Chapter 78 Freedom, and I will lock you by my side
The crying was like a dull knife, scraping at Zhou Ling's heart again and again. Even after Li Zuo and the others forcibly took him away from that room and back to the palace, the crying still followed him like a shadow.
The next seven days were a long, agonizing ordeal for Zhou Ling, a slow and agonizing torture, steeped in the venom of despair and regret.
He locked himself in his bedchamber and refused to see anyone.
The imperial meal that had been delivered was taken out untouched, and the thick medicinal liquid was spilled on the ground, staining the gold bricks. He began to have insomnia; every time he closed his eyes, he saw Fangru's pale, lifeless face, her last look at him with a calm yet empty gaze, and that glaring, ever-spreading crimson.
One chaotic night, the palace servants heard a loud crash as objects shattered coming from the inner palace.
Li Zuo rushed in without hesitation, only to find Zhou Ling slumped on the ground, with shattered glass shards at his feet. On his left wrist, a deep cut was gushing blood, staining his bright yellow nightgown red.
He stared blankly at the blood, as if he were looking at someone else's wound, and murmured, "...Will this... make the pain less..."
Li Zuo was terrified. He shouted for the imperial physician while rushing forward and pressing hard on the wound.
Since then, Li Zuo and several absolutely loyal eunuchs have taken turns guarding Zhou Ling almost every step of the way, and have taken away all sharp objects that could be used to harm himself.
Zhou Ling stopped resisting fiercely and became unusually silent. He would often sit by the window for a whole day without speaking, eating, or drinking, like a statue that was rapidly losing its moisture, quickly becoming thin and haggard.
Occasionally, he would call out "Fangru" very softly, or whisper to the air, "It was I... who killed you..." The pain in his voice was so intense it was impossible to ignore.
On the seventh day, Fang was buried.
He kept his promise to her, not using a crystal coffin to preserve her body from decay, nor forcibly keeping her in the imperial mausoleum, but allowing her to return to the Shen family ancestral grave and be laid to rest.
On the day of the funeral, he changed into a plain black robe without any patterns, his dark hair was tied up with only an ebony hairpin, dismissed all the ceremonial guards, and took only Li Zuo with him, quietly climbing a desolate mountain opposite the Shen family's ancestral tomb.
He stood in the biting autumn wind, like a withered tree, gazing at the small, white funeral procession below the mountain.
He watched as the coffin, which held all his love and hate and instantly robbed his life of its color, was slowly lowered into the deep pit. He watched as shovelfuls of yellow earth fell, gradually swallowing and burying the white object completely, eventually forming a fresh, glaring mound on the ground.
Throughout the entire process, he stood frozen like a mountain, only his tightly clenched fists, the knuckles of which were deathly white from excessive force, and the slight trembling revealed the tsunami-like grief in his heart.
As the last wisp of incense smoke dissipated before the grave, the crowd gradually dispersed, leaving only that solitary grave in the world. He finally couldn't hold on any longer, and suddenly turned around, letting out a suppressed sob, like the mournful cry of a wild beast, and staggered, almost falling down the hillside.
Li Zuo rushed forward to help, only to find his hands covered in a cold, desperate touch.
After the funeral, Zhou Ling completely withdrew from court life.
He moved to a royal garden called "Jingxinyuan" on the outskirts of Beijing.
Here, ancient trees reach for the sky, and the place is secluded and quiet, rarely visited by people, as if it were a corner forgotten by the hustle and bustle.
He issued an order that no one was to enter without being summoned, effectively severing all contact with the outside world. The only clear order conveyed to Li Zuo was: "Send a squad of secret guards to watch over her grave day and night. No one is allowed to disturb a single blade of grass, a single brick, or a single stone." This became the only thought he could hold onto in his hazy consciousness, a thought related to that departed soul.
The government was completely at a standstill.
The mountain of memorials was sent to the Jingxin Garden and then returned to the Cabinet intact.
Grand Secretary Li was extremely worried and personally came to the garden to request an audience. He waited for two full hours in the side hall before being led to Zhou Ling.
