Chapter Eleven: Heaven and Hell

Zhu Di stepped forward briskly and firmly grasped Fang Xiaoru’s hands.

“Sir, Mr. Fang, there is no need for such formality, ahahaha...”

Chen Kan could clearly see that Zhu Di’s laughter made his tongue tremble slightly.

“Tch, what a shameless display!”

Silently spitting at Zhu Di, Chen Kan straightened up out of habit.

Perhaps Zhu Di was in an exceptionally good mood. Without his permission, Chen Kan stood upright; rather than reproach him, Zhu Di instead showed a smile of approval.

“Sir, this is hardly a place for conversation. How about we proceed to my private villa for a proper discussion?”

Zhu Di’s posture was unusually humble.

Fang Xiaoru nodded expressionlessly. “Thank you for the arrangement, Your Highness.”

“Mr. Fang, please.”

“Your Highness, after you.”

The two linked arms and walked, completely ignoring the sea of black-clad prison guards kneeling in the imperial prison.

Chen Kan kept his head lowered, following behind them, but as soon as they stepped out of the prison gates, he was stunned.

What a spectacle!

A vast crowd of armored soldiers, their overwhelming aura of martial might crashing against him like a tidal wave.

The moment Zhu Di appeared, thousands knelt on one knee simultaneously, their voices resounding in unison: “Greetings, Your Highness.”

The synchronized movements and deafening chants created a visual and psychological impact beyond words.

Chen Kan felt his heartbeat slow in time with the soldiers’ roar.

Intimidated by the soldiers’ formidable presence, his eyes glazed over as he muttered, “So this is the tiger bravery of the Ming Dynasty?”

Zhu Di said nothing but waved his hand grandly.

“Clang...”

The soldiers rose instantly, parting into two orderly lines.

Following them, two rows of elegant maidens stepped forward gracefully, holding delicate bone flowers, standing gourds, and ceremonial staffs.

Behind the maids marched tall, imposing generals clad in golden armor, bearing command flags, banners, and swords, arranged neatly on either side.

Finally came the procession of ceremonial blades and drums.

When all the guards and attendants were in place, a palanquin borne by four guards slowly passed through the ranks and stopped before Zhu Di.

Zhu Di extended his hand courteously. “Sir, please.”

Fang Xiaoru wasted no time with pleasantries. Despite his robe being filthy and foul, he flicked his sleeve and climbed onto the palanquin.

Chen Kan watched, dumbfounded. Such an elaborate display just to welcome one person?

Excessive beyond reason, utterly extravagant.

A rotten and improper custom!

Reforming the Ming officialdom was now an urgent necessity!

However, when a much smaller and simpler palanquin stopped before Chen Kan, he suddenly felt the scene was merely passable.

He had taken cars, planes, and high-speed trains plenty of times, but this kind of conveyance, only ever seen in museums, was a first for him—a maiden’s first ride into marriage.

A woman dressed in a pale yellow maiden’s gown gently linked her arm with his, and Chen Kan felt as if he were soaring among the clouds.

Could this be the blessing one receives after surviving great calamity?

Chen Kan had no idea how he boarded the palanquin, nor how he arrived at Prince Yan’s villa.

Nor did he know how he was bathed and dressed by that ethereal woman, as if a celestial being.

Only when he knelt cross-legged in the magnificent main hall of Prince Yan’s villa did he regain some composure.

One exquisite dish after another was brought to the tables before him like a flowing stream.

Yet he still felt dizzy—too unreal.

Hell?

Heaven?

A world of ice and fire?

“Young master, let me pour you some wine,” a clear, delicate voice brought Chen Kan’s thoughts back to reality.

He pinched his thigh hard.

The sudden pain made him grimace.

Not a dream—he had truly escaped that foul, dark, filthy, chaotic imperial prison and regained his freedom.

More than that, he had not only saved his life but had become an honored guest of Zhu Di, Prince Yan, the future Yongle Emperor.

Like a dream!

Seeing the woman sway her graceful waist as she poured a glass of fine wine for him, Chen Kan’s mouth stretched into a grin from ear to ear.

“Young master, please drink up this cup!”

Her eyes sparkled like autumn waters as she lifted the cup to his lips.

Chen Kan was about to open his mouth to drink when he suddenly remembered: he was a model youth, born under the sun and raised beneath the red banner.

How could he fall so low?

The brilliance of human dignity flashed within him, instantly awakening his senses.

He reached out and stopped the cup just before it touched his lips.

With righteous seriousness, he said, “This is too much. I can’t drink it all. You should help me finish half.”

The woman’s hand froze, her delicate face registering surprise.

Chen Kan breathed a sigh of relief. That cup must hold at least five taels of wine; if he drank it all himself, he’d be down for the count. How could he continue afterward?

Seeing her small mouth form a perfect “o,” Chen Kan frowned, dissatisfied.

“What’s the matter?”

“Drink it!” she urged.

At Chen Kan’s prompting, the woman covered her mouth to suppress a smile, then tilted her head back and drank half the wine in the cup.

Leaving precisely half behind.

Naturally, the rim of the cup bore the faint imprint of her lips.

She then offered the cup again, smiling brightly.

“Is it alright now, young master? Please, go ahead.”

Chen Kan still did not take it, frowning.

“It’s fine, but sharing one cup between two people is hardly hygienic.”

He then shook his head.

“Forget it. You drink the rest, and get me a new cup.”

The woman was speechless.

Could she smash the cup in this man’s face?

Frustrating!

Waiting online.

Eventually, she fetched a new cup for Chen Kan but left immediately after placing it down.

She felt there was a generation gap between them.

Chen Kan thought she might return soon, but she did not come back despite his waiting.

Bored, he picked up his chopsticks and poked at the food on the table.

Having eaten too much at noon and with the weather sweltering, Chen Kan had little appetite.

After poking around without finding anything he liked, he pricked up his ears to eavesdrop on the conversation between Zhu Di and Fang Xiaoru at the main seat.

Unfortunately, the Ming Dynasty practiced separate servings, and Chen Kan was too far away to hear clearly.

After listening for some time, he could only catch fragments of names like Lian Zining and Tie Xuan.

The content remained indecipherable.

However, those two names alone were enough to spark Chen Kan’s imagination.

Because historically, both met tragic ends.

Lian Zining was sentenced by Zhu Di to death by slow slicing, with his entire clan exterminated.

Tie Xuan was ordered by Zhu Di to have his nose cut off—and the severed nose was even fed to him.

The mere thought sent chills down Chen Kan’s spine.

“Bah, tyrant!” he muttered under his breath.

From what he could guess, Fang Xiaoru was likely pleading on behalf of these two.

Unlike Qi Tai and Huang Zicheng, those corrupt scholars who harmed the nation and people, these two were among the few true pillars of the Jianwen era.