HNYWEF -Chapter 8 The Clever Ones

Li Shimin sat before the desk in Ganlu Hall of Taiji Palace.

It was late at night.

Three days’ worth of memorials were piled in front of him. The vermilion brush rested beside the inkstone, already dried out.

But he was not reading the memorials.

He was looking at the moon outside the window.

The door creaked softly.

“Come in.”

Qin Qiong walked in quietly, his footsteps light, as though afraid of disturbing someone. He stopped three steps away from the desk and cupped his fists in salute.

“Prince of Qin.”

Li Shimin did not turn around.

“Shubao, you’re here.”

Qin Qiong waited for a moment. Seeing that he said nothing further, he asked, “Why has Your Highness summoned me?”

Li Shimin remained silent for a long time.

So long that Qin Qiong thought he would not answer at all.

Then Li Shimin finally spoke.

“I found him.”

Qin Qiong froze. “Who?”

At last, Li Shimin turned around.

Candlelight fell across his face, revealing the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He had barely slept these past few days. His whole body seemed stretched taut like a drawn bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.

But the expression on his face right now was not exhaustion.

It was something else.

Suddenly, Qin Qiong remembered that rainy day nine years ago.

Li Shimin standing in the rain, watching someone walk away carrying a child.

Qin Qiong’s heart sank.

“Zhou Xiong?” he asked.

Li Shimin nodded.

Qin Qiong opened his mouth as if to say something, then swallowed the words back down.

He remembered that day. Remembered Zhou Xiong’s back as he carried the child away. Remembered that look in his eyes—

In his entire life, Qin Qiong had only seen a look like that once.

As though something inside had died.

“He…” Qin Qiong carefully chose his words. “Is he doing alright?”

Li Shimin said nothing.

Only after a long while did he speak.

“Zhijie found him. On the night of the third day, after I was poisoned and lost consciousness, Zhijie carried me while fleeing and ended up at his doorstep.”

Qin Qiong fell silent.

He knew what that meant.

Zhou Xiong had every reason not to save that man.

He had every reason to let him die outside his door.

But Zhou Xiong had saved him anyway.

For a moment, Qin Qiong no longer knew what to say.

Li Shimin looked at him and suddenly asked, “Shubao, why do you think he saved me?”

Qin Qiong paused.

Without waiting for an answer, Li Shimin continued.

“He hates me. He has every reason to hate me. I caused his wife’s death. Because of me, he spent nine years raising that child alone. So why did he save me?”

Qin Qiong remained silent.

Li Shimin lowered his head and looked at the memorials on the desk.

“I owe him too much,” he said quietly. “But I don’t know how to repay it.”

After a moment of silence, Qin Qiong asked, “What is he… like now?”

Li Shimin looked up.

He remembered that face.

Older. Darker. Empty-eyed.

“He doesn’t talk anymore,” Li Shimin said. “He used to talk more than anyone. Now he barely says a word.”

Qin Qiong slowly closed his eyes.

He remembered the Zhou Xiong from their days at Wagang Fortress.

His mouth never rested while stitching wounds, never rested during battle, and rested even less while drinking. He could curse out someone’s ancestors for eight generations while sewing up their injuries, then go drinking with them afterward.

When he laughed, it was carefree and foolish, like an idiot with no worries in the world.

That was Zhou Xiong.

That was his brother.

Qin Qiong opened his eyes again.

He looked at Li Shimin for a long while before speaking.

“Your Highness, there is something I wish to say, though I’m unsure whether I should.”

Li Shimin nodded.

Qin Qiong considered his words carefully.

“If possible, for now… don’t provoke him.”

Li Shimin looked at him.

Qin Qiong continued, “It’s been nine years. He raised that child alone for nine years. The child lost his mother not long after birth, and Zhou Xiong brought him up with his own hands. Think about it—how do you think he lived through those years?”

Li Shimin said nothing.

Qin Qiong continued softly, “Saving you was his choice. But the wound in his heart… it won’t heal so easily.”

Li Shimin asked quietly, “Then what should I do?”

Qin Qiong thought for a moment before answering:

“Wait.”

“Wait?”

“Wait until everything settles,” Qin Qiong said. “Wait until the court stabilizes. Wait until all these chaotic matters are cleaned up. Then… leave him to Zhijie.”

Li Shimin frowned. “Leave him to Zhijie?”

Qin Qiong nodded.

“Some things,” he said, “can only be handled by rough men. If clever men like us get involved, it may only make things worse.”

Li Shimin froze for a moment.

Then suddenly, he understood.

Cheng Yaojin was a rough man.

Cheng Yaojin spoke before thinking. He acted recklessly, saying whatever came to mind and doing whatever he pleased.

But Cheng Yaojin had a warm heart.

A heart that could warm others.

And people like them—the “clever ones”—Fang Xuanling, Du Ruhui, even Li Shimin himself—

They thought too much. Calculated too carefully. Every step weighed against gains and losses.

If they went to see Zhou Xiong, Zhou Xiong would think they were plotting something.

But if Cheng Yaojin went, Zhou Xiong would not think that way.

Because Cheng Yaojin was simply Cheng Yaojin.

He did not need schemes.

Li Shimin remained silent for a long time.

Then he nodded.

“Shubao,” he said quietly, “you’re right.”

Qin Qiong cupped his fists in salute.

Suddenly, Li Shimin asked, “Don’t you want to see him?”

Qin Qiong paused.

He looked at Li Shimin, then after a while answered:

“I do.”

“Then why don’t you go?”

Qin Qiong was silent for a moment before replying:

“I’m afraid if I go… he’ll only feel worse.”

Li Shimin asked no further questions.

He understood what Qin Qiong meant.

Sometimes, meeting old friends only stabbed deeper into the heart.

What Zhou Xiong needed now was not old companions, not old feelings, not anything that would remind him of the past.

Li Shimin lifted his head and looked at the moon outside the window.

That night, Zhou Xiong had walked away carrying the child.

Li Shimin did not know how Zhou Xiong had survived those nine years.

But he knew one thing.

From this day onward, the debt he owed Zhou Xiong could never be repaid.

Qin Qiong stood there, looking at Li Shimin’s profile.

Suddenly, he remembered something.

“Your Highness,” he asked, “does Zhijie know what you intend?”

Li Shimin turned around.

“He doesn’t,” he said. “But I know he’ll go tomorrow.”

Qin Qiong blinked. “Tomorrow?”

Li Shimin nodded.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “I’m sending him there.”

Qin Qiong was silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

“That figures,” he said. “Zhijie’s the kind of man who can’t hold himself back anyway.”

Li Shimin smiled too.

A very faint, very light smile.

Then he lowered his head and returned to reading the memorials.

Qin Qiong withdrew.

The door closed softly behind him.

The moon hung high above, shining over a silent palace and a silent long street.

At the end of that street, someone was waiting for dawn.

Someone was waiting for tomorrow.

Someone was waiting for that door to be knocked on once more.