Zhou Ling sat by the window, his gaze fixed on a withered crabapple tree outside, seemingly unaware that someone had entered. He had lost a lot of weight; his once sharp and deep eyes were now dull and lifeless, and stubble had sprouted on his chin, his whole being shrouded in an aura of decay.
Grand Secretary Li, deeply grieved, recounted border military reports, the southern floods, and the backlog of official duties, every word concerning the very foundation of the nation. "Your Majesty," he said, "the fate of the country rests on your shoulders. I earnestly hope you will find solace in your grief and prioritize the affairs of state!"
Zhou Ling listened quietly, his face expressionless, until Elder Li finished speaking, after which the hall fell into a suffocating silence.
After a long while, he slowly turned his eyes to look at the old minister, his voice hoarse like a broken bellows: "Grand Secretary... go back." He paused, his eyes filled with unfathomable weariness and emptiness, "I am now... utterly exhausted, I can do nothing... What does this country... this world... have to do with me anymore?"
Grand Secretary Li wanted to persuade him further, but Zhou Ling had already closed his eyes wearily, waved his hand, and his posture was one of complete abandonment, keeping everyone at arm's length.
Li Zuo watched with a heavy heart. He felt that although the emperor's body was still there, the soul that supported his dominance over the world had collapsed and shattered.
He was like a lion mortally wounded in a battle, dragging his broken body, wanting only to find the most secluded corner to lick his wounds alone, and then... quietly await the end of his life.
The Empress Dowager and the Empress arrived one after the other.
The Empress Dowager spoke earnestly, reasoning with him and appealing to his emotions, mentioning the ancestors and his responsibilities as a ruler.
The Empress, her clothes soaked with tears, pleaded with him, for the sake of the nation and for his own sake, to take care of his health.
Zhou Ling listened silently, his attitude respectful yet distant, like an iceberg. He no longer got angry, nor did he respond; all his advice was like raindrops falling into the Dead Sea, failing to stir even a ripple.
His heart felt as if it had been buried in the cold ground along with that new grave.
He sank deeper into despair day after day in the Tranquil Garden.
Until one moonless, deep night, all was silent.
The guards on night duty were terrified to find His Majesty's bedchamber empty. They immediately began a search and eventually found the figure that had filled them with such fear in the Shen family's ancestral tomb.
Under the cold starlight, Zhou Ling was digging Fangru's grave with his bare hands.
His expensive robe was stained with mud, and his slender fingers had long been worn raw by the hard, cold earth and stones, with blood and dirt mixed together, a shocking sight.
He didn't use any tools; he just stubbornly dug with his flesh and blood, his movements carrying a kind of obstinacy on the verge of collapse, yet his eyes were unusually calm, even faintly revealing a sense of liberation as he was about to reach the other side.
Li Zuo led his men forward and grabbed him tightly.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, you mustn't! You mustn't disturb Miss Shen's rest!" Li Zuo's voice trembled violently with fear and heartache.
Zhou Ling struggled, his gaze fixed on the cold tombstone, his voice hoarse and barely audible, yet filled with heartbreaking despair:
"Let me in... It's so dark and cold inside... She'll be scared all alone... I'll go with her... I told you... she'll never... get rid of me... Not alive... Not dead..."
He was eventually pulled away from the grave by the group and taken back to Jingxin Garden.
But that night, his bloodstained hands, his desperate eyes, and his mournful howl like a lone wolf who had lost its mate were deeply imprinted in the hearts of all who witnessed it.
He didn't intend to desecrate her; he was simply overwhelmed by immense grief and loss, unable to find any reason to live, and only wanted to rush to the world where she was, seeking eternal peace and liberation.
Since that night when Zhou Ling was forcibly taken back to Jingxin Garden from Fangru's grave, he has fallen into an even deeper silence.
He remained silent, neither eating nor drinking, often sitting by the window all day, clutching the plain silver hairpin he had found under Fangru's pillow, the one she used most often. His fingertips repeatedly traced the fine scratches on the hairpin, as if it were his only connection to her.
Li Zuo was deeply worried and increased the number of guards, even personally standing guard outside the palace at night, fearing that His Majesty might do something to harm him again.
