Chapter 11: The Prince of the Slums
Chapter 11: The Prince of the Slums
Chen Chang’an let out a bright, unburdened laugh that echoed across the water.
Even the treacherous Qin Hui had his circle of loyalists; why shouldn’t Chen Chang’an have his own?
These three were his kin in every way that mattered—orphans from the Foundling Hall and his closest childhood playmates. Long ago, they had mimicked the legendary Oath of the Peach Garden, binding themselves as sworn brothers and sisters in blood.
The ruffian leading the group was built like a mountain of a man, yet he was actually a year younger than Chen Chang’an. Knowing nothing of his father’s lineage, he had taken the surname of Zhou Cuihua, the head of the Foundling Hall. Zhou Qiankun now scratched out a living hauling heavy cargo at the Jiangdu docks.
To his left stood a wiry, sharp-eyed youth who worked as a waiter in a local teahouse. Unlike Zhou Qiankun’s mystery, he at least possessed a full name: Li Zhaoyao.
Finally, there was the girl—small, pale, and no more than fifteen or sixteen. Her face was gaunt with the lingering shadow of hunger as she stared at Chen Chang’an with a mixture of shock and fragile hope. This was Sun Jingyi, an apprentice at a restaurant in the city.
In his previous life, these three had watched in helpless horror as Chen Fusheng systematically tortured and slaughtered Chen Chang’an. They had wept tears of blood, powerless against the might of the manor. In his bottomless cruelty, Chen Fusheng had executed them as well, ensuring they followed their eldest brother into the cold earth.
*Now that I have been reborn,* Chen Chang’an thought, his jaw tightening, *I will never let that tragedy repeat.*
He pulled his sworn siblings into a fierce, crushing embrace, his chest heaving with a broad smile. “Good brothers! You are my only true family!”
“I called you here for a matter of great import,” he said, gesturing to the deck. “Please, sit.”
The three of them settled casually onto the weathered wood of the boat. Before they could even find their breath, Chen Chang’an dropped the bombshell.
“I have left the Huainan Manor. I signed a Severance Agreement with them.” He looked them each in the eye. “It means I am just like you now. We are all children without parents once more.”
The three of them recoiled as if struck, their eyes widening in sheer disbelief.
“Big Brother, why?” Zhou Qiankun’s voice trembled, his massive hands shaking. “Wasn’t life in the Huainan Manor good? We missed you, but as long as you were living well, we were content!”
“Exactly,” Li Zhaoyao added, his face etched with sudden anxiety. “We thought you’d finally found a place where you belonged.”
Sun Jingyi looked equally distraught. To orphans, a respectable home was the ultimate dream; Chen Chang’an’s decision seemed like madness.
But Chen Chang’an only laughed, a bitter, jagged sound. “Living well? Heh, that was a lie I told to keep you from worrying. I’ll speak plainly today. Do you know where I slept in that grand manor? In the stables! In a horse pen! I shared my breath with beasts and my bed with straw!”
He stepped closer, his voice rising with years of suppressed fury. “Do you know how many new sets of clothes I was given in six years? Three! Only three!”
In the presence of his true kin, Chen Chang’an held nothing back. He recounted every humiliation, every cold night, and every instance of calculated neglect. As he spoke, his siblings went pale, their hair standing on end and their bodies rigid with a mixture of shock and burgeoning rage.
Was this the life of a prince’s son? It was a more wretched existence than the one they shared at the Foundling Hall.
A full hour passed as the truth poured out.
Chen Chang’an finally wiped the moisture from his face, his expression hardening into cold steel. “I cannot blame the manor entirely. I blame myself for being a lowly, spineless wretch who accepted their scraps. But today, I have escaped. I intend to use my own hands to carve out a vast territory for us all.”
He looked at them, his gaze piercing. “I ask you now: do you still wish to follow me?”
Zhou Qiankun’s eyes were rimmed with red. “Big Brother, what kind of question is that? If you need us, you only have to speak!”
“Exactly,” Li Zhaoyao said, extending his hand. “Good brothers for a lifetime!”
Sun Jingyi bit her lip, her voice small but steady. “I am willing, too. But... Big Brother, I have a question. You are a scholar. We are just commoners struggling to fill our bellies. Bringing us along... won’t we just be a burden?”
“How could you ever be a burden?” Chen Chang’an smiled gently, gripping his sister’s hand. “To be with my siblings, even eating husks and boiled vegetables, is happiness. Besides, everything comes down to capital. You just need to help me prepare...”
