SCE - 7

Chapter 7 . Killed by the Dali Court

The Crown Prince still ruthlessly had the jailers toss Yang Xuanse back into his cell. However, considering that the man might not actually be the killer, he ordered them to look after him a little to ensure nothing untoward happened to him in the main prison.

Yang Xuanse wailed, begging for his things back, complaining that the prison was just too boring.

To prevent him from escaping, the Crown Prince only returned his drinks, adding that if he finished them and needed water, he could ask the jailers.

After the Crown Prince left, a jailer resealed the remaining items and handed the bottle of jasmine tea to him through the iron bars.

"His Highness is kind-hearted. Since he cannot be completely sure you are the killer, he told us to take extra care of you. But in a place like this, there isn't much we can do. At most, you get two meals a day and water. Just give a shout if you need anything," the jailer whispered to Yang Xuanse.

Hearing there was food, Yang Xuanse felt a bit more at ease. "There's food? Then that's fine. Thanks, bro."

The jailer couldn't help but chuckle. "Hey, you kid, as long as there's food, everything is fine? This is a miserable place; even we can barely stand it."

Yang Xuanse didn't take it to heart. He went back to negotiating with the rats in his cell, suggesting it would be best if they all minded their own business and slept in their own corners at night without disturbing each other.

Since it was already past noon, there was no lunch delivery. Having tossed and turned all day, Yang Xuanse quickly grew hungry. He didn't want to move, so he finished off the jasmine tea to replenish his sugar levels, but it felt like too little. 

He regretted pouring so much for the Crown Prince earlier. Had he known His Highness wouldn't appreciate such cheap stuff, he would have just given him a tiny sip for a taste.

Fortunately, people in ancient times ate dinner early. Although there were no windows in the prison to tell the time, as a university student, Yang Xuanse was an absolute expert on the absurd experience of starving oneself until a very specific hour.

Therefore, when the jailer brought his food, Yang Xuanse knew with absolute certainty that it was 4:00 PM. Usually, at school, the cafeteria would just be opening for dinner at 4:00 PM, but he wouldn't go down to buy food until he was absolutely starving.

The meal was incredibly coarse—just a bowl of millet porridge and a side of pickled vegetables. Yang Xuanse couldn't even tell what kind of vegetable it was. 

Millet porridge was always dry and gritty no matter how much water you added. He didn't really like it; they might as well have given him millet cake, which at least tasted good.

The hesitation and disgust on Yang Xuanse's face were too obvious. The jailer thought for a moment, broke off half a hubing (sesame flatbread), and gave it to him. 

"This is all we have in the prison. We usually bring our own food. You're only getting this much because of His Highness's orders; otherwise, you'd only get a bit of rice broth to drink."

Looking at the cold flatbread that seemed dense enough to choke a man to death, Yang Xuanse waved his hand apologetically. "I'll pass on the flatbread. I'm a Southerner; I'm not used to eating it."

The jailer had thought he was just being picky, but it turned out it was just a regional difference. "A Southerner, huh? No wonder your accent is so strange. It's true that Southerners aren't us ed to the food here. Just make do for now. In a few days, when His Highness solves the case and catches the real killer, you can go home."

Right now, he could only pin his hopes on that Crown Prince, who acted like an emotionless NPC. Yang Xuanse let out a long sigh, picked up his bowl, and started eating.

Originally, Yang Xuanse thought he wouldn't be able to stomach it, but the pickled vegetables turned out to be insanely salty. He really was a Southerner; his adoptive father grew fruit on a mountain, and their palate was naturally much lighter than that of Northerners. 

Now, finding himself in ancient times and eating heavily salted pickles preserved to prevent rotting, he felt like he was going to pass out on the spot.

Even modern Northerners ate quite salty food. When Yang Xuanse applied for university, he had chosen the East China region and hadn't ventured north. But according to his roommates who had traveled there, the food in the north was much heavier in flavor than in the south; if you ate out, you had to ask the chef to go easy on the salt in advance.

