Chapter 443 Have Tea

Chapter 443: Drinking Tea

Under the moonlight, a fine steed pulled up at the gate, its rider looking down at them from above.

"Who goes there!" one of the patrol guards barked sharply. "How dare you break into the Northern Brocade Guard compound at night!"

The rider did not dismount. He simply raised his hand, a seal resting in his palm.

The guards' eyes went wide. They dropped to their knees at once, the impact against the bluestone slabs landing with a dull, rhythmic thud.

"Commander of the Brocade Guard—where is Lu Ming?!" A voice thundered in their ears.

From within the gates, the sound of footsteps flooded out like a tide.

Heavy boot soles struck the bluestone ground—uniform, urgent, laced with the faint clatter of armor plates rattling.

In an instant, dozens of figures poured out from the gates—dark flying-fish robes, spring sabers at their waists, lining up in two rows under the moonlight, snapping to attention.

Armor glinted coldly in the night.

Lu Ming stood at the forefront, his gaze fixed on the face of the rider.

Moonlight fell upon Cheng Ge's face, upon that young and pale countenance, upon those eyes that shone with startling brilliance.

Lu Ming's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He hadn't expected Cheng Ge to show up here of all places.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was the seal in his hand.

Lu Ming lowered his gaze, lifted the hem of his official robe, and went down on one knee.

The dozens of Brocade Guards behind him moved in unison, the clatter of armor ringing out as they knelt, row by row.

"Lu Ming, Commander of the Brocade Guard—" He bowed his head, his voice low and resonant. "At your command."

Night wind swept into the courtyard, making the lanterns sway. Light and shadow flickered across the rows of kneeling figures.

Cheng Ge sat alone on his horse. His shadow stretched long and far across the ground, falling across the kneeling Brocade Guards.

With the light behind him, his face was hard to read. He slowly raised his hand, reaching behind him to pull out a rolled-up imperial edict of bright yellow silk.

"Lu Ming, Commander of the Brocade Guard—receive the imperial edict!"

Lu Ming bowed his head even lower. Cheng Ge's voice continued to echo through the yard:

"The traitor Chen Zhengqi, treacherous and ambitious, has raised troops in rebellion!

The Emperor lies gravely wounded, and the Crown Prince and the cabinet ministers are trapped inside the palace. The very foundation of the realm is on the verge of collapse!"

He paused, then raised his voice further:

"Now the Crown Prince and the cabinet ministers, in His Majesty's name, issue this decree!"

"Bearing the imperial seal as proof, the Brocade Guard is hereby commanded—"

He spoke each word slowly and deliberately, every syllable like an iron nail tempered in fire, driven into the ears of everyone there:

"Enter—the—palace—at—once—and—come—to—the—Emperor's—aid!"

As the last word fell, the courtyard went dead silent.

The lanterns hung still.

Lu Ming knelt there without moving.

His gaze stayed fixed on the ground, on the shadow of the imperial seal.

Cheng Ge's heart hammered like a war drum.

It was so loud he almost thought Lu Ming could hear it.

Thump after thump, slamming against his chest, rising to his throat, shaking through the fingers of the hand clutching the edict.

His eyes locked onto Lu Ming—that man kneeling on one knee, head bowed, perfectly still.

The night wind passed between them, carrying the chill of deep autumn, pressing his robe against his skin.

And then came that long, suffocating silence.

This was a gamble.

The mobilization orders for the Three Great Camps were in Chen Zhengqi's hands. The Patrol Camp fell under the Ministry of War's jurisdiction, and most of the Twenty-Six Upper Guards were under his control.

As he'd ridden here, those thoughts had churned through his mind over and over.

And now, the Brocade Guard was his last shred of hope.

The Brocade Guard stood independent of the Ministry of War, beyond the command of the Three Great Camps, outside the authority of the Five Military Commands.

They were the Emperor's personal troops, answering only to him.

But now...

Zhou Mingqi lay gravely wounded, barely clinging to life. The real order couldn't be issued.

His decree, though it had a just cause, though it bore the imperial seal, though it was signed by the cabinet, was ultimately...

In the end, it wasn't fully legitimate.

Cheng Ge's grip tightened on the edict, his knuckles going white. If Lu Ming refused to accept this decree...

He didn't let himself think any further.

Only those eyes, blazing unnaturally bright in the moonlight, seemed to etch every subtle shift in Lu Ming's expression into his memory.

One breath. Two.

The night wind swept through the courtyard again, making the lanterns sway.

Light and shadow flickered across the rows of kneeling Brocade Guards, as if something was brewing beneath the surface.

Three breaths.

The Kaiyuan Bow at Cheng Ge's back cast a massive silhouette in the moonlight, looming over his back like a silent shadow.

