After Being Mistakenly Taken for a Fellow Traveler by Emperor Long Aotian - Chapter 143

Chapter 143: The Face of the Man Locked in the Deepest Part of the Prison

 

The rough sound of cutting echoed monotonously outside the hall. After a long while, Prince Kang entered, his face dark as he carried a plate of shredded gold. “Is the Emperor satisfied now?”

 

He had no choice but to order his men to cut it. While the gold and silver were being sliced, the Emperor stationed numerous armed guards nearby, ostensibly for his protection.

 

The Emperor instructed Eunuch Li to check it. After a while, Eunuch Li reported, “Your Majesty, it is indeed pure gold.”

 

“Good!” The Emperor clapped his hands in delight. “Not bad, not bad at all. This must be the ‘craftsman spirit’ of the Northern Wei! In that case, I’ll now ask Prince Kang to cut the remaining gold and silver into ten-pound pieces of shavings, one by one!”

 

“Emperor! Don’t push me too far!” Prince Kang roared.

 

“Or,” the Emperor said casually, clapping his hands slowly, “make it simpler. If Prince Kang personally cuts ten pounds of silver into shavings, I’ll spare the rest of the gold and silver. How about it, Prince Kang? Will you grant me this favor?”

 

“You!”

 

Prince Kang wanted to protest, but others had already surrounded him. One of them, with a fake smile, said, “Prince Kang, please go ahead.”

 

“For Prince Kang’s safety, we’ll all stand nearby to watch and wait for you to finish!”

 

Prince Kang: …

 

Under this overwhelming “kindness,” Prince Kang, full of humiliation, could only comply and went outside to slice the silver. Inside the hall, the Emperor heard the “clink clink” sounds from outside and turned to Zhou Xun, looking pleased. “Isn’t it satisfying to see someone get slapped in the face like this?”

 

Zhou Xun: “…As expected of you.”

 

The Emperor laughed heartily. “Ahahaha! That’s me—justice’s guiding light!”

 

Then, he patted Zhou Xun on the shoulder. “And you, you’re the sidekick of justice!”

 

Zhou Xun: …

 

“Perfect, since you’re now a Shilang (Assistant Minister)! Justice’s sidekick, Shilang!” The Emperor beamed, his expression subtly smug.

 

Zhou Xun: …

 

“One day, I’ll figure out exactly what it is you’re always smirking about,” Zhou Xun muttered close to the Emperor’s ear.

 

After a long while, a guard entered and reported, “Your Majesty, Prince Kang’s hand has stopped working, but he still has four pounds to go!”

 

“Let him continue!” The Emperor waved his hand dramatically. “One stroke equals thousands of taels; it’s worth more than slicing rice cakes. Such generosity can only be met with more slicing!”

 

After a long ordeal, Prince Kang finally stumbled in, battered and exhausted, carrying a plate of silver shavings.

 

Inside the grand hall, the scene was different from outside. He slammed the plate onto the table. The Emperor glanced at it and said to Eunuch Li, “Weigh it.”

 

After weighing, Eunuch Li reported, “Prince Kang is still one pound short!”

 

Prince Kang, flushed with humiliation, went out again. When he returned, Eunuch Li weighed it again and said, “Prince Kang is still five taels short!”

 

Prince Kang went out yet again. When he reentered, the weighing revealed he was short by one tael. Hearing this, someone snickered quietly. “Prince Kang, you’ve fallen short again!”

 

“How can you call it falling short? When it’s Prince Kang’s matter, it can’t be called falling short!” Eunuch Li scolded sharply. Then he added, “Prince Kang, if you please…”

 

“I’ll report this to my royal brother! How dare you treat me this way!” Prince Kang glared at the Emperor.

 

The Emperor chuckled. “And you’re going to tell him I forced you to cut silver into shavings?”

 

Prince Kang: …

 

How utterly humiliating!

 

“Alright, alright, let’s call it a day,” the Emperor waved his hand. “You’ve handed over the money; take your person and go.”

 

“You… you must keep your word!” Prince Kang demanded.

 

“Of course. Not only will I keep my word, but I’ll also include free shipping. Once you promptly return to Northern Wei, Zhou Cai will be mailed directly to you.”

 

“Free shipping?” Prince Kang was confused. “What’s that?”