In the end, Yang Xuanse finished the m illet porridge but couldn't finish the pickles. The jailer wasn't surprised when he came to collect the bowl. Prisons took in all sorts of people from all over the country, each with different tastes. 

Only when driven completely mad by hunger would someone stop caring and eat absolutely anything—even catching and eating the snakes, insects, rats, and ants in the cell.

At night, only the patrolling jailers were present. No lamps were lit, leaving the place pitch black. Occasionally, a jailer would walk by carrying a lantern, and the flickering light disrupted sleep, but that was the least of his problems. The biggest problem was the cold.

After eating, Yang Xuanse gradually felt the temperature drop. It was clearly still summer. If it was the twenty-ninth day of the fifth lunar month, that would be around June or July on the Gregorian calendar. Why was it so freezing?

After enduring it for an unknown amount of time, Yang Xuanse really couldn't take it anymore. When a jailer walked by again, he asked if he could get a blanket because it was simply too cold.

The jailer crouched down and said, looking troubled, "The prison only has blankets used for interrogating prisoners—you definitely wouldn't be able to stand them. You didn't mention it during the day, so I thought you could handle it. The doors are locked now, so I can't go out. Tomorrow... tomorrow, I'll have someone bring one for you."

In reality, ancient times experienced periods of cold waves, and the average temperature was much lower than in modern times, with significant temperature drops between day and night. 

The fact that Yang Xuanse felt perfectly comfortable wearing two layers of clothing during the day without air conditioning proved that this dynasty's average temperature was lower. 

At night, especially with the prison located deep underground, the temperature naturally plummeted even further.

There were simply too many differences between the two eras. Yang Xuanse couldn't possibly anticipate everything; he could only figure things out as he encountered them. Right now, he was on the verge of freezing his brain off.

"Th-then aren't you guys cold?" Yang Xuanse felt like his breath was misting in the air, though it might have been an illusion.

The jailer chuckled. "We practice martial arts. Wait here, let me see if I can get you something warm."

An unknown amount of time later, the jailer returned with an iron kettle, saying he had gotten it from the Dali Court's kitchens that morning. It was filled with freshly boiled water. The jailer told him he could use it as a hot water bottle to warm himself, and once it cooled down enough, he could drink the water to warm up from the inside.

Looking at the iron kettle, Yang Xuanse felt that he was destined to die in ancient times sooner or later. He wanted air conditioning, a down jacket, and a proper duvet!

However, this harsh condition wasn't a matter of intentional abuse. In this era, many people struggled just to survive. Most couldn't even bathe more than a few times a year due to a lack of water, firewood, and money. He really couldn't bring himself to complain, so he mumbled a quiet "thank you" to the jailer.

The jailer saw Yang Xuanse's fair, delicate skin and figured he was a pampered young master from the south, perhaps traveling to the capital with his family for business, only to have the terrible luck of stumbling upon a murder scene at the inn. Compared to the warm south, this prison really wasn't a pleasant place to be.

Still, everyone runs into bad luck sometimes. The jailer told Yang Xuanse that it was already dawn outside, advising him to drink some hot water whi le he had it and go to sleep quickly, or else he'd be too cold to sleep again at night.

On his second day in prison, Yang Xuanse had even less energy than Rat Bro. He slept groggily through the day. Lunch was millet rice with a different kind of pickled vegetable and some diced crunchy radishes. 

The radishes had no chili peppers, only Sichuan peppercorns, making them mouth-numbing and salty, but they were the closest thing to modern flavors that Yang Xuanse had eaten since arriving here.

Dinner was switched back to millet porridge, with the same side dishes.

After dinner, the jailer brought Yang Xuanse a blanket, saying he had brought it from home and that it would make the night a bit more bearable.

Yang Xuanse was extremely grateful, but perhaps because the blanket's material was thin, he still felt freezing cold.

On the third day, Yang Xuanse didn't wake up.

When the jailer did his early morning patrol and saw that Yang Xuanse was completely motionless, he figured the low nighttime temperatures had kept him from sleeping well, leaving him exhausted.