However, Zhou Ling remained unusually calm, a calmness like the lifeless surface of the sea after a storm, beneath which more dangerous undercurrents surged. He no longer mentioned Fangru's name, but his gaze often drifted towards the direction of the Shen family's ancestral graves, his emptiness carrying a hint of unsettling stubbornness.
That thought, like a vine, grew wildly in the desolate depths of his heart; he couldn't let her lie there alone, so cold and so dark.
He wanted to stay with her, even in life and death.
Finally, in the early morning, when the moon was dark and the stars were few, and thick fog filled the air, Zhou Ling changed into a dark robe that was easy to move in. Taking advantage of his familiarity with the garden's terrain and his understanding of the guards' rotation patterns, he moved silently like a ghost, avoiding all eyes and ears, and once again came to the Shen family ancestral tomb that caused him so much pain and which he could not bear to part with.
This time, he came prepared.
The shovel I grabbed from the garden tool shed felt heavy in my hand.
He stood before the grave, gazing at the fresh tombstone, which simply bore the four characters "Shen Fangru," without any title, in accordance with her wish to "not enter the palace" during her lifetime.
He took a deep breath of the air, which smelled of earth and was chilled by the night dew, and then swung the first spadeful.
“Fangru, don’t be afraid,” he murmured as he dug, his voice unusually clear in the silent cemetery, “I’ve come to be with you… It will be over soon…”
The soil was dug up shovel by shovel and piled up to the side.
He dug with great focus and effort, and soon fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, mingling with tears that slipped down his cheeks and dripped into the soil.
His fingernails cracked and bled as he dug, but he was oblivious. At that moment, he wasn't an emperor, but just an ordinary man crushed by immense loss, trying to win back his lover in the most clumsy and desperate way.
The dark wood of the coffin was finally revealed, and Zhou Ling paused in his movements.
He threw down the shovel, brushed away the loose soil from the coffin lid with his hand, and felt his fingertips touch the cold, hard wood. His heart pounded violently, a mixture of anticipation for their impending "reunion" and fear of desecrating the dead.
He mustered all his strength and suddenly pushed open the heavy coffin lid.
The moment the coffin was fully opened, all the expressions on Zhou Ling's face—grief, longing, madness—froze instantly.
Inside the coffin lay a female corpse dressed in plain clothes, whose figure resembled Fangru's, and even whose hairstyle was exactly the same.
However, that face, though meticulously crafted to mimic Fangru's appearance, even enough to deceive a heartbroken person in the dim light, now, under Zhou Ling's unwavering gaze, its unfamiliar contours, its stiff and unnatural facial features, its completely different bone structure... all screamed: This is not her!
Zhou Ling felt as if he had been struck by lightning. He staggered backward, his back slamming heavily against the cold stone tablet, the shock making his internal organs feel as if they had shifted.
He stared intently at the unfamiliar corpse in the coffin, his pupils contracting in utter shock, his mind blank.
After the initial shock came an overwhelming sense of bewilderment and disbelief. He had personally touched her cold cheeks, personally tidied her remains, and personally... closed the coffin lid! How could this be? How could this be?!
All the grief, despair, and self-blame were instantly covered and shattered by a sharper, colder emotion.
He was scammed.
He was completely and meticulously deceived by the woman he thought he had lost forever, the woman who caused him unbearable pain!
Just then, a rapid, chaotic sound of horses' hooves approached from afar, breaking the deathly silence before dawn.
Li Zuo arrived hastily with a troop of Imperial Guards, their horses' hooves shattering the morning mist, the torchlight flickering erratically.
Li Zuo leaped off his horse. When he saw the dug-up grave, the open coffin, and the corpse inside that, though similar, was definitely not Fangru, the color drained from his face instantly. His lips twitched, and finally, with a thud, he knelt straight down on the muddy ground, bowing his head deeply.
"Your Majesty..." His voice was dry and hoarse, filled with a sense of utter despair.
Zhou Ling slowly, extremely slowly, turned around.
As dawn broke, the thin light shone on his pale, paper-like face, which was covered in dirt and tear stains.
His once deep and sharp eyes, now bloodshot, were like two dry wells, unfathomable, filled only with a chilling calm that came from being completely emptied out.
