Because in previous years the princes’ winter hunt competition lasted only one day, at most by the second morning the princes would successively emerge from the hunting grounds.
It was now past noon, and as Zhu Zhaowei gazed through the dense forest toward the camp, there seemed to be no activity.
He grew suspicious—by rights, with the Crown Prince dead, the entire Fenglan Mountain and even the forbidden zone beyond Lanshui should be under strict guard. Why was it so calm and peaceful?
Could it be that the “hidden move” he had arranged had failed?
Zhu Zhaowei found it all very strange.
Earlier, Zhu Qiyue had proposed that he exit the hunting grounds first to position the Yingyang Guards at various passes, so that once the incident occurred, the two of them could seize horses and retreat through the narrow passes.
Thinking that they now had an escape route, Zhu Zhaowei no longer hesitated. He picked up a hard stone from the ground and struck his own arm viciously. He pulled up his sleeve and waited for the purple-black bruises to rise before supporting his injured arm and slowly walking out of the hunting grounds.
Upon seeing Zhu Zhaowei, the camp guards came forward to pay respects: “Seventh Prince, His Majesty commands that you go to the main camp immediately upon exiting.”
Zhu Zhaowei looked around and smiled: “Why don’t I see any of this prince’s brothers? Has something happened?”
The guard replied: “In response to Seventh Prince, last night the forbidden zone guards reported that Thirteenth Prince crossed Lanshui and went deep into Fenglan Mountain. His Majesty was anxious and commanded the Huben Guards to search. Due to encountering a blizzard, there has been no trace of him until now.”
Zhu Nanxian went to the forbidden zone? Presumably again for that Su Shiyu.
Zhu Zhaowei made an acknowledging sound. Arriving at the main camp, a guard beside him lifted the tent flap. As soon as Zhu Zhaowei entered, he froze—wasn’t the person standing at Father Emperor’s right the Crown Prince Zhu Minda?
Had his “hidden move” failed? Zhu Zhaowei wondered.
But even if they had failed, why didn’t Zhu Minda have even a single injury on him?
Though puzzled in his heart, he understood this wasn’t the time to investigate closely. He immediately bowed to the seat of honor: “This son came out late. This son begs Father Emperor’s punishment.”
Emperor Jingyuan said: “I heard you were injured. Is it serious?”
Zhu Zhaowei replied: “Thank you for Father Emperor’s concern. This son is fine. Unfortunately, because of the injury, not only was this son delayed in exiting the hunting grounds, but the game hunted this time was truly sparse.”
Emperor Jingyuan replied “no matter” and paused, then asked: “Zhaowei, you came out so late—did you happen to see Nanxian?”
So the earlier inquiry about injuries was just going through the motions. Indeed, in this father emperor’s eyes, nothing compared to the importance of legitimate princes like Zhu Minda and Zhu Nanxian.
Zhu Zhaowei seemed startled. He looked around and said with surprise: “What? Thirteenth is most skilled at hunting—he hasn’t come out yet?”
Emperor Jingyuan didn’t answer this, seemingly distressed. His expression was extremely ugly.
Just then, Huben Guard Commander Shi Fei came to report: “Reporting to Your Majesty, this general has ordered the Huben Guards to search the entire Fenglan Mountain hunting grounds and found no trace of Thirteenth Prince. Presumably after the prince crossed Lanshui to enter the forbidden zone, he never returned to the hunting grounds.”
Hearing this, Emperor Jingyuan was about to inquire further when, in his anxiety, a breath caught in his throat and he began coughing violently. He used a silk cloth handed over by Wu Chang to wipe his mouth—the cloth was stained with blood.
Seeing this, Zhu Minda said: “Father Emperor should go rest. Leave this place to this son. If the remaining guards still cannot find Thirteenth, this son will personally go to the Northern Main Camp to mobilize troops. Even if we must search all of Fenglan Mountain, we will certainly find him.”
But Emperor Jingyuan waved his hand: “No, I will wait here for him.”
For an instant, Zhu Jingyuan blamed himself for Zhu Nanxian’s disappearance in the forbidden zone—he clearly knew Zhu Mixiao harbored ill intentions, yet indulged him in bringing Su Jin into the hunting grounds.
But he truly hadn’t expected that Nanxian would disregard danger and cross into the forbidden zone alone to find Su Jin.
That place was overrun with fierce beasts, and in this cold and snowy weather, even if Nanxian was skilled in martial arts, being alone in the forbidden zone, he couldn’t be guaranteed safe from danger.
And this Su Jin…
Zhu Jingyuan thought again of the question he had asked Qi Boyuan privately after the登闻鼓 case—besides one granddaughter, did Xie Xu have any other descendants?
This question wasn’t without reason.
