Now that he knew these old secrets, Wen Zhuo still had many questions weighing on his mind, questions he could turn over and over without finding answers to.
Why had Consort Chen secluded himself in the Zhe Mountains? Where had his parents gone? Had they ever tried to find Lin Yingniang?
Had he been born mute, unable to speak, or had some misfortune befallen him later, robbing him of his voice?
He had lived in the deep mountains for years, never studying, never learning to read, never speaking with outsiders. Why, then, had he been willing to leave his peaceful home and travel thousands of miles back to the capital with Emperor Shunyuan?
Had Emperor Shunyuan known his identity all along, or had he only realized on their wedding night that the person beside him was a man? Had shock and rage driven him to lock Consort Chen away in a secluded courtyard?
The maids who helped him change clothes and the matrons who instructed him were all meticulous. Could not a single one of them have noticed something amiss? Or, because the wedding date had already been set and announced throughout the realm, had no one dared expose the truth? For the sake of the imperial family’s dignity, had they simply gritted their teeth and allowed the mistake to continue?
And what of Consort Chen? Did he even understand the difference between men and women? Did he possess any basic awareness of worldly customs and moral order?
How had he allowed himself to reach the point of marrying the heir apparent? Had he ever feared Great Qian’s harsh laws?
Finally, there was one insignificant matter. Lin Yingniang had been young when she went missing, and the name Yingniang had been given to her by her adoptive parents. In time, she had even forgotten what her original name was. Then what had her uncle, who lived beneath the identity of Consort Chen, been called?
What sort of temperament did he have? What joys and sorrows, anger and grief stirred within him? Did he know that his own sister was still alive in Liangping County, barely half a day’s journey from Zhe Mountain?
For ordinary commoners, life was as fragile as grass and fleeting as a mayfly. Short of a great immortal, no one could give Wen Zhuo the answers.
But that did not stop him from devising a bold plan regarding the root of the disaster known as Wanshan Fu.
After bidding farewell to Duke Liu and his wife, Wen Zhuo returned to the Wen residence and shut himself inside his study.
The tip of his brush hovered above the paper. The ink was full, yet he delayed putting it down.
He knew that his looks had come from Lin Yingniang; there was at least a seventy-percent resemblance between their brows and eyes. Since Lin Yingniang and her younger brother had been twins, the two siblings had probably been even more alike.
In the sixteenth year of Shunyuan’s reign, when the Emperor first saw his face, what had he felt? Fear and suspicion? Guilt? Or a longing so deeply rooted in his bones that it could never be torn out?
Had the Emperor ever suspected that Wen Zhuo, who had also come from Mianzhou, might be a pawn deliberately planted before him by someone who knew the secrets of the past?
Could it be that because Wen Zhuo looked so much like Consort Chen, the Emperor had been seized by anger, believing that someone was attempting to replace the sacred figure who occupied his heart?
At the time, dressed in plain cloth and worn shoes, Wen Zhuo had remained calm and composed as he criticized current affairs in the Golden Hall. Had that stirred the Emperor’s guilt toward the long-deceased Consort Chen?
Whatever the truth, Emperor Shunyuan had stripped him of his title as top scholar and driven him away to Bo Prefecture. Fear and suspicion had probably won out in the end.
The Emperor was terrified that the events of those years would be dragged into the light. He was terrified that the world would learn that the person he had loved and longed for was, in fact, a man.
And that was precisely what allowed a seemingly hopeless dead end to reveal a narrow chance of survival.
Wen Zhuo gazed out the window and silently prayed that, three months from now, when Shen Zheng returned to the capital, everything would have settled back into peace, as though nothing had ever happened. He hoped they could still be as close as they had been before.
The celadon jar on the study desk still stood quietly in place. It was already completely empty. Wen Zhuo reached out and lightly touched the jar with his fingertip. The crooked line of ink brushed across its surface remained clearly visible.
The corners of his lips lifted slightly, but he soon withdrew his hand.
Even if they could no longer be close, it did not matter. Returning to the bond of teacher and student would be enough. His original intention had been to give Great Qian a wise ruler, not to satisfy his own despicable selfish desires.
So long as the histories left behind even a few words praising his name, he would have no regrets in this life.
He had never been accustomed to asking too much of fate. Yet at the thought, his heart still gave a sharp, painful throb.
Wen Zhuo lowered his eyes and forced his tangled thoughts down. Then he picked up his brush and began to write across the thin paper.
Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.
Along the shores of Jinhai, willow branches reached toward a sky clear and pure as polished glass. Flocks of gulls wheeled above the jade-green waves.
