The prison fell silent once again. Shen Xiabai gazed in the direction where Cui Yunchu had disappeared, his eyes fixed there long after she was gone, until another figure emerged.
“Master,” Yu Feng hurried forward, “are you alright?”
Shen Xiabai withdrew his gaze and responded with a faint, indifferent hum.
Yu Feng sat cross-legged outside Shen Xiabai’s cell, pushing the food he had brought inside, then relayed the recent developments in the imperial court.
“Prime Minister Cui’s faction is showing great concern for the Judicial Review Office, and the Emperor is even more reluctant to move against you. He’s currently trying to find a way to free you.”
“Master, Prime Minister Cui is your political enemy. Could he be doing this under the influence of Eldest Miss Cui?”
After all, it was for saving the Cui family’s daughter that their master had fallen into this predicament.
Shen Xiabai’s eyes flickered with a trace of mockery. “She doesn’t have that much sway over Prime Minister Cui.”
The memories of unfair treatment and the abandonment before the age of eight made it all too clear how Prime Minister Cui regarded his daughter.
Yu Feng scratched his head. “Then maybe... Eldest Miss Cui threw a tantrum, kicking and screaming, insisting that Prime Minister Cui help you.”
These past days, watching his master wallow in despair had been unbearable for him.
Shen Xiabai sneered again. “Even if everyone in the world died, she wouldn’t want to die.”
And certainly not for him.
“...”
Yu Feng was momentarily speechless for a few seconds.
He knew full well that Eldest Miss Cui’s temperament made such a scenario unlikely, but now that things had come this far, what else could they do but console themselves?
At least there was no need to stab at their master’s heart like Prince An did.
“Master, just pretend it’s for Eldest Miss Cui’s sake,” Yu Feng muttered under his breath.
At least that way, he could feel a bit lighter and eat half a bowl more of rice.
Shen Xiabai frowned, shooting Yu Feng a cold glare.
When had he, Shen Xiabai, stooped to the point of self-deception?
Yu Feng lowered his head deeply, his voice barely audible. “Otherwise, I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle what comes next.”
Shen Xiabai said, “So, is there news on what I asked you to investigate?”
Yu Feng lifted his eyes to glance at Shen Xiabai, then looked down again. After a long pause, he nodded. “Those who pursued the master’s father were indeed not from the Cui-Tang family, but it was the Cui-Tang family that revealed his whereabouts to them and provided them with convenience, allowing them to evade the court’s pursuit.”
The prison was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard. Shen Xiabai stared at Yu Feng, his hands resting on his knees tightening slightly. It was a long while before he spoke hoarsely, “So, back then, the Cui-Tang family was just an accomplice? What about that group—who were they?”
Yu Feng shook his head. “We haven’t found out yet, but we’re still looking into it.”
Shen Xiabai said nothing, his gaze fixed on the flickering candle flame in the cell, his eyes unreadable.
Yu Feng’s heart ached.
Falling in love with the daughter of an enemy—such a clichéd tragedy—how could it have befallen his master?
At this moment, as a subordinate, he should say, “Master, how about I go kill her tonight?”
“Who?”
“Eldest Miss Cui.”
Shen Xiabai’s gaze swept over him, and Yu Feng immediately lowered his head.
“What’s the point of killing a woman like her? What does she have to do with any of this?”
“Then I’ll go kill Prime Minister Cui.”
“...”
Master and servant, both in the same cross-legged posture, sat on the ground in silence.
Yu Feng said, “Master, the Empress Dowager has been blocking the Imperial Study every day, demanding that the Emperor sentence you to death. Are we just going to sit here in prison and wait?”
Shen Xiabai replied, “Wait a little longer.”
Yu Feng grew anxious. Every time he heard people say that the Gu family and the Empress Dowager wanted their master’s head, his heart raced with fear.
“Master, with all the methods you have, why did you have to kill him that very day?”
