PC Chapter 54

Autumn had already arrived, and the weather was gradually getting cooler, with the sun no longer so fierce. With nothing to do, Su Cen moved a chair to sit outside daily, watching the clouds roll by.

 

It wasn’t that there was nothing happening at the Dali Temple recently, but since his return from the outskirts of the city, he had been ordered to hand over his duties and was temporarily confined at home, waiting for an inquiry.

 

Two guards stood watch outside every day. After waiting for a few days, no one came to question him.

 

When the door creaked open and Qu Ling’er entered, Su Cen immediately sat up and asked, “How is it?”

 

Qu Ling’er shook his head lightly, “The security at Xingqing Palace is too tight. I went around in a circle but couldn’t find any loopholes to exploit.”

 

Su Cen’s gaze fell, dimmed with concern. “What about him… how is he?”

 

Qu Ling’er gritted his teeth in frustration. “That hard-headed Qi Lin won’t say a word. I couldn’t get anything out of him.”

 

Seeing Su Cen’s sorrowful expression, he quickly added, “But judging by how nervous Xingqing Palace is, he should… still be alive…”

 

Not saying anything might have been better. After speaking, Su Cen leaned back against the lounge chair and closed his eyes, unwilling to reveal the emotions beneath them.

 

Qu Ling’er sighed silently and returned to his room.

 

Beneath his eyes was a sea of crimson, accompanied by the howling wind.

 

That arrow could have been dodged. If he hadn’t cared for the person behind him, how could he have been struck?

 

He only remembered that after Qi Lin took the person away, he knelt on the ground, his fingers covered in blood—thick, bright red, gradually turning cold, slipping through his fingers and unable to be held back.

 

He had promised to reward him upon his return, but instead, there was only an empty house, and his heart ached.

 

Qu Ling’er came back again, carrying a tea set. After spending so long with Su Cen, he had managed to learn how to brew tea and wash the tea set quite well.

 

After brewing the tea, he handed a cup to Su Cen and said softly, “Brother Su, try my skills.”

 

Su Cen took it and was about to bring it to his lips when Qu Ling’er hurriedly stopped him, “Brother Su, it’s hot.”

 

Su Cen withdrew his hand, holding the cup and staring into space.

 

Qu Ling’er frowned, knowing that this wasn’t a good way to go on. He needed to stimulate some response, so he hesitated before saying, “Brother Su, let me tell you something, but don’t get anxious— that black-cloaked person should be from the Death Gate. It was too chaotic that day, and I didn’t notice. Later, I went again and found that the ambush arrow used against us was from the hidden weapons of our sect. Since they were lurking within the army, they must be from the Death Gate.”

 

After finishing, he carefully watched Su Cen, who gently nodded. “Did he recognize you? Do you need to hide?”

 

Qu Ling’er sighed inwardly, originally worried that he wouldn’t accept the news, but now it seemed he didn’t even care about the Death Gate.

 

Su Cen took a gentle sip of his tea.

 

Qu Ling’er leaned in with a smile, “How is it?”

 

“Hmm?” Su Cen was slightly startled, glancing at the cup before saying, “It’s tea.”

 

Qu Ling’er: “…”

 

“What tea is this?”

 

Qu Ling’er quickly smiled and replied, “It’s the one I couldn’t afford even if I sold myself. There was only a bit left at the bottom, so I used that to brew. How does it taste? Have I inherited your skill?”

 

“Mm.” Su Cen smiled at him, stood up, and handed the teacup back to Qu Ling’er. “I can’t tell good tea from bad. You drink it.”

 

With that, he slowly wandered back to his room.

 

Qu Ling’er looked like he was about to cry. Why was being human so difficult these days?

 

Two days later, Zheng Yang came to visit. This time, Su Cen wasn’t watching the clouds. Instead, he had switched to practicing calligraphy, repeatedly writing the two lines of poetry from the umbrella. He used cursive script with heavy strokes for the main lines and light strokes for the secondary ones, writing tirelessly, day and night.

 

“Brother Su,” Zheng Yang said as he picked up a few sheets from the floor just to find a place to stand. After studying the writing for a moment, he sighed, “These are fine characters, but could you write something more auspicious?”

