The Shen Residence.
Two cups of wine sat quietly on the stone table beneath the ancient tree. Shen Qingping sat nearby, strumming the zither, awaiting Song Yu's arrival.
The melody was graceful and moving, yet tinged with a sorrowful desolation.
Shen Qingping lowered his gaze. With Song Ling's ascension to the throne, the prince's situation had grown increasingly difficult. Only by coming to the Shen residence and drinking himself into a stupor with him could he steal a few moments of respite.
But this time, the awaited guest did not arrive.
Instead, what arrived were troops surrounding the Shen residence.
Shen Mingwen, who had rushed back to the residence, had disheveled hair and a crumpled official robe, an unprecedented state of disarray about him. Trembling, he spoke:
"Prince Qin... Prince Qin is dead."
A thunderclap—
Shen Qingping's mind instantly went blank.
"His Majesty discovered a forged imperial seal in Prince Qin's residence and executed the prince on charges of treason." Shen Mingwen couldn't help but reach out to steady the swaying Shen Qingping. "The Gu family members blocking the entrance to Prince Qin's residence were all killed. Even Shen Xiao... did not survive."
"Third Prince, you must leave the capital immediately."
Shen Mingwen was terrified. The Third Prince was as close as brothers with His Highness Prince Qin. He feared... he feared the Emperor would not spare the Third Prince.
But Shen Qingping did not respond.
He only coughed violently, vomiting a mouthful of fresh blood.
"Father, the people outside... are they here for me?"
At this moment, Shen Qingping's eyes were bloodshot, his face deathly pale, yet his lips were stained a vivid red with blood. The sight felt like a knife twisting in Shen Mingwen's heart.
"Third Prince, if you leave the capital now, your father can protect your life. In the future, you can change your name, live the free life you always loved."
Shen Taifu, ever upright and principled, for the first time wanted to use his power and influence to protect his child.
Shen Qingping shook his head.
Staggering to the stone table, he picked up one of the cups and slowly poured the wine onto the ground.
Then, he raised the other cup and drank it in one gulp.
The wine was mellow and fragrant, yet to Shen Qingping, it tasted only of bitterness and astringency. Since the prince could no longer keep their appointment,
then he would go to keep the prince's.
"Father, strike my name from the family register."
Tears instantly welled in Shen Mingwen's eyes. He roared at Shen Qingping, "His Highness Prince Qin is already dead! Even if you wish to do something, you should plan carefully over time, not act so recklessly!"
To be removed from the family register was to avoid implicating the rest of the Shen family.
His child... had lost the will to live.
"Father, if you refuse, your son will die right here before you."
Shen Qingping stubbornly pressed a short blade against his own neck, forcing Shen Mingwen to remove his name from the family register. Afterwards, a look of utter madness settled in Shen Qingping's eyes.
He, Shen Qingping, knew nothing of roundabout methods or careful, long-term planning.
He only knew that killing his dearest friend was no different from killing him.
"Shen Qingping! You are a scholar with no strength to tie up a chicken! You have no means to avenge Prince Qin! You will only throw your life away for nothing!"
Shen Mingwen watched Shen Qingping's resolute back as he walked away, his vision darkening as he collapsed to the ground.
Hearing this, Shen Qingping stopped. He turned and kowtowed three times to Shen Mingwen.
"My purpose in going... is precisely to throw my life away."
...
The gates of the Shen residence opened.
Shen Qingping, dressed in mourning clothes and a plain white cap, slowly walked out from the main gate. This man, long notorious as the playboy Third Master Shen, was transformed in an instant.
"Let's go."
Shen Qingping spoke softly.
Shen Qingping's open act of mourning for Song Yu enraged Song Ling. Shen Qingping was imprisoned in the Imperial Prison, subjected to every torture.
Each day before the punishment, the guards would ask Shen Qingping if he would remove his mourning clothes. If he did, the torture would be spared.
Without exception, Shen Qingping refused.
He gambled that he still held some use for Song Ling, that Song Ling would not let him die in the Imperial Prison. As for the rest, it was merely physical pain.
To immediately kill the late Emperor's eldest legitimate son over a forged imperial seal, along with a general and a commander of the Imperial Guards both with illustrious military achievements—any discerning person would find the story flimsy. Therefore, Song Ling needed him, Prince Qin's former closest friend, to step forward and accuse the prince of treason.
Sure enough, on the fourth day, Shen Qingping was brought before Song Ling.
"As long as you are willing to testify that Song Yu plotted treason, I will ennoble you as a Marquis, guaranteeing you a lifetime of wealth and honor."
Song Ling's eyes were full of contempt. For a wastrel like Shen San, the terms he offered were more than enough to be tempting.
Shen Qingping nodded.
"But I have one condition."
"What gives you the right to set conditions with me?"
Faced with Song Ling's fury, Shen Qingping remained silent.
Finally, Song Ling could bear it no longer. "What is your condition?"
"Your Majesty must prepare a grand seventh-day memorial ceremony for the prince. All civil and military officials must attend and pay their respects in the mourning hall. At that time, I will accuse the prince in the hall." The wounds on Shen Qingping's body were still seeping blood, yet he seemed completely oblivious to the pain. "Otherwise, I fear the prince's ghost will haunt me, a betrayer."
Song Ling hesitated, but thinking of the widespread unrest, he ultimately granted Shen Qingping's condition.
"Do not try any tricks. Otherwise, I will have you die pierced by ten thousand arrows."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Shen Qingping returned to the Imperial Prison, curling up in a corner to await the arrival of Song Yu's seventh-day memorial.
He had never believed in ghosts or gods.
But this time, he stubbornly felt that the prince's spirit would return on the seventh day after death to take a look.
If that were so, then he would let the prince see that he, Shen Qingping, would never betray true friendship.
...
Song Ling indeed prepared a seventh-day memorial for Song Yu, putting on a show of lamenting his elder brother's misguided path.
The old ministers who had followed Emperor Yuanyou to establish the dynasty emerged from their homes for the first time in ages. Some were supported by younger family members, others carried on stretchers, but all converged upon Prince Qin's residence.
When all the civil and military officials had gathered, Shen Qingping, wearing handcuffs and shackles, stepped into the mourning hall step by step.
Shen Qingping still wore the same mourning clothes, now stained with blood. Shen Mingwen, standing in the ranks, nearly fainted after just one glance.
"Shen Qingping, confess truthfully. How did Prince Qin plot his treason?"
Song Ling spoke impatiently. It was a rare opportunity with both old and new ministers present today.
Hearing this, Shen Qingping slowly knelt before the spirit tablet.
His forehead touched the ground, a bone-chilling cold seeping into his limbs and bones.
After several breaths, a voice filled with the resolve to die rang out, seeming to shatter the mourning hall and pierce the heavens.
"Prince Qin... never plotted treason."
