Palace felt as cold as the dead of winter. Xue Yi slept all day, and after drinking, he vomited three times in the middle of the night, as if expelling all the turbid air from his stomach, along with all his troubles. He had a long dream.

In his dream, Lu Xuejin was dressed in that wedding robe, the red brocade dazzling him. The young man's brown eyes reflected his features, making him look like a handsome scholar. He gently lifted the red veil and gazed at him affectionately. As the red veil fell over his head, the other person called him tenderly, "Brother."

Because of that one word, "brother," he felt that life and death were enough.

His previous worries dissipated because Lu Xuejin treated him better in his dream.

The marriage was arranged, and from now on, Changyou would be his. He recalled the scene of Lu Xuejin leaving the banquet with her entourage the day before, a sight that was utterly irritating. His intuition was never wrong; if she could slay a tiger, she might endanger Changyou in the future. Although he was no longer young, the sight of her stirred a jealous fang in him.

"Prepare the carriage and take us to the Cold Palace."

...

"Wisteria, when are we eating?" Murong Yue asked from the window.

"Does Your Highness treat me like a mother? All you ever ask is when we're going to eat," Tengluo said unhappily.

“Of course not, you are far inferior to my mother. My mother was naturally beautiful, unlike you, Tengluo, who is short and not very pretty,” Murong Yue said casually, while opening the letter his uncle had just sent by the window.

A "pop" sound came from outside, and the wisteria's eyes widened as a small flame suddenly flared up.

“Even if I’m not good-looking, I’m still much better looking than Your Highness. Your Highness has two faces; you use one in front of my young master and a second one in private,” Tengluo said.

Murong Yue let it go in one ear and out the other. He opened the letter, which contained a packet of medicine powder covered in densely packed Hu script. He took the powder while replying to his uncle.

Xue Yi's weakness was a major vulnerability, so he ordered his uncle to search for a way to counteract it. His uncle brought two packets of powder; he had already put the first packet in Xue Yi's wine glass the day before, and the second packet was to be taken a month later. He guaranteed that after taking both packets, Xue Yi's weakness would flare up, causing him to cough and die.

However, Xue Yi's mood has been unpredictable lately, and he doesn't know if he can stay in the palace for another month. If something unexpected happens, he might change his plans.

The aroma of food wafted from the kitchen, and his thoughts drifted outside. He put away the letters and medicine powder together. Their place was too small; the tea table would later become a cooking table. He didn't know when it had started, but this side hall had gradually become a source of warmth for him. The presence of Tengluo and Ziyan often tending to him, and Lu Xuejin's late-night visits, had all become tender moments in his memory.

"Tengluo, are you done yet?" He didn't hear Tengluo's voice, so he subconsciously looked over and suddenly met Xue Yi's gaze outside the door.

As soon as Xue Yi stepped into the hall, Teng Luo almost dropped the soup bowl in her hand. Xue Yi gestured for her to be quiet.

"Tengluo, I suddenly remembered today that I haven't retrieved some old things from the mansion. Could you go to the Prime Minister's residence and fetch them for me?" Xue Yi said to Tengluo.

Tengluo dared not go, but had no choice but to obey. She saw Murong Yue in the hall and responded.

"Yes, young master, I'll go right away." Tengluo left the side hall and hurriedly headed towards Fangze Palace.

Murong Yue and Xue Yi looked at each other through the window. He pressed his hand to his chest, where the letter from his uncle was placed, the gold-stamped seal pressed against his chest, warming his heart.

The air fell into a deathly silence; only the two of them remained, seemingly unable to continue their act. Xue Yi entered his palace, sat down beside his tea table, and surveyed the furnishings.

“I used to think that your father had been kind to Changyou, so he would naturally pity you,” Xue Yi looked at him, “but I can’t tolerate him being too close to others. No matter who it is, I will not allow it.”

“If you knew how to be grateful, you should stay far away from him… or do you not know that he is my Achilles’ heel?” Xue Yi’s eyebrows and eyes seemed thoughtful, as if he was really thinking, while chatting with him as usual.

