When the jade pendant was handed over, He Jun had just finished military drills. Beads of sweat dotted his temples, and he was wiping his hands with a cloth, looking far from composed or dignified.
The garrison commander of Huaiqiu City stood bowed before him in an extremely humble posture.
He did not dare speak of his hours of exhausting travel, nor did he dare make any definitive conclusions about the matter he was about to report. Instead, he carefully and fearfully described the owner of the jade pendant in detail for the man who had issued the command.
“Yes, he is dressed in dark ink robes with raven-black hair. His temperament seems very gentle. I do not know where he came from, but he suddenly asked to enter the city and was stopped at the city gates.”
As he spoke, upon hearing a certain detail, He Jun lowered his gaze, his hand pausing mid-wipe.
The Great General’s tone turned unkind: “You stopped him?”
At those words, cold sweat broke out on the garrison commander’s forehead. Remembering the notorious ferocity of this Great General, his heart nearly seized in terror, and he hurriedly shook his head.
He bent his waist even lower and carefully explained, “No, how could I? The moment I went down and saw him, I remembered your orders and promptly invited him inside.”
As he said this, an unmistakable look of relief crossed his face, and he appeared entirely sincere.
He had no choice but to be sincere. If that person truly was who they thought he was, having gone missing for all these years only to meet with disaster right here on his watch, he would not have enough heads to keep on his shoulders.
Speaking of this, it touched upon past events and a secret known to every single defense official along the Great Chu border.
As all these years passed, very few people actually knew that the death of Prime Minister Gu, which had once caused such a massive uproar, was in fact controversial.
Back then, the imperial capital was in grave crisis and the Noble Consort was seizing power through chaos. Gu He had single-handedly protected the Crown Prince’s position, only to find himself trapped in a desperate plight and besieged by the Noble Consort’s faction.
All of this happened with breathtaking speed, lasting merely half a month, so fast that the young prince, far away on the northern frontier, did not even have time to receive the dispatch from the capital.
Everyone told him that Prime Minister Gu was gone, having died utterly and completely under the Noble Consort’s siege, with zero chance of survival.
Yet that event also dealt a crippling blow to the Noble Consort’s faction, rendering them forever incapable of posing a threat to Chu Heng.
As for these claims, the current Emperor, who was the young prince of back then, did not believe a single word. Ignoring all persuasion, he whipped his horse into a frenzy, braving the wind, frost, and morning dew as he hurried back to the imperial capital.
Only to discover in panic that no matter what, whether dead or alive, he could not even find out what had happened, let alone locate Prime Minister Gu, not even a corpse.
At first, everyone assumed the Noble Consort was pulling strings from behind the scenes and had deliberately hidden the person away. But later on, when Chu Heng held supreme power above ten thousand people and had left no suspicious person uninvestigated, they finally realized the truth: the Prime Minister, who would smile and stroke his head, gently lecture him on the classics and histories, and personally pave a smooth and prosperous path for him, was truly gone.
Someone once hesitatingly suggested that perhaps because Prime Minister Gu had single-handedly raised the Emperor, the Noble Consort’s hatred for him ran too deep; unwilling to let him go even in death, she had likely ground his bones to dust, which was why no trace of him could be found.
Before he could finish his sentence, the man was struck down by the sword of the young Emperor, whose eyes were stained crimson.
From then on, no one ever dared to bring up the topic again.
To be honest, as Chu Heng’s right and left hands, rare individuals who had enjoyed more close contact with Prime Minister Gu, He Jun and Cheng Shu had initially not believed this narrative either.
Even though they had only received gentle guidance from the Prime Minister in the past and did not understand him as deeply as the Emperor did.
Yet a man like Prime Minister Gu, though good-tempered and reasonable, was certainly not someone who would sit quietly and await his doom.
No matter what, he shouldn’t have brought himself to such a destitute and wretched plight.
Therefore, to them, failing to find a body was actually a blessing in disguise; at the very least, it proved that there was still a possibility he might be alive.
Yet as all these years passed, even Cheng Shu and He Jun, who had once used this line of reasoning to comfort Chu Heng, could no longer utter such words with certainty.
Only the young Emperor himself had never doubted it, not even for a moment.
Although he never spoke of it aloud, whether it was Cheng Shu, who guarded the realm in the imperial capital far away, or He Jun, who constantly followed by his side and campaigned with him on the frontiers, both knew it all too well: their Emperor had not conquered a vast empire of ten thousand miles for the reasons sycophants praised him for, such as being a brilliant and peerless wise monarch.
It was simply because he was trying to find a person who might never return, while living in constant dread that one day, should the Prime Minister come back, he might suffer some grievance in a place beyond his reach.
Just as he had been far away on the border back then, completely ignorant of the disaster in the capital and thus losing the most important person in his life, that sense of utter powerlessness was something he swore he would never experience again in this lifetime.