Four breaths.

The horse's hoof tapped lightly on the bluestone. Clop.

That sound was faint, yet it hit like a stone dropped into a dead-calm lake.

Five breaths passed.

The air felt like it might freeze solid as Lu Ming slowly lifted his head.

Moonlight fell across his face—that cold, expressionless look revealing nothing.

He just looked at Cheng Ge, at the imperial decree glowing a pale yellow in the moonlight.

Then—he raised both hands high above his head.

That voice suddenly ripped through the night, like a thunderclap splitting the endless silence.

"Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Lu Ming—"

He spoke slowly, each word deliberate, his voice low but sharp as metal hitting stone: "Receives the decree! By imperial order!"

The last two words slammed into the ground, hitting the ears of every kneeling guard and echoing through the silent courtyard.

Armor clattered as dozens of guards behind him kowtowed in unison, moving as one, bowing down like waves rolling in.

………

In the dead of night.

At the far end of the street, the thunder of hooves suddenly exploded.

Like war drums, like crashing thunder, growing from far to near, swallowing everything in its path.

The stone slabs shook under the pounding; tiles on the rooftops on both sides rattled and clattered.

In an instant, torches flooded in like a tide.

Orange-red light tore through the darkness, turning the whole street bright as day.

In the firelight, countless dark figures galloped at full speed, hooves thundering, iron armor clanging.

They reached the Chen estate.

"Surround it!" A deep voice barked, and the riders dismounted in a rush, flooding toward the main gate like a wave.

The pounding on the doors, the clatter of scabbards, the shouts of alarm—all of it shattered the night's stillness in an instant.

"What are you doing?!"

"This is the Chen estate! How dare you all!"

Screams and curses erupted from inside the gates, but were quickly drowned out by the bigger commotion.

Within moments, over a hundred members of the Chen household were dragged out of every courtyard, stumbling and crammed into the front yard.

Old and young, men and women, disheveled and pale with fear. Some wailed, some shook, some collapsed and couldn't get back up.

Torchlight fell across their faces, showing every terrified expression in stark detail.

At the front of the crowd, Chen Li was held by two soldiers, still fighting hard.

He lifted his head, his eyes sweeping over the dark figures armed with swords and spears.

Over the family members being dragged out, and finally landing on the man standing with his hands behind his back in the middle of the front yard.

That man stood in front of the torches, the orange light outlining his figure in flickering light and shadow.

Chen Li's rage flared. "What do you think you're doing?!"

He tore himself free from the soldiers, stumbled two steps to catch his balance, and pointed at Lin Nanshu, his voice shrill and sharp.

"How dare you touch me! My son is Chen Zhengqi!! Aren't you afraid of being punished?!"

His voice rang out in the night wind, making even the torches flicker.

"My grandson is the Second Prince! You've lost your minds!"

Several members of the Chen clan joined in, their voices frantic and shrill.

"Do you have any idea where you are?!"

"When the master gets back, none of you will survive!"

The shouting grew louder and louder.

Lin Nanshu stood off to the side, watching Chen Li. Firelight flickered across his face, showing nothing.

"Lin Nanshu!" Chen Li spotted him, calling his name directly, his voice dripping with menace.

"What is the meaning of this?! Don't forget—your grandfather Lin Zhufeng is still in the palace!"

He paused, then raised his voice even more. "If anything happens to me, your grandfather won't get off easy either!"

The night wind swept through the courtyard, making the torches crackle and pop.

He just raised his hand and gave a small wave. "Kindly invite Grand Guardian Chen—to the Lin estate for tea."

………

Inside the Hall of Literary Brilliance, the candles were almost burned out.

Only three or five dying stubs remained, their flames weak, swaying gently as the night wind slipped through the cracks in the windows.

The light stretched the shadows long and short, falling on the walls, on the floor, on the few who had sat up all night.

Lin Zhufeng sat in his chair with his eyes closed.

Behind him, Zhang Gelao leaned against a pillar, looking like he was asleep.

Minister Wang kept his head down, staring at his feet without moving. Reader Li sat with his eyes lowered, like a clay statue of a bodhisattva.

They had been sitting like this for a long time.

Long enough for candle wax to pile up on the trays, long enough for the tea to go cold, get replaced, and go cold again.

Long enough for the night watchman's drum outside the doors to sound again and again.

Then, all of a sudden.

A soft knock sounded at the hall door.

Nobody looked up.

Footsteps came from the doorway, one step at a time, soft yet steady.

His boot soles landed on the bricks, making faint sounds that were especially clear in the dead-silent hall.

A figure slowly stepped into the hall.

He paused, letting his gaze sweep the hall.

Wenhua Hall—the Crown Prince's private chambers.

Zhou Zhan had called this place home since he was a child.

