Chapter 76 Part 1

Gu Lianzhao hadn’t slept a wink all night. After escorting Liu Yuanxun to the study, he returned to his bedroom to catch up on some rest.

Liu Yuanxun lounged idly for a good while, but with no progress on his main task, he turned back to his usual work: repairing ancient books.

Behind his bookshelves stood a row of brocade boxes of varying sizes, filled with rare documents collected from all over. They were arranged from top to bottom by importance, and he always started repairs with those at the very top.

Today’s ancient book was severely brittle and needed reinforcement with backing paper before mounting.

Liu Yuanxun selected a few suitable sheets of repair paper from the rack beside him, interleaved them with tissue guards between the pages, and then dipped a brush in glue made from dry powder and water. He carefully applied it to the pages.

Repairing ancient books was delicate work. Different papers and inks required different mounting techniques. It seemed simple but demanded vast knowledge and tested one’s patience.

Yet Liu Yuanxun loved doing it.

What others found tedious had the power to calm his mind. Matters that puzzled him during the day often became clear amid the slow process of restoration.

He labored over his desk for more than half an hour. Just as he reached to dip his brush in more glue, his fingers suddenly stiffened. The brush slipped from his control and clattered to the floor.

Ling Ting hurriedly bowed to pick it up, oblivious to Liu Yuanxun’s face draining of color in an instant.

The brush rolled forward a little after hitting the ground. Ling Ting stretched out to retrieve it while saying to Liu Yuanxun, “My lord, this brush is dirty now. I’ll wash it and bring you a fresh one.”

Liu Yuanxun gave a soft “Mm,” and the moment Ling Ting stood, he rose abruptly, walked to the bookshelf, and turned his back to the servant. In a low voice, he instructed, “I need to find something. Go stand guard outside the door. Don’t let anyone in.”

Ling Ting saw nothing amiss. He nodded and stepped out, taking up position by the entrance.

Only when the door clicked shut did the tear welling in Liu Yuanxun’s eye finally spill from his hollow, lifeless gaze.

He stood frozen in place, arms hanging limply at his sides.

For ease of work that day, he wore a moon-white arrow-sleeve robe, its cuffs tapering smoothly from elbow to wrist, leaving his hands fully exposed.

Had Ling Ting risen a fraction faster, he might have glimpsed Liu Yuanxun’s right hand dangling in a rigid, twisted pose—like the paralyzed limb of a stroke victim.

Liu Yuanxun stared at the bookshelf ahead, but his eyes were vacant and unfocused. A stabbing pain radiated from his right hand, like a warning of blocked blood flow, but he ignored it. He let the stiffness take hold and the agony build.

It had been three years since he swallowed that gu poison. Though he had long anticipated this, the first true signs of its onset still drowned him in terror.

What had that old man said when he left him the drug all those years ago…

The old fellow had leaned in mysteriously and asked, “Don’t let its small, pitch-black appearance fool you. Do you know what’s wrapped inside this pill?”

Liu Yuanxun had shivered at the eerie tone, but curiosity won out. Steeling himself, he pressed, “What’s inside?”

“Eggs. Countless eggs.”

Liu Yuanxun always suspected Old Man Li had once been a storyteller; the man spun tales so vividly that they had given him nightmares for nights on end.

“These are the egg sacs of the Corpse Stiff Mother Insect. Once inside you, they slowly hatch into countless gu worms invisible to the naked eye. They incubate in your gut, then burrow through the intestinal walls into your bloodstream. Little by little, they crawl… and crawl… until they reach your brain.”

At that point, Old Man Li had extended a withered finger and traced slow circles at the back of Liu Yuanxun’s head. “They nest there, breed, and grow strong—gnawing away at your brain bit by bit. First, your limbs stiffen. Then headaches split your skull and paralyze your body. Finally, you become a brainless shell, drooling mindlessly until you cling to one last breath.”

Young Liu Yuanxun had broken out in cold sweat, slapping the old man’s hand away amid his roaring laughter. “Take it away quick! I don’t want it!”

Old Man Li delighted in pranks. The more Liu Yuanxun refused, the harder he tried to shove it into his mouth—until the retching made him realize he’d gone too far. He pressed a heap of rare medicines on him as apology.

Old Man Li had saved Liu Yuanxun’s life, and his mysterious origins and formidable skills commanded deep respect. Even after such teasing, Liu Yuanxun forgave him quickly, muttering under his breath, “If it ever comes to that, I’ll die before I turn into an idiot—at least to keep some dignity.”

He had said it offhand, never dreaming it would prove prophetic, an inescapable fate.

Old Man Li had warned: signs would appear in as little as two years, at most four.

Liu Yuanxun enjoyed only one peaceful year after swallowing the poison. From then on, every twitch in his limbs sparked dread of the onset.

Only now did he realize the truth: those earlier bouts of numbness were mere weakness from his frail health.

The real poison brought deathly rigidity—and needle-like stabs of pain. His right hand had gone numb; even touching it with his left felt like handling a block of jade that wasn’t his own.

Was it ending so soon? He had so much left undone. He thought he had another year. He…

Cold sweat beaded at his temples. Amid the fear, a thread of despair wove through his heart.

Just as acceptance slipped from his grasp, his right pinky twitched faintly.

Liu Yuanxun’s eyes flew wide. He lowered his head slowly to his hand and clenched it with effort.

The command from his brain reached his fingers, delayed by a breath or two, but they curled obediently.