Because of this, He Jun had always believed that the reason the Emperor refused to return to the imperial capital all these years was, on one hand, his reluctance to step foot in that place again, and on the other, his desire to use war as an outlet to vent the stifled anguish in his heart.
He never expected that the person would actually return, nor did he expect that after all these years, he would truly wait until this day.
The Great General sighed, unable to put into words the complex emotions welling up inside him at this moment. Lowering his gaze, he looked once more at the jade pendant before him.
It was a piece of exceptionally fine jade, flawless throughout and glowing like flowing light. One could tell at a glance that it was no ordinary item, and its intricate carving undoubtedly bore the hallmark of a master craftsman.
However, this master likely had few surviving works left behind, and similar pieces did not circulate on the market, making it difficult for people to recognize the maker’s name.
Yet He Jun knew all too well whose pendant this was, because another piece, extremely similar to this one, though bearing a slight flaw, hung upon a certain person’s body day and night, treasured like a pearl or a precious gem, inseparable from him.
The reigning Son of Heaven was named Heng, meaning beautiful jade, expressing the wish to gift fine jade to the one beloved in his heart.
Even though the beloved remained unaware.
He Jun understood completely. Back in the Imperial Academy, it represented what the young prince in black had meant when he cautiously yet feigned nonchalance while hanging this self-carved jade pendant upon his teacher’s person.
Even though the teacher was oblivious, and even though he never spoke of it.
And now, this jade pendant, which had vanished for nearly seven years, weighed heavily on the young prince’s mind for seven years, and caused him to wander far and wide in endless search, had finally come back.
He Jun’s throat swallowed uncontrollably.
He furrowed his brows, fixing a deep, steady gaze on the fearful commander before him, refusing to miss the slightest movement.
At the same time, he took the pendant and casually asked, “How did you come by this jade pendant?”
If recognizing the person was made possible by the portraits provided by the current Emperor, then a personal item like a jade pendant certainly could not just be picked up anywhere.
Thinking of certain possibilities, He Jun’s expression turned grim in an instant.
The garrison commander kept his head lowered and didn’t notice the change in expression. In a low, slow voice, he answered carefully, “After the teacher entered the city, we dared not neglect him and sent men to follow him at a distance.”
“Unexpectedly, petty thieves were brazen. I, we, not daring to alarm the teacher, only managed to recover the jade pendant.”
Perhaps out of fear of facing reprimand, the garrison commander stammered and spoke rather vaguely, but He Jun understood his meaning instantly.
The garrison troops of this dynasty had standing orders to treat anyone bearing Prime Minister Gu’s traits with utmost care.
The original intent was to facilitate finding him and prevent friendly fire, but to stop opportunists from muddying the waters, anyone of unknown identity would generally still be subjected to a discreet investigation.
Just like this Huaiqiu City garrison, he likely only thought the person looked somewhat familiar at first, but being unsure, he merely sent men for a routine checkup.
It wasn’t until Master Gu encountered a thief and the commander retrieved the pendant, recognizing the familiar style, that he truly realized what was happening, fell into a panic, and rode at breakneck speed to the Chu military camp to report the news.
After all, the jade pendant that never left the Emperor’s body and his icy, otherworldly aura were long a matter of private fascination among the people, hardly a secret.
Hearing this, He Jun felt somewhat relieved. After all, if Prime Minister Gu had run into a thief, the worst they would face was eating a few glares from the Emperor’s blade. But regardless of the outcome, they had fulfilled their duties, and His Majesty wouldn’t vent his anger too excessively.
Yet the very next second, a single sentence from the Huaiqiu garrison made his heart run chillingly cold.
“General, from what I could see, the teacher’s health does not seem to be doing very well.”
He Jun’s breath hitched. Hearing this, he already believed eighty or ninety percent of it in his heart.
If Prime Minister Gu had a good relationship with the Emperor back then, why hadn’t he shown up all these years if he was still alive? Even just to show his face so people knew he was safe.
By now, there seemed to be only one explanation for why he acted this way.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but that he couldn’t.
What could possibly cause a person to vanish for seven years without a trace? Aside from deliberate concealment, there appeared to be only one other explanation: he had lost his mobility.
Perhaps he was injured in the chaos of those years, or perhaps he was poisoned. In short, some severe accident must have occurred, which was why he completely disappeared for a full seven years before he could finally reappear.
Great General He licked his lips. Thinking of this possibility, he suddenly felt a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. Glancing back at the trembling garrison officer before him, a surge of irritation rose within him.
Damn it all, when it comes to matters concerning Prime Minister Gu, you know how to cower, but does this old lord look like a coward?
Still, this old lord will never lose face in front of you. With that thought, Great General He took a deep breath, and his expression smoothed out once more.
He took the jade pendant, strode out with long steps, and muttered to himself that official business came first. As he crossed the threshold, he gave his chest a fierce, heavy slap.
Damn it, let’s just treat this as psyching myself up.
Due to his numerous military achievements and fearsome reputation, King Chu Heng’s public image among the common folk was far from gentle.