 

“It’s like express delivery—immortalized for generations. It’ll be delivered to you.” The Emperor grinned. “Alright, you can leave now!”

 

Prince Kang left the palace in a daze, escorted back to the embassy. Meanwhile, Zhou Xun looked at the Emperor and asked, “Express delivery?”

 

“A type of delivery service that takes a hundred generations to arrive—the slowest kind,” the Emperor said with a straight face. “What I mean is—”

 

Zhou Xun stared at him.

 

“Have Zhou Cai exiled to Northern Wei. Let him walk there himself. That counts as free shipping!” The Emperor patted Zhou Xun’s shoulder. “Hmph, who told him to bully my wife?”

 

When Zhou Xun heard the word “wife,” his face turned red, and he turned slightly away.

 

“Plus, shipping often involves a little rough handling or package tossing. Don’t worry; Zhou Cai will be well broken by the time he gets there.” The Emperor continued, “But actually, there’s something I don’t quite understand.”

 

“What is it?”

 

The Emperor’s voice carried genuine confusion. “I originally kept Zhou Cai alive so that one day you could kill him yourself. But why did you just ruin his wedding, humiliate him, lock him up for a while, sell him to Northern Wei, and exile him… and then let it end there? Well, it does seem like quite a bit, but why didn’t you kill him?”

 

“For someone like him, living is more painful than dying,” Zhou Xun replied. “With his self-important, arrogant nature, he’ll never accept defeat. He’ll try every means to escape. If…”

 

—If one day he wishes to die but can’t, that would be the ultimate destruction and revenge for him.

 

As Zhou Xun thought this, he realized his words carried a deep resentment. But the Emperor only scratched his head and said, “I don’t really get these things. If it were me, I’d just cut him down. But if this is what you like, let’s go with it! Oh, by the way!”

 

The Emperor thought for a moment before adding, “Feed him some oilfish or laxatives along the way, so he can only eat that the whole trip!”

 

Zhou Xun: “??? Oilfish?”

 

The Emperor glanced at him with a subtle expression, his face gradually freezing.

 

“I have a friend who’s eaten it,” he said.

 

“Is this ‘friend’ of yours…”

 

“No, it’s really not me this time. It’s my friend, my brother!” The Emperor panicked. “Don’t get the wrong idea!”

 

…

 

Zhou Cai sat hugging his knees in his cell.

 

His face was ashen. Over the past ten days, Zhou Xun’s words had haunted him endlessly.

 

“Am I really such a failure?” he kept asking himself. “If I hadn’t fought, hadn’t struggled, would my life now be better than this?”

 

These thoughts clung to him like ghosts. Compared to them, the rats and cockroaches in the cell, the coarse food, and the relentless interrogations were almost a reprieve—though they, too, were torment.

 

In the cell next to his was an old man with a hoarse voice. The man never paid attention to Zhou Cai and only huddled in his corner. Yet for some reason, every time Zhou Cai saw him, he felt an inexplicable fear.

 

As for the old man’s crimes, Zhou Cai knew little. Apparently, he had once stormed into the royal hunting grounds during the Emperor’s youth, muttering incomprehensible words. He had gravely offended several nobles, one of whom fell ill as a result. Since then, he had been deemed insane and imprisoned here.

 

Zhou Cai was usually interested in others’ secrets, believing they might one day become his leverage. But for some reason, when faced with this man, he felt such instinctive dread that he dared not say a word to him.

 

He remained in his cell, dazed and disoriented, his mind filled with memories of his youthful arrogance and his current desolation. Slowly, the straw seemed to transform into silk quilts, the damp cell into a magnificent palace, and the foul air into the sandalwood incense of the Zhou estate…

 

Until he realized the “osmanthus cake” he was eating was half a dead rat. With a scream, he snapped out of his days-long delusion.

 

After his screams subsided, his rescuers finally arrived.

 

It was Prince Kang.

 

Prince Kang had come for him.

 

When Zhou Cai first heard of Prince Kang and Hongxue’s past, he had deliberately orchestrated their encounter in a way that mirrored it. Now, it seemed he had made the right gamble!

 

He needed to tidy himself up, perhaps recite some poetry—yes, poetry! Prince Kang loved his scholar persona.

 

“Mountains loom and waters…” Zhou Cai hurriedly tried to fix his disheveled hair and recite a line to match the situation. But he froze.