 

Su Cen nodded and wrote: “Seize the pleasures of life while you can.”

 

Zheng Yang was just about to praise him when he saw the next line: “With each passing day, one less remains.”

 

Zheng Yang: “…”

 

Putting down his brush, Su Cen looked up and asked, “Why are you here?”

 

Zheng Yang replied, “Since we left the palace last time, I haven’t seen you. I was worried something might have happened to you.”

 

“I’m fine.” Su Cen smiled briefly, but then his expression darkened as he asked, “Xingqing Palace… Can you get inside?”

 

Zheng Yang sighed softly. “No one is allowed in except the imperial physicians. Even I’m blocked—what do they expect me to do, assassinate my little uncle? But don’t worry too much. If anything were to happen to him, the entire Imperial Medical Bureau would pay with their heads. They wouldn’t dare slack off.”

 

Su Cen frowned. If physicians were going in and out constantly, it meant he still wasn’t out of danger.

 

“Instead of worrying about him, you should be worrying about yourself,” Zheng Yang said, finding a seat and pouring himself some cold tea. “With my little uncle down, and after you offended Empress Dowager Chu, they’re now dead set on blaming you for his injury and are plotting ways to deal with you. You can’t just keep locking yourself in your room every day. You need to think of a strategy—when the trial starts, you can’t let them say whatever they want.”

 

Su Cen lowered his gaze, thinking that it was his fault. If anything happened to Li Shi, he wouldn’t escape blame, no matter how severe the punishment.

 

Zheng Yang continued, “There are plenty of people taking advantage of the situation. As soon as my little uncle got hurt, someone suggested that His Majesty take over the court. He’s only nine! How could he govern? He doesn’t even know all the characters yet—how would he read memorials? They’re just trying to divide my uncle’s power amid the chaos. It’s so devious.”

 

Su Cen let out a soft sigh. “Kicking someone when they’re down, discarding a hunting dog once the rabbit is caught—this happens even in rural villages, let alone in the deceitful halls of court. It must be exhausting for all of you.”

 

Zheng Yang took a sip of cold tea. “I’m doing okay. I’m just a lowly official in the Hanlin Academy—no one listens to me anyway. But do you know who reacted the most intensely to this whole situation?”

 

“Hmm?” Su Cen raised his head slightly.

 

“Your direct superior, Deputy Minister Zhang Jun of the Dali Temple,” Zheng Yang clicked his tongue twice. “That old guy always plays it safe. His favorite line is, ‘Don’t bother me with the affairs of the living.’ But now, he actually stood up to Liu Cheng in court for your sake. People are used to his Tai Chi look, so when he suddenly toughened up, even Liu Cheng was startled.”

 

“Oh?” Su Cen was slightly taken aback. He hadn’t expected that. He always thought his personality didn’t sit well with Zhang Jun and assumed the man would be eager to get rid of him. Who would’ve thought Zhang Jun would speak on his behalf?

 

“And there’s more—Cui Hao, remember? He advocated for rescuing my little uncle. Liu Cheng found out and has been nitpicking him every day since. It rained a few times recently, and Cui Hao wore a straw hat to court. Liu Cheng saw him and berated him for being vulgar and uncouth. The next day, Cui Hao used an umbrella, and Liu Cheng mocked him for seeking attention. On the third day, Cui Hao just walked through the rain without anything. And guess what? Liu Cheng asked if water had gotten into his brain, saying, ‘Why don’t you use the umbrella—saving it to grow mushrooms?’ You should’ve seen Cui Hao’s miserable expression. I felt bad for him… but also couldn’t stop laughing.”

 

Su Cen sighed helplessly, thinking to himself, You’re not sympathizing—you’re clearly enjoying this at his expense.

 

When Zheng Yang left, Su Cen still escorted him to the door out of courtesy. Standing just inside the threshold, he clasped his hands and said, “Forgive me for not seeing you off farther.”

 

“Brother Su,” Zheng Yang hesitated, then sighed and patted Su Cen’s shoulder. “Just hang in there for a few more days.”

 

Before Su Cen could respond, Zheng Yang was already climbing into the carriage.

 

Leaning against the doorframe, Su Cen pondered, What did he mean by ‘just a few more days’?

 

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