Chapter 245: The Prison Break Attempt

Fu Mingzhu's collar was abruptly seized, suffocating him until he struggled for breath. He wanted to cough, to break free, but Li Can's words stunned him into rigid silence. A few guttural sounds escaped his throat as he forced out, "Prince Chu? Your Highness surely esteems him too highly!"

Li Can released Fu Mingzhu and gave him a slight shove. Fu Mingzhu collapsed onto the soft carpet, sprawled out, coughing to clear his lungs. Li Can remarked, "It's not a matter of esteem; he possesses a cunning almost supernatural. Yet you treat him as if he were Ye Jiao."

"And what of Ye Jiao?" Fu Mingzhu glared at Li Can. These people were excessively fond of mentioning Ye Jiao.

Li Can withdrew a handkerchief and began to wipe his hands carefully. Only after drying them did he speak leisurely, "Ye Jiao is clever but reckless. Ye Chang Geng is straightforward and candid. You assumed Li Ce was cut from the same cloth. But last year, around this time, he had just returned to the capital. The court ministers called him a 'living dead,' a portent of misfortune. And now? Though ninth in line, he has been granted a princely title and governs alongside the Crown Prince. The stakes involved are obvious, need I spell them out?"

Fu Mingzhu frowned, reluctant to accept it, yet helplessly sneered. Li Can said, "I don't wish to see you fall on hard times. You'd better avoid it as well."

Fu Mingzhu pressed his hand into the thick carpet as he rose, rubbing his neck in resignation. "Very well. The Crown Prince never insisted on implicating Prince Chu. Your Highness, just tell me how to get Yan Congzheng out. He's hiding like a scared turtle."

A charming smile curled at the corner of Li Can's lips. "That requires coaxing Lin Xiao."

"Lin Jing?" Fu Mingzhu's heart leapt. "He's on your side now?" Having an ally to sway Ye Jiao's corner was priceless.

"Not yet," Li Can shook his head regretfully. "The problem with loyal men is this: you want his allegiance, but his loyalty lies elsewhere."

When did he become as wretched as the Crown Prince?

"How does one coax him, then?" Fu Mingzhu asked, puzzled.

"Lin Jing is straightforward," Li Can replied, "so he can be persuaded."

As the rain softened, Fu Mingzhu listened intently for a long while. At last, he drew a deep breath and applauded enthusiastically, "Let's go! I'll treat Your Highness to wine at Huachao Pavilion."

"No," Li Can dismissed, "Li Jing has been frequenting there lately. I'd rather not run into him, and then be stuck footing his tab."

Li Jing was the most notorious among the princes for pretending poverty, clinging to whoever would pay. If all else failed, he'd pass the bill to the Crown Prince.

"Then we'll watch the dragon boat race at Qujiang Pool!" Fu Mingzhu brightened.

"People just drowned there recently," Li Can turned away, "I fear the water ghosts claiming souls."

Each year during the Dragon Boat Festival, spectators often fell into the training waters, some never rescued. Mention of the water ghosts reminded Li Can of Lin Jing—if he hadn't saved him then, none of this would be so entertaining now. He silently praised himself: "Truly heroic."

It was the fourth day of May, the eve before the Dragon Boat Festival. Three days remained until the scheduled execution. The dungeon was heavily guarded, with roll calls every two hours by the chief jailer, ensuring all prisoners were accounted for. One by one, names were called until the very last cell, where the condemned sat in resigned silence, no longer responding. The jailer's voice was grim as he intoned names like a ferryman calling souls to the underworld. Names once cherished by family now cold and alien, severed from their bearers.

Finally, the last name was called: "Li Beichen."

The roll call ended, and the jailer began to leave, but a timid voice echoed from a dark corner, "Present."

The jailer stiffened, glancing toward the shadowed nook. Amidst the silence of the adults, only this child answered. Li Beichen, son of the Wei Prince, stood by the narrow high window, gazing at the pitch-black night sky.

The chief jailer, an older man of some softness, stepped closer. "Child, what are you looking at? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Stars," Li Beichen replied. "Father said my name is among the stars. When I die in a few days, I'll go up there."

Hearing his father's name, the jailer glanced toward the adjacent cell. Wei Prince Li Chen lay silent on his bed, unresponsive for days. After his failed bid for the throne and imprisonment, he first cursed Li Zhang, Li Ce, and Li Can bitterly. Then, upon hearing news of the deaths of the consort, daughter, and Yan Shuangxu, he gradually ceased speaking and barely moved, only eating when starving.

Li Beichen often pleaded to visit his father's cell, tending to his chamber pot and cleaning quietly before returning to his own.

