Chapter: Imprisonment and Reckoning
Zhang Wei's tongue tasted bitter from the medicine he was being fed, but that wasn't the worst part. His blue eyes fixed on the cold iron bars and the worn straw mat beneath him, his body aching from days without proper rest.
What a life… he murmured, adjusting his posture, only for the chains to click sharply—a harsh reminder of his reality. Being a prisoner was nothing short of hell.
Dragged here, locked up like an animal, forced to stay in one of the filthiest cells… that was his fate. The stench of human waste piled high at the far end made him recoil. Even the robe he wore smelled foul.
At first, he thought this punishment was for his mother's death. Later, he realized the clan leader was covering his own misdeeds, using him as a pawn. Zhang Wei could only sit there, scowling.
Is the old man protecting me… or trying to kill me? he whispered under his breath. Hunger and thirst gnawed at him like claws, but the cries of other prisoners—the howls of pain, the screams of torture—kept his fear alive. He shivered, imagining himself next.
Guards were cruel, often denying food and water, but at least he had survived the hunger rather than succumbed to torture.
"You!"
Zhang Wei's eyes narrowed at the approaching guard. Unlike the others, this one had a potbelly and wiry skin, with an unsettling glint in his eye.
"Here. Wear this," he said, tossing a fresh set of white robes toward him.
"Why?" Zhang Wei asked, suspicion rising.
The guard's irritated look did nothing to reassure him. "The clan leader wants to see you. Change quickly," he said, clicking his tongue before leaving. Zhang Wei was left bewildered.
First he imprisons me… now he wants to see me?
Another guard appeared, carrying a bowl of soup with grains.
"Your meal," he said.
Zhang Wei instinctively stepped back. Years of reading historical novels had taught him that prison food could easily be poisoned. He wouldn't risk it.
"Leave it there," he ordered, and the guard obeyed.
For the first time, he noticed his chains were gone, though blisters on his wrists bore evidence of past abuse.
He changed into the new robes, delighting in the fresh fabric. Then his gaze fell on the stark whiteness of his hair. At first, he had been shocked, but after two days of staring numbly, he no longer mourned his black locks. Still, it bothered him.
Why me? Why now? he wondered, heart pounding.
"Young master," the young guard called, bowing respectfully. "The clan leader is waiting in the side room. Please follow me."
Zhang Wei nodded, his voice dry but commanding, prompting the guard to move forward.
I still have questions… but am I ready for the answers? he thought as the cell disappeared behind him.
The walk wasn't long, but Zhang Wei's nerves twisted with every step. What are we even going to talk about? He had never had a normal conversation with the clan leader. Every encounter had been brief—surrounded by important guests or interrupted by endless duties.
"We're here, young master," the guard announced, voice unnaturally high, almost mocking in its forced politeness.
Zhang Wei stepped into the dimly lit room. There wasn't much to see apart from an old wooden table and a jade-like chair at the center. Zhang Chaun sat on it with an air of authority that seemed to consume the room.
Though already in his mid-fifties, the clan leader looked far younger. Zhang Wei often thought anyone might mistake him for someone in his thirties. His presence alone sent a cold shiver down Zhang Wei's spine.
"Zhang Wei!"
The calm, deep voice snapped him from his thoughts.
"Y-yes, Father," he replied, bowing slightly, avoiding direct eye contact.
"Have you learned your lesson?"
Zhang Wei bit his lips. He didn't even know what crime he had committed. "This son is… stupid, and doesn't really understand what he's done to deserve such treatment," he said honestly, guilt rising over A Ji Ya's death.
Zhang Chaun laughed softly at his son's words, yet his eyes remained cold and calculating.
"At least you know you're stupid," he murmured, studying him carefully. Pathetic, he thought, watching Zhang Wei shiver. If it weren't for Zhang Mi pleading on the boy's behalf, he might have forgotten him entirely as one of his children.
"Zhang Wei!"
The sudden shout made Zhang Wei flinch, his heart hammering against his chest.
"Look at me when I speak to you!" his father barked.
Zhang Wei hesitated, then slowly raised his head to meet his father's eyes. He noticed nothing unusual, except his unsteady stance. He had already been informed by the doctor about his son's critical condition—it was a miracle he could walk at all. Broken meridians, torn muscles, and that strange white hair…
"I will ask again," Zhang Chaun said, voice sharp. "Do you really not know why you were left in that cell?"
Zhang Wei frowned, shaking his head. "No!"
"Then I will enlighten you," his father said, smiling softly, though the darkness in his eyes made Zhang Wei uncomfortable and fearful. The smile did not reach the depth of his eyes, and a chill ran down Zhang Wei's spine.
"Please… enlighten me," he whispered.
"Fuyao!"
Zhang Wei's throat went dry. Memories of the deaths she caused while fleeing returned in a rush. If it hadn't been for the clan leader's intervention, he would have died like the others.
"I'm innocent of the crimes committed by Fuyao," he said simply, careful not to claim guilt for something he couldn't be sure of.
Zhang Chaun raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she your wife?"
Zhang Wei shook his head. "No. She's not my lover—just a close friend I saved and brought back to my courtyard to recover from her injuries." He paused, thinking of Tang's words. "The mother of my child… she's dead. A maid, who unfortunately passed away after childbirth."
He bit his lips, hoping his father would believe him. He was speaking the truth, at least in part.
Zhang Chaun's eyes narrowed further, analyzing every movement. He wondered if Zhang Wei had made a mistake, but his pride prevented him from admitting it.
"Father!" Zhang Wei called, dropping to his knees.
"I know I was careless letting someone like Fuyao into Zhang territory without your permission. I thought I was helping a friend, but I was mistaken. I am willing to take punishment for my sin," he said, bowing deeply, his words heartfelt yet cursing his luck silently.
Zhang Chaun continued to watch him, unmoved, though he couldn't deny that among all his children, Zhang Wei was the most useless and unlucky.
So fragile… yet somehow still standing, he thought silently.
"Stand!"
Zhang Wei rose slowly, head still bowed.
"Stay here for two extra days to reflect on your actions," his father commanded calmly, then turned and walked through the side door.
"Thank you… Father," Zhang Wei whispered, relief flooding him. Though two more days in that hellish place would be agonizing, at least he wouldn't be killed… for now.
He sank to the floor behind the jade chair, staring at his trembling hands. Two days… I can survive that. But what comes after?
A faint whisper reached his ears from the shadows of the room. He froze, straining to listen. It wasn't the wind. It was a voice—low, deliberate, and dripping with malice.
"Young master… even in chains, your life isn't yours."
Zhang Wei's heart pounded. Somewhere beyond the walls of the cell, someone was watching, plotting, waiting. And somewhere, the clan leader's intentions remained unreadable—his calm smile hiding a depth of danger Zhang Wei couldn't yet fathom.
The shadows in the room seemed to pulse, and for the first time, Zhang Wei realized: surviving the next two days might only be the beginning of his true nightmare.
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