Chapter 67
On the other side, Ji Qingzhou had brought the young emperor back inside the room.
The young emperor placed the pinecones on the table, and his eyes fell on an envelope nearby.
“Zhouzhou, there’s a letter here,” the young emperor said to Ji Qingzhou, pointing at the envelope on the table.
Ji Qingzhou paused and looked over. The envelope was blank—no addressee, no signature.
“Who wrote the letter?” the young emperor stared at it for a while, his face showing confusion.
When Ji Qingzhou saw the boy reaching out to pick up the envelope, he instinctively reached out to stop him.
Seeing Ji Qingzhou’s unusual expression, the young emperor retracted his hand and didn’t touch it again.
Ji Qingzhou thought for a moment and turned to ask Dong Dong, who was standing at the door, “While we were in the woods, was anyone guarding this place?”
“I left two men on watch,” Dong Dong replied.
“Go ask them whether anyone came in after we left,” Ji Qingzhou instructed.
Dong Dong quickly responded, “No need to ask. No one entered.”
If anyone had shown up or if there had been any abnormalities, the guards would’ve raised an alarm immediately.
Ji Qingzhou’s gaze fell back on the envelope. If no one had entered, then this letter must have been placed here before they left. They must have been in too much of a hurry and failed to notice it.
He furrowed his brow and suddenly recalled the look on the Second Prince’s face earlier when he’d deliberately sent him away.
Before they left, the only people in the room besides them were the Second Prince himself—so it was obvious who had left the letter.
But… if the Second Prince had something to say, why hadn’t he said it directly? Why leave a letter?
Ji Qingzhou couldn’t figure it out, but unease began to creep into his heart.
“Young Master Ji, is something wrong?” Dong Dong noticed his change in expression and quickly asked.
Ji Qingzhou pondered for a moment before replying, “Stay here and watch over His Majesty. I’m going to find Wang Ye.”
Dong Dong didn’t understand but didn’t question further either.
He immediately sent several guards to accompany Ji Qingzhou, while he himself stayed behind to protect the young emperor.
“Zhouzhou…” The young emperor tugged at Ji Qingzhou’s hand when he noticed his furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”
Ji Qingzhou forced a smile and said, “I’m going to check on your imperial uncle. Don’t run around while I’m gone—I’ll be back soon.”
Although the young emperor really wanted to go with him and didn’t like staying behind alone, when he saw Ji Qingzhou’s expression, he instinctively knew not to cause trouble at this moment. So he nodded and sat obediently at the table.
The letter was still on the table. Since Ji Qingzhou had told him not to touch it, he didn’t.
In the pine forest.
Li Zhan was kneeling on the ground, cradling the lifeless body of the Second Prince in his arms.
The Second Prince had taken poison—the kind that acted swiftly and violently. He had died almost instantly.
By the time Li Zhan realized something was wrong, it was already far too late…
He knelt there blankly, holding the Second Prince’s body, his mind completely blank.
Before dying, the other man had told him, “You should understand me…”
But Li Zhan wanted to say that he didn’t understand!
He didn’t understand why—after all the effort he had poured into uncovering the truth, after finally clearing the names of Zhou Chu and the Ji family, after finally restoring the Second Prince’s freedom—the only thing he received in return… was a cold, lifeless corpse.
He couldn’t help but think: if the case had ended like it did in the previous life—with no resolution—then at least the Second Prince might have lived a little longer.
But now that the truth was out, the man hadn’t even been willing to live a single hour more. He had died even earlier than he had in the previous life!
Just yesterday, he had been excitedly imagining how their family would be reunited, planning how he would tell his brother that he had found someone he wished to spend the rest of his life with—and that in the near future, they would have a child together…
He had even brought Ji Qingzhou and the young emperor along to pick up the Second Prince, hoping that, at this moment, the people he cared about most would be at his side.
But what awaited him wasn’t a joyful reunion or family gathering—it was eternal separation.
Li Zhan couldn’t understand how things had ended up like this.
“Wang Ye…”
Footsteps approached behind him, followed by Ji Qingzhou’s soft voice in his ear.
Li Zhan turned his head mechanically and saw Ji Qingzhou walking toward him with furrowed brows, his face full of concern.
On his way here, Ji Qingzhou had already felt a foreboding sense of dread.
The letter left by the Second Prince, the words he had said to Li Zhan, and his deliberate effort to send Ji Qingzhou and the young emperor away earlier—all of it now, in hindsight, seemed to suggest something. Yet before it happened, no one could have imagined things would turn out this way.
