Chocolate stimulates the brain to secrete dopamine, dilating blood vessels, increasing blood flow and heart rate, stimulating the urge to urinate, making people want to use the bathroom and feel inexplicably excited. This combination of urgent and pleasurable sensations is defined as love.
At this moment, A’Lei’s brain was secreting enough dopamine as if she’d eaten a hundred pounds of chocolate.
In this state, how could she push away Zhu Zhanji behind her?
She was, after all, a mortal person rolling through the red dust of the world, unable to transcend the seven emotions and six desires. Even the otherworldly monk Tang Sanzang, when faced with the Queen of the Women’s Kingdom’s deep affection, used all his magical power to refuse, yet in the end still said, “No fate in this life—I hope for the next.”
Love was the greatest tribulation.
Enormous pressure and impossible choices crushed the hard shell Zhu Zhanji wore over his true nature. He was a genius, but also human. Faced with the choice between exposing himself to A’Lei or to his cousin and opponents, Zhu Zhanji chose the former.
He silently held her.
She no longer fled. The person she secretly loved also liked her back—what could be more beautiful than this?
She firmly memorized this moment’s feeling, like when she was young and greedy for sweets, secretly hiding a packet of candy under her pillow. In the future, when they were separated and lonely, she could take it out to remember, lick the sugar, and life wouldn’t taste so bitter.
All responsibilities, positions, concerns, pressures, and calculations were thrown aside. At this moment, there were only two people whose mutual secret love had turned to open love, embracing each other.
The storm still raged arrogantly, as if Prince Nezha’s third son Ao Bing had emerged from the water with a divine dragon’s tail sweep, stirring heaven and earth upside down, raindrops pounding the windows.
Both were lost in the moment, unable to hear the storm’s call. In this pirate stronghold filled with royal disputes and evil greed, a pure flower of love bloomed.
They forgot heaven and earth, and time as well.
Until Zhu Zhanhe came to report. Receiving no answer to his knocking, he pushed open the door to find them still maintaining their original position, Zhu Zhanji’s head seeming to have grown from A’Lei’s shoulder, motionless.
However, from Zhu Zhanhe’s angle, Zhu Zhanji embracing A’Lei from behind looked like some kind of coercive act.
Zhu Zhanhe immediately ran over, lifted Zhu Zhanji up, and pressed him against the wall: “What did you do to Sister A’Lei?”
The usually eloquent Zhu Zhanji was momentarily speechless, not knowing how to explain.
The more Zhu Zhanji remained silent, the more indescribable scenes appeared in Zhu Zhanhe’s mind. Concerned and confused, burning with anger, he forgot the person before him was his elder brother and threw a punch.
“Stop!” A’Lei called out.
Seeing the fist about to reach Zhu Zhanji’s face, Zhu Zhanhe couldn’t pull back in time. He changed direction—his fist the size of a sand pot grazed past Zhu Zhanji’s ear and smashed into the door frame.
Zhu Zhanhe’s knuckles immediately bled.
A’Lei quickly tossed Zhu Zhanji a pile of gauze: “Hurry, bandage him up.”
The anger in Zhu Zhanhe’s eyes hadn’t subsided as he pointed at Zhu Zhanji: “What did big brother just do to you? Why did I see him… bullying you?”
A’Lei had inherited some of Mu Chun’s talent for lying and covering up lies: “I was thirsty and wanted water, but my hands wouldn’t obey and I knocked over the teapot. He heard the sound and came in to pour me water. When leaving, he accidentally slipped on the water on the floor and fell onto the bed.”
Seeing there were indeed ceramic shards and water stains on the floor, Zhu Zhanhe believed her. As Zhu Zhanji wrapped his hand in gauze, he pulled his fist back and asked A’Lei: “Is this gauze the same one you used for your injured foot?”
A’Lei was speechless for a moment, then said: “Why don’t you smell it?”
Zhu Zhanhe actually leaned his nose forward to smell, but Zhu Zhanji pushed him away: “It’s not—she’s teasing you.”
Zhu Zhanhe sighed in relief: “Not to criticize you, but falling on a bed doesn’t hurt—why grab onto Sister A’Lei when she has an injured foot?”
Zhu Zhanji: “Grabbing onto the nearest thing when falling is a human instinct.”
A’Lei: “Hey, who are you calling a thing?”
Zhu Zhanhe grinned: “Aren’t you a thing?”
