It felt like he was drowning in a pool of water, surrounded by impenetrable darkness. He gasped for breath, his cries of distress swallowed by the water that surged into his mouth and nose from all sides. He struggled desperately, but his limbs were unresponsive. In his foggy consciousness, he finally saw a figure reflected on the water’s surface.
A hand reached out towards him, and he tried to grasp it, but the hand passed over his own and pressed firmly against his chest, forcefully pushing him deeper into the blackness.
He saw clearly now—it was Gao Miao, his face bleeding from all seven orifices, grinning menacingly at him. His voice came through the water.
“You are the one who harmed me. I want your life in return!”
Su Cen jolted awake, gasping for air and coughing violently. He was drenched in cold sweat, feeling as if he had just been pulled from the water.
Ah Fu, who had been dozing by the bedside, immediately woke up, looking at him with relief. “Second Young Master, you’re finally awake.”
Su Cen stared at the familiar bed curtains for a while before realizing he was at home.
He tried to speak, but his throat was too tight, and no sound came out.
“Second Young Master, you scared me half to death,” Ah Fu said, tears of joy streaming down his face. “You got caught in the rain the day before yesterday and didn’t eat anything yesterday. Last night, you had a high fever and rambled on about corpses and murderers, which nearly frightened me to death.”
Su Cen cleared his throat but was interrupted by Ah Fu. “What’s going on? You were attacked and fell ill. If the Master, Madam, and Eldest Young Master find out, they’ll be heartbroken. I say, if the officials don’t value us, why should we risk our lives for them? It would be good to return home and help the Eldest Young Master with the family business.”
Su Cen held Ah Fu back, pointing to the table. Before Ah Fu could react, Qu Ling’er had already handed him a glass of water. Su Cen drank deeply, then asked, “What time is it?”
Qu Ling’er looked out the window at the sun. “It’s a quarter past the hour of Si19am to 11am.”
Su Cen paused, quickly threw off the blanket, and tried to get up, but Ah Fu stopped him in time. “You’ve been granted leave. Master Song has approved it. You should rest at home and recover before going out.”
“Of course, he’s happy for me to stay at home and recover, hoping I never get up again,” Su Cen pushed Ah Fu aside, dressed hastily, and glanced at the copper mirror. His face was pale and bloodless, like a corpse just out of a coffin. He quickly averted his eyes, adjusted his clothes, and headed out.
Qu Ling’er, quick on his feet, blocked the door, feeling Su Cen’s forehead. It was still warm but better than the night before. Before Su Cen could get angry, he withdrew his hand and brought a bowl of porridge from the table. “Drink this before you go.”
Su Cen hesitated but drank the porridge in one gulp, then stepped into the sunlight.
When he arrived at the Dali Temple, Song Jiancheng was preparing to transfer Gao Miao to the Ministry of Justice’s prison.
Since the Dali Temple only handled cases and not prison matters, all cases needed to be reported to the Ministry of Justice for trial and sentencing. Given Song Jiancheng’s nature, he was eager to send the case to the Ministry as soon as it was concluded, so he could receive credit and promotion without delay.
Su Cen stood directly in front of the temporary cell at the Dali Temple. “If you want to take him today, you’ll have to walk over my dead body.”
Song Jiancheng looked utterly exasperated, his face contorted in anger as he pointed at Su Cen, unable to find the right words. After some stammering, he shouted to the officers behind him, “Hurry up and drag him away!”
“You said someone is protecting me,” Su Cen raised an eyebrow. “If I were to die in this cell, would that person let you off the hook?”
“You…” Song Jiancheng’s fingers trembled with rage. “Do you know that the stinking body from yesterday—that Wu Deshui—is the brother-in-law of Chancellor Liu! This morning, Chancellor Liu was furious and criticized us for our mishandling of the case. Now the murderer is right here, and the case remains unresolved. Do you think I have nothing better to do than to let you make a scene?”
Su Cen thought to himself that Chancellor Liu was always looking for a chance to make trouble. He neglected him when he was in Guiyi Ward but suddenly cared when he died.
Su Cen softened his tone. “Give me a few more days. I will definitely find the real culprit.”
“Real culprit? He is the culprit!” Song Jiancheng nearly roared. “Every case has its doubts. He has confessed, admitted to the murders. Do you need to play the hero and interfere further?”
Su Cen glanced at Gao Miao, who was being held up by two officers. Covered in blood and barely recognizable, Gao Miao had been able to defend himself in court yesterday but now could barely stand.