His gaze fell on Li Zuo, who was kneeling on the ground. This was the most trusted guard commander who had followed him since he was a prince, whom he regarded as his right arm and entrusted with his life.
Time seemed to stand still. Only the crackling of the burning torches and the suppressed breathing of the crowd could be heard.
After a long silence, Zhou Ling finally spoke, his voice calm and utterly emotionless, yet more suffocating than any roar:
I'm not going to say anything to you.
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Li Zuo's trembling shoulders, then fixed on the distant, gradually whitening sky, as if speaking to the void:
"There are no moralizing pronouncements about loyalty, nor any lengthy discourses using flowery language." His tone carried an extreme weariness and boredom. "About my misplaced trust, your deception and betrayal, and your... false loyalty..."
He withdrew his gaze and fixed it on Li Zuo again, a hint of undisguised, heart-wrenching pain finally betraying itself deep within his eyes:
“I’m just… really disappointed.” He shook his head slightly, his voice lowered, carrying an incredulous daze. “If you asked me who in this world might betray me… I would think of every name in the world… but I would never… think of you.”
Li Zuo abruptly raised his head, his face a mixture of guilt and pain, yet also a desperate resolve: "Your Majesty... I am guilty beyond redemption! But everything I have done was truly for Your Majesty!" His voice rose with emotion, "Miss Shen... she is not as weak as she appears! Does Your Majesty still remember the poisoned wine at Zuixianlou? And the collusion with Huang Jiang at Anxianglou? Time and again... she has harbored murderous intentions towards Your Majesty! I cannot... I cannot stand by and watch Your Majesty make exceptions for her, break principles time and again for her, and even unknowingly put yourself in danger!"
Li Zuo kowtowed heavily, his forehead pressed against the cold earth: "She herself wanted to leave, to disappear completely from Your Majesty's life. This is the best ending for Your Majesty, for her, for the court... I have not betrayed Your Majesty, I have only... done what I have always been duty to do: protect Your Majesty's safety!"
"To protect me?" Zhou Ling chuckled very softly, a laugh devoid of warmth, filled only with endless bitterness and self-mockery. "So, you can join forces with the Empress Dowager and outsiders to fabricate such a colossal lie, watching me... watching me act like a fool, heartbroken and wishing I were dead?" The last few words were practically squeezed out from between his teeth.
Li Zuo lay prostrate on the ground, his shoulders trembling violently, speechless.
Zhou Ling closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, the surging emotions within had been forcibly suppressed, leaving only an icy clarity and sharpness. He had transformed back into the emperor who controlled life and death.
He stared at Li Zuo and asked, word by word, "Where is she?"
Li Zuo took a deep breath, raised his head, and his eyes were more determined than ever before: "Your Majesty, I do not know." He paused, then added, "Even if I did know, I would never tell you."
"How did you do that?" Zhou Ling's voice finally trembled almost imperceptibly, the only part he couldn't understand at the moment. "I touched her face with my own hands, and I put the coffin lid on her with my own hands." Even now, thinking of that scene still makes his heart ache.
Knowing things had come to this point, Li Zuo saw no point in hiding anything. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice, revealing the entire plan: "Miss Shen... is meticulous. She first went to the Empress Dowager for help, but all the Empress Dowager could do was help her find a trustworthy imperial physician, obtain the diagnosis of 'death by postpartum hemorrhage,' and tacitly approve of it. Later, she somehow obtained abortion drugs and came to me." Li Zuo's voice lowered, "She told me that if I didn't help her fake her death to escape, as long as she had a breath left, she would never give up... the act of regicide. I... after much deliberation, had no choice but to agree."
“Prince Kang’s heir, Zhou Muchen,” Li Zuo said, uttering the crucial name. “I don’t know how Miss Shen got in touch with him, but he was responsible for providing an extremely realistic fake death drug, and he also found a female corpse with a similar build to Miss Shen from somewhere, which was then altered by a master of disguise by his side. On the night of the hemorrhage, I was responsible for using my authority to switch the bodies while transporting the ‘remains.’ After Zhou Muchen received the still-breathing Miss Shen, he immediately detoxified her… Now, she should… have already flown far away to a place where no one can find her.”
