The world of film and television begins with Hikaru no Go

It's late at night in the capital city, at an inn.

The sound of the watchman's drum drifted in from afar outside the window, but it was impossible to tell what time of night it was, even after several streets and alleys had passed.

The light in Di Gong's room was still on.

Zhang Rui stayed in the corner, watching the figure bent over the desk.

Official documents were spread out on the table, and a cup of tea was placed next to them.

The tea had long since cooled, and a thin film had formed on the surface, giving it a dim glow under the light.

The pen tip scratched across the paper, pausing occasionally before continuing.

His brows were furrowed tightly, and the dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced than yesterday.

From the imperial tent to the capital, Di Renjie hardly slept at all along the way.

Traveling during the day and organizing case files at night, even when I manage to close my eyes for a short while, I can't sleep soundly.

Zhang Rui heard him sigh in his sleep several times, but when he woke up, he didn't say a word. He just rubbed his temples and continued to pretend to be energetic.

Zhang Rui knew a little about the things that Di Renjie was struggling with.

The murder of the Turkic delegation, the assassination of the princess, the fire at the earthen kiln, the rampant activities of the rebels... each and every one of these was a deadly case.

Di Renjie carried it all by himself.

Zhang Rui looked at the glass of tea that had gone cold and suddenly moved.

He walked to the table, picked up the teacup, and turned to go to the stove.

The moment my fingers touched the porcelain wall, a cool sensation traveled up my fingertips.

The tea had been sitting for who knows how long; the cup itself had gone completely cold.

The furnace room was small, with a small furnace built in the corner.

The charcoal in the furnace was still glowing red, faintly emitting a warm light.

A tea cauldron sat atop it, the tea inside already cold, a dark film condensing on the surface.

Zhang Rui poured out the leftover tea, took a small amount of ground tea powder from the tea grinder next to him, put it into the pot, and added water again.

He picked up the fire tongs again and stirred the charcoal, causing the flames to leap and illuminate the stove wall.

Soon, the water boiled.

Tea leaves tumbled in the boiling water, the aroma of tea mixed with the steam spreading out, circling the small stove room, and then overflowing from the crack in the door.

Filter out the tea and pour it into a clean teacup.

The tea soup is clear and bright, with a light amber hue.

After finishing everything, Zhang Rui carried the teacup back to the outer room and gently placed it beside Di Gong.

The movement was very light, almost silent.

Di Renjie stopped writing, glanced down at the hot tea beside him, then looked up at Zhang Rui.

Zhang Rui stood by the table, neither speaking nor looking at him, simply standing quietly.

Di Gong didn't say much. He picked up his teacup, blew on the steam rising from the surface, and took a sip.

The tea was so hot that he squinted slightly.

Then he put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temples.

The wick popped, the candlelight flickered, casting a shadow on Di Renjie's face before moving away.

The shadow slid from his forehead to his chin, and in that brief moment, it made the wrinkles on his face appear even deeper.

Zhang Rui spoke up.

"My lord, I've remembered something else."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was very clear in the quiet night.

"About the earthen kiln."

"explain."

"Ten years ago, Prince Yue, Li Zhen, and Duke Huang, Li Ai, held a secret meeting in Xiangyang. There were more than 130 attendees, all of whom were princes, maternal uncles, and former officials of the imperial clan. You should know about this, sir. But there is one thing you may not know—that list is in the hands of Liu Jin, the secretary of Prince Yue. Liu Jin is still alive, and the person imprisoned in the earthen kiln is him."

Di Renjie's finger stopped on the table and remained motionless.

List.

The case from back then has been investigated for so long, but the list has never been found.

The room was quiet for a while, then the lamp wick popped once, and then it fell silent again.

"The princess was one of the masterminds behind the mission. The assassination attempt was orchestrated by her; she wanted to become the second Empress Wu, and Youzhou was their base."

Di Renjie's gaze darkened slightly, and after a moment, he said in a low voice, "There's more."

"There's another person, whom you might know, Hu Jinghui."

"Young Master Jian, Empress Wang's nephew?"

"Yes, he is Viper."

Di Renjie leaned back in his chair, and the fine wrinkle between his brows gradually smoothed out.

The candlelight reflected two small, steady points of light in my eyes.

Then, it trembled slightly.

"Where did you learn these things?"

"I don't know." Zhang Rui lowered his head. "It just... suddenly popped into my head."

"What else can you remember? What about your parents? Where did they come from? Do you remember any of these things?"

Zhang Rui was silent for a moment, then shook his head: "I can't remember. I only remember seeing things related to adults. As for the rest..."

Di Renjie didn't ask any more questions, but simply looked at Zhang Rui and said, "Okay, I understand."

The room fell silent again.

The wick popped, and the candle flame flickered.

Di Renjie's shadow on the wall was stretched out, then shrank back, stretched out again, and shrank back again.

Without looking up, he suddenly said, "You child, it's been hard for you to be with me."

The voice was very soft, as if talking to oneself.

Zhang Rui stood there, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say.

He recalled the days he had spent on the journey.

After leaving the crimson tent, Di Renjie and Yuanfang changed into civilian clothes and deliberately chose to walk on the less crowded official road.

They set off before dawn and didn't arrive at the inn until it was almost dark.

They dared not stop at any post stations along the way, for fear of leaving traces.

When Di Renjie entered the inn, the first thing he did was to take a quilt from the bed and spread it on the floor next to him.

Once it's laid out, I pat it down without saying anything.

At night, Zhang Rui huddled on the quilt, while Di Gong lay on the bed, breathing heavily, but turning over frequently.

I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, but I don't turn on the light. I just sit in the dark for a while, and then lie down again.

I got up before dawn and kept glancing at him during my journey, asking if he was tired or hungry.

And what did I do?

I just followed along and watched until just now, when I finally made up my mind to say a few lines I remembered from the TV series.

It was he who relied on Judge Dee, not Judge Dee who relied on him.

But Di Renjie said he had wronged himself.

After sitting for a while, Judge Di got up and sat down on the edge of the bed.

I took off my coat, folded it neatly, and draped it at the foot of the bed.

The candlelight paused for a moment on his profile, illuminating the faint line on his forehead.

The bedding on the floor next to me had already been laid out, just like it was when I entered the room.

Zhang Rui walked to the lamp and blew out the candle.

Moonlight filtered through the window paper, forming a thin, bluish-white layer.

Di Renjie's silhouette gradually emerged from the darkness, lying on his side with the bedding rising and falling slightly.

Soon, her breathing became steady.

A faint sound came from the next room; it was Yuanfang turning over in bed.

The wooden wall wasn't thick, so you could hear it.

Zhang Rui curled up in a ball, hugging his knees, listening to Di Renjie's breathing.

One beat after another, slow and even.

He knew that Judge Di did not fully believe him, and if it were him, he would not have believed him either.

Those words were so strange, so utterly unfounded.

When someone who can't even explain where he came from suddenly reveals the most secretive case in the imperial court, everyone will have a question mark in their mind.

But Lord Di did not pursue the matter further.

Not asking further questions is itself a form of trust.

It's not about believing those words, it's about believing in yourself.