Yongle Year 22, September. Beijing.
The door opened. Footsteps came from outside, very light, very steady, just like every day. Just like when walking in at the family banquet, just like when sitting down in the Qianqing Palace side hall, just like when he said "that won't do." Zhu Gaosui walked in. Wearing gray-blue casual clothes, hair tied with a bamboo hairpin. Just like the first time he came to the Eastern Palace. He stood there, looking at Zhu Zhanji, smiled a little.
"The Crown Prince has been quite busy recently." Tone very light, just like when saying "I heard you have food here." He took a step into the hall, gaze sweeping over the case files on the table, the old paper in my hand, the list spread out before Zhu Zhanji. His gaze paused on the list for an instant. Just an instant, quickly withdrawn. Then he laughed, like he saw nothing.
Zhu Zhanji looked at him, didn't speak. The lamp was on the table, light very bright, shining on their faces. They looked at each other. Neither spoke. The hall was very quiet, quiet enough to hear the sound of the candle wick bursting. Zhu Zhanji's hand hung by his side, fingers slightly curling. I stood beside him, fingertips touching his sleeve. He didn't dodge. I didn't pull back either.
"It's fine." Zhu Zhanji said. Voice very flat, like saying "drink tea." Two words, blocking back all probing. Didn't ask why he came, didn't respond to his words, didn't give him any path to continue. Just "it's fine." Like saying "the weather is nice today." Zhu Gaosui looked at him, smiled a little. That smile was still there, but a bit fainter than before.
I stood beside them, suddenly spoke. "The smell has been quite strong recently." Voice not loud, like talking to myself. But everyone in the hall heard it.
Zhu Gaosui looked at me. That glance was very short, so short it was like just confirming I was still there. But his fingers moved slightly inside his sleeve. Just once, quickly withdrawn. I saw it. Zhu Zhanji also saw it. Zhu Gaosui smiled a little. "What smell?" Tone still very light, like asking "what to eat today." But his eyes weren't smiling. I looked at him, said seriously: "Medicinal smell. In the alley, in the western city room, and on that old paper today." I paused. "Very faint, but can be smelled." The hall went quiet for a moment. Zhu Gaosui looked at me, I also looked at him. His smile was still there, but the curve of his mouth was a bit smaller than before.
"Is that so." he said. Tone very light, like saying something not worth worrying about. But his fingers moved slightly inside his sleeve again.
Zhu Zhanji spoke. "That person is dead." Voice very flat, like saying "the tea is cold."
Zhu Gaosui looked at him. "Which person?" Tone still very light, like asking "which tea bowl."
"The one captured last night." Zhu Zhanji said. "Died very cleanly." He paused. "Like a professional."
The hall went quiet again. Zhu Gaosui stood there, smile still there. But his eyes moved. Glanced at Zhu Zhanji, glanced at me, glanced at the case files on the table. Quickly, so fast it was like counting.
"Isn't this common for the Jinyiwei?" he said. Tone very light, like saying something everyone knows. But his voice was a bit tighter than before. Not obvious tightness, but like a string stretched to a certain point, when you pluck it again, its rebound speed slows down. Zhu Zhanji looked at him, didn't speak. His expression was very calm, just like every time. But his fingers lightly tapped the table once. Once, very light, very fast. Like counting something. Like counting how long he could hold on. Zhu Gaosui stood there, smile still hanging, but starting to stiffen. The curve of his mouth was still there, but the smile in his eyes was gone.
Zhu Zhanji picked up that list from the table. It listed over a dozen names, each with remarks behind. Jinyiwei transfer orders, border army records, wax sources. His fingers paused on the paper edge. "These people," he said, "are all related to Third Uncle." He called him "Third Uncle." Not "Third Prince," not "Zhu Gaosui," but "Third Uncle." Zhu Gaosui's smile finally couldn't hold. Not slowly disappearing, but like being torn off his face by someone.
"What does Your Highness mean by this?" His voice was still steady. But his fingers were trembling. Not the slight, ignorable tremor, but the kind—even he couldn't suppress, knuckles trembling. Zhu Zhanji looked at him, gaze very flat. Just like when looking at Lord Zhao, just like when looking at those people in the alley, just like when standing in that windowless room, watching that person die before him.
"But before he died, he said your name."
The hall went quiet. Quiet enough for me to hear my own heartbeat. Zhu Gaosui stood there, motionless. His face turned pale. Not slowly turning white, but in an instant, like someone drained his blood. His lips moved twice, no sound. His eyes stopped moving, fixed on a point—Zhu Zhanji's list. He stared at that paper, like staring at something life-saving, or like staring at something life-taking.