When he conquered the realm, among the three strategists at his side, in terms of literary talent, Qi Boyuan was actually not inferior to Xie Xu. But the reason Xie Xu could become the greatest scholar of the age and the first strategist at his side was because within his brilliant talent lay a kind of cunning characteristic of military strategy—after calculating every possibility, he could always win with surprise moves.
Such cunning was admirable, lamentable, and fearsome, because he seemed omnipotent.
Thus in the “Minister’s Calamity” several years after pacifying the realm, even though Xie Xu had long since retreated to Shu, when Zhu Jingyuan looked at the two characters “Xie Xu” on the execution order and raised his vermilion brush, he ultimately couldn’t strike them through.
He ordered the Brocade Guard to pursue him all the way to Shu.
Zhu Jingyuan thought with false hope that with Xie Xu’s wisdom, he would surely calculate that he’d be implicated in the Minister’s Calamity and perhaps had already fled with his granddaughter to the border regions of Yunnan and Guizhou.
That would be good—let him go farther, so far he could no longer threaten the Zhu family’s imperial power. Then he could live peacefully in Yunnan-Guizhou and spend his remaining years in peace.
But Zhu Jingyuan hadn’t expected that Xie Xu actually didn’t leave.
As if using his own life to wait for a joke.
The young master of the Xie family was incomparably talented yet always held onto one obsession—he wanted to see whether this person he regarded as a lifelong confidant, this person with whom he had supported each other, would truly strike a fatal blow against him.
Unfortunately, imperial power ultimately corrupted the human heart. A lifetime of loyalty and righteousness given to absurdity.
So much so that in dreams for years afterward, Zhu Jingyuan always heard the promise he had made to Xie Xu and then betrayed—when the realm is in my hands one day, I shall grant you half of it.
Zhu Jingyuan still remembered that the year Xie Xu retired was late spring of Jingyuan Year Two. He told him that his only son far away in Shu had given him an exceptionally clever and lovely granddaughter. He had helped him seize the realm for half his life and was tired. In the future, he planned to pass all his learning to this granddaughter and teach her to be a person of clear vision and wisdom.
Zhu Jingyuan had even said: “Your granddaughter is just the right age and has been taught by you. When she grows up, she can marry into the Zhu family and become a daughter-in-law for me.”
At that time, Xie Xu only smiled. The pale spring sunlight fell on his refined and elegant features, and a vast, desolate color rose between his brows. Looking closely, there was actually some loneliness there.
On the day of the Dengwen Drum case, when Zhu Jingyuan watched Su Jin in her scarlet robe standing in the brilliant palace hall, pointing to heaven above and denouncing evil below, sleeves raised as she pleaded for the common people and vindicated loyal and righteous men—the desolate color between her brows seemed to overlap with that peerless strategist of the past.
And so he conceived murderous intent.
And when Zhu Nanxian’s knees hit the ground as he pleaded for Su Jin, Zhu Jingyuan didn’t even dare to investigate whether beneath Su Shiyu’s scarlet censor’s robe was truly a woman’s body, whether she was truly the clever and lovely granddaughter of the old friend he had betrayed.
He feared knowing that heart-startling answer.
Until just now, when he learned that his most beloved thirteenth son had ventured alone into danger for Su Shiyu and could not be found anywhere, Zhu Jingyuan thought with some sadness—this was retribution, retribution for his wrongful betrayal of Xie Xu’s kindness in the past.
Deep in Fenglan Mountain, fierce beasts roamed. Nanxian kept refusing to come out—had he truly encountered danger, or was he blaming himself for tacitly permitting Mixiao to harm Su Shiyu?
Heavy worries congealed into oppressive energy in his internal organs. Zhu Jingyuan, clinging to his last thread of clarity, commanded: “Yushen, Qiyue.”
“This son is here.”
“I command you two to each lead one hundred Huben Guards and one hundred Yingyang Guards, entering Fenglan Mountain from the southwest and southeast of the hunting grounds to search for Nanxian’s traces.”
“Yes.”
“Zuo Qian, Wu Yusheng, Shi Fei.”
“This general is here!”
“You three take the remaining Jinwu Guards, Yulin Guards, and Huben Guards, entering the mountain from the due south of the hunting grounds, southwest of Fenglan Mountain, and southeast of Fenglan Mountain. You must find my thirteenth son.”
“This general accepts the command!”
When Su Jin awoke, she wore only an inner garment. She lifted the cloak covering her body and saw it wasn’t even her own.
There was clean dampness at her temples and hairline. The fire pit beside her radiated warm comfort. Su Jin’s gaze shifted over—on the other side of the fire pit, a wooden frame had been erected with branches at some point. Her previously worn clothes had been washed clean and were draped over it, nearly dry.
Zhu Nanxian was skillfully drawing snow water beneath the wooden frame.
Su Jin couldn’t help but softly call: “Your Highness.”