It wasn’t until Ji Qingzhou saw the lifeless body cradled in Li Zhan’s arms that his heart suddenly sank to the bottom.
It had truly turned into the worst possible outcome.
He didn’t even dare to imagine what Li Zhan must be feeling right now.
“…Why are you here?” Li Zhan asked in a hoarse voice.
“I saw the letter Second Prince left on the table…” Ji Qingzhou’s voice caught slightly. He reached out as if to touch Li Zhan but didn’t dare disturb him and instead simply knelt beside him in silence, keeping him company without saying another word.
Li Zhan’s mind briefly went blank. Only then did he notice Ji Qingzhou beside him—his face was pale, his breathing slightly uneven, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. He must have rushed over in a hurry. The youth’s expression held sorrow, his eyes were slightly red-rimmed, but he was clearly holding himself together for Li Zhan’s sake, not wanting to stir his emotions further.
In that moment, Li Zhan suddenly snapped back to reality, hastily reining in his grief and forcing himself to regain composure.
Now wasn’t the time to fall apart—there were still so many things that needed him to handle them.
If he collapsed, what then? Was Ji Qingzhou supposed to carry a child and still look after him?
“Someone… see to Second Prince’s remains. Send word back to the capital immediately… Have the Ministry of Rites come organize his funeral,” Li Zhan ordered the guards behind him. Once he’d spoken, he gently laid the Second Prince’s body on the ground and took off his outer robe to cover him.
“What about His Majesty?” Li Zhan looked at Ji Qingzhou and asked.
“I left Dong Dong to watch over him. I didn’t dare bring him here,” Ji Qingzhou replied.
Li Zhan nodded and said, “It’s cold in the forest. Let them take care of things.”
With that, he took Ji Qingzhou’s hand and led him out of the woods, never once looking back.
When the two returned to the house, Li Zhan saw the letter.
He hesitated for a moment, then opened it and read…
Ji Qingzhou had been quietly watching him. He noticed that although Li Zhan’s expression appeared calm, his hands trembled slightly as he unfolded the paper.
After a short while, Li Zhan finished reading and flipped the letter face down on the table without saying a word…
Outside, the guards were all rushing about. The sudden death of the Second Prince had caught them off guard, and there were countless things that needed to be arranged. Fortunately, Dong Dong was handling things, keeping the situation from descending into chaos.
Ji Qingzhou sat beside Li Zhan. He wanted to say something to comfort him but knew that at a time like this, words were futile. So instead, he reached out hesitantly and placed his hand gently on Li Zhan’s arm—just like how Li Zhan used to comfort him in the past.
Li Zhan understood what he meant and covered Ji Qingzhou’s hand with his own, saying quietly, “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
The young emperor had been silently watching the two of them for a while. At last, he walked over and wrapped his arms around Li Zhan’s neck in a hug.
“It’s still early… I’ll have Dong Dong escort you two back to the capital first,” Li Zhan said.
Now that something like this had happened, everything that followed would be overwhelming. Li Zhan didn’t want Ji Qingzhou and the young emperor to remain in this place.
But Ji Qingzhou asked softly, “Can… I stay with you?”
Li Zhan was stunned. He turned his head to look at Ji Qingzhou, then gripped his hand tighter and said, “Alright… I wouldn’t feel at ease having someone else take you back. It’s better if you stay.”
Ji Qingzhou could feel that Li Zhan was teetering on the edge of emotional collapse. He suspected that if he said even a few comforting words or gave him a hug, Li Zhan might just break down completely. But he could also sense how hard Li Zhan was struggling to keep himself together, not wanting to let go in such a vulnerable moment.
So Ji Qingzhou didn’t say anything. He simply stayed quietly by his side.
The room where the Second Prince had been staying was converted into a temporary mourning hall.
Dong Dong arranged for another room nearby for Ji Qingzhou and the young emperor to rest for the night.
That evening, the young emperor barely ate anything. Even after lying under the covers, he couldn’t fall asleep.
Though he hadn’t seen what happened with his own eyes, from the adults’ behavior and the atmosphere around him, he’d pieced most of it together.
“Can’t sleep?” Ji Qingzhou asked, gently stroking the boy’s hair.
“Zhouzhou, why did Second Imperial Uncle suddenly pass away?” the young emperor asked with a choked voice.
He had been holding back all day in front of Li Zhan, too afraid to say anything. It wasn’t until nighttime, with only Ji Qingzhou beside him, that he finally dared to ask.