As he listened to Li Zuo's confession, a faint smile even played on his lips, as if he were watching a carefully orchestrated play.
"Are you done?" After Li Zuo finished speaking, he spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice so calm it was unsettling.
Li Zuo lay prostrate on the ground, not daring to raise his head.
Zhou Ling strode up to Li Zuo and looked down at the guard commander who had followed him for many years.
“Since you enjoy arranging a way out for others so much,” Zhou Ling straightened up, speaking casually, “then I will arrange a better place for you.”
He turned to the captain of the guards waiting beside him and said indifferently:
“Li Zuo deceived the emperor and committed an unforgivable crime. He was dragged to the imperial prison and punished for treason. All the male members of his clan were exiled to the mines in Lingnan, and the female members were sent to the brothels.”
He paused, then added, "Remember, let him live to see his people's fate."
The commander of the guards turned pale, but dared not hesitate for a moment: "Your subject obeys the decree."
"King Kang failed in his duty to educate his son, so he was stripped of his royal title and demoted to a commoner."
His gaze swept over the silent eunuchs behind him:
"By imperial decree, the Empress Dowager is unwell and shall be moved to the Cold Palace for quiet recuperation, effective immediately. No one may visit her without my permission."
Each decree was like a cold, sharp blade, severing all sentiments and escape routes.
There was a deathly silence; even breathing could be heard clearly.
The thick fog gradually dissipated, and the eastern sky began to lighten with the first light of dawn; the sun was about to rise.
Zhou Ling stood alone before the dug-up grave, like a lonely soul abandoned in the wilderness. He stared at the empty coffin, at the unfamiliar female corpse inside, and all his pretense of strength crumbled instantly.
In his heart, he uttered a silent, heart-wrenching question to that figure whose whereabouts were unknown:
"Fangru, do you really... hate me that much? Hate me so much that you'd fake your death to slowly torture my heart, hate me so much that you'd put me in this ridiculous and pathetic situation? Between us... all that entanglement, all that pain, all that tenderness that might have existed... must it really come to this, with such resolute deception and betrayal to put an end to it?"
The rising sun finally broke free from the horizon, its golden rays bathing the cemetery and dispelling the morning mist and darkness, yet failing to penetrate Zhou Ling's already frozen and lifeless eyes.
There, only the bone-chilling cold of betrayal by one's closest and most trusted confidants, and the question that is destined to never be answered, echo repeatedly in the empty chamber of the heart, bringing endless unease.
Just as Zhou Ling was in the Golden Palace, dealing with the traitorous officials with swift and decisive measures, and using blood and fear to reaffirm his unquestionable authority, thousands of miles away, the border town of Wangbei, where the Xia Kingdom and the Northern Di bordered, was bathed in the rough and free afterglow of the setting sun, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere of the capital.
Zhou Muchen, who had been traveling for many days, led Fangru into an inn that looked unremarkable but was actually quite clean and spacious inside.
This place has been subtly infiltrated by the Northern Di forces, making it relatively safe for "fugitives" like them.
The waiter seemed quite familiar with Zhou Muchen, silently leading them to a secluded room on the second floor without giving Fangru, whose face was covered by a veil, a second glance.
The room was simply furnished, yet fully equipped.
Zhou Muchen carefully closed the doors and windows, then personally checked the charcoal brazier, adding silver frost charcoal to dispel the bone-chilling cold of the border town at dusk.
The orange-red flames leaped up, illuminating his slightly tired but undeniably handsome profile, as well as Fangru's still pale face, though her eyes had regained some vitality.
She took off her veil, walked to the window, and pushed it open a crack.
Outside, the scene was completely different from that of the capital. The streets were wide, and the pedestrians were dressed in colorful and varied styles. The sound of camel bells and the heavy accent of the Northern Di language could be faintly heard. The air was filled with the unique smell of beef and mutton, spices and dust.
This is a strange freedom, tinged with danger.