"Impossible." he said. Voice very low, so low it was like talking to himself. Zhu Zhanji looked at him. Didn't say "yes," didn't say "no," just looked at him. That glance was very short, so short it was like just confirming he was still there. Zhu Gaosui stood there, hands trembling, lips trembling, whole body trembling. His eyes turned red, not from wanting to cry, but from fear. That kind of fear seeping from the bone marrow, uncontrollable, making you unable to stand steadily.
"You're bluffing me." he said. Voice trembling, but he was suppressing. Suppressing very hard, hard enough that his voice changed.
Zhu Zhanji didn't speak. He picked up another paper from the table, pushed it over. The paper was old, corners curled, with characters written on it. Handwriting crooked and twisted, like someone wrote it while trembling. Zhu Gaosui looked down at it. That glance was very short, so short it was like just confirming it was still there. But his body swayed slightly. Just once, quickly stabilized. I saw it. Zhu Zhanji also saw it.
"Third Uncle knows this person." Zhu Zhanji said. Not a question, but a statement.
Zhu Gaosui didn't speak. He stood there, looking at that paper, for a long time. Then he raised his head, looking at Zhu Zhanji. Something in his eyes shattered. Not slowly shattering, but in an instant, like being thrown on the ground, couldn't be picked up.
"When did you know?" he asked. Voice very low, so low it was like saying something he wasn't sure of himself.
Zhu Zhanji looked at him. "From the alley." he said. "From when you handed over the knife."
The hall went quiet. Zhu Gaosui stood there, looking at Zhu Zhanji. For a long time. Then he laughed. Not that faint, hanging smile from before, but the kind where—he knew, he acknowledged, he didn't want to pretend anymore. That smile was very light, very short. But there was something in his eyes, very deep, very heavy. He had suppressed it for a long time. Now he wasn't suppressing.
"Crown Prince, good tactics." he said. In this voice, there was acknowledgment, and also non-acknowledgment. Acknowledging he won, not acknowledging he lost. He stood there, smiling. But that smile was different from every time. Every time he smiled, he was standing in the dark watching the show. This time he smiled, standing under the lamp, seen through.
Zhu Zhanji looked at him, didn't speak. His hand hung by his side, fingers slightly curling. I stood beside him, fingertips touching his sleeve. He didn't dodge. I didn't pull back either.
"Third Uncle is tired." Zhu Zhanji said. "Go back and rest."
Zhu Gaosui looked at him. That glance was very long, so long it was like confirming something. Confirming he could still go back, confirming he could still rest, confirming he wouldn't die here. He looked for a long time. Then he laughed. That smile was very light, just like when saying "that won't do." But different. In that smile, there was surrender, reluctance, "I lost." Also—he didn't expect, he would let him go.
"Okay." he said. Turned and walked out. Steps very slow, so slow it was like every step was in mud. He didn't look back. Reaching the door, he stopped. Didn't look back.
"Crown Prince." he said. "In the future, there won't be such things anymore."
Then he left. Footsteps grew fainter in the corridor, finally disappeared. Like someone falling off a cliff, sound getting smaller, until nothing could be heard.
The hall was quiet again. I stood beside him, hand still touching his sleeve. His fingers slightly curled, then relaxed. Curled, then relaxed. Then he lowered his head, collecting the lists on the table one by one, folding them, putting them into the box. Movements very slow, just like when cutting apples.
"Zhu Zhanji."
"Mm."
"Is it over?"
He didn't answer. Closed the box, fingers pausing on the lid.
"Almost." he said.
I looked at him. He sat at the table, box closed, lamp on the table, light very bright. On his hand, where the gauze had been wrapped, the scar remained, pinkish, faint under the lamplight. His expression was very calm, just like every day. But I knew, different. He had waited for a long time. From the alley, from the western city, from that windowless room, he was waiting. Waiting for that person to walk to him himself, waiting for that net to close itself, waiting for this chess game to place the final move. Now he had waited. He didn't kill him, didn't arrest him, didn't move against him. Just let him go back, rest. In the future, there won't be such things anymore.
"In the future, there won't be such things anymore." he said. Voice very light, just like saying "it will sprout." I stood beside him, hand still touching his sleeve. He didn't dodge. I didn't pull back.
(End of Chapter Forty-Six)