Tan Hua - Chapter 70

Jun Qiyu, who was as still as a withered tree, finally moved. The snow on his shoulders fell off in a flurry.

 

He turned to look at Su Zhao, his eyes vacant but filled with a pitiful glimmer of hope.

 

“What did you say?”

 

Su Zhao shivered. “I… I didn’t say anything…”

 

“You meant… is there a way to save him?”

 

That question, like a divine melody from the heavens, shattered the deathly silence in Jun Qiyu’s heart, giving him a glimmer of hope.

 

Jun Qiyu grasped that hope, unwilling to let go.

 

“I don’t have one!” Su Zhao shrank back, pulling his neck into his shoulders. “How could I possibly have a way to save him?”

 

Jun Qiyu insisted, “If you have a way, tell me. I’ll let you go. And your brother, who poisoned my father—the emperor—is in the capital’s prison. I’ll pardon him as well.”

 

“Really!?”

 

Su Zhao’s eyes lit up in surprise.

 

“Yes,” Jun Qiyu said heavily. “I swear on my life. If you save him, I’ll never trouble you again.”

 

“Well… I’d like to, but I really can’t save him,” Su Zhao said, feeling guilty.

 

Jun Qiyu’s expression dimmed. He was grasping at straws in desperation.

 

Su Zhao was no miracle doctor who could bring someone back from the dead.

 

Without the blood of the cynomorium plant, not even a miracle doctor could help.

 

Su Zhao weakly suggested, “I just think you should try to buy some time, or stall for as long as possible, until some opportunity arises.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Su Zhao twisted his body, hinting that his hands were tied too tightly to move.

 

Jun Qiyu pulled out his sword and, with a swift motion, slashed toward him. Su Zhao, terrified, closed his eyes, but the blade neatly severed the ropes.

 

“If you keep stalling, the next thing my sword will cut is your head,” Jun Qiyu said coldly.

 

Su Zhao didn’t dare waste any more time. Ignoring the pain in his wrists, he hurriedly pulled a jade vial from his robe and carefully handed it to Jun Qiyu.

 

“This is—” Jun Qiyu asked as he glanced at the vial. “A cure for the blood curse?”

 

“This is poison…”

 

Seeing Jun Qiyu’s darkening expression, Su Zhao quickly explained.

 

“This poison is unique to the Yilan family. It doesn’t have a name in the Central Plains. When a healthy person takes it, they’ll fall into a coma immediately, their breathing and heartbeat gradually slowing, and three days later, they’ll die. But for someone on the brink of death, it’s like a miracle medicine. After taking it, they can hold on for another three days…”

 

“Three days?”

 

Jun Qiyu understood. This poison could help someone on the verge of death survive for three more days.

 

“But will three days be enough? If we can’t find the cynomorium in three days, Liqing will still… still leave me.”

 

“No, no, no! I’m saying that three days should be enough time to carry him up to the Sacred Mountain.” Su Zhao pointed toward the mountain. “There’s a place called the Jade Platform of Cold. It’s said to be able to seal the souls of those on the verge of death, nourishing their body and spirit, and preventing their soul from dissipating.”

 

Jun Qiyu frowned. “That’s just a legend.”

 

“It’s true! One of our ancestors was poisoned by an evil shaman. He slept on the Jade Platform of Cold for an entire year until the shaman was caught and the poison neutralized. He came back to life afterward. That’s why all of Ili’s people revere it as the Sacred Mountain. If you place him on the Jade Platform, you might be able to buy a year…”

 

Jun Qiyu was stunned. This kind of mystical tale—how much could he really believe?

 

He didn’t have the luxury of testing the odds.

 

But he also had no choice.

 

No matter how slim the chance, Jun Qiyu would pursue it without hesitation.

 

Even if it was only three days, he would risk everything for those three days.

 

Jun Qiyu opened the jade vial. Inside was a fragrant, clear liquid. If not for the overwhelming floral scent, it would have looked just like melted snow.

 

As the vial touched Song Liqing’s lips, Jun Qiyu hesitated for a moment. He glanced sideways at Su Zhao.

 

“Why are you helping me save him?”

 

Su Zhao swallowed nervously.

 

“My brother trusts him, so he can’t be a bad person… Besides, you promised to release my brother. I’m only doing this to save him.” Seeing Jun Qiyu’s doubtful expression, Su Zhao quickly added, “You think I want to harm him? Even if I didn’t help, he’d still die. Why would I go out of my way? If he dies, I won’t survive either. Don’t you think you’d tear me to pieces?”

 

Jun Qiyu no longer hesitated. He gave Song Liqing the poison from the jade vial.

 

Anxiously, he watched Song Liqing, pressing his ear to his neck.

 

“Why isn’t it…”

 

Su Zhao was just as nervous. He knew the poison’s effects, but how much to give and how to administer it—he had never tested it on someone so close to death.

 

“Wait a little longer. It doesn’t work that fast, right?” Su Zhao stammered, unsure.

 

Jun Qiyu stayed in that position, waiting for what felt like an eternity. Just as he was about to fall into despair, he heard a faint heartbeat.

 

Thump—thump—

 

Jun Qiyu was overjoyed. Su Zhao hadn’t lied to him!

 

Song Liqing’s heartbeat began to revive, still weak and sluggish, but at least he was alive. Even his chest now showed faint movement—it was breathing.

 

A thin, white mist of breath escaped from Song Liqing’s nose. His breathing was faint, but to Jun Qiyu, this was the greatest news!