This was a joke they’d played as children—inappropriate now that they were grown up. But A’Lei continued using humor to muddle through, pretending to have amnesia about that long, beautiful embrace, and kept joking with Zhu Zhanhe: “Just wait until my foot heals—see how I’ll deal with you.”
Zhu Zhanhe bared his teeth at A’Lei: “Come hit me if you can.”
A’Lei threw a pillow at him.
Zhu Zhanji picked up the pillow, placed it beside A’Lei, and pulled his cousin out: “Let’s all go out and not disturb her rest.”
With that, he closed the door.
A’Lei’s smile vanished the instant the door closed.
After embracing, she felt even more lonely.
Youthful impulse, a moment of passionate abandon—it was like having a beautiful dream where she could freely do things she dared not do while awake. After waking from the dream, she still had to face reality.
Both A’Lei and Zhu Zhanji had lied. Though they’d confirmed through eye contact that they liked each other, after waking from the dream, reality poured down like cold water. So what if they liked each other? They could never marry.
The imperial consort selection was proceeding in full swing. After this battle ended, Zhu Zhanji would return to the capital to choose a consort.
Not all lovers could become married couples!
A’Lei sighed helplessly, leaning against the headboard, listening to the storm outside.
The dopamine from a hundred pounds of chocolate hadn’t dissipated yet—bitter and sweet. A’Lei savored the recent embrace like when she was small, eating candy hidden under her blankets.
If you kept thinking about someone, the birds in the sky, ants on the ground, and even a plate of peanuts on the table would all arrange themselves to spell out that person’s name.
Nature’s white noise—wind sounds, rain sounds, especially the sound of rain pounding windows—also sounded like that person’s name being pronounced.
The storm was like fans at a concert, frantically screaming their idol’s name: “Zhu Zhanji! Zhu Zhanji!”
It was truly disturbing. A’Lei pulled out two pieces of cotton from under the blanket and stuffed them in her ears, finally achieving peace.
In the adjacent room, with the door closed, Zhu Zhanhe immediately changed his expression. Using his uninjured right hand, he pressed his big brother against the wall again: “You fell on purpose, didn’t you? Wanting to take advantage and hold Sister A’Lei. Taking advantage of someone in distress—big brother, you’ve fallen.”
Zhu Zhanji denied it: “I’m not such a despicable, shameless person who takes advantage. I like her—I wouldn’t defile her.”
Zhu Zhanhe was half-believing: “Someone as cautious as you might not slip even if there was oil under your feet. How could a puddle of water bring you down?”
Zhu Zhanji didn’t even blink: “Because seeing her made my heart flutter.”
Only then did Zhu Zhanhe let his brother go: “You need to control yourself. Don’t make mistakes at this crucial moment. Don’t let A’Lei see through your feelings for now—it might affect your fake death plan. There’s plenty of time ahead. You and she will spend the rest of your lives together—why rush for this moment?”
After thinking, he added: “Sigh, actually I can’t be too harsh on you. She is the person you like, after all—like a cat living next door to fresh fish. It’s hard to control. How about moving Sister A’Lei to my room? I’ll help watch over her.”
Zhu Zhanhe was unusually insightful—an uncle-to-be offering to guard his sister-in-law.
Zhu Zhanji shook his head: “No need. My willpower isn’t that fragile.”
He thought: Foolish little brother, the landmine incident has already disrupted my plan. If Ji Gang really is the “knife” and the mastermind behind him is my father, I might not care about Prince Han’s family, but I can’t not care about you. Your future days will be very miserable.
If the mastermind is Prince Han, everyone in the Eastern Palace will die—my parents, brothers, and sisters will all meet bad ends.
So regardless of the outcome, I’ll suffer guilt for life—either losing you or losing all my blood relatives.
Zhu Zhanji had finally decided to live for himself once, only to discover that if he wasn’t the Imperial Grand Prince, if he didn’t inherit the throne, what he would lose far exceeded his previous imagination.
This was why, after the embrace, he immediately awakened as if from a dream and cooperated with A’Lei’s lies.
Whether advancing or retreating brought worry—when would there be joy?
Zhu Zhanji was torn with indecision, as if roasting over fire. Zhu Zhanhe sensed something was wrong: “Big brother, your body isn’t as strong as mine. You fought all last night without closing your eyes. Rest first—I’ll guard here. We’ll take turns.”
