Chapter 120

Ke Hongxue had lived for twenty-seven years. He had knelt before his parents, before emperors, and in reverence before his mentor in an ancestral hall.

But beyond that, he was the only son of the Ke family, the Third-rank Scholar of Dayu, and the Junior Tutor of the Imperial Academy.

Within the bounds of his authority, if a prince defied his teachings and contradicted his lecturers, he could just as easily have those nobles of imperial blood kneel before their ancestors’ memorial tablets.

Save for the emperor, there were few left in this world before whom he would kneel.

So when Mu Jingxu’s words fell, Ke Hongxue only smiled, stepping toward him under the scattered moonlight, his voice soft as he asked, “In what capacity does Senior ask me to kneel?”

“As the Assistant Minister of the Imperial Court of Justice, or as the exiled Third Prince of the former dynasty?”

Mu Jingxu’s voice was cool. “You are utterly without propriety.”

Ke Hongxue made no comment. He continued forward, pausing just before the space between them vanished.

Three feet apart. It was both the distance of a gentleman’s friendship and the boundary of master and subordinate.

He deliberately maintained this elusive distance, as if silently protesting the accusation.

He was, after all, the most well-mannered person in the world. Otherwise, how could he allow his senior to stand before him like this, cold and untouchable, reprimanding him like some flower atop a high mountain… while he himself remained unsullied by the dust and filth of the mortal world?

Ke Hongxue said, “Senior has yet to answer my question.”

Mu Jingxu asked, “And if neither title applied, does that mean I have no right to make you kneel?”

Ke Hongxue chuckled.

He took a step forward, shattering that invisible wall, crossing into the space within three inches of Mu Jingxu. Lowering his head slightly, picturesque brows curving in a refined, gentle smile. What once was casual charm, effortless and unrestrained, in this moment transformed into something far more indulgent, far more devoted.

“Then that is also an option,” he murmured. “Senior could simply do as the Prince would. Marry me home. Or, come home with me. In that case, I would kneel however you wished.”

In all of Yu capital, there were those with power, those with knowledge, those with beauty, and those with high office.

But if one were to name a single person who possessed all these things, the answer from every mouth would be the same: Ke Hanying.

Ke Hongxue had been young once, and he had always been a charming and carefree man.

From seventeen to twenty-two, he lived his life as though it belonged to someone else.

From twenty-two to twenty-seven, he remained by one person’s side, waiting. Waiting for them to take a moment’s rest, to turn back and look at him.

There are few decades in a lifetime.

And no one remains seventeen forever.

Lowering his gaze, Ke Hongxue looked at his prince, the corners of his lips lifting faintly. Yet within his eyes, cool detachment and sorrow had begun to coil like mist.

“But you would never agree to either.”

Breath scattered with the moonlight, the autumn night carried a slight chill, and in the hush between words, it felt as though a thin mist had begun to gather… brushing past the faint down along the immortal’s cheek.

Ke Hongxue’s eyes lingered there as he said, voice barely above a whisper, “Senior would not agree to any of it. Your Highness has never once admitted to any of it. So from what position do you accuse me of lacking propriety? And by what right do you demand that I kneel?”

The breath between them drifted, brushing against Mu Jingxu’s lashes, making them tremble faintly.

Ke Hongxue gazed at him, still smiling.

Mu Jingxu’s brows knit together, but he merely said, “The duties of the Imperial Court of Justice.”

Ke Hongxue’s smile deepened. “Then the Assistant Minister of the Imperial Court of Justice must be carrying out his duties with great diligence, to have come to such a place in the dead of night, apprehending a court official for consorting with prostitutes. I have nothing to say in my defense. I surrender myself entirely to the law and await my punishment.”

Taking half a step back, he lifted his chin ever so slightly. He spoke of surrender, yet his stance remained utterly unyielding, gaze fixed on Mu Jingxu with a trace of mockery in his voice.