"Are you afraid?" the jailer could not help but ask.

"Yes," Li Beichen's eyes glistened with tears, revealing childlike vulnerability, "but my uncle taught me: traitors are to be executed, and kin punished by association—no mercy."

He had accepted his fate quietly—a seven-year-old awaiting his own death.

The jailer reached into his sleeve and produced a steamed bun, offering it softly, "Eat, child. Rest."

A guard glanced over but said nothing.

Stars swarmed the sky like fish in water, jostling and competing, all watching over the bustling city of Chang'an. With the Dragon Boat Festival approaching, the city lifted its curfew, reveling day and night. Yet such prosperity held no meaning for Lin Jing.

He leaned against the outer wall of the Yan residence, arms folded, listening to the gentle flow of the hidden stream below. Occasionally nodding, his attendant would pull out the fine iron net placed over the stream—seamlessly intact, uncut. Since the Sixth Prince Li Can warned of the secret channel, Lin Jing had installed this barrier. Even Yan Congzheng's swimming prowess could not breach it. Still, he remained uneasy. With today's rain swelling the channel, vigilance was paramount.

"Everything appears fine, master. You should rest first," the attendant said, clearing away water weeds from the net with a smile.

"No rush," Lin Jing replied. His gaze sharpened to the side.

"What is it?"

"Something flashed."

Lin Jing gripped his blade and moved toward the far end of the street. Just as he rounded the corner, a sudden burst of light exploded overhead. Flaming arrows streaked past, embedding into the Yan residence. The night sky lit as bright as day.

"Who goes there?" Lin Jing sprinted forward as his attendants shouted and converged. Black-clad figures dashed along rooftops, sending bricks tumbling behind them.

"Kill the traitor! Kill the traitor!" they cried, vanishing into the darkness.

Traitor? Yan Congzheng was fiercely loyal. How could he be a traitor? Or—Lin Jing's face drained of color. To the Emperor, he was no traitor, but to the Lu family and Wei Prince, his allegiance to the throne was a betrayal of kin—indeed worthy of that name.

"Put out the fire!" Lin Jing commanded as he vaulted into the Yan residence. "Save Lord Yan! Watch out for opportunists!"

"Master!" someone ran up. "Someone climbed the wall and escaped!"

Lin Jing froze as if struck by lightning, then swiftly ordered, "Three pursue! The rest fight the fire!"

Immediately, men scaled the courtyard walls. Flames roared, but Lin Jing halted and turned sharply.

"Who reported the escape?"

No one answered. A cold sweat soaked Lin Jing's back as the firelight illuminated his tense face.

A thorough search of the mansion found no sign of Yan Congzheng.

Late into the night, the side gate of the Prince of Chu's residence was rattled. When opened, besides the gatekeeper, Yan Yun stood there. Lin Jing felt a flicker of relief. With Yan Yun present, messages would travel faster.

"Is the princess here? I must see her," Lin Jing stepped forward, handing over his identification.

Yan Yun waved him off.

"I know meeting her at night is inappropriate," Lin Jing's face was streaked with soot, dejected, "but something's happened at the Yan residence. The princess must know."

"She's not home," Yan Yun replied, yawning as if more tired than Lin Jing, eager to rest.

Lin Jing hesitated, then asked, "Where is the prince? Is he here?"

"He's drinking with Prince Zhao at Huachao Pavilion," Yan Yun said. "Before leaving, he ordered that no matter what happens at the Yan residence, you must summon the imperial physician."

"Summon the doctor?" Lin Jing was puzzled. "At this hour, even if I begged at the palace gates, the Imperial Pharmacy might refuse to come."

"It doesn't matter if they come or not, you must ask," Yan Yun insisted. "Just say Lord Yan needs treatment."

Lin Jing clenched his blade, "Is that what the princess wants too?"

"She left early," Yan Yun said, "but she probably follows our prince's orders."

After saying this, Yan Yun's heart wavered. Indeed, she once obeyed, but tonight the prince had gone drinking at Huachao Pavilion and hadn't returned. Whether she would continue to obey was uncertain. She usually feared her husband, but tonight was different.

"Very well," Lin Jing agreed. "I will summon him."

He was no strategist, so he left the planning to others and simply followed orders.

Lanterns flickered along the long street, elongating and shrinking his shadow as if someone tugged at his very soul.

Far away, the dungeon stood under heavy guard. To storm the prison would require hundreds of elite soldiers, yet tonight, he was alone.

Yan Congzheng stood rooted in a dark corner, his gaze resolute. It was the darkest hour before dawn. There was no time left to wait.

Yan Congzheng stepped forward...