A Bitter Heart (Part 9)

When they got up the next morning, just as the two finished washing up, Chi Lian was about to return to Zixiao Academy. Wei Ming stopped him, laughing, “What is this? Has it really turned into a clandestine affair? At least have breakfast before you go.”

Chi Lian discovered that Wei Ming often had some inexplicable principles in this regard. For instance, when sleeping, he insisted on sleeping on the outer side; if Chi Lian came to the Prince's Manor, he absolutely had to eat a meal before leaving; and when they ate together, they had to start with their chopsticks at the same time, and even if one finished, they couldn't leave the table early but had to wait for the other to finish.

Wei Ming cared little for the tedious court etiquette, nor were his appetites particularly strong. Yet, he was extremely meticulous with these daily details. It was a mortal habit he still clung to after accepting his own immortal identity, as if the two of them were a genuine, bona fide mortal couple.

As a true immortal, Chi Lian needed neither to eat nor sleep, but he was happy to indulge him in such matters, so he accompanied him to the main room. As it happened, there was a bowl of lotus seed sweet soup on the breakfast table that day. Wei Ming didn't touch it, silently pushing it to the side. Chi Lian saw this and casually asked, “Is it not to Your Highness’s taste?”

There was no one around them; the servants were all waiting outside. The corner of Wei Ming's mouth twitched into a barely perceptible smile as he said nonchalantly, "It's nothing, I don't eat this. You should have more to... replenish yourself."

Chi Lian looked at him, then at the bowl. A moment later, he realized what Wei Ming was saying and nearly threw his spoon down.

Wei Ming quickly grasped his hand, in case he slammed the table and stood up, and coaxed gently, “It’s me who doesn’t like sweet soups, I definitely didn't mean anything else. I’ll tell them not to make this anymore... Here, have a pastry to calm your anger.”

Chi Lian took a bite of the milk pastry from his hand before taking it and placing it in his own bowl. He lowered his gaze, not looking at Wei Ming. “Your Highness has truly gotten bolder. You can say such things without a change in expression. Be careful not to let it slip in front of outsiders someday.”

“What couple doesn’t say a few private words behind closed doors? Besides, you’re the one who started it today,” Wei Ming chuckled. “When others are around, I would never be like this. But when it’s just you, I've said far more audacious things. This is already considered tactful and reserved.”

Chi Lian: “...So much sophistry.”

Wei Ming sighed leisurely. “We mere mortals become utterly smitten with immortals, unable to control ourselves, wishing we could put them in a pouch and carry them everywhere. You, of course, wouldn’t understand such a feeling.”

Chi Lian had barely eaten a few bites of breakfast, but he was already sick to death of the sweet talk. Unable to listen any longer, he urged, “Doesn’t Your Highness still need to interrogate Fang Tianchong and dig up dirt on Prince Kang today? Hurry up and go once you’ve finished eating. If you have proper business to attend to, you won’t spend all day thinking about such nonsense.”

No matter how reluctant he was to leave this tender moment, they ultimately had to avoid prying eyes. Hindered by his status as a prince, he couldn't even associate with Chi Lian openly and honorably. Wei Ming's ambitions extended far beyond nightly companionship; only by ascending to the highest position within that palace city could he rightfully make the Grand Preceptor of Zixiao Academy his and his alone.

In the past, when they parted at dawn, it was always Chi Lian who left first, with Wei Ming seeing him off. Today, not being in the Secret Realm, Chi Lian—perhaps to accommodate Wei Ming's "mortal couple" hobby—took the initiative to walk him to the door, saying warmly, “May Your Highness succeed in one fell swoop today. Go and return quickly. I will see you tonight.”

Wei Ming was dressed in the black and crimson everyday attire of a prince, looking handsome and majestic, with an overwhelming aura of nobility. He responded with a dignified “Alright,” but just as he stepped over the threshold, he suddenly pulled back. Remembering the most important thing, he turned around, embraced Chi Lian, and lowered his head to give him a kiss. Pressing their foreheads together, he whispered gently, “I’m off to the office. See you this evening.” Then, as if nothing had happened, he departed with his usual stately grace.

After Wei Ming left, Chi Lian remained standing in place. A long moment passed, and the heat on his face still hadn't faded. He began to suspect that Wei Ming must have snuck his heart back into his body when he wasn’t paying attention; otherwise, there was no explaining why an immortal like him, accustomed to great storms and upheavals, could hear the thumping of a heart in his own ears.