 

Mountains loom and waters… What came next?

 

Mountains loom…

 

Mountains…

 

He couldn’t remember!

 

He couldn’t recall many things. His tongue seemed numb, unable to articulate anything pleasant anymore, while the salty and fishy taste of the imagined “osmanthus cake” still lingered on it. He clutched his throat as if doing so could bring back the poems, the eloquence he had always relied on for survival.

 

But he…

 

He couldn’t remember anything!

 

The sound of footsteps in the corridor drew closer step by step. Zhou Cai stared blankly at the world around him, feeling as if it were spinning. As the flames in the corridor lit up one by one, he suddenly shrank down, clutching his head. “No—no—”

 

“No—I’m not a failure—I didn’t lose—I—”

 

It was as if he had suddenly gone mad. The dismembered rat lay nearby, but he sobbed uncontrollably. At that moment, he heard a voice from the neighboring cell.

 

“Failure! You’re a failure!” The old man’s voice, for some reason, suddenly became hysterical. He lunged toward Zhou Cai’s direction, but with the bars between them, he pressed his face against them, distorting it grotesquely. “Zhou Cai, you failure—”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“He’s gone mad again—”

 

“Restrain him—take Zhou Cai out!”

 

The chaotic sounds erupted, and Zhou Cai couldn’t remember what had happened. When he saw that person, his mind went blank. When he regained consciousness, he was already in the arms of a guard.

 

The King of Kang had originally intended to embrace him—to greet the youth who, even in prison, should have been as beautiful as a deity. But he hadn’t expected that the person would look like a madman, disheveled, his face covered in filth, and with a salty and fishy odor lingering in his breath. Faintly, he seemed to notice a rat’s corpse on the straw—

 

A bad thought flashed through his mind, and he immediately pushed Zhou Cai away.

 

Zhou Cai was still trembling, and the old prisoner in the neighboring cell who had suddenly gone mad was finally restrained. Lu Xiandao glanced at the filthy mess in the cell, frowned slightly, and then said to the King of Kang, “Since you’ve seen the man, Your Highness, you may leave now.”

 

The King of Kang had originally intended to take Zhou Cai out of there, but in the end, he simply arranged for a physician to treat him and cared for him for an entire day, before…

 

Leaving alone.

 

“Move Zhou Cai to a different cell. In a few days, he will be sent to Northern Wei. Let him live decently for these last few days,” Lu Xiandao instructed.

 

In the new cell, Zhou Cai continued trembling steadily. The guards were puzzled by his strange behavior but paid it no mind.

 

It wasn’t until deep into the night that Zhou Cai clutched at his eye sockets and let out a terrified scream.

 

Earlier, he had seen the face of that disheveled, madman-like prisoner locked in the deepest part of the prison!

 

—In this world, what is the one thing you are most familiar with, that you can recognize no matter how it changes, even if others don’t?

 

That, of course, is…

 

Your own face!

 

That face, aged, despondent, barely human, marred with scars—anyone else would struggle to recognize it…

 

But that face was so much like his own, aged decades into the future!

 

…

 

Three days later, Zhou Cai was scheduled to depart. After countless bouts of terror and madness, he finally convinced himself that it was all an illusion.

 

How could such a thing exist in this world? It must have been an illusion caused by his imprisonment, by his fear that his life would always be like this.

 

After persuading himself, he was finally able to leave his cell two days early. The King of Kang had paid a sum of money to secure the emperor’s consent, allowing Zhou Cai to meet with a few people for farewells.

 

Yes, farewells.

 

When Zhou Cai stepped out of the cell, the first person he saw was his mother. The Zhou family, thanks to his misfortune, had returned from the Northwest. But only his mother came to see him. His father was drunk and unconscious every day, while his younger sister…

 

“Wanwan can’t arrange a marriage now,” his mother said cautiously. “She wants to go to Northern Wei with you. I’d like to go with her too. What do you think…”

 

“To Northern Wei?”

 

“That friend of yours, the King of Kang, seems loyal and righteous. Besides, he’s a prince of Northern Wei. We can’t stay in Jing anymore. If we go to Northern Wei, maybe Wanwan will have a chance for a good marriage,” his mother said.