Ji Qingzhou continued to gently soothe him and replied, “Because he cared deeply, so deeply… and he missed someone very much. He missed that person so much it hurt…”
“Is it like how Mother misses Father?” the young emperor asked. “She misses him so much that she doesn’t even like me anymore. She just stays in the prayer hall every day… Was Second Imperial Uncle like that too?”
Ji Qingzhou didn’t know what kind of relationship the Empress Dowager had with the late emperor, but ever since he entered the palace, she had secluded herself in prayer and rarely showed herself. She didn’t seem to care much for the young emperor either, and when they did meet, her manner was always distant.
He thought to himself—maybe this was what people meant when they said someone’s heart had died.
When someone lost the person they loved most, nothing in the world could give them the desire to keep on living.
“Her Majesty doesn’t dislike you… she just…” Ji Qingzhou hesitated, unsure how to explain.
But the young emperor spoke first: “I understand. My tutor said it—‘There’s no greater sorrow than a dead heart.’ When someone’s heart dies, they stop caring about everything. Mother’s heart died… and so did Second Imperial Uncle’s…”
After saying that, the young emperor hugged Ji Qingzhou tightly around the neck. Ji Qingzhou felt the warmth and dampness on his skin and knew the boy was crying.
“If you want to cry, just cry,” Ji Qingzhou whispered, holding him close.
The young emperor sniffled and murmured, “Imperial Uncle didn’t cry, so I won’t cry either.”
But even as he said that, his tears kept falling, soaking Ji Qingzhou’s neck and shoulder.
It wasn’t until the latter half of the night that the young emperor finally drifted off to sleep in a daze.
Li Zhan came by once, but he only stayed by their side briefly before quietly leaving again.
Early the next morning, the officials from the Ministry of Rites arrived.
Because the Second Prince had died within the imperial tomb grounds, there was no need to return to the capital to deliberate over his funeral rites.
According to protocol, now that the Second Prince had been exonerated, he could be buried directly in the imperial mausoleum.
However, Li Zhan raised an objection. He instructed the Ministry of Rites to select a location on the outskirts of the capital to build a General’s Tomb, where Zhou Chu would be interred. That, in itself, wasn’t too controversial. Given the grave injustice Zhou Chu had suffered, some form of reparation was expected.
The issue arose when Li Zhan insisted that the Second Prince be buried there as well—alongside Zhou Chu.
A prince and a general buried together—this was unheard of in the entire history of the Dayu Dynasty. Naturally, the Ministry of Rites didn’t dare to agree so casually. If they gave a snap decision on something that defied ritual tradition and later the civil and military officials of court raised objections, it would be a real problem.
Li Zhan might be the Regent now, but would the court ministers dare to question him?
If a backlash came, it would be the Ministry of Rites bearing the brunt. No one wanted to take that risk, so none of the officials dared give a definitive answer.
The matter became quite tense. Even Minister Zhang from the Ministry of Rites had to step in personally, but it was no use.
Li Zhan was determined to have it his way, and no one could talk him out of it…
Helpless, Minister Zhang went to find Ji Qingzhou.
Everyone knew that the young master Ji had great sway with Wang Ye. Perhaps his words might carry some weight.
“Would burying Commander Zhou and Second Prince together violate ritual laws?” Ji Qingzhou asked Minister Zhang directly.
“There’s simply no precedent for this in our Dayu Dynasty!” Minister Zhang replied. “According to our statutes, it is proper for princes to be buried in the imperial mausoleum. I’ve never heard of a prince being buried in a general’s tomb… and besides, Commander Zhou and Second Prince weren’t even related by blood—”
“Not related?” Ji Qingzhou gave a cold laugh. “Wang Ye is grieving like he lost a blood relative and has no time to argue with you all. Since you’ve come to me today, I’ll speak on his behalf.”
Minister Zhang had witnessed Ji Qingzhou’s presence in court before and now regretted coming to him.
He’d come thinking Ji Qingzhou might help persuade Wang Ye, forgetting that this young master always stood with the Prince—he’d gone to the wrong person entirely…
“Wasn’t it those very rumors about Commander Zhou and the Second Prince being ‘too close’ that people used to slander them in the Western Camp case?” Ji Qingzhou asked. “Every official in court knew they were said to be ‘close’—so why do you now claim they had no connection at all?”
“This…” Minister Zhang tried to explain: “Young Master Ji, you know that’s not what I meant…”
“You may not have meant it that way, but I do,” Ji Qingzhou said sharply. “Back in court, Minister Zhang also accepted responsibility for mishandling that old case. It hasn’t even been three days—have you reflected on your own failings since then? Have you asked yourself what role you played in that injustice?”