Zhou Hao took in the furnishings around him, at the brush and inkstone on the desk, at the scrolls on the shelves, at the daybed by the window.

This was the place his mother had spoken of since he was a child.

Mother said only the Crown Prince was allowed to live here.

When she said this, her eyes had lit up, and even as a small child, Zhou Hao had known what that light meant.

Now that he saw it for himself... it was nothing much.

He looked away, adjusted his sleeves, and walked deeper into the hall.

His face calm and his steps unhurried, he walked over to Lin Zhufeng and came to a stop.

The candlelight flickered behind him, throwing his shadow across the floor to rest at Lin Zhufeng's feet.

He clasped his hands and bowed. "Grand Tutor."

His voice was soft, with the clear ring of youth, yet properly restrained.

Lin Zhufeng gave no response.

He sat there, eyes closed, utterly still, as if he had truly dozed off.

Zhou Hao held his bow, waiting three breaths. Then five.

He straightened slowly, no displeasure on his face—not even a flicker of his brow.

He just stood there, watching Lin Zhufeng, watching that old, worn face that seemed lost in sleep.

He began to pace the hall slowly, one step, two... as if measuring it.

He walked to Lin Zhufeng's side, then back, and stopped in front of him.

"It's only right that the Grand Tutor won't accept my bow."

His voice was low, almost to himself, yet every word landed clearly in Lin Zhufeng's ears.

"After all—" he paused, "the Grand Tutor only recognizes the Crown Prince. He's the emperor's teacher."

He looked at Lin Zhufeng, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly—not a smile, but something hard to name.

"He probably looks down on this prince."

Lin Zhufeng's eyelids flickered, so fast it could have been a trick of the light.

But he still didn't open his eyes, gave no response, his lips cracked and pressed tight.

Zhou Hao watched those faintly trembling lids, and his smile deepened just a little.

He didn't take offense. He just looked away, clasped his hands behind his back, and gazed into the thick darkness outside the hall.

"The Grand Tutor said once—"

His voice drifted over, as if mentioning something unimportant, or reciting a line he'd long memorized.

"'The Book of Changes says: "No path is without its bumps, no departure without a return."'"

He paused. "When the Grand Tutor explained that passage before His Majesty back then, I was there too."

He turned around, looking at Lin Zhufeng.

The faint candlelight flickered in his young eyes, as if something were burning inside him.

"The Grand Tutor said that between heaven and earth, no road stays flat forever, and nothing never comes back."

He stepped forward, his boots landing softly on the golden bricks.

"Under the late emperor, the Grand Tutor stood at the top of the court. When my father took the throne, you became the emperor's teacher. When the Crown Prince was named, you became his teacher."

He took another step. "All your life, Grand Tutor, you've stood at the peak, always looking far ahead."

He stopped in front of Lin Zhufeng, looking down at that old, closed-eyed face.

"But has the Grand Tutor ever thought—" his voice dropped even lower, light as a wisp of smoke.

"The Book of Documents also says: 'To build a mound nine ren high, one basket short ruins it.'"

He sighed softly. "No matter how high the mountain, it can fall. No matter how firm the seat, it can—"

He didn't finish, just stood there, watching Lin Zhufeng.

Their shadows fell on the floor—one standing, one seated, one tall, one short, one young, one old.

Lin Zhufeng finally opened his eyes.

His eyes held a hint of drowsiness, as if he'd just woken from a long dream.

He looked at Zhou Hao standing there, at that young face.

His voice was hoarse, dry from a night without water, yet still giving nothing away.

"Your Highness stays up late to come lecture this old man on the classics... quite the elegant pastime."

Zhou Hao remained standing, looking down at him.

Lin Zhufeng didn't look away, just met his gaze flatly.

"But—" Lin Zhufeng slowly raised a hand to smooth his sleeve, "this old man is old and heavy with sleep, and in the end, can't stay awake."

He lowered his hand and looked at Zhou Hao once more.

"How about when His Majesty next holds a classics lecture, Your Highness can offer your guidance then?"

Those words dropped into the silent hall like a stone, smashing into Zhou Hao's carefully woven citations.

The night watch drum sounded beyond the hall—the fifth watch.

The drum's echo had barely died, still drifting on the night breeze.

Outside the window, the sky remained dark. Zhou Hao suddenly smiled faintly.

The smile didn't reach his eyes, just hanging at the corners of his mouth, like a mask that couldn't be taken off.

"The Grand Tutor says... a future imperial lecture?" His voice had changed as well.

Gone was the tone of quoting the classics, gone the clear brightness of youth.

The voice turned cold, dropped low, like a blade slowly being drawn from its sheath.

"This lecture—I'm afraid His Majesty won't be able to hold it."