Su Cen gritted his teeth. Torture will make anyone confess.
“Tomorrow,” he said, knowing further argument was pointless. “I will give you an answer tomorrow.”
The two men stared each other down for a while, until finally, Song Jiancheng conceded, realizing that without making this concession, he would never be able to remove the prisoner from the cell. He clenched his fists and stormed out.
“Just tomorrow. If you can’t produce evidence, you and him will both be sent to the Ministry of Justice’s prison!”
Once everyone had left, Su Cen’s strained breath slowly eased. His legs felt weak, and his head spun. He steadied himself and moved to stand in front of Gao Miao’s cell. Gao Miao, a mass of blood and bruises, dragged himself up, clinging to the cell bars, and spat a mouthful of blood and spit onto Su Cen’s face.
He then slid down the bars and started laughing hysterically.
Chang’an City was beautiful, with its brothels and lavish architecture, its wide streets and narrow alleys, its white horses and luxurious carriages. He had only overstepped his bounds a little and had ended up losing his life.
The old saying was true: what is meant to be will be, and what is not meant to be cannot be forced. He should have stayed in his hometown, running a private school or taking over the family’s butcher shop, rather than facing such an end.
Su Cen wiped the blood and spit from his face and silently looked at the man before him. Gao Miao’s laugh, which was painful and desperate, turned into tears that quickly mingled with the blood-stained sweat at his temples.
“I will find the real culprit and clear your name.”
Su Cen’s voice was cold but clear, resonating in the dark cell. By the time Gao Miao looked up, Su Cen had already disappeared.
Under the scorching sun, Su Cen gazed at the glittering golden characters on the Chongming Gate and felt short of breath and dizzy. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had been standing for too long, but his legs were also a bit weak. He kept his eyes fixed on the tightly closed gates, afraid of missing something.
However, the gates had not moved for two hours.
He had told Song Jiancheng that he would provide an explanation tomorrow—an explanation, not the real culprit. As long as he received the edict to delay the case, that would count as an explanation.
But Song Jiancheng said someone was protecting him, though Su Cen didn’t know to what extent this person could protect him or even who this person was. From Song Jiancheng’s panicked expression, this person must be a big shot.
So he came here to try his luck.
After leaving the Dali Temple, he went straight to the palace. However, as a low-ranking official, he could only wait outside the palace gates, passing through layers of eunuchs to get a message through. Initially, he was told that the Emperor was having a meal, then that the young Emperor was napping, and now, well into the afternoon, he hadn’t received any news at all.
Su Cen, growing increasingly unstable in front of the two crimson doors, was less concerned about his physical discomfort and more about the time ticking away. If he couldn’t get the edict today, he would have to stand at the prison gate again tomorrow, and he had no doubt that Song Jiancheng would drag people away over his dead body if necessary.
He had just spent all the money he had, and as he assessed the possibility of climbing over the several-zhang-high palace walls and being beaten to death by the guards, he shook his head and decided to keep waiting.
Just as he was troubled by the big doors, someone patted him lightly on the back. Su Cen turned around in surprise: “Zheng Yang?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while. What are you doing standing here?”
Seeing the person’s face, Zheng Yang was startled: “What’s wrong with you? You look so bad.”
Su Cen then remembered that Zheng Yang worked at the Hanlin Academy, which was inside the palace, and hurriedly grabbed Zheng Yang’s hand: “I need to see the Emperor urgently. Do you have any way to help?”
“What’s the urgent matter?”
“It’s a matter of life and death.”
Zheng Yang frowned, “To be honest, besides attending morning court, I haven’t seen the Emperor.”
“How is that possible? You are the Emperor’s attendant, how can you not…”
Su Cen suddenly realized.
Zheng Yang nodded, “All the matters in the palace are decided by Empress Dowager Chu. Those people you sent in might not have even reached the Emperor.”
So waiting was just an excuse. Su Cen feared he wouldn’t get a response even if he waited until dark.
Su Cen wobbled slightly, gritted his teeth, and focused his mind, staring at the two crimson doors with almost depleted strength, his nails digging into his flesh and drawing blood.
“But it’s not without a solution…”
Su Cen suddenly turned his head.
Zheng Yang said, “In this palace, it’s not only Empress Dowager Chu who has the final say. Why don’t you try finding my uncle?”
![Flying Dust [Fei Chen]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/9k.png "Flying Dust [Fei Chen]")