Zhu Zhanhe was strong as an ox, while Zhu Zhanji was thin and couldn’t endure as well. Now stuck in a stalemate, unable to advance or retreat, with no solution despite racking his brains, the overwhelmed Zhu Zhanji collapsed onto the couch: “Wake me in an hour. If there’s news about Ji Gang, no matter when, splash water to wake me.”
Zhu Zhanhe agreed and took charge.
Meanwhile, in the dungeon.
Ji Gang employed his methods, severely interrogating the pirates. Knowing this was a question with no answer, he still pretended ignorance. A jade-faced rakshasa, living up to his name.
Finally, after carrying out the eighth bloody, hideously faced corpse, the pirates couldn’t endure anymore. Not seeking life, only quick death: “I confess! I confess!”
Ji Gang crooked his finger: “Bring paper, brush, and some steamed buns. You need to eat your fill to have strength for confession.”
The pirate’s eight teeth had been knocked out. Starving, he swallowed the buns together with blood.
“We’re used to robbing and pillaging. We wouldn’t spend money buying stolen goods—that wastes gold and silver. As bandits, if we want something, we just rob it. We’d been eyeing the gunpowder factory for a long time, disguised as beggars and peddlers, secretly watching outside the warehouse for half a year, figuring out the guard rotation patterns and weaknesses, stealing keys, opening the storehouse…”
Ji Gang wrote swiftly, recording the pirate’s confession. Finally, he had the pirate sign and seal it, gently blowing the ink dry. Pointing at the remaining pirates: “The ringleader has confessed—you still want to argue?”
For a full meal before death, the pirates began fabricating stories, each adding details. The story became increasingly believable until even they believed they’d done it.
Ji Gang personally recorded everything, occasionally filling gaps in the confessions himself. Finally completing a thick stack of confessions, he thought this should be enough to report to His Majesty.
Ji Gang never intended to use these confessions to fool the Imperial Grand Prince—because in his eyes, the Imperial Grand Prince was already a dead man.
Ji Gang sealed everything in waterproof oiled paper and left the dungeon. Dawn was breaking, the storm had stopped, the night sky was washed clean and full of stars—as numerous as sesame seeds on duck-fat pancakes in Nanjing, crowded together.
The stars over the sea were especially brilliant. The sea surface was calm, seagulls flew about. The great waves had washed away all corpses and blood. The beach was flat as a pancake without even a footprint, as if the night’s storm had been just a dream that never appeared in reality.
Three orange fireworks rose over the sea—the signal that the Ming Navy had come to provide support.
The soldier standing watch in the observation tower saw this and hurried to report to the commander.
Zhu Zhanhe had been napping briefly at the desk. Zhu Zhanji had already slept for two hours, but Zhu Zhanhe hadn’t awakened him, consciously using his strong body to shoulder more burden, letting his big brother rest a moment longer.
Zhu Zhanhe was very alert. Hearing footsteps outside, he immediately woke. Taking off his shoes and wearing only cloth socks, he walked to the bedside, covered his big brother with the fallen blanket, then carried his shoes outside: “What’s the matter?”
The scout said: “The Navy’s support ships have arrived and are about to dock.”
The general commanding the Ming Navy was none other than Mu Chun’s former subordinate, the former Zhouzhi County bandit, Earl Pingjiang Chen Xuan.
With Mu Chun as his patron, Chen Xuan had weathered the Hongwu, Jianwen, and Yongle reigns, remaining steadfast throughout—a veteran minister of three dynasties.
Earl Pingjiang Chen Xuan was highly respected and Mu Chun’s old subordinate. Zhu Zhanhe remembered his big brother saying they must properly welcome Earl Pingjiang with full courtesy, showing no disrespect.
Zhu Zhanhe thought: This is the main command camp—big brother should stay here in charge. Besides, pirates keep trying to assassinate big brother. Each time he ventures out increases the danger.
I’ll personally go to the port to welcome Earl Pingjiang. As Prince Han’s heir, this status is sufficient to show Chen Xuan proper respect.
Zhu Zhanhe said: “I’ll go welcome Earl Pingjiang. Guard this place well.”
Zhu Zhanhe hurried to the port.
On the other side of the isolated island, Ji Gang saw three orange fireworks rise in the night sky. Support had finally arrived. A smile crossed his lips: The great net is cast—just waiting for fish to fall into it. This time I can finally stop worrying about A’Lei and fish freely.