 

Jun Qiyu’s eyes reddened, and two tears fell. The immense joy of recovering something lost made his fists clench so tightly that they turned white.

 

“Liqing…”

 

Jun Qiyu called out his name softly, not daring to be too loud for fear of disturbing Song Liqing’s slumber.

 

He carefully and slowly hoisted Song Liqing onto his back, moving gently. This was his last chance, fragile as a bubble—he couldn’t afford another mistake.

 

“Take me to the Jade Platform of Cold,” Jun Qiyu said as he secured Song Liqing to himself with a strip of cloth.

 

“Alright,” Su Zhao agreed. In truth, he had no choice but to comply.

 

“But I only know that the Jade Platform is near the summit of the Sacred Mountain. I’ve never been to the exact location.”

 

Quick-witted, Su Zhao grabbed a bag of dried meat before setting off.

 

Without a word, Jun Qiyu carried Song Liqing toward the mountain.

 

Though Jun Qiyu was tall and imposing, in the face of the towering, snow-covered mountain, he was as insignificant as a speck of dust, a tiny black dot on an endless white page.

 

The Sacred Mountain was far more difficult to climb than Jun Qiyu had anticipated.

 

The lower slopes were manageable; Jun Qiyu could still take steady steps forward. But the higher they climbed, the steeper it became, with no path to follow. He couldn’t see what lay beneath the thick blanket of snow—whether it was solid ground or empty space. He had to feel his way forward.

 

After a day’s climb, Jun Qiyu estimated they had ascended about a third of the way. But this was still only the relatively gentle middle of the mountain. The west wind was already howling, carrying snowflakes that felt like knives cutting into their skin. What would the summit be like?

 

Jun Qiyu glanced at Su Zhao. Half of his face was wrapped in fox fur, leaving only his pale blue eyes exposed. His slight frame wobbled in the wind, as if he might be blown away at any moment.

 

They rested for only a short while. Jun Qiyu dared not delay and resumed the climb.

 

The Sacred Mountain’s snow never melted, and the ice beneath had accumulated over countless years, making it dangerously easy to slip or misstep. The snow had risen past Jun Qiyu’s thighs, making each step agonizingly difficult.

 

After two days, they no longer knew how far they had climbed. On this mountain, the wind and snow obscured their vision; they couldn’t see the path ahead or the way back.

 

“Ahhh!!”

 

Su Zhao let out a terrified scream as his foot slipped, and he fell down the slope with a heap of snow.

 

Jun Qiyu grabbed him with one hand and pulled him back up.

 

This was the fourth time Jun Qiyu had saved him.

 

Panting in fear, Su Zhao said, “Your Highness… I can’t… I can’t go on.”

 

Up here on the mountain, the thin air was a greater threat. Su Zhao was gasping for breath, his head pounding. He had been holding on through sheer willpower.

 

“Mm,” Jun Qiyu responded curtly. “Then go back down.”

 

Su Zhao looked at him, a mix of emotions swirling inside.

 

This meant Jun Qiyu was letting him go.

 

As long as he made it down safely, Su Zhao would be free.

 

“Are you really going to keep climbing?” Su Zhao questioned. “In this kind of weather, you’ll never make it to the summit. You’ll die…”

 

Jun Qiyu didn’t answer. His determined gaze said it all.

 

Su Zhao opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Finally, he said, “He’s already… on the brink of death. And the cynomorium you’re searching for likely won’t be found. If you keep climbing, you might lose your life as well. Is it worth it?”

 

Is it worth it…

 

Jun Qiyu wanted to ask Song Liqing that question.

 

For the sake of their childhood friendship, Liqing had endured so much suffering, to the point where his body was crippled, and he had contracted an incurable disease… He had never once said it wasn’t worth it.

 

It turns out, when you truly love someone, you never stop to consider if it’s worth it.

 

“Alright.”

 

Su Zhao knew there was no convincing Jun Qiyu, whose will was unshakeable.

 

“Then take these,” Su Zhao said, handing him the bag of dried meat.

 

Jun Qiyu nodded and began climbing using his hands.

 

A gust of wind blew, sending snow sliding down the slope in front of Jun Qiyu. Su Zhao’s heart clenched, but thankfully, Jun Qiyu wasn’t caught in the avalanche.

 

“The Crown Prince of Jing… even someone so noble can be this devoted?” Su Zhao muttered to himself, hunching down as the wind almost knocked him over. In Su Zhao’s mind, he was certain Jun Qiyu was already dead. This mountain was not one that mere mortals could climb.

 

…

 

At the final summit, Jun Qiyu slowly advanced.

 

There were few footholds, and one wrong step could send him plummeting down the mountain along with an avalanche.

 

The mountain was treacherous. Some parts provided shelter, while others were nearly vertical.

 

Jun Qiyu had been climbing with his bare hands.

 

He hadn’t noticed that his hands were already cut open by ice or stone. His hands were bleeding profusely, but in the freezing cold of the summit, the blood quickly froze. His hands were swollen, bruised, and purple, with not a single patch of uninjured skin.

 

Aside from the howling wind, there was no sound at all.

 

Jun Qiyu’s limbs were long since numb from the cold, and his mind was growing foggy. He was climbing purely on willpower.

 

In his mind, there was only one thought: the Jade Platform of Cold.

 

Crash—

 

At last, the ice beneath Jun Qiyu’s feet gave way. His body lost its balance, and he fell straight into the snow. An avalanche followed, burying him in the deep pit.

 

The wind howled as always, and the Sacred Mountain returned to its untouched state.