C155 — Kill that number one scholar (22)

As soon as these words fell, Shen Jue’s eyes turned from indifference to disgust, and there was a bit of unreasonableness, but Shi Zhou’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Come on, hit me again. I promise I won’t cry out in pain.” He said to Shen Jue.

He responded with a kick.

Shen Jue kicked Shi Zhou hard in the chest, then kicked him away a little, grabbed the ceramic chess box and smashed it hard on Shi Zhou’s head again.

This time it was Shi Zhou who was dizzy for a while after being hit. He shook his head dazedly and raised his hand to cover the bleeding wound, but he still refused to let go of Shen Jue and kept moving closer to him.

He couldn’t cover the blood with his hands, and the blood dripped down through his fingers. Because he pressed Shen Jue under him, the blood also dripped onto Shen Jue’s face. It could be said that the blood dripped in a very cunning way and just happened to drip onto Shen Jue’s lips.

Shen Jue frowned. His lips were originally lightly pigmented, but now with an extra drop of blood on them, they actually looked even more beautiful.

This scene fell into Shi Zhou’s eyes. His eyes changed slightly. He was suppressing the person rudely just now, but now he shrank back awkwardly.

He covered his head in embarrassment and got off the couch. His tall body was slightly hunched.

As soon as Shen Jue was free, he immediately got up, glanced at Shi Zhou with disgust, and called someone in.

The palace servants were all a little frightened when they came in and saw this scene, but no one dared to speak. They packed up their things silently. When Shen Jue got up to take a bath in the hall next door, someone dared to walk up to Shi Zhou and said, “My Lord, your wound… I will go and ask the imperial physician.”

Shi Zhou took the towel from the palace maid, covered the bloody hole on his forehead with it, said nothing, and walked away with his long legs. He walked so fast that the palace servants could hardly keep up.

When he was almost reaching Jingyang Palace, he suddenly stopped. The palace servants were a little stunned when they saw Shi Zhou turn around and angrily kick the big tree next to them.

“Fuck, am I a beast?”

After a pause, Shi Zhou jumped up on one foot, covering his head with one hand and his foot with the other, cursing, “Damn, why is this tree so hard?”

Palace servants: “…”

They didn’t dare to speak or move, they just trembled.

Tong Meng’er didn’t know what happened in Chengde Palace the night before until she had breakfast the next day. She paused before asking, “Did you call the imperial physician?”

The palace maid replied, “Your Majesty did not allow me to do so. I bandaged it myself.”

“We should ask an imperial physician to come over.” Tong Meng’er lowered her head and took a sip of porridge before she said faintly, “He’s not liked by Jue’er to begin with. If his face is disfigured, he’ll be even less likable.”

She was a little surprised that Shen Jue would beat Shi Zhou himself. After all, during this period of time, let alone being angry, Shen Jue was indifferent to everything he did. Even if the palace people made mistakes, he acted as if he didn’t see it.

Tong Meng’er always felt that Shen Jue was not in a right state, as if he had no attachment to this world at all. Now that Shen Jue had taken action, Tong Meng’er felt a little relieved. It was better to be angry than not to be angry, but Shi Zhou would have to suffer. So at noon, all the good things were delivered to Jingyang Palace.

Shi Zhou was injured now, with a white cloth wrapped around his head. He looked at the Jingyang Palace, which was almost submerged, and asked the eunuch who was delivering the gifts, “Why did the Queen Mother send so many gifts?”

The eunuch shook off the dust and forced a smile on his pale face, “These are for Fengjun’s health. Fengjun has been working hard in the imperial court recently. The Empress Dowager sympathizes with Fengjun and specially asked me to bring so many good things here. These things are all good things from the national treasury, and the Empress Dowager usually doesn’t dare to use them.”

Shi Zhou nodded. After the palace servant delivering the items left, he casually opened a red lacquered, intricately carved box placed on the table and found it was filled with various jars and bottles.

He looked at the labels on them and frowned slightly, then closed the box again. It wasn’t until he finished practicing a full set of martial arts that he suddenly realized those were all ointments for beauty and skincare.

Truth be told, Shi Zhou’s face was a bit excessively fair and delicate—rosy lips and white teeth—that it didn’t match his physique. Just looking at his face, one might think he was a frail young man, but upon seeing his body, no one would think him weak.

Shi Zhou had just been beaten last night. During the day, he was afraid of making Shen Jue angry again, so he didn’t go to the Chengde Hall until evening.

When he entered, Tong Meng’er was also there. Upon seeing him, she waved, “You came at the right time. A vassal state has just sent tribute—several agate bead bracelets. They’re said to calm the mind and help with sleep. Come pick one.”

Hearing that, Shi Zhou looked over at Shen Jue and saw he was holding a string of red agate beads. So, he also picked a red one. “Thank you, Empress Dowager, for the gift.”