He thought he was beginning to understand what Wei Ming meant by “mortal couple.”

Inside Dali Temple.

As the West Sea case was presided over by the Dali Temple, Fang Tianchong, being a major criminal, wasn’t sent to the Ministry of Justice’s dungeons but was directly imprisoned in the jail under the Dali Temple’s jurisdiction. He was dragged from his cell by the jailors, laden with a heavy cangue and shackles, and brought into an office. Wei Ming glanced up from his case files and ordered the jailor, “Remove the cangue. Let him sit and talk.”

Fang Tianchong’s expression was haggard, his cheeks sunken and gaunt, and his hair and beard were a tangled mess. He had clearly suffered greatly in prison. The jailors retreated outside to await orders. Wei Ming stepped down from his desk, his attitude amiable, and personally poured him a cup of tea. “Lord Fang, how have you been recently? Are you accustomed to your days in prison?”

Fang Tianchong neither touched the cup of tea nor answered Wei Ming’s question, saying coldly, “I have already confessed everything that needs to be said. This case is almost at the point of being closed. If the Prince interrogates me now, I have nothing new to add.”

Wei Ming said, “Usually, those who have committed grave crimes will beg the presiding official to delay things and close the case more slowly, just to live a few more days. Why is it that Lord Fang is instead counting the days for this Prince? Is it because you believe that closing the case is a good thing for you, that you won’t have to be saddled with any new charges?”

Fang Tianchong said, “The victor becomes a king, the vanquished a bandit. Since I am already a prisoner, what is the use of begging for a delay of a few days? You might as well give me a swift end with a single stroke.”

“Lord Fang may want a quick end, but everyone in the Dali Temple has gone to great lengths to make sure you don’t get one.” Wei Ming gave a cold laugh. “You should be burning incense and praying if you can even live to see your execution day. Though you haven’t been in the Capital all these years, Lord Fang, there are quite a number of people who hate you.”

Fang Tianchong: “What do you mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it means,” Wei Ming said with a smile. “You couldn’t possibly think that after your imprisonment, people at court and beyond would be running around pleading for you, could you? To tell you the truth, there hasn’t been a single one. However, the Dali Temple has received quite a few ‘gifts’ on your behalf—poisoned wine, poisoned cakes, poisoned needles, and poisoned daggers. All of them are top-grade hidden weapons that are instantly fatal and cause no pain.”

This was, of course, a bluff. However, Fang Tianchong had been locked away for a month. Compared to his previous glorious days of fine silks, gourmet food, and immense power, it was like falling from the heavens to the depths of the earth. Although Wei Ming hadn’t deliberately made things difficult for him, and the Dali Temple hadn’t used severe torture during questioning, physical suffering was inevitable. Living day after day in a filthy, cramped prison, isolated from the world, he naturally had no idea about the situation at court. Even his judgment was no longer as sharp or decisive as it once was.

He stared suspiciously at Wei Ming. “What is it you really want to ask?”

Wei Ming took a leisurely sip of tea and threw the question back at him. “That is what I should be asking you, Lord Fang. Is there anything you have yet to confess?”

Fang Tianchong said sharply, “On this case, I have already told you everything I know! Do you expect me to fabricate things and help you trump up charges to falsely accuse others?!”

Wei Ming repeated his words playfully. “‘This case.’ Does Lord Fang know of any other cases?”

Fang Tianchong glared at him coldly. “His Highness, Prince Duan, do you find it amusing to pick at words?”

“If this case goes before the Emperor, a death sentence is unavoidable. The only question is whether it will be carried out in the autumn or immediately. To hope for an overturned verdict or a general amnesty is practically impossible,” Wei Ming said. “What this Prince doesn’t understand is, since you’re dead either way, why is someone in such a hurry to see you put to death? It’s as if they’re afraid you might reveal some earth-shattering truth while in the custody of the Dali Temple.”

The words had been said; the dagger was drawn. Fang Tianchong abruptly turned his head away, avoiding Wei Ming’s gaze.

“This Prince is now very curious,” Wei Ming continued, his tone still unhurried. “Lord Fang, you know as well as I that the Dali Temple is not an impenetrable fortress. There are many eyes watching, both inside and out. I brought you out for such a long conversation today. If I were to then order some fine wine and food to be sent to your cell, how many more nights do you suppose you’d survive?”