Minister Zhang was caught off guard by the sudden bringing up of past events and couldn’t respond right away.
Ji Qingzhou continued, “Since the entire court bears blame for Zhou Chu’s death, and now the Second Prince has taken his own life because of it, then all of you share responsibility for his death as well.”
“You—” Minister Zhang looked alarmed and began to protest.
“Am I wrong?” Ji Qingzhou pressed.
Minister Zhang’s face darkened to a grim shade, yet he couldn’t come up with a single rebuttal.
As court officials, they were obligated to speak out and give counsel. Had they all united and voiced objections back then, the outcome might have been entirely different. Their silence and cowardice had led to that tragedy—and indirectly, to the Second Prince’s death. Ji Qingzhou wasn’t wrong in saying so.
“The Second Prince’s body isn’t even cold yet,” Ji Qingzhou said, “and Minister Zhang, if you have a conscience, ask yourself honestly—do you truly believe it’s inappropriate for him to be buried with Commander Zhou? Or are you just afraid this will set a precedent that will make it hard to answer to the court’s censors later?”
Ji Qingzhou’s words struck right at the heart of the matter. Minister Zhang’s face turned green, then red, utterly humiliated.
“You failed him once and left him carrying regret for the rest of his life. Will you fail him again now, and leave him without peace for eternity?” Ji Qingzhou asked quietly.
Minister Zhang sighed deeply but said nothing more.
The following day, the Ministry of Rites submitted a proposal: a General’s Tomb would be constructed in the capital’s outskirts. For now, the Second Prince’s casket would be temporarily placed in the imperial mausoleum. Once the tomb was complete, he would be buried there alongside Zhou Chu.
Still, wary of public opinion, they avoided using the word “buried together.” Instead, they cited classical texts and euphemistically described the two as “kindred spirits.” It was a way of justifying the joint burial without stating it outright. Everyone involved was sharp enough to understand the truth without needing it spelled out. If they were said to be kindred spirits, then so be it.
The resolution of this matter clearly brought a sense of relief to many.
Everyone familiar with Li Zhan knew that over the past few days, he had been suppressing his emotions. No one could predict what he might do if things didn’t go his way. In fact, even Minister Zhang and the others quietly breathed a sigh of relief in the end, thinking to themselves that it was fortunate Young Master Ji had stepped in—otherwise, if they had provoked Li Zhan, they would’ve been the ones to suffer the consequences.
A few days later, the group finally returned to the capital.
Just as the carriage passed through the city gate, a rider galloped toward them. Ji Qingzhou lifted the curtain and saw that it was none other than Qin Zheng.
Qin Zheng had been sent by Li Zhan some days ago to deal with a bandit problem. Now, he had just returned.
“I got back last night,” Qin Zheng said to Li Zhan. “I was going to send word to the imperial mausoleum but heard you’d all be returning today. The issue on my end has been dealt with, and I have something to tell Young Master Ji…”
He turned to Ji Qingzhou and said, “Your older brother and Tu Dayou have been found. They’re at the Ji residence now.”
Ji Qingzhou froze when he heard this, and for a long while, couldn’t react.
The reunion came too suddenly—especially at such a sensitive time, right after the Second Prince’s passing…
Ji Qingzhou even felt, for a moment, like the heavens were playing a cruel joke on him!
It was Li Zhan beside him who spoke first, “Let Qin Zheng escort you home. You and your brother have been apart for so long—you must have much to talk about. I… I’ll take His Majesty back to the palace and come visit your brother at the Ji residence tomorrow.”
Ji Qingzhou was actually a little reluctant to let Li Zhan go alone, but he knew that if he insisted on staying with him right now, it might only make Li Zhan overthink things more. So, after a brief hesitation, he nodded and agreed.
Li Zhan didn’t ask Ji Qingzhou to get off the carriage. Instead, he took the young emperor in his arms and mounted another horse.
“Go back and have a good talk with your brother. Don’t worry about anything else,” Li Zhan said from horseback.
Ji Qingzhou held up the curtain and looked at him. Li Zhan even gave him a faint smile.
But to Ji Qingzhou, that smile only made his heart ache.
Li Zhan sat atop his horse, watching the carriage disappear into the distance before finally turning and heading toward the palace.
The Ji residence hadn’t been this lively in a long time.
It was the first time since last year that all three Ji siblings were reunited.
When Ji Qingzhou arrived at the residence, Ji Qinghuai was sitting in the courtyard talking with Tu Dayou. As soon as he saw Ji Qingzhou walk in, he froze for a moment and quickly waved him over. Ji Qingzhou rushed forward, and only then did he notice that Ji Qinghuai was seated in a wooden wheelchair.
