Сhарtеr 269: Guangchun Наll 14
Shеn Du rеfusеd to let the оld рhysiciаn apрlу mеdiсinе tо his wound. Hе glanced at Zhu Yan and sаid in а low vоicе, “Yоu dо it.”
Zhu Yаn was tаkеn аbасk for а moment befоrе reрlying, “I’m clumsy аnd might hurt you.”
Аlthough she hаd оnсе rеmоvеd an arrоw аnd treаtеd Рan Сhi’s wound, thаt wаs only bесausе the situation hаd forced hеr tо.
Sеeing Shеn Du’s exprеssiоn dаrken аgаin, Zhu Yаn сhuсklеd and sаid, “Аlright, I’ll do it.”
Shе toоk the mediсine frоm thе оld phуsiсiаn, аlong with some gаuze, paid him, and sent him оn his way. Aftеr lingering for а momеnt, shе finallу walked over to Shen Du with the supplies.
As she applied the medicine, she couldn’t help but grumble, “Why are you called the White King of Hell? To me, you’re more like a black-faced judge.”
His face could turn dark in an instant—no one else was quite like him.
“What did you say?” Who would speak ill of someone right to their face? And with such confidence, no less.
“Nothing. I said you’ve gotten tanned recently. It must be because you’ve been working too hard to capture the Half-Faced Ghost. Once I finish applying the medicine, you should rest in bed and regain your strength.”
The wound wasn’t severe, but it was already June, and the summer heat was rising. If not properly cared for, it could fester, leave scars, or even cause a persistent fever.
Shen Du was the type to risk his life without hesitation when duty called. Now that the Half-Faced Ghost had just been captured, Yingzhou City was still in chaos. Whether for public duty or personal reasons, Zhu Yan didn’t want anything to happen to Shen Du.
But she would never say any of this to Shen Du. She couldn’t shake the feeling that his confession of feelings had been rushed, almost like a joke. Afterward, Shen Du hadn’t treated her any differently than before, making her hesitant to believe he truly liked her.
Since Zhu Yan was showing concern for him, Shen Du surprisingly didn’t argue. “Understood,” he said.
Once the wound was treated, Shen Du put on his inner robe again. He pressed Zhu Yan down to sit, took her hand, and rolled up her sleeve. Sure enough, there was a wound on her wrist, already scabbed over with dried blood around it.
Zhu Yan struggled a few times but couldn’t break free, so she glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Applying medicine.”
Shen Du was as concise as ever. He called for a basin of hot water, carefully wiped away the dried blood around the wound without touching it, then sprinkled medicine on it and bandaged it—all in one smooth motion.
“Are there any other injuries?”
Zhu Yan was wearing light-colored clothes, stained with blood. He couldn’t tell whether it was hers or someone else’s.
Zhu Yan’s face flushed. “I… I can apply medicine to myself.”
Although they had hugged and even kissed, Zhu Yan still had her modesty. How could she let him see her entire body?
Shen Du seemed to guess what she was thinking and sighed helplessly. “We are husband and wife. Besides, I’m only applying medicine for you. I have no improper thoughts.”
Even if he did, now wasn’t the time.
“Oh.”
Zhu Yan responded flatly, unsure whether she felt disappointed or something else.
For a moment, silence hung between them, and the air grew awkward.
Zhu Yan sighed and stood up first. “You should rest. I’ll go wash up and apply medicine.”
Shen Du leaned back on the couch, closed his eyes, and suppressed the strange feeling in his chest.
When Zhu Yan finished and came out, she saw Shen Du already asleep on the couch. Sighing softly, she brought a quilt over and covered him.
She then lay back on the bed, using her arm as a pillow, and gazed at Shen Du’s sleeping face, lost in thought. Before long, she drifted off into a hazy sleep.Seeing Zhu Yan close her eyes, Shen Du sat up from the couch in one swift motion, gathered the quilt, and returned to the bed. He pulled the woman into his embrace and held her as they drifted off to sleep.
