Chapter 2925: One Lifetime 03

The war flames inexplicably ceased, the court changed the era name, and issued a notice to pacify the people.

Refugees returned home, the small town gradually regained some liveliness, and Chenshu and Jin Chen's days quietly improved amid the slowly reviving vitality.

They thought the hardship was about to end.

Jin Chen remembered that morning: Chenshu stood under the corridor drinking the porridge he had cooked, saying the school had a day off and he wanted to go west of the city to see if any new books had arrived. Jin Chen agreed, he went to the carpenter's shop to work, and returned in the evening to cook.

That was an utterly ordinary day.

In the evening, after he finished work and returned, a crowd had gathered at the lane entrance.

Only when he drew near did he see that those people were surrounding their courtyard.

One gate of the courtyard had been knocked down; several officials in uniform stood in the courtyard, holding documents, and were affixing seals to the gate.

Jin Chen's heart sank; he pushed through the crowd, but was stopped by an official.

"Are you someone from this household?"

"Yes."

"What is Chenshu to you?"

"... Neighbor's elder brother."

Jin Chen still remembered Chenshu's earlier instruction: whenever anyone asked, he was to answer that way.

The official gave him a once‑over, then slipped a piece of paper into his hand.

"Chenshu's family is suspected of colluding with rebel remnants, treasonously aiding the enemy; as the eldest son of the family, he has already been detained pending trial."

"This courtyard is confiscated; since you have no connection to it, leave immediately, do not linger."

Jin Chen could no longer hear the words that followed.

He only heard those few words.

Colluding with rebels, aiding the enemy.

……Aiding the enemy.

Jin Chen suddenly smiled.

That smile was a bit chilling, causing the official to step back.

Jin Chen turned and walked away, knowing only that he had to go see Chenshu.

——

The prison walls were very high, the windows only the size of a palm.

Jin Chen waited outside for three days.

He sought out everyone he could find.

Old Zhou at the lane's end, the master of the southern city carpenter's shop, the teacher who worked with Chenshu at the school, and even the regular customers who had bought copied books from Chenshu.

No one could help him.

Chenshu's charge was colluding with rebels.

That rebel army had already been defeated three years earlier; its leader was executed, and the remaining troops scattered.

But someone in the court wanted to settle scores, to gain merit, and to arrest a few fugitives during this newly established peace to prove loyalty.

Chenshu's father had once held a minor post in the prefectural seat occupied by the rebels when he was young; that was twenty years ago.

When the rebels arrived, he abandoned his post and fled, without joining them.

After the rebels were defeated, he returned to his hometown and never took office again.

But that doesn't matter.

What matters is that someone needs accomplices of the rebel remnants.

Chenshu is an orphan, powerless and poor, making a living by copying books and teaching.

Such a person is the perfect scapegoat.

Jin Chen spent three days selling everything he could.

The plane he had saved up long to buy, the moon‑white outer garment Chenshu made for him, and the wooden box and the copper coins he had saved inside it.

Jin Chen shoved the silver he had obtained into a jailer's hand, saying, "I want to see him."

The jailer weighed the small amount of silver and snorted.

"What's the point of seeing him? He's a condemned prisoner, awaiting death; what use is seeing him?"

"I want to see him." Jin Chen insisted, his dark, deep eyes fixed on the jailer.

The jailer glanced at him, his gaze strange, as if looking at a fool.

"Fine, fine, fine, let you see."

The jailer pocketed the silver, "A quarter of an hour. Don't cause trouble."

——

When the prison door opened, Jin Chen could hardly recognize the person inside.

Chenshu leaned against the wall in the corner; the outer garment he had sewn over countless nights was now so filthy its original color could not be seen, the collar stained with dried blood, his ink‑black hair falling loose, covering most of his face, only revealing his gaunt jaw.

Jin Chen stood at the doorway, thinking he would have much to say.

He had prepared for three days, but when he actually stood there, he could not utter a single word.

Jin Chen walked over and squatted in front of Chenshu.

Chenshu lifted his eyes to look at him, his rippling gaze slightly lowering, "Jin Chen."