 

Zhou Cai, struggling to even care for himself, couldn’t possibly arrange a marriage for Zhou Wanwan. Besides, how would the King of Kang view him if he mentioned this? But before he could refuse, his mother added, “Wanwan has already spoken to His Highness. He agreed to take us with him.”

 

“Mother! How could you—”

 

“Don’t argue. We have no other way out now. Recently, the Zhou and Ye families in Jiangzhou were thoroughly investigated. Their embezzlement and illicit dealings were exposed. The Ye family tried to bribe their way out, but the prime minister issued the order for a full investigation. The clan leader was imprisoned for bribery. The entire clan faces confiscation of assets. The matriarch fainted and is unlikely to recover. Now Zhou family members are in the capital, demanding we return the money we misappropriated with the matriarch’s help. We can’t even protect ourselves. If the authorities uncover the Zhou and Ye families’ collusion to frame the Lin family, it will be over. Leaving with His Highness is our only choice. Your father will come with us too.”

 

At this, she showed an expression of disgust. “He’s been drinking in the tavern every day. He didn’t even come today.”

 

She had spoken so much, yet none of it concerned Zhou Cai himself. In the end, Zhou Cai stood in silence, numb.

 

His mother left, intending to leave with Zhou Wanwan and the King of Kang’s entourage. Zhou Cai, after hesitating for a while, eventually went, under guard, to find someone else.

 

He couldn’t go to the Yan residence, and no other prominent family in the capital would see him, be it the Duke Protector’s estate or the Xie family. In the end, Zhou Cai arrived at the gate of the Fifth Prince’s residence.

 

If his mind were still sharp, Zhou Cai would have realized the peculiarity—how could an ordinary prisoner be allowed into the sealed residence of the Fifth Prince?

 

But he no longer thought about such things.

 

He remembered that the Fifth Prince liked him—yes, regarded him as a confidant. This thought brought a flicker of warmth to his otherwise cold and numb heart.

 

He had once treated the Fifth Prince as his trophy, a dog to summon and dismiss at will. The prince had always stood pitifully behind him, assisting him, watching him bond with the emperor. He had even found Zhou Xun as a substitute…

 

But now, the Fifth Prince might be all he had left.

 

As Zhou Cai entered the residence, he found that the once flourishing estate had fallen into disrepair, as though its master no longer cared to maintain it. Step by step, he walked through the desolation.

 

He searched everywhere—from the peach grove where they had admired flowers together, to the tea pavilion where they had shared tea, to the study where they had discussed poetry and art. He searched every corner, even the kitchen and the prince’s bedroom.

 

Finally, he found the Fifth Prince in the last place he would have expected.

 

Zhou Xun’s bedroom.

 

…

 

Zhou Cai stepped in and was hit by the overpowering stench of alcohol. The man, who seemed to have aged twenty years overnight, was drinking one cup after another. One of his legs was crippled, replaced by a wooden prosthetic below the knee. Only his other leg remained.

 

The Fifth Prince, swaying unsteadily, saw him and suddenly smiled.

 

That smile was pure, joyful, untouched by any shadow. He looked at Zhou Cai with such tender eyes, as if he had glimpsed a cherished memory of gentler times.

 

Zhou Cai’s tears began to fall uncontrollably.

 

Until he heard the Fifth Prince speak.

 

“Ah Xun, you’ve come to see me?”

 

Ah Xun.

 

He called him… Ah Xun.

 

He thought he was… Zhou Xun?!

 

Zhou Cai stepped closer, holding the Fifth Prince in his arms. The prince clung to him greedily. Zhou Cai held back his tears and said, “Ah Fen, Zhou Xun won’t come. He’s aligned with the emperor now. He won’t come.”

 

“…”

 

He kept speaking, finally saying, “Ah Fen, look at me. I’m Zhou Cai. Now, only I’ve come to see you. How could you become like this? Pull yourself together…”

 

The Fifth Prince, in his arms, seemed to finally recognize him. He looked at him, mumbling, “You’re Zhou Cai?”

 

Zhou Cai nodded tearfully.

 

Until—

 

The Fifth Prince grabbed a vase and smashed it into Zhou Cai’s face!

 

Zhou Cai clutched his face and screamed. Blood flowed through his fingers, and he dared not imagine what had happened to his face. One corner of his mouth throbbed painfully, as if it were about to split open. But the prince didn’t stop. Reeking of alcohol, he grabbed Zhou Cai’s right hand and drove shards of porcelain into it!