Shen Zheng stood at the water’s edge, in an excellent mood as he scattered a handful of crumbs. He watched the gulls beat their wings and dive, snatch up the food, then suddenly soar into the sky and vanish into the horizon.
Jun Mulan had forbidden anyone from telling Shen Zheng about the disturbance in the inner palace, so he knew nothing of it at present.
During his time in Jinhai, he had spent his days and nights conferring with the officials of the Maritime Trade Office. They had drawn up practical plans for reinforcing and renovating the docks, constructing grain depots and warehouses, and handling the other related matters. The proposal had already been sent to the capital by fast courier, awaiting imperial approval.
Fortunately, the courts of Emperor Zhaoxi and Emperor Kangzhen had once entertained the idea of opening sea routes. The shipping route from Nanzhou to Jinhai had long since been surveyed, and its navigational charts were detailed and reliable.
All that remained was to dispatch naval scout ships to retrace the route from Nanzhou to Dengzhou and then onward to Jinhai. Once everything had been verified, the plans could be reported to the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of Works, the Ministry of War, and the Office of the Superintendent of Grain Transport.
With the sea charts in hand and the docks repaired, the next step would be to build sea-going vessels on a large scale and recruit and train sailors. Warships would also need to be stationed along the coast, with beacon towers established to defend against pirates who might strike at any moment.
That very day, he had received Emperor Shunyuan’s reply. The letter contained only a single word expressing complete trust:
Approved.
Two days earlier, Mo Shu had sent him a letter explaining that the governor-general of Songzhou had incited numerous officials to submit a joint memorial. They condemned his sea-transportation policy as foolish and disastrous, claiming it would bring endless harm to the nation, and urged the Emperor to recall him to the capital immediately and halt the project.
Judging by the situation now, Emperor Shunyuan’s determination to promote maritime transport had not wavered.
After spending ten years as a hostage in Nanping, Shen Zheng had been in the capital for only two years. Apart from his achievements at the Springtide Chess Assembly and during the Mianzhou relief effort, he had left no weaknesses for anyone to seize upon. No matter how much the grain-transport interests hated him, they could do little more than glare helplessly.
Mo Shu had also mentioned that Wen Zhuo recommended wiping out the most aggressive of those grain-transport officials in one stroke, showing them no mercy. Otherwise, those men would certainly turn to another prince, support a new ruler’s ascent to the throne, and then shut down the maritime route altogether.
As Shen Zheng read the passage, he could sense the ruthless resolve between the lines. He could not help recalling the symbol that had once struck terror into the hearts of all who heard it in the history of Great Qian.
As expected, the Little Cat Traitor was still every bit as formidable as ever.
Shen Zheng smiled and immediately picked up his brush to reply to Mo Shu. His letter contained only five words:
“Do as Teacher advises.”
After reading so much history and witnessing so many brutal struggles for power, Shen Zheng was no innocent innocent who understood nothing of the world.
He knew better than anyone that all noble qualities and political ambitions had meaning only when one held power in one’s hands. Otherwise, they were nothing more than empty words on paper.
Wen Zhuo had merely sent a letter to remind Mo Shu, without telling Shen Zheng himself. Most likely, he had feared leaving Shen Zheng in a difficult position.
Wen Zhuo would rather sacrifice his own reputation to leave Shen Zheng an escape route. If someone brought up the matter in the future, Shen Zheng could simply pretend he knew nothing and extricate himself.
Shen Zheng cherished that thoughtfulness, but he would never treat Wen Zhuo as a blade to be discarded once its use was exhausted.
By replying, he was making it clear that he knew, that he approved, and that he was not innocent.
The carrier pigeons Shen Zheng had brought with him recognized their nest at the residence of Marquis Yongning. He had therefore divided his letters into two kinds: the one for his maternal grandfather was written in black ink on white paper, while the one for Wen Zhuo was written in white ink on black paper.
Anyone could read the letter addressed to his grandfather. But no one else was permitted even a glimpse of the letter for Wen Zhuo. It had to be sent through the Marquis’s secret passage and delivered to the Wen residence at once.
After hearing this advice, Marquis Yongning stroked his long beard, smiling approvingly. “Huai Shen, see for yourself. His Highness is increasingly showing the bearing of a wise ruler. Even with those bound to him by blood, he knows to keep public and private matters separate. His letters to me, to you, and to Mulan contain nothing more than familial pleasantries and words of affection. As for Director Wen, he is likely discussing the new maritime transport policies.”
Jun Dingyuan’s gaze fell upon the thick bundle of paper, then shifted to the carrier pigeon that had nearly died on the journey. His brows drew together slightly. “Really?”
Whenever Wen Zhuo unfolded Shen Zheng’s tightly rolled letters, he had to hold the pages up to the sunlight before he could make out the densely packed, minuscule characters—
“What were you doing when you received this, Wanshan? Were you buried in official documents, studying by lamplight, or leaning against your bed and snoring away? The scenery around Jinhai is extraordinary. Fresh fish dart past the side of the ship like shuttles. I wish I could let you taste them. Your husband loves you.”
“Have you finished the cotton candy? I trust that my teacher keeps his promises, which is why you waited until the sixth day to send me a letter. In truth, I was hoping you would disobey me, so I could find an excuse to bully you… Your husband loves you.”
“The construction at the docks is progressing beautifully, and recruitment for the naval forces is going smoothly as well. The coastal shipyards have rushed to expand after hearing the news. The policy of providing disaster relief through employment has been remarkably effective. Perhaps one day I can take you on a tour of the coast and let you enjoy a leisurely holiday. Your husband loves you.”
“I understand what you reminded me about Mo Shu. In extraordinary times, extraordinary measures are necessary. I will bear the consequences, whether glory or disgrace, together with you. You are not to hide anything from me. I’ll say it again: do not hide anything from me. Your husband loves you.”
“I was busy outside today beneath the blazing sun and have been tanned three shades darker. I no longer possess my former heroic bearing. Thinking of my teacher’s divine beauty has left me rather anxious. Also, your reply was too short. Next time, it must not be shorter than mine. Your husband loves you.”
Wen Zhuo carefully stacked the letters one upon another and put them into a brocade box, feeling somewhat troubled.
Shen Zheng’s handwriting was not any less verbose than his own. It was simply too much for the carrier pigeon to bear.
He bent over his desk and picked up his brush, forcibly suppressing his usual exacting standards regarding penmanship and composition. He shrank every character smaller and smaller, yet his letter still ended up one sentence shorter than Shen Zheng’s.
As for Shen Zheng’s worry over having been tanned, Wen Zhuo pondered for a moment before offering timely reassurance:
“His Highness possesses the bearing of a proud pine rising above the mountains, outstanding and untouched by vulgarity. Your teacher’s heart is captivated whenever he sees you, and he thinks of you day and night.”
—
Unlike Shen Zheng, who was brimming with confidence, Shen Chen had been imprisoned in the rear quarters for half a month. He looked like a plucked, emaciated pigeon, utterly wretched.
The imperial physician had carved him a false tooth from deer antler and fitted it onto a dental plate, barely filling the gap where his front tooth had been.
The tooth had to be fastened to the healthy teeth beside it with a thin iron wire. Though it caused no trouble during ordinary meals, it was ultimately awkward and grotesque—a lifelong defect he would never be able to let go of.
Every morning, before he had even risen from his bed, Shen Ting would deliberately throw back his head and sing loudly from the room next door, using the song “Drunken Peace” to mock and provoke him.
“…Search for peas inside a quail’s crop, carve fine meat from an egret’s leg, scrape fat from a mosquito’s belly. What a pity the old gentleman went to such lengths!”
Shen Chen listened until fury roiled in his chest and smoke seemed to pour from his ears. He abruptly kicked the wall, only to send a fiery pain jolting through his toes from the recoil. Then he groped around, grabbed a broken stone from the corner, and hurled it toward the neighboring room. It did not even come close to touching the hem of Shen Ting’s clothes.
Shen Ting deliberately taunted him. “Stupid fool can’t hit me! Stupid fool can’t hit me!”
With that, he tossed the stone back along the same path.
Shen Chen was so enraged that he tried to throw it back, only to suddenly feel something wet all over his hand. When he lifted it to his nose, the foul stench of urine assaulted him. Shen Ting had clearly relieved himself on the stone.
When had Shen Chen ever suffered such humiliation? After ascending the throne in his previous life, even his underclothes were scented with saussurea incense every day.
That day, he did not eat a single grain of rice. He washed his hand again and again in cold water, soaking it repeatedly, yet the disgust remained. He almost wished he could chop it off.
He cursed Shen Ting at the top of his lungs, and Shen Ting responded with even sharper and more vulgar insults. When it came to shameless viciousness, no one could compare with the Third Prince.
Once Shen Ting had abandoned all thoughts of ruling the world, he had completely let himself go. He could no longer be bothered to maintain even the slightest appearance of a refined scholar, and had become nothing short of a street thug and scoundrel.
Shen Chen, after all, had once been an emperor—even if only for a month. He could not bring himself to trade insults blow for blow.
All he could do was endure the demonic singing that bored into his skull day after day, cursing Gong, Luo, Xie, and the others for their incompetence and uselessness. They could not even think of a way to rescue him.
On the courtyard wall of the rear quarters, he scratched one vertical mark after another with broken stones, counting the days in this manner. His heart burned with impatience, and every moment was agony.
Whenever night fell and all was silent, he wished he could sprout wings from his ribs and fly over these cramped courtyard walls, straight into Wuying Hall, where he would seize someone and demand to know everything about the affairs of court.
The struggle for the throne had reached a critical juncture. To sit here and wait for death was simply too passive!
On the eighteenth day, after enduring the misery with difficulty, Shen Chen suddenly heard a woman’s soft call from outside a dog hole in the rear quarters, most of which was hidden beneath wild grass.
His spirits soared at once. He scrambled over on hands and knees and, lowering his voice, cautiously tested the waters. “Is that Jinjin?”
Hearing his response, Gong Jinjin was both startled and delighted. She hurried to the edge of the hole and whispered anxiously, “Your Highness! My father has asked the Emperor several times to show mercy, but that scoundrel Gu Weizhi blocked him every time. The Emperor seems determined not to relent. Consort Yi and I had no choice but to bribe the guards here before we could steal a quarter of an hour to see you! How have you been lately, Your Highness? Please take care of yourself. We will certainly search for another solution!”
Shen Chen had no time for formalities. He quickly reached out and pushed aside the tangled grass around the hole, bringing his face so close that he nearly struck the moss-covered broken edge.
“Jinjin, don’t waste time on that! Tell me quickly—have any major events occurred at court recently? What is Shen Zheng’s situation in Jinhai?”
“Things at court are fairly stable. However, my father received a memorial from Jinhai while in the Grand Secretariat. The Fifth Prince now possesses the sea charts, and even the construction plans for the dock granaries are complete. Work should begin soon. He is currently recruiting sailors, and he has also made a point of coordinating with Lord Mo in Songzhou. He declared that any canal workers willing to relocate to the coast may enter the training academy established by the court and be trained as sailors. Canal transport officials with no record of embezzlement or other misconduct may also be incorporated into the naval forces and receive generous salaries and rations. With these measures, the opposition from the million canal workers has been reduced by more than half. On top of that, Lord Mo has taken harsh and decisive action. I fear the Governor-General of Songzhou will not hold out much longer.”
“There is one other matter. Some time ago, Noble Consort Liang somehow offended the Emperor. She was ordered to reflect on her conduct, had her monthly allowance and salary reduced, and was stripped of her authority to assist in managing the imperial harem. Yet this matter seems to have been much thunder and little rain. Noble Consort Liang remains perfectly calm—and has even put on a little weight. Consort Yi had intended to take advantage of the opportunity and add some fuel to the fire, but with the uproar over Your Highness’s affair, the Emperor was unwilling to see her at all.”
Shen Chen’s eyes darted back and forth several times. For the moment, he could not see through the reason Noble Consort Liang had angered the Emperor.
But that was not the urgent matter. What currently left him restless and on edge was Shen Zheng’s astonishing progress.
“Forget about Noble Consort Liang for now. Shen Zheng is what matters most! Father clearly favors him already, which is why he has locked me up here. These two months are our final opportunity!”
Driven to desperation, Shen Chen thrust his arm through the dog hole. After groping around for a long while, he finally felt a pair of soft, slender hands.
He clutched her hand tightly, as though he had seized the last strand of hope, his voice brimming with both excitement and urgency. “Jinjin, tell your younger sister at once. No matter what means she must use, she must force Xie Langyang to present the Wanshan Rhapsody before His Majesty, in full view of the entire court!”
Gong Jinjin’s heart pounded. She hurriedly clasped his hand in return and replied, “I understand!”
Shen Chen continued, still holding her hand. “Listen carefully. The moment Wen Zhuo is imprisoned, send word to Jinhai at once. If Shen Zheng, driven to desperation, returns to the capital without authorization for Wen Zhuo’s sake, then Wen Zhuo’s claim to being a lone minister will collapse on its own. Once Father learns that he has been deceived, he certainly won’t show them any mercy. Shen Zheng will also earn Father’s suspicion and contempt. In that case, we can kill two birds with one stone!”
