Jiang Suizhou knew that this body was quite feeble and sickly, but he hadn’t expected its alcohol tolerance to be this low as well.
After leaving the Ministry of Justice, he’d felt a heavy weight in his chest. He’d guessed that Ji You’s imprisonment was connected to him, but it still shook him terribly to see that guess confirmed firsthand.
That was a living, breathing soul who was suffering needlessly. Ji You was a good man, a gifted and free-spirited master of poetry, and he didn’t deserve this. Simply because of a few small acts of kindness toward the Prince of Jing, Ji You had been dragged into this mess along with him. Now his future was uncertain, and his life hung in the balance.
It was all because of Pang Shao.
Initially, Jiang Suizhou had seen Pang Shao as nothing more than a treacherous, corrupt official recorded alongside countless others in the history books. Now, he’d become the butcher wielding a knife, threatening everyone around him.
How naive Jiang Suizhou had been, thinking he could steer clear of him for three entire years and emerge unscathed.
He felt as if a stone were pressing down on his heart, making it hard to breathe.
He wanted to vent his frustration, but whom could he talk to about any aspect of this? And so he endured this burden silently until the carriage passed Changping Street.
Changping Street was bustling with merchants and pedestrians, lively and vibrant. The aroma of food and wine wafted from the restaurants, and the crowd of ordinary people and vendors passing by offered Jiang Suizhou a brief vision of a world that was warm and peaceful, completely different from the cold, aristocratic atmosphere of the Prince of Jing’s residence.
It was here that Jiang Suizhou ordered the carriage to stop and walked off on his own.
In this moment, he was desperate to shed the identity of the Prince of Jing and escape this world he’d been forced into. He yearned to return to the normal, unremarkable life he’d once had, and yet, he knew that even the ordinary world had no place for him anymore.
He wandered aimlessly through Changping Street, surrounded by people yet utterly isolated.
After walking for a while, Jiang Suizhou eventually found himself looking up at the flag of a vintner fluttering in the wind.
He entered the shop, ordered some wine, and drank alone until late into the night.
The wine wasn’t strong—it was the usual southern apricot blossom wine, sweet and fragrant, not at all intoxicating. But when Jiang Suizhou stood, he felt dizzy and unsteady on his feet. Somehow, he was already drunk.
He steadied himself against the table.
Maybe being drunk wasn’t so bad, really. Ever since his arrival, he’d been constantly on alert. It was exhausting.
He staggered out of the wine shop and slowly made his way back to the residence.
At some point, it had started raining outside, a mere light shower that he barely noticed. It wasn’t until he reached the entrance of the residence that he realized someone had been holding an umbrella for him.
It was a guard he didn’t recognize. When the guard noticed Jiang Suizhou looking at him, his legs trembled, and he almost collapsed to his knees.
Jiang Suizhou frowned and waved his hand dismissively.
Ah, of course. Inebriated as he was, he was still in the same place he was when he was sober. He was the fearsome Prince of Jing, a figure who struck dread into the hearts of all, even when nearly falling-down drunk.
A palanquin was brought over, but he spurned it in favor of walking across the wet stone pavement back to Anyin Hall on his own.
The moment he entered the courtyard, he saw Meng Qianshan running toward him through the rain.
“Your Highness!” Meng Qianshan’s voice trembled with worry. “Where have you been? You scared your servant half to death…”
“Didn’t you send people to follow me?” Jiang Suizhou responded hoarsely.
Meng Qianshan was startled, thinking the prince was about to reprimand him.
But before he could speak, Jiang Suizhou raised his hand.
He walked up the steps, then stopped under the corridor to turn and look back at Meng Qianshan.
“Don’t worry about me. Wait outside.”
Meng Qianshan could only nod obediently.
Jiang Suizhou pushed the door open, stepped inside, and leaned against the partition wall. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths to ground himself.
He would need to start figuring out how to clear Ji You’s name, as he’d sworn he would. But that was a task to be tackled tomorrow morning.
Right now, he just wanted to be alone for a while.
He stayed there for a moment, letting the haze of the alcohol dissipate a bit. Feeling slightly calmer now, he slowly opened his eyes again.
It was then that he realized someone was sitting in front of him, quietly watching.
Jiang Suizhou looked at the person and blinked in surprise, before smiling an unguarded, absolutely drunken smile as he realized who it was.
“You’re here,” he said lazily. “I’d forgotten.”
“Why did you drink so much?” Huo Wujiu asked.
“I didn’t drink that much,” he insisted, smiling and shaking his head. “I just have poor tolerance.”
Huo Wujiu frowned.
The man really had drunk beyond his limits.
His face was flushed, his gaze unfocused, and his robes were still damp. Although the upper half of his body hadn’t been caught in the rain, the hem of his robe and his trouser legs were soaking wet.
“Go change your clothes,” Huo Wujiu ordered.
“Oh,” Jiang Suizhou muttered, his thoughts jumbled.
He rubbed his temples, then braced himself against the partition to stand.
Unfortunately, he’d been leaning against the partition for too long. With the alcohol still fogging his mind and sapping his strength, his entire body felt weaker than ever. After just one step, his legs gave out, and he stumbled forward.
A second too late, Jiang Suizhou belatedly realized he was falling. In his current sluggish state, he couldn’t react in time.
He braced himself for the impact.
…It was unexpectedly warm and painless.
A pair of arms firmly embraced him. When he opened his eyes and blinked away some of the bleariness, the blurred mass in front of him resolved into Huo Wujiu’s handsome face, filling his field of vision. His dark, placid eyes fixed Jiang Suizhou with an appraising look at incredibly close range.
Huo Wujiu had caught him.
Jiang Suizhou, however, was far too drunk to register any of this as unusual or noteworthy in any way. Upon realizing that he was currently sprawled in Huo Wujiu’s arms, he merely gazed blankly back at him for a few seconds.
Then something seemed to click in his brain. He paused, as if he’d suddenly remembered something important, and then slowly asked the question on his mind.
“Do your legs still hurt today?”