“Yet, might I trouble Lil’ Bro Mu to explain? In a house full of so-called accomplices, why was I the only one called out? There was no trial, no questioning, not even a single government official present to bear witness. So why, then, was I made to kneel the moment we met?”

“Are you truly upholding justice, or merely venting a personal grievance?”

Ke Hongxue pressed forward, leaving Mu Jingxu no room to respond. The charm in those peach-blossom eyes vanished entirely, replaced with an unflinching, razor-sharp intensity. It was an emotion that should never have existed between them.

Mu Jingxu’s expression darkened. “Ke Hanying!”

“Sheng Fuze!” Ke Hongxue’s voice was low and restrained, but it carried the force of a blade. The air turned utterly silent.

A long moment passed before Ke Hongxue spoke again, his voice cold. “Tell me. Are you afraid I’ll bring harm to your precious didi, or are you simply unhappy that I set foot in a brothel?”

Mu Jingxu was silent for a long time. Then he finally replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The autumn moon hung atop the trees, river lanterns drifting below, the pleasure house above still alive with music and laughter. Just as it had been ten years ago, and just as it would be ten years from now.

A grave for lost souls, a temple of fleeting pleasure.

Ke Hongxue lowered his head and laughed softly… long, and slow, and quiet.

Mu Jingxu frowned, lips pressing into a thin line. For the first time in a long while, something resembling unease flickered across his features.

Finally, Ke Hongxue’s laughter faded. He lifted his head, eyes curving in a soft arc as he looked at Mu Jingxu. “You claim not to know. But I do.”

A commotion stirred beyond the door. A woman’s startled scream. The frantic shuffle of footsteps over wooden floors. Doors thrown open and slammed shut in haste.

Something was wrong.

From three feet away, Ke Hongxue looked at the Assistant Minister of the Imperial Court of Justice and said, “You did not come here for me. Nor did you come here for Su Huaijing. You truly did have official business.”

“The Longevity Festival draws near. The Dasui delegation entered the capital two days ago. The Imperial Court of Justice received intelligence that a spy from Dongshan had infiltrated the Hanlin Academy. He was planning to disguise himself as a Dasui agent and incite chaos in the capital, framing Dasui for the unrest and provoking the emperor to detain their crown prince, forcing the two nations into war.”

“Just as it happened ten years ago.”

His voice was distant, almost impatient, yet his understanding of the situation was clearer than anyone’s.

He met Mu Jingxu’s startled gaze and continued, “During the Longevity Festival, security across the capital will be heightened, with imperial guards patrolling day and night. For such a scheme to succeed, the perpetrators must choose a place that is always bustling. A place teeming with people, transient by nature, where an unfamiliar face can blend seamlessly into the crowd.”

“Gambling halls, taverns, brothels…” Ke Hongxue let out a soft laugh. “Tell me, Senior. Where in Yu capital is more chaotic, more ideal for a massacre, than this pleasure house?”

He spoke with a careless ease, as if he weren’t discussing matters of state, nor the fate of a human life. It was as if he were merely sitting atop the library of Changming Academy with his senior, drinking fine wine, tearing into roasted chicken, and chatting idly about the untold stories hidden within the books of sages, beneath the bright moon and cool night breeze.

For a brief moment, Mu Jingxu was furious. His voice was heavy as he questioned, “Since you knew, why did you bring Rong Tang here?”

Ke Hongxue merely smiled, indifferent. “Relax. Every drop of wine, every dish your little didi’s precious husband imported into the country. I watched over them, tasted them myself. As long as I don’t die, he won’t either.”

Mu Jingxu fell silent, stunned.

It wasn’t that Ke Hongxue viewed human lives as mere trifles. It was that he didn’t even care about his own.

A clear-headed and brilliant madman. For the first time, Mu Jingxu felt as though he was meeting him anew.

Ke Hongxue studied the flickering emotions in Mu Jingxu’s eyes, a hint of amusement flashing in his own. There was satisfaction in his gaze, the thrill of a mischief well-played.