“It’s nothing, just a bracelet,” Tong Meng’er replied with a smile.

Meanwhile, Shen Jue put down the red bracelet in his hand and picked up a green one instead.

There was only one green agate bracelet. Shi Zhou wanted to wear the same color as Shen Jue, but now he couldn’t. Tong Meng’er, of course, noticed this little interaction between them, smiled slightly, and gave Shi Zhou a seat—right next to Shen Jue.

After that, Tong Meng’er chatted with them, but Shen Jue barely responded. Unless she directly addressed him, he only replied with a word or two.

Once she left, Shen Jue got up and entered the inner hall without so much as glancing at Shi Zhou.

What Shi Zhou had said the previous night had already revealed the truth to Shen Jue: Shi Zhou had been reborn. But this surprised Shen Jue—only a “Realm Master” should retain their memories and have the ability to restart a realm. Why could Shi Zhou do it too?

Besides, at last night’s banquet, Wen Yurong didn’t seem to have memories of a past life. If he did, how could he let Shi Zhou enter the palace without doing anything?

After all, the two of them had once been engaged. Whether the marriage ever happened, Shen Jue didn’t know.

Could he have mistaken the Realm Master? His master had told him that the Realm Master was the one most loved by others within the realm. Shi Zhou didn’t seem to fit that description. Wen Yurong, on the other hand—in past lives, even the most scheming eunuchs in the palace became meek and respectful in his presence, constantly addressing his as “Your Majesty.” Let alone the common people outside the palace.

“What is Your Majesty thinking?”

Shen Jue had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed Shi Zhou approach. But upon hearing his voice, he instinctively moved away.

He didn’t understand what madness had come over Shi Zhou. After all, in the previous life, before his sui-cide, Shi Zhou had treated him terribly, full of hatred and humiliation. But now Shi Zhou was acting as if he had deep, sincere feelings. It was truly strange.

Could it be that with this new life, Shi Zhou’s older brother Shi Ji had survived, and so Shi Zhou no longer hated him? Had he even fallen in love with Shen Jue instead?

How ridiculous.

If that were true, then Shi Zhou’s love was so cheap, it was contemptible.

…

Shi Zhou saw Shen Jue avoid his touch, and his eyes dimmed, but in the next moment, he forced a smile. “You don’t like me touching you, so I won’t. Let’s just sit down and talk, okay?”

The response he got was Shen Jue calling for the palace attendants.

With them present, Shi Zhou couldn’t bring up anything about their past lives. He could only stand silently by. When he saw Shen Jue lying down on the dragon bed, preparing to sleep, Shi Zhou clenched his teeth in frustration and left.

The days slowly edged into late autumn, and the weather grew colder. Shen Jue’s condition also worsened—he began spending long stretches in bed. Worried that his health would continue to decline, Tong Meng’er arranged for Shen Jue to leave early for the Southern Palace, with Shi Zhou accompanying him.

Shizhou knew that Shen Jue was sensitive to the cold, so the whole journey he kept waiting for Shen Jue to finally give in and send someone to summon him. But he waited and waited, and as they were nearly at the Southern Palace, he could wait no longer—he directly climbed into Shen Jue’s carriage.

A palace servant, who was changing out a bed warmer, was startled to see Shi Zhou enter. Before the servant could bow, Shi Zhou had already silenced him with a pressure point technique.

He gave the servant a look, then snatched the bed warmer from his hands.

After shooing the servant away, Shi Zhou looked toward the bed. Shen Jue was lying there, covered in thick brocade quilts. His long, jet-black hair was spread like silk across the bed, hiding most of his face. What little of his face showed was pale and bloodless.

Shi Zhou stared at him quietly for a while before gently sliding the bed warmer beneath the quilt. Then, he removed his outer robe and climbed under the covers.

Slowly, he pulled Shen Jue into his arms, then tucked Shen Jue’s cold hands inside his own clothes.

Shen Jue seemed to be stirred awake by Shi Zhou’s touch—his long eyelashes trembled slightly, and his brow furrowed. Shi Zhou, seeing this, quickly channeled inner energy to make his palms hot, and began gently rubbing Shen Jue’s back—both to soothe him and to warm him up.

Perhaps it was the warmth, but the tension in Shen Jue’s brow gradually faded. He quietly curled up in Shi Zhou’s arms.

Shi Zhou stared at him intently. He had finally managed to hold this person again. And this time, Shen Jue wasn’t struggling, wasn’t glaring at him with hatred. Even if this peace was stolen, Shi Zhou was content.

In their previous life, after Shen Jue’s sui-cide and once Shi Zhou’s confinement ended, he drank all night, determined to forget him. His elder brother was dead, Shen Jue had killed himself—he thought their feud could end there.