For a time after, he repeatedly clenched and released his fist until the hand moved fluidly once more, as if the earlier seizure had never happened. Exhausted, he staggered back two steps and slumped against the desk corner to the floor.

Cold sweat slicked his entire body. Even in the warm, steamy room, he felt as if icy winds had pierced him to the bone.

Born frail, he had grown up with everyone subtly implying the same thing: “You won’t live long.”

He had long prepared himself for a life of fleeting pleasures and a calm farewell to death. But he dreaded this manner of ending above all.

As he had told Old Man Li: better to end it himself while reason remained than to die a drooling fool without dignity.

Slow down, just a little…

Liu Yuanxun closed his eyes gently, his left hand rubbing ceaselessly at his right wrist.

Faint sunlight filtered through the skylight, illuminating him from the neck down. His pale throat gleamed fragilely in the light, as if on the verge of death.

In the silence, he murmured wordlessly: Slow down… a bit longer, at least… until the Jiangnan case is solved and one final task complete.

…

Ling Ting stood guard outside when he heard Liu Yuanxun call for him again from within the study. He pushed the door open and entered.

The study had been designed with the skylight positioned just so, to bathe the desk in maximum sunlight. As Ling Ting approached from the outer room, he beheld Liu Yuanxun bathed in brilliant daylight. The light traced his silhouette, making him seem otherworldly and radiant.

Ling Ting paused, momentarily stunned by the sight, forgetting to advance.

Only when Liu Yuanxun glanced up at him did Ling Ting snap out of it and step forward. “My lord, you called for me?”

“Mm.” Liu Yuanxun nodded faintly. “Go fetch Ning Bi.”

Ning Bi now worked as an embroiderer in the prince’s mansion. Her duties were light, and her days peaceful, but she remained haunted by her family’s past tragedies and slept poorly.

She had endured her suffering in Lamp Melody Alley without qualms, but now, waited on hand and foot in the mansion, guilt gnawed at her. In just days, she had lost a full circle of weight.

When Ling Ting came for her, she was embroidering a cotton robe for Liu Yuanxun’s travels. She set her work aside at once and followed him to the study.

Entering for the first time, she looked ill at ease, unsure where to step. Ling Ting fetched a chair, and only then did she sit, startled by the honor.

Liu Yuanxun said, “The New Year approaches, and Taichang Temple’s duties will multiply. I may not have time to see you, so I must speak plainly now.”

Ning Bi twisted her sleeve hem anxiously, awaiting his words.

“On the second day of the new year, I’ll head to Jiangnan for your father’s case. You’ve heard of this, I presume.”

Seeing her nod, Liu Yuanxun continued, “The road holds unknown fortunes. I can’t predict the outcome, but I’ll do my utmost. As for you…”

He gazed at her weathered, weary face and fell silent for a long moment before saying, “If the case shows no irregularities and can’t be overturned, you’ll have to return to Lamp Melody Alley. Are you prepared for that?”

Ning Bi’s eyes grew vacant, but she nodded dazedly. Prepared or not, Liu Yuanxun was her last hope. She had endured so many years; she couldn’t endure much longer. If Prince Rui found nothing, she had no intention of going on.

Ten years as a courtesan—that suffering was beyond ordinary imagination.

Liu Yuanxun sat enshrined in the light, gazing steadily at her as if peering into her soul. “I called you here to ask: if the Jiangnan road proves perilous, will you risk your life to come with me?”

Ning Bi’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at him. “You… you mean… I can return to Jiangnan?”

Liu Yuanxun assented. “But the journey won’t be safe. I can’t guarantee your wellbeing.”

“I’m willing! Your Highness! I’m willing!” Ning Bi shot to her feet and kowtowed deeply. “Even if I die on the road, it’s on the way home to Jiangnan. Please take me with you!”

For Ning Bi, dying in her homeland and letting her soul return to its native soil had become an unattainable dream.

Liu Yuanxun smiled. “If you’re willing, make your preparations in advance.”

Ning Bi kowtowed repeatedly in gratitude before rising and leaving.

Once she had gone, Liu Yuanxun turned to Ling Ting. “Send word to the palace. Say I wish to enter.”

Ling Ting blinked. “Now?”

“Mm.” Liu Yuanxun glanced at the sky. “Prepare lunch early.”

Ling Ting sensed something off about Liu Yuanxun but could detect no overt difference. He followed orders: sending a page to the palace first, then heading to the kitchen himself.

When everyone had left, Liu Yuanxun stood and approached the study’s hidden compartment. With practiced motions, he triggered the mechanism. A wooden box sprang out, containing none other than the zither score and the painting.

For once, anxiety gripped Liu Yuanxun.

This endless case offered no clues or leads—only a string of incidents pieced together by human lives.

If he had enough time, Liu Yuanxun could investigate thoroughly and bide his time patiently. But he didn’t want to drag it out any longer. He even felt an urge to storm into the Imperial Prison and demand what Xiao Jinye really wanted from him.

Yet he knew Xiao Jinye wouldn’t tell him.

During their last meeting, Xiao Jinye had made it clear. He would rather take his secrets to the grave than hand over what he held.

Truth be told, Liu Yuanxun could simply wash his hands of it.

It was just a sense of duty. If he cast it aside, so be it—he was dying anyway. He had no time to champion others’ injustices. That was perfectly reasonable, wasn’t it?

But he couldn’t let it go.

He was a prince, an imperial son with royal blood in his veins. He wanted to accomplish something, to leave a mark on the world.