Outside, the sounds of unrest rose, only to be swiftly suppressed. Ke Hongxue watched Mu Jingxu for a moment before adding with a smile, “But don’t worry. I won’t let myself die. I won’t allow you to carry that burden of guilt. And I certainly won’t leave before I see my goal fulfilled.”

He asked, “Senior, do you have any other questions?”

Mu Jingxu’s chest tightened. His heart pounded erratically, sending sharp pains through him. Every bone that had been broken and reset throbbed in warning.

He closed his eyes briefly and admitted, “No. I came here on official duty. Step aside.”

As he moved forward, Ke Hongxue blocked his path, still smiling. “So, you admit it? That you’ve abused your power and perverted the law for personal gain?”

Relentless. Unyielding.

Mu Jingxu had never imagined that Ke Hongxue would turn such methods against him.

After a pause, he replied coldly, “I will report to the Imperial Court of Justice and accept my punishment.”

Ke Hongxue laughed in disbelief. “You’d rather take punishment than tell me the truth?”

Mu Jingxu had been suppressing his temper all night, and now, he could no longer hold it back. He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Ke Hongxue. His pupils flickered with anger. “What truth do you want?”

Ke Hongxue’s smile didn’t waver. “A lot.”

“I want many truths. Who are you, really? Why did you choose to enter Linyuan Academy? Why did you befriend me? Why did you step into the court? Why do you never speak to me with honesty?” He took a step closer, voice low. “Why did you refuse to let me join the army?”

His smile carried an unreadable edge. “Sheng Fuze, if you were going to lie to me, you should’ve done a thorough job from the start.”

It was hard to tell whether he was mocking Mu Jingxu’s naivety or simply remarking on how incomplete his deception had been. It was like covering one’s ears to steal a bell.

Ke Hongxue lowered his voice. “Don’t forget, I am a son of the Ke family, a lineage of great scholars. I was first-ranked in the academy, and out of thousands, I was the one who walked away as the imperial examination’s Third-rank Scholar.”

A young master like jade, unmatched in the world.

Had Mu Jingxu not existed, Ke Hanying would have been the top scorer of the capital, parading through the streets on horseback, revelling in the glory of spring.

His voice softened, but his presence pressed closer. “There are countless academies in the world, countless ways to hide one’s name. So why did you go to Linyuan Academy, knowing I was there?”

“If you were going to use me, why not reveal your identity?”

His lips still curved in a smile, but his eyes were tinged with uncontrollable red. “Did you think I was so foolish, so worthless, that any random person could call themselves my senior and I would devote myself to protecting him, clearing every obstacle in his path?”

His voice was hoarse as he asked, “Have you ever spoken a single honest word to me?”

The moonlight alone bore witness to their confrontation.

Mu Jingxu was silent for a long time before he finally spoke, his voice low and commanding. “Insolence.”

A rebuke, a reprimand. The innate suppression of a superior over his subordinate.

Ke Hongxue suddenly chuckled. “Your Highness, you finally admit it.”

“…Ke Hanying, you brought this upon yourself.”

Mu Jingxu reached out and seized Ke Hongxue by the collar, yanking him close. His gaze burned into him.

You asked for this.

You insisted on walking beside me in this dark, sunless hell.

And yet, the one being dragged forward showed no fear, no resistance—only a calm, knowing smile.

“Yes. I chose this willingly.”

He spoke softly, as if making a vow. “Use me however you like, until the day I die. If my bones can pave your road, I will gladly let you step on them.”

“But you are not allowed to abandon me.”

Ke Hongxue’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Your Highness, we don’t have many decades left. I cannot wait for another ten years.”

Mu Jingxu stared at him for a long time. So long that his eyes began to ache.

Then, finally, he pulled Ke Hongxue even closer, tilting his head up, sinking his teeth into his lips.

Like a drowning man, at last daring to grasp the only lifeline within reach.

The author has something to say:

Yes, Qiuqiu has completely lost it 🙂

Reiterating: Ke is the top, Mu is the bottom.