Chapter 25: At Last, Willing to Reveal the Heavenly Secret—Who Dares to Imprison My Son?

Although the man before him was merely the son of a merchant, at the moment when Zhu Biao swore his deadly oath, Zhang Yi felt an innate authority about him, a presence that commanded respect without anger. Yet this aura did not last long; Zhu Biao quickly shifted into a solemn, earnest plea.

He stepped back and bowed to Zhang Yi once again.

Zhang Yi was troubled. He knew he shouldn’t help this eldest brother of the Huang family, for the one Zhu Biao was thinking of was a person he had no business thinking about. Yet those with deep affections always inspired a measure of sympathy.

“The one you cherish in your heart died of postpartum complications. What help could you possibly offer? If it isn’t your affair, don’t trouble yourself needlessly!” Zhang Yi retorted irritably, and Zhu Biao trembled all over.

So, the boy hadn’t been fully honest with him or his father. A slippery one, indeed—a true Taoist in temperament.

“Brother, just tell me! If there’s no hope, I’ll give up,” Zhu Biao pleaded.

Zhang Yi thought for a moment; in the end, it mattered little if he said it. He replied helplessly, “Very well, I’ll tell you. General Chang Yuchun died of illness. What I saw in the celestial records was not detailed, so I don’t know exactly what afflicted him, but it was either heart disease brought on by the rigors of military life, or simply death from exhaustion…”

“Heart disease? Death from overwork?” Zhu Biao understood the first, but the latter baffled him.

“Overwork leads to illness, a sudden death at Liuhechuan in the second year of Hongwu,” Zhang Yi explained, taking up brush and paper to write down what he knew. “So I don’t know how one might alter General Chang’s fate. But if it’s heart disease, there’s a medicine known as ‘Instant Heart Relief Pills’ that might save him at a critical moment.”

“Instant Heart Relief Pills?” Zhu Biao was even more confused. He hurried to ask, “What is this medicine? Is it a Daoist elixir from Mount Longhu? If you have it, brother…”

Zhang Yi rolled his eyes. His elder brother worried too much about everything. Did a merchant’s son really think he could change Chang Yuchun’s fate? Not to mention, if he tried warning the Chang family that their patriarch would die next year, they might send him straight to the underworld themselves.

But at the mention of the Instant Heart Relief Pills, Zhang Yi hesitated. That was a prescription that could save lives. It wasn’t an ancient formula, but rather a modern remedy developed after careful study of old texts.

Zhang Yi did not know the precise recipe, but he was familiar with its main ingredients.

He improvised, “This is a heavenly remedy. I cannot see it fully, but I recall two of the principal ingredients.” He wrote on the paper: Szechuan Lovage Root and Borneol.

He continued, “Szechuan Lovage Root mainly promotes circulation and resolves stasis. Borneol is a substance refined from the right-handed camphor tree; this is documented in old books. I only remember these two main ingredients, but if you can successfully develop the Instant Heart Relief Pills, they might save a life during a heart attack.”

Zhu Biao knew little of medicine, but he memorized the two names.

Seeing him eagerly waiting for more, Zhang Yi smiled. “As for that woman in your heart, her fate was meant to be good. After marrying the Crown Prince, they were a loving couple who respected each other. Their firstborn son was intelligent—the brightest heir the Ming Dynasty could have hoped for. Sadly…”

“The child fell ill and died young.”

Zhu Biao’s heart quivered. So, that was how he and Lady Chang’s eldest son died? It was a helpless fate.

This was not a future era, but a time when child mortality was the norm. Whether peasant or emperor, none could escape this grim law of history.

“How did he die?” Zhu Biao asked in a trembling voice.

“Most likely from cold or smallpox. Probably smallpox,” Zhang Yi replied.

Zhu Biao fell silent. To glimpse the future and still be unable to change it—such despair was even more tormenting. In these times, both cold and smallpox were essentially death sentences. Not even a king could guarantee to fend off such illnesses.

Despair overwhelmed Zhu Biao, and he slumped into a chair, dazed.

But Zhang Yi continued, “After the death of her eldest son, Lady Chang’s spirit never recovered. Fortunately, the Crown Prince continued to cherish her, and in time she bore him a second son… Only, after this birth, her body could not endure. She died in that same month.”

Zhang Yi looked up and met Zhu Biao’s eyes. “This is the fate of your ‘moonlight in your heart.’ Brother Huang, do you still think you can defy heaven and alter destiny?”

Zhu Biao was silent. He could not.

Whether it was Chang Yuchun, his own eldest son, or the woman he loved, he could not change their fates.

Yet, thinking of Lady Chang’s second son, he couldn’t help but ask, “And what of her second child?”

Zhang Yi hesitated before answering, “Imprisoned until death.”

“Who dares imprison my son!” The always composed Zhu Biao erupted in fury.

For the first time, he revealed the bearing of a future king. His eyes flashed with murderous intent. Who in this world would dare confine his son? Was it the Mongols returning to the heartland, or had some great upheaval occurred?

Zhu Biao could not believe it. As long as he or his father still lived, who would dare harm his son?

For the first time, both Zhu Biao and Zhu Yuanzhang began to doubt Zhang Yi. Looking at his younger brother, Zhu Biao found his face detestable.

He sought an answer, but Zhang Yi only shook his head. “I truly don’t know. I can only see fragments.”

Seeing the suspicion and uncertainty in Zhu Biao’s eyes, Zhang Yi smirked.

Such is human nature: when confronted with unwelcome truths, one’s instinct is to doubt, to grow angry, and ultimately, to deceive oneself.

Reading Zhu Biao’s reaction, Zhang Yi grew languid. At most, he would lose a friend. So be it—let Huang Mu reap what he had sown.

Zhang Yi did not wait for Zhu Biao’s outburst. Instead, the other man, spiritless and broken, bowed his thanks, turned, and walked away.

“A man of deep feeling, but sadly afflicted with the sickness of the Zhu family—without their fortune,” Zhang Yi murmured.

Watching Huang Mu drained of all vitality, Zhang Yi felt a pang of guilt. The more he pushed, the more fiercely Huang Mu resisted, but against a gentleman like him, Zhang Yi felt he owed him something.

“Looks like I’ll have to eat my words,” Zhang Yi muttered to himself, then called out, “Actually, all hope is not lost!”

Zhu Biao turned back, his gaze filled with expectation.

Seeing his expression, as if a dead tree had found new life, Zhang Yi was struck by the sincerity, warmth, and even a certain foolishness in his hopeful smile.

“Brother, don’t give me false hope!”

“I’m a liar? I’m being sincere!” Zhang Yi rolled his eyes, but his childish voice lacked any real intimidation.

Zhu Biao grinned foolishly. “Fine, fine, I believe you. What do I need to do? How can I help?”

“First, we have to solve the problem of smallpox,” Zhang Yi replied.