Clearly, the Judicial Review Office had a thousand ways to make Gu Xuan’s death go unnoticed.
Shen Xiabai frowned at Yu Feng, then looked away without speaking.
“No,” Yu Feng said, standing up. “We can’t just sit here and wait to die. I have to go to the Gu residence and burn Gu Xuan’s corpse. Without the body, we can deny everything, and even the Empress Dowager won’t be able to convict you.”
“Stop,” Shen Xiabai said, with some impatience.
“What now?” Yu Feng asked, frowning as he turned back.
“... Go ahead, go ahead.” Shen Xiabai waved him off, letting him leave.
The reason the Gu family hadn’t demanded an autopsy was that he, from the very beginning, had never denied being the culprit.
To him, Gu Xuan’s corpse wasn’t crucial, but if he ever wanted to overturn the case, it would be the only evidence.
Yet he had never thought of overturning it.
“With the corpse gone, you’ll sleep a lot more soundly, won’t you, you heartless little thing,” Shen Xiabai muttered with a bitter laugh.
The food Yu Feng had brought had already turned cold. He didn’t touch it. The prison cell was damp and dark, and that day, the moisture had completely extinguished the last glimmer of light in his heart.
So, his father and brother’s deaths were indeed related to the Cui-Tang family.
He clenched his fingers, and the white jade thumb ring on his left hand pressed deep red marks into his skin under the strain.
He lowered his head, his eyes falling on the thick stacks of letters before him.
All of it seemed to transform into tangible daggers, stabbing violently into his heart. The hand of that soft, fair-skinned woman seemed to grip the invisible blade, twisting it deeper.
He let out a sudden bitter laugh, tilting his head back. A tear slid from the corner of his eye, tracing down his sharp, resolute face, falling onto the back of his hand, and then onto the ground, disappearing without a trace.
He buried his head, never making a sound.
Gu Xuan’s death had been like a rope binding him, and then one thing after another tightened that rope, squeezing his throat until he could barely breathe.
“Brother Shen,” a voice came from the entrance again.
“...” Shen Xiabai wiped the corner of his eye with his fingertip, lifting his gaze indifferently.
His cell was certainly bustling today.
“Crown Prince, you’ve come too.”
Xiao Chen raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, my royal brother is here as well.”
Shen Xiabai said nothing. The Crown Prince gave a faint smile, flicked his sleeves, and ordered a soldier to bring him a chair. He sat down outside the cell door, looking ready to stay a while.
“Judging by your expression, Brother Shen, it seems you’re not exactly welcoming me?”
Shen Xiabai replied, “I’m already in prison, and Your Highness still won’t let go. I doubt anyone would welcome that.”
The Crown Prince waved his hand with a laugh. “You misunderstand me, Brother Shen. Unlike my royal brother, I’m not here to recruit you.”
“I’m a convicted criminal. Recruitment would be useless anyway,” Shen Xiabai said, glancing at the Crown Prince, who was holding a flask of wine.
“Your Highness, here’s the wine you asked for.” A prison guard carried a jar of wine and placed it beside the Crown Prince.
Shen Xiabai looked at the setup and raised an eyebrow. “Crown Prince, have you come to the prison to drown your sorrows?”
The Crown Prince said, “The Crown Princess is weak. I don’t want to worry her at the Eastern Palace.”
Shen Xiabai smiled faintly. “Your Highness has quite the habit.”
“It’s not a habit. It’s just that you’re in prison, and I can have someone to talk to.”
“...”
It was like he wasn’t even in prison.
The Grand Court of Justice—anyone could come and go as they pleased, as if it were a market street.
Truly... annoying.
“Do I have a choice? What if I don’t want to talk to Your Highness?”
The Crown Prince replied, “You don’t have to talk. I’ll talk, and you just listen.”
“What if I don’t want to listen, either?”
"I don't speak much. Just have someone by my side when I drink. Do as you please—pretend I'm not even here."
"…"