But while that was his intent, his heart disobeyed.

He might not think of Shen Jue during the day, but at night, every time he closed his eyes, Shen Jue appeared in his mind.

Shen Jue in all kinds of expressions, even the image of him sitting by a window, tossing a little red silk embroidered ball from his hand.

Those pale, elegant hands, highlighted by the red, looked like snow beneath a plum tree—so clean, so beautiful. Yet those hands had taken his brother’s life.

No—that was wrong. Those hands were meant to kill him, but they got the wrong person. But why had Shen Jue wanted to kill him? Shi Zhou couldn’t understand.

He frowned. The hands in his memories no longer held a silk ball, but a dagger—the same one that kept appearing in his dreams.

Shi Zhou could never forget the decisiveness in Shen Jue’s face and motion when he stabbed down.

He had never imagined that Shen Jue would truly commit sui-cide. In truth, he had planned to spare him once he sent out the red fox-fur robe, he’d just imprison him in the Chengde Hall.

But when Shen Jue, with eyes full of cold indifference, asked when he would be released, Shi Zhou got angry. If he forgave Shen Jue on his own, that was one thing—but for Shen Jue to presume he might be forgiven was another. So, he humiliated him.

Looking back now, Shen Jue was indeed too much—but Shi Zhou had not been kind either. There were so many ways to humiliate someone—why did he choose that way?

Why that particular way? And why in front of someone he loved?

Was it purely revenge? Or was it that he had never understood his own heart?

The day before his wedding to Wen Yurong, he went, as if out of habit, to the Prime Minister’s residence. He sat atop the big tree in Wen Yurong’s courtyard.

Wen Yurong sat beneath the window, his silhouette casting a shadow against the paper screen.

Tomorrow was supposed to be their wedding day, but Shi Zhou felt no joy at all. He gripped the wine flask tightly, thought for a moment, then jumped down from the tree.

He walked to the window, and before he could say anything, he heard the voice of Wen Yurong’s servant from inside.

“Young Master, you should rest early. You have to wake up very early for the wedding tomorrow.”

Wen Yurong coughed twice, sounding like he had caught a cold. “It’s fine. I’m almost done with the painting. Vice General Lin will be attending tomorrow—I’ve already asked him to bring this painting into the palace.”

Into the palace? For whom?

Shi Zhou didn’t even need to think. He already knew who Wen Yurong was planning to give the painting to.

“Brother Yurong,” Shi Zhou suddenly called out. The room fell silent immediately. After a long moment, Wen Yurong finally spoke. “Why are you here?”

His voice was distant—completely devoid of the warmth it once held. He now sounded even colder than a stranger.

Shi Zhou stared at the silhouette cast on the paper window and took a long swig of wine before speaking. “The wedding tomorrow—it’s not happening. I’ll tell everyone. You don’t need to show up.”

Wen Yurong was quiet for a while, then asked, “Why?”

Shi Zhou raised a hand to wipe the wine from the corner of his lips. “Because we’ve both changed.”

Back when he was a teenager, he used to imagine what it would be like to marry Wen Yurong and bring him home. But now that the day had come, he felt no happiness. In fact, when he said the wedding was off, he felt relieved.

Some things had probably changed long ago—he just never realized it.

If all he felt for Shen Jue was hatred, then why hadn’t he ordered someone else to humiliate him? Instead, he had the soldiers leave the throne room. If he really wanted to disgrace Shen Jue, wouldn’t it have been more effective to do it in front of the troops?

Turns out, he was worse than Wen Yurong.

Wen Yurong had only deceived him—but Shi Zhou had deceived even himself.

His feelings for Shen Jue were far too complicated. There was hatred, yes, but there were other things mixed in too. And it wasn’t until Shen Jue was dead that he realized it.

…

Shen Jue had a rare good sleep. When he woke up, he was a little confused. Normally, his body still felt cold upon waking—but today, he was warm.

He looked at the palace servant helping him get dressed and asked softly, “Did anyone come in earlier?”

The servant kept his head down. “Only us servants have been here. No one else came.”

Shen Jue frowned but quickly relaxed again.

Over the next two days, he noticed his sleep quality improving significantly. The dark circles under his eyes even started to fade. He began to suspect that someone had been sneaking into his carriage. But each time he opened his eyes, he was alone inside.

Inside the carriage, Shen Jue frowned, checking beneath the bed, but found no one. Outside the carriage, Shi Zhou was holding his outer robe in one hand, shoes in the other, lying flat on the roof of the carriage, his face full of lingering fear.

The palace servants who had just witnessed Shi Zhou swiftly crawl out the window and flip onto the roof: “!!!”

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TN:

I wonder if Yurong still has a role in this arc (⁠⊙⁠_⁠◎⁠)