"Hmm."

Jin Chen reached out his hand and grasped Chenshu's; his hand was cold, colder than the snowy night by the firewood pile that winter.

"I've come to take you out." Jin Chen said.

Chenshu looked at him, gazed for a long time, then gave a faint smile.

They all knew it was impossible, but Jin Chen always insisted on doing whatever he set his mind to, far more stubborn than ordinary people.

Jin Chen tried to break out of prison, but he couldn't beat many of the guards here and failed to bring Chenshu out.

The verdict was announced.

Chenshu was exiled three thousand li and forbidden to return to his native place for life.

It wasn't the death penalty, but it was hardly different; the place of exile was the bitter cold northern frontier, where nine out of ten never return.

When Jin Chen heard the news, he was staying at Old Zhou's house at the end of the alley to recuperate.

Old Zhou sighed, patted his shoulder, and said, "Child, don't dwell on it. Just staying alive is already a blessing. You… you'll have to get by on your own from now on."

Jin Chen didn't respond; the corners of his eyes, which he had lifted, slowly sank.

He didn't want to fend for himself; without Chenshu, he had become a roadside beggar, not even a frozen corpse.

Jin Chen had nearly picked his fingers raw; he opened his eyes slightly and recalled the words Chenshu had once casually mentioned to him.

He could always remember every word Chenshu said, and from them he had fortunately found a sliver of hope.

Dragging his unhealed wounds all over, Jin Chen went alone to the northern part of the city.

There lived one of the officials who had once judged the rebel case; he had since been promoted, now residing in a large three‑courtyard manor with servants guarding the gate.

Jin Chen crouched at the alley entrance for two days.

On the third night, he climbed over the wall into that person's study and found the old case files.

They bore Chenshu's name, the past of his father, and the full context.

He examined those pieces of evidence one by one; he had already learned to recognize many characters.

Not a single one was true.

All the testimonies were false, all the documents forged, and every witness had been bribed.

Jin Chen tucked the case file into his bosom, then set a fire.

The fire started in the woodshed next to that person's study and spread quickly and fiercely.

In the firelight, Jin Chen vaulted over the wall, hearing the shouts and cries behind him without looking back.

He delivered that case file overnight to the residence of the Old Censor whom Chenshu greatly admired and who was famed for his integrity.

Jin Chen didn't know whether the Old Censor would intervene, but this was the last recourse he could think of.

Dawn was approaching, and Jin Chen went out to the countryside again.

He knew roughly when Chenshu's exile convoy would depart and which route it would take.

He went to wait.

At dusk, the exile convoy finally arrived.

A dozen or so people were linked together with ropes, slowly moving forward under the escort of soldiers.

Chenshu walked in the middle, shackles on his feet, each step dragging a heavy sound; his back was so thin he could barely hold up the tattered prisoner's garb.

Jin Chen followed from afar, all the way until twilight fell and the convoy made camp.

At night, he sneaked into the camp.

The guard watching Chenshu was knocked out with a stone by him and tied to a corner post of the tent.

He crouched before Chenshu and undid the shackles on his feet.

After a long while, Chenshu slowly turned his eyes away, not letting himself stare at Jin Chen in a daze; his damp lashes could not conceal the emotion in his eyes.

"Go." Jin Chen urged him.

"Jin Chen." Chenshu locked eyes with him for a moment, then lowered his gaze and whispered, "Do you know what you're doing?"

"I know."

"This is a capital offense."

"I know." Jin Chen replied, his posture unchanged, ready to whisk Chenshu away at a moment's notice.

"You… this isn't worth it."

"Chenshu." Jin Chen cut him off.

Jin Chen knelt there, staring at Chenshu without blinking, "Before, you never asked me whether I was worth it."

"Nor did I."

Jin Chen rose, reached out, and lightly grasped Chenshu's fingertips. "Let's go."

That hand hovered before Chenshu, just like the hand that had reached out to him on that rainy night long ago.

He took hold of Jin Chen's hand.

Just as it had been many years ago on that rainy night.