In reality, however, this young Son of Heaven did not possess the fierce and ferocious visage people imagined. On the contrary, he possessed an exceedingly handsome face of almost unearthly beauty.
When He Jun stepped inside, he saw the reigning Emperor, dressed in dark ink robes, holding a brush and sitting upright by the desk.
His lips were pressed into a thin line and his spine was straight as he wrote stroke by stroke. Clearly, this was a bitter, harsh frontier swept by howling wind and blowing sand, yet he managed to make it look as if he were sitting in a picturesque and delicate southern water town.
And this hard-won aura of tranquility also acted like the wind, softening bit by bit the lingering hostility etched into his bones.
At this moment, Chu Heng appeared unusually harmless, and through his cold, indifferent lines, one could unexpectedly catch a glimpse of a fleeting trace of gentleness.
Yet this did not mean he was truly a harmless person. As companions and friends of many years, He Jun understood him not quite fully, but at least by sixty percent.
Naturally, he knew that the Emperor playing the role of a well-behaved student doing homework was merely a habit influenced slightly by Prime Minister Gu from years ago.
And for this faint, meager thing that allowed him to remember the person he cherished most, he was always willing to give it a try, even though there was no longer anyone to supervise him or grade whether his calligraphy was good or bad.
Whenever he was like this, he always looked extremely easy to talk to, but He Jun knew that this was precisely the worst time to disturb him.
Since the beast was willing to put a shackle upon itself, it would certainly not appreciate anyone coming along to break it.
So He Jun stopped speaking. With great tact, he took a step back and watched the Emperor, who kept his gaze lowered and practiced his calligraphy stroke by stroke.
Without even looking, He Jun knew those must be Prime Minister Gu’s characters.
The Emperor’s edge was too sharp, whereas Prime Minister Gu was gentle. When the Emperor was disliked by the late Emperor, only Prime Minister Gu back then would stroke his head and tell him: A-Heng is already wonderful just as he is.
Yet the A-Heng, who was faultless in the Prime Minister’s eyes, now had to rely on repeatedly copying the gentle handwriting left behind to remind himself over and over again not to go mad.
He Jun couldn’t help letting out a low sigh.
He looked at Chu Heng before the desk, observing his meticulous movements, earnest and careful.
Only, something seemed to go wrong midway, causing his cold facial features to tense up, revealing a rare hint of bewilderment and obedience.
He Jun rubbed his fingers, feeling a sudden surge of curiosity. Pausing for a moment, he couldn’t help walking closer to take a quiet peek, only to discover that the Emperor hadn’t controlled his strength well; pressing too hard, he had nearly torn the paper.
The Great General endured the impulse, lowered his head, and dared not offer any commentary as he watched the silent Emperor put down his brush on his own.
He raised his head to look over, revealing a pair of cold, deep grey eyes, possessing the texture of frost, devoid of ripples or light.
He Jun’s heart skipped a beat.
The King of Chu’s voice was as cold as his frosty eyes. Perhaps because he was facing someone familiar, his tone was a bit slower, dissolving the distance and bringing their relationship slightly closer.
He called out He Jun’s name and said nothing more, merely giving a slight nod to indicate that he should continue.
Knowing the gravity of what he was about to report, He Jun didn’t dare delay. He stepped forward and presented the jade pendant.
In a low voice, he relayed the words of the garrison officer, not daring to alter a single syllable.
Chu Heng listened with pressed lips. Afterward, his expression remained flat and indifferent, showing almost no reaction, far removed from what He Jun had imagined.
Unable to see the veins bulging across the fingers hidden beneath the Emperor’s sleeves, He Jun felt a bit lost. After waiting a moment, he watched the Emperor slowly stand up.
With a slightly hoarse voice and an unshakeable demeanor, lowering his eyelids and pausing briefly, the Emperor gave a cold command: “Say it again.”
His expression was extremely detached, as if he didn’t care at all. Once he finished speaking, he kept his cold face shut tight.
Not knowing what to make of this, He Jun scratched his head and had no choice but to repeat it word for word. Just as his voice trailed off, he heard the Emperor’s deep, icy voice, as if crawling up from the depths of hell:
“Say it again.”
There was too much packed into that single utterance. It made He Jun’s scalp go numb, instantly straightening his legs. He blinked, his mind turning completely blank for a moment, before he cautiously repeated it once more for the man.
After finishing, feeling a mix of absurdity and heartache, he braced himself to say it again, only to watch Chu Heng cast a light, breezy glance at him, stride out of the military tent, and vanish off to who-knows-where.
He Jun shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. For a moment, unable to comprehend Chu Heng’s actions, he let out a sigh.
Suddenly, his gaze landed on a certain spot on the desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he raised an eyebrow.
Their Emperor had clearly put on an appearance of utmost calm and indifference.
It was only after the man had left that he noticed the perfectly fine brush on the desk had somehow been snapped squarely in two by sheer brute force.