Zhu Nanxian’s movements paused. He suddenly looked up across the blazing fire, threw down the bowl newly fashioned from a fruit shell, and in two or three steps came to her side. He raised his hand to touch her forehead and breathed a sigh of relief: “Not so hot anymore.” He asked again: “Do you still feel uncomfortable anywhere?”
Su Jin shook her head. Using his hand for support, she sat up and looked around. Only then did she discover that aside from her small piece of the world within the stone cave, everywhere else was in complete disarray.
Fruit shells, dried grass, and wooden branches gathered from who knows where were piled everywhere. Boiled snow water was splashed all over. Even Zhu Nanxian himself couldn’t escape—his garments, sleeves, and trouser cuffs were all soaked with large and small water stains. His fine forehead hair and the ponytail hanging down his back were also dampened with droplets.
Su Jin fell silent for a moment. She roughly guessed what had happened and said with downcast eyes: “Thank you for your trouble, Your Highness.” She asked again: “What time is it?”
Zhu Nanxian sat down beside her and raised his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead: “The hour of Yin—nearly dawn.”
Su Jin remembered that when she fell asleep, it was approximately the hour of Yin the day before. This meant she had slept for a full day and night.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she blamed herself: “My falling ill was truly poorly timed.”
Zhu Nanxian picked up a wooden stick from the ground and stirred the fire pit to make it burn more vigorously. After a moment, he said softly: “You fell asleep at the hour of Chen and wouldn’t wake. Not until midnight did you begin to sweat—your entire body was soaked through. I…” He paused. His calm eyes reflected the fierce flames, still showing a trace of unabated worry. “I feared you’d catch a chill from the dampness and leave lasting ailments. I took it upon myself to use warm water to wipe down your body and hair, and helped you change clothes. Please don’t take it to heart.”
Su Jin, wrapped in the cloak, showed a blush on her pale cheeks. “No matter,” she said with lowered eyelids. “It’s not the first time.”
Hearing “no matter,” Zhu Nanxian regretted that he seemed to have said the wrong thing—she should take it to heart for the best result.
He picked up another fruit shell from the side, washed it clean, and drew fresh boiled snow water to hand to her, saying: “I asked Ashan—you just woke, so eating immediately isn’t good. Take your time to recover.”
Su Jin accepted the snow water and drank. Then she sat before the fire pit with her knees drawn up, seemingly contemplating something, no longer speaking.
She wore that crabapple-red cloak. Her long hair, which he had washed, fell obediently over her shoulders and back. A drop of water clung to a strand at her temple, crystal clear and translucent in the firelight. Her refined and beautiful features were serene, her eyes flowing with a wisdom and spiritual energy beyond ordinary reach.
Zhu Nanxian was momentarily entranced.
Su Jin said after some thought: “I’m thinking—according to our previous deductions, the Yulin Guards likely harbor rebellious intentions. This winter hunt coincided with a blizzard. If the Yulin Guards truly intended to move against the Crown Prince, the best opportunity should have been during the snowstorm night after dark on the first day, because the snow could form a natural barrier to provide them cover.
“General Zuo has led troops for many years and would certainly think of this. He would surely have assembled the Jinwu Guards to secretly protect the Crown Prince before the snowstorm night. The Yulin Guards only number eight—they shouldn’t have succeeded. However…”
Su Jin’s brows furrowed slightly. “Regardless of whether the Yulin Guards succeeded, once news of imperial guards’ rebellion reached His Majesty’s ears, he would certainly mobilize troops from the Northern Main Camp to station in Fenglan Mountain for defense, while simultaneously ordering all princes to leave the mountain. It’s already the fourth day now. No one has found us here, which can only mean His Majesty has not yet mobilized troops from the Northern Main Camp. Working backward from this, does that mean the Yulin Guards didn’t rebel?
“Did I miscalculate? Then what exactly did the young prince’s wet nurse mean by ‘everything is fake’?” Su Jin pondered.
“Ayu,” Zhu Nanxian said. “You’re still ill.”
Su Jin was startled. She turned to meet the lake light and mountain colors in his eyes, and said with lowered gaze: “I know.” She softly added: “I only wish to share Your Highness’s worries.”
Blazing fire burned beside them. Her long lashes lowered, casting shadows like scattered flowers on her cheeks. Looking down, one could see moonlight flowing in her eyes, with sunset colors lightly tinting her face.
Zhu Nanxian’s mind suddenly went blank. The entire world fell silent. He could only hear his own heartbeat.
This feeling was too familiar—this feeling of not knowing what would happen the next moment.
In his eyes and heart, it was as if a fire burned. He unconsciously reached out his hand. Before he could react, his slender fingers threaded through her hair and lightly hooked around the back of her neck.
He leaned his face down.
His lips touched the gentleness he had longed for. His entire heart seemed to soften.
However, at precisely this moment, light footsteps suddenly came from outside the stone cave.