As Chen Chang’an outlined his vision, the sheer ambition of the plan left the others dazed. But their Big Brother was a scholar; if he said the world could be moved, they believed him.
They divided the tasks and worked through the night, fueled by a new, desperate hope.
On the third day, the preparations were complete.
Zhou Qiankun had borrowed a flatbed cart from the docks, loading it with fresh water and the fish they had harvested. Since Li Zhaoyao and Sun Jingyi were smaller, Chen Chang’an and Zhou Qiankun took the lead, each pulling a cart while the others pushed from behind.
Chen Chang’an waved vigorously at the fishmonger as they departed. “Uncle, I’ll pay you back the moment I return! Thank you!”
The fishmonger, Liu San’er, shrugged and waved back, though his wife—clutching their child—watched the group disappear into the wind and rain with a look of pure disdain.
“Liu San’er, you’ve been scammed by a brat!” she hissed. “Look at his rags; he’s a beggar. His friends are no better. Why do you believe a word he says? Marrying you was the worst luck of my life!”
The big man fell silent, his gaze lingering on the road. *Righteousness is often found among butchers and dog-killers, while scholars are often ungrateful.* Chen Chang’an was poor, but in their ten days of dealing, he hadn't struck Liu San’er as a liar. If he was wrong, then he was truly blind.
Just as Liu San’er turned to head inside, the ground began to vibrate. A low, rhythmic thrumming grew into the thunder of hooves. Startled, he spun around.
A dozen heavy cavalry riders emerged from the mist like ghosts of war.
They were clad in blackened plate armor draped with blood-red capes. On their breastplates, terrifying iron skulls radiated a palpable killing intent. Their warhorses were massive, snorting beasts covered in thick barding that clattered with every step.
The insignia of the Southern Garrison Army was unmistakable. These were the elite, armed to the teeth and smelling of iron and old blood.
“Hiss!”
The lead horse reared, its massive hooves churning the air before slamming down inches from Liu San’er. The fishmonger’s face turned the color of ash. He couldn't fathom why the Southern Garrison Army would descend upon a slum.
The commander, a man with eyes like flint, pulled a portrait from his belt.
“Commoner Liu San’er, do you recognize this man?”
Liu San’er was already on his knees, his forehead pressed into the mud. “I... I don't recognize him...”
“Rascal! Look closely before you answer!”
Liu San’er hurriedly raised his head, his heart hammering against his ribs. He squinted at the portrait and froze.
“This... this young man... isn't he Chen Chang’an?”
*Clang!*
The commander drew his sword in a blur of silver, the blade humming with cold light.
“How dare a mere commoner speak the name of the Heir to the Prince of Huainan so casually?”
*The Prince of Huainan’s Heir!*
Liu San’er felt the world spin. Chen Chang’an was a boy who hauled cargo and shared a single steamed bun with his friends. What could he possibly have to do with the high and mighty Ninth Prince?
“Since it is your first offense, I shall stay my hand,” the commander barked, gesturing to his men. “Bring him back to the Huainan Manor. You will report every detail of the Ninth Prince’s activities to His Highness. If you omit a single word, I will not be lenient!”
The soldiers, fierce as wolves, hauled Liu San’er to his feet. His wife watched in a state of catatonic shock as her husband was dragged away. This was a disaster from the heavens—a simple act of charity had brought the military to their door.
***
At the Huainan Manor, Chen Zhan sat upon his high chair, his expression a mask of stern authority.
Liu San’er knelt on the polished floor, trembling so violently his teeth chattered. He recounted everything: how he had met Chen Chang’an, the boy’s shrewd negotiations, and the grueling hours spent catching fish in the cold.
He spared no detail, desperate to prove his innocence. When Liu San’er mentioned that Chen Chang’an often ate only one steamed bun a day—and sometimes nothing at all—Chen Zhan’s hand slammed onto the mahogany table.
*Bang!*
Liu San’er flinched, nearly collapsing. “Your Highness! Every word is the truth! Please, spare my lowly life! If I had known he was the Prince, I would have needed ten extra hearts to dare treat him as a commoner! I don’t want the silver! I want nothing!”
Chen Zhan waved a hand dismissively, his voice tight with an emotion he couldn't quite hide. “It has nothing to do with you. In fact, I thank you for looking after my son when his own family did not.”
He turned his head slightly. “Accountant Guo, take Liu San’er to the treasury. Give him fifty taels of silver for his honesty.”
Liu San’er’s terror vanished, replaced by a dizzying sense of relief. He was safe—and he was rich. It was a blessing from the heavens, born from the rags of a prince.