However, when noon arrived with the lunch delivery and Yang Xuanse still hadn't stirred, the jailer realized something was wrong. He quickly unlocked the door, rushed in, and pulled back the blanket. 

He found Yang Xuanse's face flushed red, his lips peeling, and his body radiating intense heat. It was obvious he had caught a severe fever.

"Oh, mother of mine, he's practically cooked!" the jailer exclaimed. He quickly wrapped Yang Xuanse back up and rushed off to report the situation.

In the morning, the Dali Court was only staffed by minor officials who didn't have the qualifications to attend the imperial court assembly. Hearing the jailer's report, they dismissed it entirely. 

The Crown Prince ordered extra care? If the Crown Prince truly cared, the man wouldn't have fallen ill in the first place. Falling ill meant the Crown Prince not only didn't care but still suspected the man was the killer.

They figured it might even be a form of psychological interrogation. Murderers were cunning and utterly vicious; they deserved no sympathy.

However, the Warden in charge of the Dali Court prison had been present during the interrogation. Judging from the Crown Prince's attitude and how everyone was shooed out halfway through, he guessed that Yang Xuanse might be a crucial witness. Due to the murder at the inn, the Crown Prince was under immense pressure from all sides.

Therefore, whether Yang Xuanse was the killer or not, he had to stay alive for the time being.

Unable to contact the Crown Prince and reluctant to cause a commotion at the palace, the Warden feared Yang Xuanse might die from the delay. 

He secretly sent for a doctor to examine him and stationed a man outside the palace gates, with strict instructions to notify him the moment the Crown Prince exited and headed for the Dali Court.

---

Meanwhile, the Crown Prince stood at the forefront of the court officials, listening to the Minister of Justice dramatically and covertly impeach him. The Minister of War was a prominent second-rank official; if he could be assassinated in a public inn today, wouldn't the killer be able to infiltrate the palace and assassinate the Emperor tomorrow?

Furthermore, it had been three days since the incident. The Crown Prince was temporarily acting as the Deputy Minister of the Dali Court, yet there had been zero progress. Was this due to incompetence or did he have ulterior motives? It was truly har d to convince the masses.

The Ministry of Justice's underlying message was simple: revoke the Crown Prince's concurrent position, transfer the case to the Ministry of Justice, and promote one of the Deputy Ministers of the Dali Court to jointly investigate. That would be the best course of action.

The Crown Prince should stick to his own duties. There are specialties in every profession; why occupy the seat at the Dali Court if he wasn't a professional investigator?

The Emperor, aged over fifty, sat on the dragon throne, listening to the court officials bicker and complain. He looked down at the completely unbothered Crown Prince. "Crown Prince, what do you have to say?"

Having been called upon, the Crown Prince bowed and replied, "In response to Imperial Father: two murders occurred at the inn on the same day. Based on the current clues, the two cases are unrelated, so they cannot be consolidated. Investigating them naturally requires time to search for more evidence; it has nothing to do with competence."

The Minister of Justice beside him scoffed coldly. He was just about to retort when the Emperor waved a hand and said, "In that case, continue investigating according to the Crown Prince's approach for now. As for the impeachment against the Crown Prince just now, it is not entirely unreasonable. Juggling two cases might spread you too thin. I will give the Crown Prince another seven days. If there is no progress in seven days, the case will be handed over to others."

"Your Majesty is wise and brilliant—"

A proper murder investigation had turned i nto a race against time. After the court assembly ended, the Crown Prince left the palace without stopping to rest. He was about to rush to the Dali Court when he spotted one of their men pacing anxiously back and forth outside the palace gates.

Le Jiu glanced at the Crown Prince and quickly went over to ask, "Is there a new clue?"

The man hurried to reply, "It's not a new clue. It's the killer His Highness brought back—he's struck with a severe fever and is on the verge of dying!"

Hearing this, Le Jiu quickly ran to the side of the carriage to report, "Your Highness, the foreigner has fallen gravely ill with a fever. They say he isn't going to make it."

The Crown Prince abruptly threw open the carriage curtain. "It's only been three days, and the Dali Court has already killed him?"