Fang Tianchong clenched his jaw. From Wei Ming’s vantage point, he couldn't see his face, but he could see his messy, graying hair trembling slightly.

“A man on death row knows he is heading for the execution ground, but he doesn't want to die an obscure and immediate death. That is only human,” Wei Ming said, slowly exhaling. “To be honest, this one case is enough for me. Stirring up new complications is troublesome, especially when it involves trying to extract a few truthful words from a stone-hearted man like yourself, Lord Fang. It is an exhausting and thankless task.”

“But someone has entrusted this Prince to seek justice for an old friend. Though that person has been dead for several years and his family has scattered to the winds, their whereabouts unknown, at least someone still remembers him, someone willing to plead on his behalf.”

“In comparison, your situation, Lord Fang—where not only is there no one to plead for you, but there are even those who wish for your swift demise—is truly lamentable.”

“We have come this far. Regardless of whether you talk, the dead will not be revived, and your fate will not change. It only affects how those you have harbored and protected will live in the future.” Wei Ming suddenly seemed to recall something and added, “Oh, and you saw for yourself that day—gods and ghosts truly exist in this world. If you carry your secrets with you down to the Yellow Springs and see your old friend again, I wonder what that encounter will be like.”

If Fang Tianchong had only been trembling slightly before, now his shivering was completely impossible to hide. He suddenly dragged his heavy chains, grabbed the teacup on the table, and, ignoring that the tea was still hot, gulped it all down in one go. Then, he slammed the cup back down on the table and let out a ragged, deep breath.

His voice was slightly hoarse from the hot tea. “Since the Prince possesses such heaven-defying abilities and can command gods and ghosts, you surely have countless ways to find out what you wish to know. Why must you insist on asking me?”

Wei Ming laughed softly, his voice laced with ridicule. “Lord Fang, it’s not my place to criticize, but you have been a court official for many years. Have you been so busy with your sordid dealings that you’ve forgotten how to be ‘open and honorable’?”

His words were exceedingly impolite. A nameless fury flared up in Fang Tianchong, but just as his face flushed red, Wei Ming’s next words poured over him like a bucket of cold water. “I have a hundred ways to deal with you, and that of course includes your wives, concubines, relatives, and your flock of sons and daughters detained in Liangzhou Prefecture. This Prince doesn't like to be too ruthless, but if you insist on choosing the hard way, I can certainly grant the Fang clan’s wish for a family reunion in the afterlife.”

With a clatter of chains, a chair crashed to the floor. Hearing the commotion, the jailors outside quickly called out, “Your Highness! Shall we enter and restrain the prisoner?”

Fang Tianchong was like a chained leopard; though old, he still possessed the strength to tear out a man’s throat. Yet Wei Ming didn’t so much as flinch. He let the man glare at him like a predator, took a slow sip of tea, glanced at Fang Tianchong's feet, and said approvingly, “Not bad. It seems Lord Fang still has some reason left and can control himself. Since you understand what’s at stake, this makes things much easier.”

He raised his voice to the jailors outside. “Come in. Take the prisoner back to his cell. Look after him well and do not be negligent.”

This time, Fang Tianchong was truly stunned. He couldn’t understand why Wei Ming, having pushed him this far, would suddenly stop asking questions.

“This Prince has no desire to hear lies, nor do I appreciate half-truths. Lord Fang, you need not think about bargaining with me. Either tell the complete truth and write a confession, or say nothing at all,” Wei Ming said. “Whether or not to drag someone down with you before you die is your choice. It is, after all, the last thing you will be able to do, so you should consider it carefully. This Prince will give you time to think.”

The jailors fitted the cangue back over Fang Tianchong’s head and began to half-drag him out like a sack of rags. Just as he reached the doorway, he suddenly shouted as if he’d had an epiphany, “Who is it?! Who found you? Who wants to seek justice for him? Is it Duan Muxun!”

“As I’ve said, do not bargain with me.” Wei Ming rose and straightened his sleeves. To Fang Tianchong, his handsome, impassive face now held a hair-raising, cryptic quality. “If you’ve done nothing wrong, you needn’t fear a ghost knocking on your door. Wait for him to visit you in your dreams. Then you’ll naturally know.”