“My leg was broken, but the bones have been set. With a few months of rest, I’ll recover—no need to worry,” Ji Qinghuai said on his own initiative. He studied Ji Qingzhou carefully and added, “You look a little pale, but all in all, not bad. Seems like you’ve taken good care of yourself.”
Ji Qinghuai was a few years older than Ji Qingzhou. They shared some resemblance, though Ji Qinghuai looked more mature and steady. When he spoke, there was a natural warmth and affection in his voice—an older brother’s concern. Even though it was Ji Qingzhou’s first time meeting him, it didn’t feel awkward at all. It felt completely natural to accept the man before him as his brother.
“I’m just glad… both of you are safe,” Ji Qingzhou said, glancing at Ji Qinghuai and Tu Dayou, a deep wave of emotion surging in his chest.
There was a scar on Tu Dayou’s neck. It looked deep—though it had already healed, one could tell just how dangerous the injury must’ve been. Ji Qingzhou didn’t ask, but he could imagine that the two of them had narrowly escaped death during their disappearance.
“Guess we were blessed by fate…” Ji Qinghuai said lightly. Not wanting to dwell on their harrowing past during such a long-awaited reunion, he brushed it aside and added, “We ran into some trouble, but fortunately a country doctor happened to pass by and saved us. Later, we found out he seemed to have a connection with you.”
Ji Qingzhou was stunned. “What doctor?”
“He said he once took your pulse at Prince An Residence,” Tu Dayou explained.
Ji Qingzhou froze again, suddenly realizing—
That doctor he had spared on a whim… had somehow ended up saving both Ji Qinghuai and Tu Dayou by sheer coincidence?
Elsewhere, after sending the young emperor back to the palace, Li Zhan didn’t go to Yinghui Pavilion. Instead, he returned to the Prince Residence.
Dong Dong knew Li Zhan was in a bad mood, so he specifically ordered that no one disturb him.
After bottling up his emotions for days, Li Zhan finally had the chance to release them freely when no one was around… Yet when he was alone, he felt nothing but emptiness in his heart, too drained even to cry out loud.
Dong Dong had prepared some food and wine for him, but Li Zhan had no appetite, so he only took the wine flask and went out to the courtyard.
By then, night had fallen. There was no moon in the sky, and the darkness outside was a bit heavy.
Li Zhan sat alone on a stone bench in the courtyard, drinking half a flask of wine when suddenly a feeling of suffocation welled up in his chest.
He couldn’t help but wonder if he had been too greedy, trying to hold onto too many things, only for fate to play such a cruel joke on him. He even had the vague fear that, in the end, he might still end up with nothing.
His second brother was gone…
Ji Qingzhou was going to be reunited with his family…
From now on, Ji Qingzhou would no longer be alone and helpless. With his older brother and sister by his side, would there still be a place in his heart for Li Zhan? Li Zhan felt genuinely happy for Ji Qingzhou, but along with that joy came a lingering loneliness.
He sighed deeply and tilted his head back to gulp down a large mouthful of wine.
The strong liquor burned as it went down, but Li Zhan tasted more bitterness than heat in it.
At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he regretted letting Qin Zheng send Ji Qingzhou home.
He should have played the victim a little, been selfish, and begged him to stay with him…
If he had said so, Ji Qingzhou surely wouldn’t have heartlessly left him.
Li Zhan felt that Ji Qingzhou always tolerated and indulged him too much…
Just like on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival…
He had been drunk and drowsy when Ji Qingzhou came to find him.
Relying on the haze of intoxication, he kissed Ji Qingzhou…
Ji Qingzhou didn’t pull away or show any embarrassment; he simply fled after regaining his composure.
If only the youth were here tonight, Li Zhan thought bitterly.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, footsteps sounded behind him.
Li Zhan suddenly turned around and saw a familiar figure walking toward him through the darkness.
He stared blankly, unsure if it was a hallucination brought on by too much wine.
Only when the youth drew near and he smelled the familiar soap scent on him did he realize it was real.
“Why have you come?” Li Zhan asked hoarsely.
Ji Qingzhou came to his side and said, “I wanted to see you, so I came.”
Li Zhan gazed at him through the night, and the long-suppressed emotions inside his chest suddenly found an outlet, rushing out all at once. Then, he grasped the youth’s wrist with one hand, pulling him close, while the other hand cradled the back of Ji Qingzhou’s neck as he kissed him.
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