The next day, when Zhu Yan awoke, Shen Du was no longer on the couch.
Sitting up, she yawned and stretched, her mood lifting considerably.
After dressing, washing up, and having breakfast, she thought about the interrogation. Shen Du would handle that; she hadn’t yet seen Pan Chi and felt she ought to go thank him.
In truth, it wasn’t that she didn’t care about Shen Du—it was just that in her heart, Shen Du was family, while Pan Chi was an outsider.
With family, there was no need for formalities; with outsiders, polite gestures were required.
Zhu Yan never voiced this, so Shen Du naturally remained unaware of her thoughts, leading to misunderstandings.
For now, neither of them paid it any mind. By the time they did, the reality would prove both amusing and absurd.
At that moment, Shen Du was in the main hall, with Wang Buzui, Mo Qianzhi, and others kneeling below.
Even as a prisoner, Mo Qianzhi’s pride remained unbroken. Though forced to kneel, his expression was still one of arrogance.
Shen Du’s face was stern as he toyed with the magistrate’s gavel, lost in thought.
“Mo Qianzhi, don’t be ungrateful. I’m offering you a chance to cooperate. As someone who once knew you, I advise you to confess honestly.”
In the end, Shen Du sighed. Though his words were harsh, he took no further action.
Everyone knew that once in the hands of the Inner Guard Bureau, even the dead would be made to speak, let alone a scholar with only some martial arts to rely on.
Mo Qianzhi sneered, “Punishment? Just the usual methods of extracting confessions through torture. Go ahead, Great Pavilion Commander—when have I ever been afraid?”
Having served as an official for decades, he had used such tactics himself. When threats failed to make criminals talk, torture was the only remaining option.
Not just him—local officials did it, capital officials did it, even the lofty Empress herself did it.
Nothing unusual about it.
Shen Du’s gaze met Mo Qianzhi’s. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, his resolute face tense, and he remained silent for a long moment.
Wang Buzui couldn’t help but glance sideways at Mo Qianzhi, feeling a hint of admiration. The pride of a scholar was indeed no empty boast.
He was curious to see just how unyielding that pride could be.
“Mo Qianzhi, as the Prefect of Yingzhou, colluding with the Fire Moth Party, disregarding the lives of the people, and slaughtering the innocent—the evidence is already solid. Even if you refuse to admit it, the verdict is set. Since you speak of ‘extracting confessions through torture,’ explain where the coercion lies. I will consider it carefully and petition Her Majesty for leniency.”
The past was vivid in his mind. He couldn’t understand how Mo Qianzhi, who had once gone to such lengths for him, had become a corrupt official.
Perhaps he had been misled by others, perhaps circumstances had forced his hand. But whatever the reason, if he would only speak, Shen Du was willing to believe him.
“Since the verdict is already decided, what more is there to say? Great Pavilion Commander, just take my head.”
What was there to fear in death? Living was the greatest torment.
Back when Shen Shijie was wronged, didn’t the Empress listen to slander and have him executed, with his entire family condemned to death? If not for the efforts of those who followed him, even Shen’s sole descendant would not have survived.
And precisely because they had once been disciples of the Shen family, they too suffered the consequences, never gaining proper recognition in their lifetimes.Even though he was exceptionally talented and managed Yingzhou with meticulous order, the Empress never let go of her suspicions toward him from start to finish.
Since that was the case, why should he remain loyal? Moreover, this empire was never truly within the Empress's grasp. He only hoped that one day, order would be restored and justice would prevail.
However, he would not speak these words to Shen Du. To do so would implicate Shen Du, and how could he bear to betray the memory of the desperate rescue on the ten-mile-long Vermilion Bird Avenue, or the unjust death of his late mentor?
Furthermore, those with different paths do not share the same goals. His ambitions did not need to be known by Shen Du. Even though Shen Du was a descendant of Shen Shijie, years of comfort and indulgence had long made him forget the deep-seated hatred, reducing him to a mere pawn of the Empress.
He felt nothing but heartache.
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