Zhou Muchen did not disturb her, but silently took out an ancient seven-stringed zither carefully wrapped in a brocade pouch from his bag. He tuned the strings, and the crisp sound of plucking the strings was particularly clear in the quiet room.
"Fangru," he turned around, his voice gentle, with a hint of barely perceptible expectation, "the border town is cold and the nights are long. Shall I play and sing you a song to dispel some of your worries?"
Fangru turned her gaze from the window to him, but did not speak. She simply nodded slightly, which was considered tacit consent.
Zhou Muchen sat cross-legged on a felt mat next to the charcoal brazier, placing the zither on his lap.
His slender fingers gently caressed the strings, and a melodious yet slightly melancholic prelude flowed forth. Then, he began to sing softly. He sang a love song widely circulated in the north, its lyrics unlike the subtle and gentle verses of the Central Plains, but bold, direct, and passionate, like the most blazing sun and the most unrestrained horse on the grasslands, unreservedly expressing a man's infatuation with his beloved woman at first sight, and his vow to protect her for life and follow her through life and death.
His voice was clear and melodious, filled with sincere emotion. His singing lingered in the small room, and every word seemed to strike a chord in people's hearts.
Fangru listened quietly, her gaze fixed on the flickering embers, the emotions in her eyes unreadable.
As the music ended, the lingering notes seemed to still echo in the rafters. Zhou Muchen gently pressed the still slightly trembling strings, raised his eyes, and gazed intently and passionately at Fangru by the window. He stood up, walked to her, and stood so close that they could feel each other's breath.
“Fangru,” his voice, slightly hoarse from his singing, sounded even more deep and moving, “this melody has lingered in my heart for a long time. Ever since that day at the Princess's flower-viewing banquet, when you stood under the wisteria trellis and turned back to smile, that fleeting glance has left an indelible mark on my heart, one I can never forget.” He paused, his eyes filled with earnestness, “Now, we have broken free of our cages, far from the troubles of the capital. The world is vast, and the future is unknown. Would you… give me a chance to take care of you, to stay by your side, and to accept my feelings?”
Fangru slowly turned around, meeting his undisguised, expectant gaze. Her clear eyes indeed rippled with gratitude, like gentle waves on spring water.
“Your Highness,” she still used the same respectful title as before, her voice soft yet clear, “everything you have done for me—the crime of deceiving the emperor, the plan to fake your death, the search for medicine and the body, even giving up your position as Your Highness and the glory of the capital, willingly becoming a fugitive, escorting me for thousands of miles… This kindness and affection is heavier than Mount Tai. Even if I were to die nine times, I could not repay even a fraction of it. I will always remember it in my heart and never forget it.”
Her tone was sincere, however, the way she addressed him as "Prince" and the deliberate distance she created in her words caused a slight flicker in Zhou Muchen's eyes.
Then, Fangru subtly changed the subject, her tone carrying a weariness and detachment born of past calamities: "However, Your Highness, I am now... utterly exhausted, riddled with wounds, like a frightened bird. Right now, I only wish to find a quiet corner to lick my wounds and spend my days alone. I am truly... unable to bear, nor can I reciprocate, another profound affection. I cannot bear this feeling, nor can I accept it. I hope Your Highness... will understand."
Although the wording of this refusal was tactful, the meaning was resolute.
The gentle smile on Zhou Muchen's face gradually froze, peeled away, and finally disappeared.
He stared silently at Fangru, and the air in the room seemed to freeze, with only the occasional crackling of the charcoal fire.
A moment later, a sinister glint flashed in his eyes, and he suddenly took out an object from his sleeve. It was an exquisitely crafted silver bracelet with simple and ancient patterns. The chain was slender, but it faintly revealed the cold, hard luster of the metal. At the end was a small, cleverly designed lock.
“Since you still refuse to accept my kind words and attempts to persuade me with warmth,” his voice suddenly turned cold, carrying a hint of undeniable stubbornness, “then I’ll have to try a method you might be more familiar with.”
He shook the bracelet, the locks clanging together with a crisp, cold sound. "If you insist on not complying, I will lock you to my side. Fangru, you should know that once we leave the capital and Zhou Ling's sphere of influence, in this remote place, I have the ability to do just that."
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