Chapter 51: Deep Within the Imperial Prison

After Lu Jingshuo was led away by the guards, the heavy and chaotic footsteps gradually faded into the distance. Yet, everyone in the imperial court still felt as though those sounds were echoing in their ears.

The entire court seemed to have been drained of all its vitality, plunging once more into a death-like silence.

The ministers did not dare to draw a breath, keeping their eyes fixed straight upon Li Chengqian, their gazes interwoven with a complex multitude of emotions.

Li Chengqian was like a soulless statue, kneeling quietly there, his arms tightly clutching the already cold body of Song Jingshu.

He remained immersed in an overwhelming grief, unable to snap back to reality for a long time.

Imperial Physician Wen let out a soft sigh, stepped forward, and bowed slightly, breaking the suffocating silence.

"Your Majesty, please restrain your grief. This young girl was truly pitiful. Look at her—she came all this long journey, and I fear she had not even a single bite of hot food along the way."

"Prolonged starvation and exhaustion had long since hollowed out her body. She was like an oil lamp; even before meeting Your Majesty, the oil had already burned dry."

Physician Wen’s voice was low and slow, carrying a trace of pity as it echoed through the silent court.

He paused, a flicker of unbearable sympathy crossing his eyes, and continued, "Yet, there was a stubborn conviction in this girl's heart that sustained her all this while."

"It was solely by relying on this breath of will that she managed to walk all the way to Chang'an, enduring the hardship to see Your Majesty."

"Now that her final wish has been fulfilled, that last support is gone, and so she... has departed."

"Your Majesty, you must restrain your grief; do not grieve and distress yourself too deeply."

Physician Wen wiped his forehead and continued with a heavy tone, "Your Majesty, your servant must speak the honest truth: even if she had somehow survived, the condition of her foot ailment was utterly catastrophic."

"Your servant has practiced medicine for many years, and facing such severe injuries, besides the cruel method of amputation, I have wrung my mind dry and can conceive of no other better treatment."

"This foot ailment was immensely vicious, having already tortured her beyond recognition."

"With a body like hers, even with amputation, she would have had zero chance of survival."

Li Chengqian closed his eyes and slowly nodded, as if exerting the strength of his entire body.

His lips trembled slightly, and after a long while, he finally spoke with great difficulty.

"I know. Issue my decree: bestow upon Song Jingshu the posthumous title of Princess Zhuosi, and bury her with the full honors of a princess in the Xianyang Imperial Cemetery."

"I want her, even in death, to be able to overlook the peaceful and contented lives of the people of Xianyang."

"I will show her through my actions that the era of peace and prosperity she yearned for shall certainly be realized by me. Henceforth, everywhere in this realm shall be as peaceful and serene as Xianyang, allowing her soul to rest in peace."

"As you command, Your Majesty!"

The ministers replied in unison, their voices echoing long within the court, laden with solemnity and gravity.

Three days later, sunlight flooded the bustling streets and alleys of Chang'an. Today was the day Li Jing’s grand army set out on the campaign against Tibet, and the entire city was boiling with excitement.

The common people poured onto the streets in droves, holding colorful silk ribbons and delicate, fresh flowers, their faces beaming with pride and anticipation.

The sides of the streets were decorated with festive lanterns that flickered like burning flames, illuminating the excited faces of the crowds.

Cheers and blessings intertwined, bustling with the lively fervor of a grand festival.

A brilliant light flashed in the people's eyes, eagerly hoping that the imperial army would return in triumph soon, bringing glory to the Great Tang and defending its dignity and honor.

In stark contrast, within the Zhao Prison, a different atmosphere of oppression and desolation prevailed.

Lu Jingshuo was imprisoned alone in a dark and damp cell, surrounded by an air of decay and despair.

The once-glorious flying-fish robe, symbol of the embroidered uniform guard's honor, was now filthy and unkempt, caked in dust and stains.

Its exquisite patterns were obscured by grime, erasing any trace of its former magnificence.

His hair was disheveled like tangled water weeds, falling in a messy cascade across his face and obscuring his once sharp and penetrating eyes.

His past spirited demeanor had vanished entirely, replaced by profound fatigue and weathered exhaustion. The old radiance in his eyes was gone, leaving only a dim and hollow void, as if the very vitality of life had drained away from him.

The colleagues who had once worked alongside him walked past his cell as if he were invisible, their gazes cold and detached, treating him like a complete stranger.

Their eyes did not linger for a single moment, nor did they show the slightest hint of past camaraderie; there was no intention to look after him whatsoever, as though he were a man forsaken by the world, someone who should never have existed in their memories.

Zhang Xian怀 had also visited once. He stood quietly outside the cell, expressionless, staring straight at Lu Jingshuo without uttering a single word.

His gaze contained a complex mixture of emotions—doubt, pity, reluctance, and an inexpressible sense of helplessness.

He watched him like this for a long while, as if trying to carve Lu Jingshuo's appearance deep into his mind, before finally turning away in silence, leaving Lu Jingshuo alone in the dark cell to endure the profound solitude and loneliness.

For three full days, no embroidered guard came to interrogate him, nor did anyone from the Ministry of Punishments come to register his case. The entire Zhao Prison seemed to have forgotten his existence.

Lu Jingshuo felt as though he had been abandoned by the entire world, lingering in solitude deep within the innermost recesses of the Zhao Prison.

Here, only the most heinous criminals were locked away, and the surrounding walls emanated a bone-chilling cold that seemed capable of freezing a human soul.

Countless unseen eyes seemed to lurk in the dark corners, inspiring instinctive terror.

Most of the time, Lu Jingshuo simply sat quietly with his eyes closed to rest his mind. Yet those who knew him well understood that beneath his seemingly calm exterior, his heart was waiting—waiting for the appearance of a person of vital importance to him, his sole craving in this abyss of darkness.

The heavy prison gate slowly creaked open, the rusted hinges emitting an ear-splitting, screeching groan that sounded exceptionally abrupt and terrifying in the quiet surroundings.

The sound resembled a summons from the netherworld, shattering the antecedent dead silence.

An imposing master's chair was carefully placed by the prison entrance by the guards, their movements as cautious as if handling a fragile treasure or performing a solemn ritual.

Hearing the commotion, Lu Jingshuo opened his eyes slightly, a trace of an imperceptible glint flashing within them.

He struggled to tidy his disheveled appearance, smoothing his hair with trembling hands, wiping the grime from his face, and then respectfully knelt upon the ground, his eyes filled with awe.

Dressed in a black robe, Li Chengqian slowly walked in from outside. His footsteps were heavy and slow, each step carrying the weight of a thousand jun, as if an entire mountain rested upon his shoulders.

He walked up to the master's chair and slowly seated himself, his expression stern. Yet, hidden within his eyes were complex emotions difficult for others to discern—sorrow, helplessness, reluctance, and, above all, a deep heartache.

Then, with a wave of his hand, all the guards took their orders and withdrew.

In an instant, deep within the tranquil Zhao Prison, only Li Chengqian and Lu Jingshuo remained.