Right now, Zhou Zhi sat beside Yu Jun, cup after cup, urged on by the others to drink.
Aside from Second Prince Zhou Xiao and Fourth Prince Zhou Xiang, the rest had likely all been tipped off by Zhou Jin. They took turns raising their cups to him.
How could Zhou Zhi not see through it? They were all in on it together, trying to make him lose face.
As for the reason… truthfully, there was no deep, irreconcilable hatred. It was simply because of Zhou Jin’s petty sentiments. Because Yu Jun regarded Zhou Zhi differently, Zhou Jin found him an eyesore.
As it happened, Zhou Zhi also found Zhou Jin quite the eyesore in his heart.
Zhou Zhi was perfectly willing to play the obedient, well-behaved child in front of Yu Jun.
Not because he still loved her with a desperate, undying passion. Rather, more so, it was because of the hatred in his heart. A hatred that was impossible to resolve.
Why had she harmed him? Had he not been good enough to her?
How could he even describe that hatred? Perhaps it was akin to when you’ve practically torn out your heart and lungs and laid them out before a person, hoping for their smile—only for that person to unhesitatingly plunge a knife into you.
That pain of being pierced by the cold, sharp blade—the shock followed by agony, fury, and resentment—all surging wildly like an endless, raging river.
This time, Zhou Zhi wanted to see how Yu Jun would treat him.
Zhou Zhi prided himself on understanding Yu Jun. Other than failing to foresee that final cup of poisoned wine, he had once believed he was the one who knew her best.
She was intelligent, yet far too soft-hearted. She pitied the poor, cherished the elderly, and never could resist helping the weak and helpless.
So this time, he was precisely the weak and helpless one desperately needing her pity.
Zhou Zhi wanted her sincerity—just as, in his previous life, he had unreservedly offered her his own earnest heart.
Once he obtained it, he swore he would let Yu Jun taste the same agony he had endured in kind.
Yu Jun was still trying to stop him. “Stop drinking! Something will happen!”
She scolded Zhou Jin. “Keep this up and I’ll truly get angry!”
Zhou Zhi felt a thick fog settling in his mind. Already, about three-tenths drunk. He grabbed Yu Jun’s hand, refusing to let go on the pretext of drunkenness. “Fifth Sister, I can still drink… This is so good, I’ve never… tasted anything like it before…”
“You’re being disobedient.” Yu Jun scolded him, “If you don’t listen, I’m ignoring you.” Turning, she appealed to Zhou Xiao. “Second Brother, aren’t you going to put a stop to this?”
Zhou Xiao, who had been busily helping himself to a chopstick-full of lamb, laughed. “My advice? Let them be. The more you interfere, the more these boys get riled up. Come sit here by me and eat comfortably.”
But Zhou Jin grabbed her. “Little Five, don’t go! Clearly you’re sitting next to me. Why is Second Brother trying to steal you away? No one’s stealing you from me.” Originally, he had only meant to pressure Zhou Zhi into drinking, but unexpectedly, he himself had downed a few cups and was now half-inebriated.
Zhou Zhi propped his cheek on his hand, laughing with apparent naivety. “Look at him, Fifth Sister. So domineering. Disliking me is one thing, but to even disregard Second Prince…”
Zhou Jin, already half-drunk, completely missed the hidden edge in his words and instead clamored, “So what if I’m domineering? Anyone not convinced—come fight me!”
Yu Jun and Zhou Xiao exchanged a look. Shaking his head with a laugh, Zhou Xiao said, “This Old Third… urging others to drink, yet getting drunk first himself. Everyone, enough. Remove the wine. Bring two bowls of sobering soup.”
Zhou Zhi still clutched a wine cup in one hand, his body slumping sideways against Yu Jun’s shoulder.
Yu Jun tilted her head to glance at him, noting his flushed cheeks. She couldn’t help a smile. “Serves you right for trying to act tough.”
Beside her, Zhou Jin was about to stop the eunuchs from taking the wine jar away. Seeing this scene, he leaned forward and roughly shoved Zhou Zhi’s head—pushing him sideways until he toppled against the Second Prince.
Zhou Xiao hurriedly steadied him. “Old Third! He’s completely drunk like this, and you’re still shoving him around. You’re the one who started all this.”
“Drunk or not, hate this brat. Always rubs me the wrong way,” Zhou Jin grumbled.
Unexpectedly, Zhou Zhi wobbled to his feet. Circling around behind Yu Jun’s seat, under the bewildered stares of everyone present, he lowered his head like a young bull and charged straight into Zhou Jin.
The Third Prince, taken completely off guard, was knocked staggering backward, nearly landing flat on his back. Zhou Zhi seized the moment to grapple onto him and started throwing punches.
Zhou Jin’s wits, half-numbed by wine, snapped back with a jolt of fright. “You little bastard! Good timing!” He evaded a blow, wrapped his arms around Zhou Zhi’s waist, twisted with all his might, and easily flipped their positions, pinning Zhou Zhi beneath him.
One had grown up pampered and well-nourished, robust and strong. The other had lacked food and clothing, his frame thin and frail. Zhou Jin pinned Zhou Zhi down firmly, snarling, “Still dare to ambush your granddad?! Do you submit?!”
Zhou Zhi saw his finger pointing at his face. Suddenly, he jerked his head up and bit down hard on Zhou Jin’s finger.
The Third Prince let out a loud yelp and immediately released him. But Zhou Zhi instead wrapped his arms around him, and the two of them, locked in struggle, tumbled right out of the pavilion. Right below were the stairs, covered in patches of half-melted snow. In an instant, they went rolling down together.
Everyone inside the pavilion was shocked. When Zhou Jin had first been tackled, no one had thought much of it. Only when the two seemed to be getting serious did they all rush forward to pull them apart.
A chaotic swarm of hands reached in. Zhou Jin’s two young eunuchs, Chang Sheng and Ying’er, hurriedly stepped forward. Zhong Qing huddled in a corner, flexing his claws hesitantly but finding no opening to help.
Amidst the confusion, two eunuch groundskeepers from the Imperial Garden approached, seemingly intending to help the two princes up. No one thought anything of it.
But just as one of them reached out to pull Zhou Jin, Zhou Zhi, on the ground, suddenly shouted: “Watch out!”
He had already been pulled off by Zhou Jin’s eunuchs—Chang Sheng and Ying’er, biased as they were towards their own master, had conveniently held him back. Now, with that warning shout, Zhou Zhi wrenched free of Chang Sheng’s grasp and lunged forward, covering Zhou Jin’s body with his own.
In that exact instant, a glint of cold steel sank directly into Zhou Zhi’s shoulder.
Zhou Jin still had no clue what had happened when several drops of warm, wet liquid splattered onto his face. He saw it clearly: a streak of crimson was rapidly spreading through the fabric of Zhou Zhi’s robe at the shoulder. A few droplets had landed on Zhou Jin’s own face.
Zhou Jin’s eyes widened in shock. His ears caught what sounded like Zhou Xiao’s voice shouting: “Assassins! Guards! Quickly!”
The Imperial Garden plunged into chaos.
Just before he lost consciousness, Zhou Zhi raised his head and looked past the crowd.
He was searching for Yu Jun.
Even he didn’t know why, despite her having personally murdered him all those years ago. Right now, at this very moment, Zhou Zhi still wanted to see—watching him in peril, what expression would she wear?
His blurred gaze swept over the faces of those around him… Zhou Xiao’s face, full of horror; Zhou Xiang, who still seemed to think it was just horseplay; two noble young ladies, their faces drained of color; the young Duke’s heir, who was only just now realizing something was amiss, his smile not yet fully faded; and—
Why couldn’t he see that person?
Before his eyes could find Yu Jun, Zhou Zhi caught a whiff of a familiar fragrance. Turning his head, he was stunned to see that Yu Jun, at some unknown moment, had already rushed right beside them.
A cold, tingling sensation shot across Zhou Zhi’s scalp.
The assassin was just behind him, yet Yu Jun was unaware. She was merely worried about the two of them, recklessly throwing herself forward to try and separate them.
The assassin raised his hand and yanked the dagger out. Blood splattered onto the white fox-fur trim of her padded jacket—a piercing, striking crimson.
Pain burrowed deep into Zhou Zhi’s bones. He had already been prepared to “pass out.”
But now, no time to think. He forced himself up and grabbed the blade of that dagger with his bare hand.
Just like earlier, outside the Imperial Study, when he had appeared to so casually catch the snowball about to strike her face.
Yu Jun whirled around. Her eyes landed on his hand clutching the dagger blade, blood dripping steadily downward.
“Zhou Zhi…!” Her voice broke. Ignoring everything else, Yu Jun frantically grabbed his hand. “Let go…!”
It seemed the Second Prince had lunged forward. The assassin stumbled backward in retreat.
Zhou Zhi’s face was ashen white. He pulled Yu Jun into his arms, holding her tight. “Don’t look… it’s… nothing…”
Before losing consciousness completely, he forced out those last few words with all his remaining strength.
He clearly hated this person. Clearly wanted nothing more than to see her suffer, see her afraid…
Then why had he still gone this far?
Zhou Zhi didn’t know. It was as though these actions were mere bodily instinct.
No. No, that wasn’t it.
He had done this only to make Yu Jun’s heart move for him. That was all. It was not because he still… still harbored feelings for this treacherous woman.
Zhou Zhi slipped into complete and utter unconsciousness, tinged with a trace of bitter resentment.
In the drifting, wavering realm of dreams, Zhou Zhi dreamed of Li Yin.
That man, Li Yin—not someone to underestimate.
In the Imperial Study, though he hadn’t spoken outright, the meaning behind his words clearly indicated he knew something. The implications, upon deeper thought, were genuinely chilling. Especially the fact that he had given Zhou Zhi that bamboo ruler… could it be that he had even seen him kill those two men with the jade ruler?
But… perhaps it didn’t matter. Zhou Zhi remembered this person vividly.
Even if Li Yin possessed world-encompassing talents, so what? He had one fatal flaw: stubbornness. Obstinate to the point of self-destruction, refusing to turn back until he’d smashed his head against the wall.
Li Yin was deeply, fervently loyal to the previous dynasty of Great Liang. So loyal that even though Emperor Zhou Kang was willing to pardon his offenses, willing to treat him with respect and let him teach in the Imperial Study, Li Yin still chose to rebel for the sake of Great Liang.
And of course, he did not succeed.
Not only did he fail, but he met an utterly tragic end.
Zhou Zhi had drawn many lessons and experiences from Li Yin’s failed uprising—he could almost be considered Li Yin’s unacknowledged disciple, one who surpassed the master.
Even if Li Yin had discovered that he, Zhou Zhi, had killed those men, he was unlikely to expose it. Doing so would bring him no benefit at all.
Li Yin seemed to bear him no ill will. The bamboo ruler he had given Zhou Zhi seemed more like a subtle gesture of goodwill, a warning.
Though the two corpses currently lay in the well, with no telling when they might be discovered—if discovered, and if someone noticed the marks on their necks and traced them back… what if suspicion fell upon that jade ruler he always carried with him?
So Zhou Zhi had no choice but to hide the jade ruler he’d kept on his person, instead tucking the bamboo ruler into his boot.
After an unknown length of time, Zhou Zhi hovered between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Dimly, he thought he heard the soft sound of weeping.
Cracking open his eyes, Zhou Zhi saw a familiar yet hazy figure seated beside him.
He gazed at this person. Yu Jun… was she… shedding tears? For him?
Zhou Zhi watched silently for a long time. She remained unaware, weeping in sorrow.
“If… you have no intention of being good to me forever… then don’t be good to me at all…” Zhou Zhi thought to himself.
Yu Jun lifted her head.
“Because I won’t be able to bear it… To have been cherished and held close in someone’s heart… only to be kicked aside, stomped into the mud…” He murmured almost soundlessly. “Do you understand?”
She seemed to lean closer then, her tear-bright eyes gazing at him in astonishment.
So close. Her lips, like dew-kissed cherries, so alluring. He remembered them all so well…
How many times had he tasted them before? The sweet, honeyed flavor—the most unforgettable.
What he wouldn’t give to lunge forward and taste them once more.
Just like that day outside the Imperial Study, when he first saw her—in that moment, he had been unable to contain himself, a tangle of true feelings and false, impossible to distinguish.
Perhaps it was the hatred from his past life, finding no outlet. Perhaps it was the remaining shreds of lingering affection, stirring again. Or perhaps he was simply so feverish and muddled that he had recklessly rushed forward to embrace Yu Jun. In that moment, only one thought had consumed him: even in death, I won’t be separated. Even in death… I’ll be with her!
Tears welled up in Zhou Zhi’s eyes, blurring her face.
He was smiling. “You wicked Yingying… don’t make me hate you.”
From start to finish, Zhou Zhi thought he was merely reflecting in his heart.
After “thinking” it through, he slipped back into unconsciousness.