This person was extremely adept at feigning sorrow, acting as if he were truly troubled by the matter. Perhaps his fate had already been decided, so why bother putting on an act? Thinking of this, he couldn't help but feel annoyed.

Upon hearing this, Murong Yue replied, "I am unaware of what you are saying. I only know that life is in the hands of others, and right and wrong depend entirely on the mood of those in power. If one wants to condemn someone, one can always find a pretext... This is why people are so enamored with power, precisely because those in power can arbitrarily decide the life and death of others."

"Hmm?" Xue Yi asked, feigning curiosity. "What are your thoughts on this? It is only natural that the strong decide the life and death of the weak."

Murong Yue rolled his eyes, his sharp gaze fixed on Xue Yi. A hint of mockery flashed in his eyes, but his voice became much calmer.

"This is not true. It's just that every time someone is in power, they follow suit and make it the default rule. If those who gain power are not obsessed with power, if they make the powerless equal to the powerful, if they treat others as equals, if they make poverty and respect for the weak the first order, and if they make power a tool to benefit the people, then if this continues through the dynasties, a brand new rule will be formed that is considered natural and just."

Xue Yi: "I think the same way you do. It's just that such ideals require countless hardships to move forward even a tiny bit. And there's something even more important... it requires everyone to think like you. That's an extremely difficult thing."

"Seeing you reminds me of my youth when I was with Changyou. If you weren't Emperor Liang's son, perhaps I could spare your life and let you work under me."

Xue Yi sighed and said, "Changyou and I served in the military camp together. He excelled in everything, but I am not. I am best at using daggers, which is an unpopular weapon. Someone tried to harm Changyou before, so I used a light dagger to cut his throat."

As soon as he finished speaking, a silver dagger appeared in Xue Yi's hand. The dagger gleamed coldly, and the small mole under Xue Yi's eye was jet black and deep, while his dark eyes turned into rich, inky colors, revealing a hint of something deeper.

Murong Yue reacted with lightning speed, but by the time he saw the dagger, it was too late. The silver light flashed before his eyes for a mere instant, Xue Yi's face appearing before him, his dark eyes staring at him, a ghostly, pale smile on his face. A sudden pain shot through his heart. The silver dagger pierced his heart, white blade in, red blade out.

"So, you're the first person I've personally killed twice. Rest well... I'll have someone bury you and your elder sister together. Before she died, she was still thinking of you and begged me not to kill you."

“I didn’t agree to her request,” Xue Yi said in a low voice. “I told her I would cut you into a thousand pieces. That’s why she died with her eyes wide open in disbelief.”

Murong Yue saw Xue Yi's face reflected in his eyes, and a sudden pain shot through his heart. A hysterical scream erupted from his chest, and his throat was instantly filled with blood. The metallic taste of blood permeated his lips, teeth, and ears, seemingly about to burst from his eyes. He trembled, gritting his teeth in despair, and became dizzy from choking on the blood.

His enemies blurred before his eyes. Xue Yi, who had come prepared, watched with amusement as he saw his miserable state. He could only hear his own heartbeat; he could barely utter a sound.

...eldest sister.

Murong Yue slammed his head on the coffee table and fell into a pool of blood.

Red blood flowed from the boy's body. Xue Yi watched from the side, and for some reason, the blood had turned a venomous green. As he looked at the boy, jealousy surged up, as if all the emotions he had suppressed were now pouring out.

He stared at it for a moment, then couldn't help but sigh as he pondered his own thoughts.

Why compare yourself to a dead person? The dead cannot linger in the memories of the living for long. Before long, Changyou will no longer remember that such a person existed; their days are far from over.

One day, Changyou would take his hand and give him that unguarded smile. He waited for that day. The thought brought a blush to his pale cheeks, but his frail body couldn't bear it; a gust of wind made him cough violently.

"Cough cough..." He covered his mouth with his fingers and looked down to see a patch of bright red blood.

A note from the author: