Over the following half month, memorials dispatched from Songzhou and Jinhai arrived one after another at the Inner Cabinet for preliminary review, before being presented to the imperial throne for Emperor Shunyuan's final approval.
In a remarkably good mood, Emperor Shunyuan even waived the punishment he had previously imposed on Jun Mulan.
That severe censure in the first place had only come right after the first death anniversary of Consort Chen, when the emperor was sunk in deep melancholy. Now that his spirits had gradually lifted, he realized he had unfairly vented his frustration on others, and felt a twinge of remorse, so he quietly extended a series of preferential treatments as compensation.
The punishment had never mattered to Jun Mulan in the least, and naturally, neither did the emperor's subsequent favors.
Yet the string of unsettling news that kept coming chipped away at Luo Mingpu's high spirits little by little.
When he met behind closed doors for a confidential discussion with Gong Zhiyuan and Xie Langyang this time, his face no longer held the fiery resolve it used to, but was instead clouded over with deep worry.
"The Emperor has kept the Sixth Prince confined to the back utility chamber for over a month now. Even Noble Consort Liang has been granted a pardon and returned to his good graces, but he has not spared the Sixth Prince a single thought. Could it be that all our efforts are for nothing?"
Gong Zhiyuan immediately refuted him in a stern, low voice, "You cannot generalize this matter so rashly!"
Luo Mingpu saw that he could only offer blunt objections without putting forth a single convincing reason, and a self-deprecating tug curved at the corner of his mouth. "Grand Secretary, you and I have navigated the tides of officialdom for more than twenty years, and we have seen every twist and turn of the court's shifting winds. What is there that we cannot see clearly now? It is patently obvious to all that the Emperor now favors the Fifth Prince. The power granted to him to deliberate on government affairs earlier could still be explained as a reward for his merits in the disaster relief efforts, but this new initiative to promote maritime trade is clearly the Emperor paving the way and clearing all obstacles for him."
He let out a long sigh, then continued, "The Emperor is growing old after all. No matter how reluctant he is to let go of his imperial power, he has no choice but to select a worthy heir to secure the future of the Great Qian Dynasty. The deposed crown prince truly was born at an inopportune time, and the same goes for the rest of us. If only the deposed crown prince had been ten years younger, and had not shown his sharp edge when the Emperor was still in the prime of his health, perhaps we would not be trapped in this dead end, caught between a rock and a hard place today."
These words he spoke were far too frank. Phrases like "born at an inopportune time" and "trapped in a dead end" made it abundantly clear that Shen Chen was nothing more than a reluctant choice on his part, and that he still held lingering regret for the deposed crown prince in his heart.
When Xie Langyang heard this, his sensitive nerves were instantly pricked. It seemed that, apart from himself, no one in the entire imperial court had any faith in Shen Chen.
Gong Zhiyuan had no other options because he had married his own daughter to Shen Chen. Luo Mingpu had been won over to their faction, but there was always that note of regret in his words, as if the moment Shen Zhen was granted a pardon, he would defect to the opposing side without a second thought.
As for all the others, save for those corrupt officials with ulterior motives and the canal transport interest groups that were dead set against Shen Zhen, no one was genuinely willing to give their wholehearted allegiance to Shen Chen. The scene of universal support and loyalty that had existed in his past life was nowhere to be seen.
He even began to wonder if he was the one who had misjudged things, rather than everyone else being short-sighted. Without Wen Zhuo by his side, was Shen Chen nothing more than an ordinary man indistinguishable from the masses?
"Nothing is set in stone yet. How can you give up so easily?" Gong Zhiyuan rebuked sharply.
They had worked side by side for years. Though he and Luo Mingpu had occasionally clashed over small matters, they had always stood united as one. Hearing Luo Mingpu's unreserved outpouring of his true thoughts today, Gong Zhiyuan felt a tight knot of discomfort in his chest, his face flushing pale then turning dark with anger, looking extremely uneasy.
He knew full well that they were both shrewd men. No matter how eloquently he tried to argue, the harsh reality of the situation was laid out before them, and Luo Mingpu would not be persuaded.
Luo Mingpu raised his hand to brush away the dust that had settled on his knees. In the sunlight, the fine motes of dust drifted and danced through the air. "Liu Chenming has been getting very close to Gu Weizhi lately. He knows perfectly well that Gu Weizhi has always stood in direct opposition to us in court, yet he still insists on drawing near to him. I am afraid even he has sensed which way the wind is blowing. Sometimes, staying on the sidelines keeps you out of trouble, but once you have picked your faction, it becomes unimaginably difficult to change your allegiance and steer away from the path you have taken."
He said this of Liu Chenming, and also of himself.
If he had not rushed to place his bet on Shen Chen back then, why would he now be stuck in a predicament where there was no turning back, forced to follow this single path all the way to the end?
Xie Langyang saw Luo Mingpu growing more and more dejected as he spoke, and felt a restlessness gnawing at him.
Rather than saying he was fully convinced that Shen Chen was the one destined by heaven to rule, it would be more accurate to say he was convinced that he himself was the one destined by heaven.
He was supposed to be the youngest Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet since the founding of the Great Qian Dynasty, using his full talent and learning to serve the country and the realm, becoming a renowned minister of his generation whose name would be etched in history.
From the day he first picked up books to study, he had believed this with all his heart, and in his past life, he had indeed gotten exactly what he wanted.
But now, heaven showed no sign of favoring him at all. It watched coldly as Shen Chen suffered one setback after another, watched coldly as the fate of the Great Qian Dynasty shifted off its original course.
Xie Langyang could not help but wonder: Could it be that my fate lies in my own hands, not in the will of heaven? If I want to turn the tide and reverse the situation, I have no choice but to let that *Fu of the Late Mountains* see the light of day in this world?
After taking his leave from his mentor, Xie Langyang walked along, his mind wandering so much that he did not even notice the fine, pattering rain soaking his hair crown and the lapels of his robes.
He did not snap back to his senses until an oiled paper umbrella was quietly held over his head, and the tapping of raindrops on the umbrella surface made a soft, pitter-patter sound.
He turned his head and saw Gong Yuwen standing right behind him, her fair wrist lifted lightly to hold that plain oiled paper umbrella, while half of her own shoulder was already soaked through by the rain, darkening into a damp patch.
Xie Langyang quickly took the umbrella handle, pulling Gong Yuwen under the cover of the umbrella, his tone full of self-reproach: "How could I ever let you trouble yourself to hold an umbrella for me?"
But Gong Yuwen kept pushing the umbrella toward his side, completely ignoring that half of her body was exposed to the rain: "Xie Lang bears the heavy responsibility of the country, you must not catch a chill and fall ill from getting wet. I am just a woman confined to the inner quarters of the household, a bit of rain and wind means nothing to me."
"Nonsense! I am a full-grown man of seven feet tall, why would I fear a little rain and wind?"
As the two of them pushed the umbrella back and forth between them, Gong Yuwen stumbled under her feet, and fell right into Xie Langyang's arms by chance.
She lowered her eyes gently, too shy to speak, while Xie Langyang's body went stiff, and he did not move to push her away.
The two of them were now so close that there was no need to jostle over the umbrella anymore, and both of them fit perfectly within the small space sheltered by the umbrella.
When they got back to the Xie Manor, Gong Yuwen, worried that they had caught a cold from the cool dampness, quickly told the small kitchen to boil two bowls of cold-dispelling ginger soup.
After Xie Langyang drank his ginger soup, he went to the study alone. He took that copy of *Fu of the Late Mountains* out again from between the pages of a book in the cabinet, unrolled it slowly, and gazed at it intently in the faint light coming through the window:
"... I traveled all the way from Mianzhou to Qingping Mountain, a journey of a thousand li, winding through nine turns of the cloud path, all alone, with no branch to rest upon. Though my heart holds a steadfast, unyielding resolve, I encountered bandits on the road, who emptied my bags and boxes of all I had. Then I was harassed and bullied by the local villagers.
Even when I looked up at the vast expanse of the Milky Way, and down at the breadth of heaven and earth, all I could feel was the bleak mountain wind, the gurgling of the mountain stream sounding like a sob, wandering at the end of a dead end, the cold scenery pressing in on me with sorrow, my lonely heart with no one to turn to, every bit of it turning to ash, so that nothing in all the world could bring me a glimmer of joy.
Then by good fortune I met a noble gentleman, who greeted me with a warm face, comforted me with kind words, showed me the kindness of giving one's chariot horse to aid a friend in need, the benevolence of gifting a warm robe to one freezing, pulling me out of my hardship, saving me from my desperate, displaced state. In all my life I had never before experienced such gentle warmth, and in that lonely journey, I suddenly felt that I had found a place to belong.
Soon after, winter blossoms swirled through the air, white snow sealed the borders of the land, a thousand peaks lost their green hues, ten thousand trees were crusted with frost. Yet I alone saw it as a realm of jade towers and marble mansions, draped in silver and wrapped in white, the Milky Way hanging low over the wilderness, with life secretly brewing underneath. Even though there were barely any embers in the stove, the cold piercing through my skin and bones, when I chanced to hear the soft chirp of a winter bird, I felt that the tidings of spring were soon to come.
Heaven and earth nurture spirit, gathering the finest beauty of the mountains and rivers. The human heart holds affection, condensing into a will as solid as gold and stone. The bond of sworn brothers, as close as gold and jade, grows ever deeper with the passage of time. The integrity of pine and bamboo, never withering even in the harshest winter frost. I write this down with my brush, to swear this vow of shared hearts..."
The characters, wrought with the bold, fluid strokes of iron hooks and silver paintings, were elegant, vigorous, and steeped in the memories of days gone by. As Xie Langyang read on, a heavy wave of drowsiness washed over him, and he soon slumped over his desk, falling into a deep slumber.
The moment he lay still, the study's wooden door silently creaked open a narrow crack, and a pair of cold, dark eyes peered in from the shadows.
When Gong Yuwen saw that his breathing had steadied and he was truly fast asleep, she quietly bolted the door, then turned to her maid and said, "Come with me to the Wen Manor."
These past days, Wen Zhuo had been stealing moments from his busy schedule to carefully draft replies to Shen Zheng.
Though his characters grew smaller and more tightly packed with each letter, every line remained reserved, restrained, and couched in refined, dignified phrasing.
Only when he accidentally received overly bold, shamelessly affectionate lines from Shen Zheng would he fly into a flustered rage and seize his brush to write furiously—
"Your Highness, you must never again mention the matters of the red tassel, the snowy mound, and the dewy green bamboo!"
Save for the fact that the person his heart clung to was far away in Jinhai, out of his reach, everything about Wen Zhuo seemed perfectly normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary was amiss.
Late autumn had passed, and a sharp, biting chill hung in the air.
Wen Zhuo rolled the finished note carefully, tucked it into a letter tube, then raised a hand to pull his outer robe tighter around himself.
He was just about to call Liu Qiying to take the letter tube to the Marquis Manor when Jiang Mannü knocked on the study door, poked half her head in, and said with a distinctly displeased look, "My Lord, there's a frilly, fussy moth of a woman at the gate. Shall I chase her away?"
Wen Zhuo glanced at her sidelong, set down the letter tube, and asked, "Who on earth is it?"
Jiang Mannü pouted, and said very reluctantly, "Madam Xie."
Wen Zhuo's eyebrows lifted slightly, then a cold smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. "Perfect timing. Show her in."
"My Lord!" Jiang Mannü objected strongly.
Wen Zhuo said, "Go at once."
Jiang Mannü could not argue him out of it. She had to suppress her anger, stamp her foot sharply, and turn around to open the manor gate.
Before leaving the study, Wen Zhuo's gaze lingered fondly on the letter tube on his desk for a moment, lost in thought, before he turned and walked briskly toward the front hall without looking back.
The great gates of the Wen Manor swung open. Liu Qiying stood by the door, arms folded, staring coldly at Gong Yuwen, not a hint of deference in her expression.
Gong Yuwen, however, stood with her formal robes neatly arranged, carrying herself with the soft, graceful air of a proper young lady of noble birth. She acted as if she had not noticed Liu Qiying's wariness, and spoke gently, with perfect courtesy, "May I ask this young lady, where is Lord Wen?"
Liu Qiying said bluntly, "Madam, you need not put on that act of gentle, timid sweetness in front of me. No one in the Wen Manor falls for that."
Gong Yuwen lowered her eyes, her expression unchanging. "It is only natural that you hold a grudge against me, young lady. I will not take it to heart."
At that moment, Jiang Mannü puckered her lips and said impatiently in a loud voice, "His Lordship says to come to the front hall to meet him!"
Gong Yuwen nodded slightly, and followed her obediently into the manor.
As soon as she stepped into the front hall, she saw Wen Zhuo seated in the central place. He wore a lake-blue satin robe with faint dark patterns, his wide sleeves slightly drawn back to reveal a slender, pale wrist, as he toyed with a Jun porcelain tea cup.
Wispy steam curled upward, drifting over his half-lidded eyes, as if weaving misty ripples and distant green mountain hues into his features, conjuring up a mirage of a bearing as distinguished as a dragon or phoenix.
Even Gong Yuwen, who had always prided herself on her outstanding beauty, felt like a cheap fish eye next to a luminous pearl in his presence, utterly eclipsed.
No wonder this man, despite being male, could make Xie Langyang so preoccupied that he could never forget him.
The more Gong Yuwen thought about it, the more her stomach churned, and she felt nauseous. But the moment she lowered her eyelids, tears poured down like a waterfall, instantly soaking her entire face.
Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground with a thud, breaking into sobs. "Lord Wen, I beg you to stop opposing Xie Lang! I have watched all the struggles and suffering he has endured over this past year, and my heart aches so badly I can barely bear it. All of this... all of this is my fault!"
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Liu Qiying, standing off to the side, felt the veins on his temples throb violently, the rough, unruly temper he had hidden for years nearly slipping out of his control.
Wen Zhuo slowly lifted his eyes, looking down at the kneeling woman. He suddenly realized that Jiang Mannü's description was remarkably apt—Gong Yuwen really did look like a flimsy, gaudy pink moth with thin, fragile legs.
Wen Zhuo had long seen through her petty, scheming little tricks. In his past life, the only thing that had ever weighed on his mind was Xie Langyang's attitude. This woman, who had only ever fanned flames and stirred up trouble on the sidelines, was never worth a single moment of his attention.
Gong Yuwen had been weeping with such apparent genuine emotion just now, but now that she was met with his utter indifference, she was momentarily at a complete loss.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to cling to her sorrowful demeanor, and choked out, "I know everything about the past between the Director and Xie Lang. I have never breathed a word of any of it to my father. The marriage between Xie Lang and I was never something we chose of our own will. All these years we have only maintained a respectful distance from each other, and he... he has never done a single thing to wrong you!"
Wen Zhuo gently set the teacup in his hand down on the table, slowly smoothing out the creases in his sleeves, still not saying a word.
Without any response from him, Gong Yuwen's tearful complaints felt even more hollow. She finally steeled herself, bringing out the most important card she had been holding back. "The bond between you two moves me deeply. All these days, one crisis has followed another, and you two have drifted further and further apart. He has lost his appetite, growing thinner and more haggard by the day. I am sure you cannot possibly be enjoying this either. Why must things be this way? I am willing to—"
"Who said I'm not enjoying this?" Wen Zhuo asked, sounding genuinely confused as he looked at her.
"To give him... to..." Gong Yuwen choked mid-sentence, staring at Wen Zhuo with wide eyes.
Wen Zhuo seemed to have no lingering affection for Xie Langyang at all, casting him aside like something worthless!
"Aside from losing his appetite, what other miserable states has he been in? Tell me all the details, it will amuse me." Wen Zhuo leaned back against the soft cushions comfortably, then gestured with a hand. Liu Qiying, quick to catch on, handed him a plate of candied preserved fruits.
Wen Zhuo popped a piece of the preserved fruit into his mouth, waiting for Gong Yuwen to continue her performance.
Gong Yuwen ground her teeth together, screaming internally, I am not some storyteller you have summoned here!
She had put on such a dramatic, carefully rehearsed show for so long, only to get none of the reaction she had expected. She felt utterly humiliated, and was forced to bring out her final trump card. "Do you know that Xie Lang has a copy of the Late Mountain Fu in his hand, a piece of writing that is more than enough to get you executed? But after struggling with his conscience over and over, he simply could not bring himself to harm you. You must understand the depth of his feelings for you now!"