 

“You’re not Ah Xun. You’re Zhou Cai. You’re not Ah Xun. You’re Zhou Cai… I’m going to find Ah Xun. I’ll make him forgive me. If you die, he’ll forgive me…”

 

The guards rushed in, restraining the Fifth Prince and dragging Zhou Cai out.

 

Zhou Cai was taken to the Imperial Medical Office, but the scar on the right corner of his mouth would remain forever—a long, jagged mark that resembled a grotesque and ugly smile from a distance.

 

To his shock, the King of Kang, upon hearing of his misfortune, only came to see him briefly.

 

Zhou Cai later learned from others that Xiao Xue was dead.

 

Xiao Xue, the prince of Xinyue, whom the King of Kang had bought, was dead.

 

He had been confined, and the King of Kang, angered by what he had seen in the prison, had forbidden anyone to bring him food—unless he crawled and begged for it.

 

But Xiao Xue had been too ill to even crawl. On the night the King of Kang drank himself into oblivion after his visit to Zhou Cai, Xiao Xue’s corpse had gone cold—or rather, not entirely cold. His room had caught fire, and his guards, out drinking, had paid no mind. Everyone knew Xiao Xue was a slave, beneath anyone’s regard.

 

And so he died, leaving behind a disfigured corpse.

 

For the next five days, the King of Kang clung to the charred remains. In life, he had mistreated Xiao Xue; in death, he clung to his disfigured corpse as though deranged. It was only when the stench of decay became unbearable that he ordered the remains burned to ash, sealed in a pouch, and carried it with him.

 

It was then that he decided to return to Northern Wei.

 

The Zhou mother and daughter rejoiced.

 

Rejoicing done, with three days to departure, they remembered Zhou’s father, who had been drinking daily at the tavern. Neither woman wanted to retrieve him.

 

That night, however, Zhou’s father returned.

 

As a corpse, left by an unknown hand beside Zhou’s mother’s pillow.

 

Zhou’s father had not died peacefully. His wide-open eyes seemed to scream of terror at the moment of his death. Zhou’s mother, oblivious, had slept beside his corpse all night.

 

This should have been reported to the authorities—but Zhou Wanwan stopped her mother. The Zhou family was still searching for them, and delays would prevent their departure. Reporting it to the authorities might cause further complications, and the King of Kang, grieving, might not wait for them.

 

Thus, the two women disposed of the body, throwing it into the Zhou residence well. Zhou’s father, once a prominent man, was reduced to this.

 

No one mourned or buried him. Everyone cared only about their own survival—including his wife and daughter.

 

The Zhou mother and daughter left with the King of Kang, while Zhou Cai, shackled, began his journey. It would take months to reach Northern Wei.

 

Meanwhile, the aroma of incense still lingered in the Yan Yun Pavilion.

 

“When I visited my cousin, his expression was first one of dreamlike surprise—seeing his young cousin smiling and walking toward him. Then, he was terrified out of his mind. I made sure the wine he drank would ruin his body, and then I had him castrated for a quick end.”

 

Behind the silk screen, the woman spoke.

 

After a while, she continued, “The order has come. It’s time to begin.”

 

Alone in the room, she muttered to herself as she lit incense.

 

“Revenge accomplished? What revenge? The Lin family, my life, everything was bestowed by the imperial family…” she murmured. “The Jing royal family must fall for true revenge to be achieved.”

 

The smoke curled upward as she placed incense before the ancestral tablets in the secret chamber.

 

…

 

That summer, Northern Wei’s army began its southern advance.

 

The attack came swiftly, timed to coincide with the King of Kang’s departure, exploiting a moment of disarray. By then, the King of Kang should have left Jing territory. But due to unforeseen events with the Zhou family, he remained.

 

The emperor swiftly ordered Zhou Cai’s capture—though he couldn’t apprehend the King of Kang, who now hid within Jing’s borders, unable to escape or show himself.

 

“A return with postage paid,” the emperor muttered. “Fine, let’s call it insured shipping.”

 

Zhou Xun smiled at him.

 

He looked out the window, where in the distant military camp, a young man was practicing with a spear.

 

His skin was as pale as snow, and his eyes gleamed like amber.