At the mention of the Late Mountain Fu, a flicker of emotion finally appeared in Wen Zhuo's eyes. He suddenly let out a low laugh, his eyes glistening with a cold light that sent chills down one's spine.
"To get me executed? If he had that kind of ability back then, he never would have had to pinch his nose and force himself to marry into the Gong family."
Gong Yuwen's sobs came to an abrupt halt.
Wen Zhuo leaned forward slightly, making a show of reluctantly moving a little closer, his tone dismissive and light. "You go back and tell Xie Langyang that he is not even worthy of standing on equal footing with me. If I wanted to take his life, it would be as easy as reaching into my pocket to grab something. Tell him to tuck his neck in and stay out of trouble, lest I get bored one day and crush him to death without a second thought."
Gong Yuwen's face turned a sickly shade of blue, overwhelmed with utter embarrassment. The man she had tried so hard to please with all her gentle efforts had just been belittled as completely worthless right in front of her, and yet she had no way to argue back.
"Director Wen, even if you refuse to show any gratitude, how could you humiliate him so thoroughly!"
Wen Zhuo spoke in a slow, unhurried tone, "There is one more thing you need to remember clearly."
He lifted his eyes, his gaze suddenly sharp as a drawn arrow, "That filthy, repulsive thing, you had better keep it under proper control. Never let it sully the gates and grounds of my Wen Manor. The two of you are like a pheasant paired with a yellow weasel—made for each other by nature."
These words landed like a slap square across Gong Yuwen's face. She could no longer maintain her soft, pitiful facade. She shot to her feet, her eyes burning with sharp, venomous resentment, "Director Wen, you have such a sharp, mean-spirited tongue!"
The smile on Wen Zhuo's lips grew wider, but the depths of his eyes remained cold and heavy, "I have been more than lenient with you all this time. I tolerated you loitering in front of my gate, preening yourself while clutching that pendant. Did you really think you were some sort of notable figure? Not to mention you, even your father Gong Zhiyuan is nothing more than an ant trying to shake a tall mountain before me—hardly worth a second thought."
Gong Yuwen felt all the blood in her body rush to her head, nearly making her faint from unbridled rage.
She had schemed painstakingly for years, believing her tactics were brilliant, that she could subtly stir up strife between the two men and keep Xie Langyang firmly under her thumb.
She never expected that Wen Zhuo had seen through all her tricks long ago, yet merely watched coldly from the sidelines, letting her make a fool of herself as she hopped about like a clown.
It turned out she had never won. Wen Zhuo had simply grown tired of the thing, and casually tossed this "burden" over to her.
Years of careful planning, all her complacent pride, had amounted to nothing more than a laughable, worthless joke!
She stared at Wen Zhuo with a look that could have gouged flesh, and as she turned to leave, she spat out a harsh threat, "Fine! This is wonderful! Since the Director is so full of himself that he even holds the laws of the Great Qian Dynasty in contempt, then we shall settle this in the imperial court!"
Right after finishing her words, she deliberately twisted her foot, and fell heavily onto the bluestone pavement. Her palm scraped open to leave small, bleeding cuts, and her silk dress was smudged with streaks of mud.
She rose slowly to her feet with a deliberate, meaningful air, held up her bleeding palm high towards Wen Zhuo, and mouthed the words silently—just you wait.
Wen Zhuo looked as if he had foreseen all of this long ago. Leaning on one hand to prop up his cheek, he said lazily, "This little bit of flesh wound is hardly enough. Jiang Mannü, go give Madam Xie a hand."
"Got it!"
"—What?" Gong Yuwen was still frozen in confusion when she saw Jiang Mannü stomp quickly over, without a single word of warning, lift her arm and deliver a resounding slap!
Gong Yuwen did not even have time to scream. Her body was sent flying two full zhang across the yard, and she crashed headfirst into the wet mud by the corner of the wall. In an instant, her hair was disheveled, her hairpins and ornaments scattered all over the ground, and her face was caked in dark muck, making her look exactly like a mud figurine.
