The faint scent of scallion oil seemed to drift from the paper. Wen Zhuo had never concerned himself with the kitchen beyond the brush and ink on his desk, so he certainly could not have sent this letter himself. Most likely, Jiang Mannü or Liu Qiying had written and dispatched it on his behalf.
And then there were the words on the page—flirtatious, suggestive, and indecently explicit. Given Wen Zhuo’s old-fashioned, conservative nature, he would have blushed himself to death. How could he possibly have entrusted such a thing to someone else?
Shen Zheng had never been one to indulge in wild speculation. He did not know whether it was because he had been involved in the struggle for the throne for so long, but whenever something happened, he always found himself thinking one step further.
Holding the letter between two fingers, he examined it for a long while. Then he picked up his brush, spread out a sheet of paper, and wrote a reply to Wen Zhuo—
“Jinhai has turned suddenly cold, and frost has formed over the tidal flats. I picked up several brightly colored seashells and will bring them back for us to admire together. There is, however, one matter I wish to ask you about. During the construction of the canal warehouses and freight depots, the neighboring villagers’ livestock and poultry were repeatedly disturbed. Women and children have gathered to obstruct the work several times. Wanshan possesses exceptional resourcefulness—how does he think this should be handled?”
After placing the rolled letter inside the message tube, he wrote another, this one to Marquis Yongning—
“Teacher’s letter mentioned a light snowfall in the capital. Grandfather happened to catch a chill—has he recovered by now? Everything in Jinhai is proceeding smoothly. I hope Grandfather, Uncle, and Mother are all well.”
It took a person two or three days to travel from the imperial city to Jinhai, but a homing pigeon needed only two hours.
The next morning, Shen Zheng received Marquis Yongning’s reply. Its tone was exceedingly affectionate—
“Your grandfather has fully recovered. Your Highness need not worry. Your mother and uncle are both well. The other day, we received Mo Shu’s letter saying that the canal workers in Songzhou had gradually abandoned their resentment. It seems the effort to recruit the naval forces has achieved excellent results. Your Highness is wise and capable; we are all delighted to hear it.”
Shen Zheng set the letter down on the desk. His fingertips rubbed over the paper as his expression darkened inch by inch.
Wen Zhuo had never mentioned that Marquis Yongning had caught a chill. Under ordinary circumstances, when his grandfather received the letter, he should have expressed surprise and corrected Shen Zheng’s assumption. Yet he had simply gone along with it, which meant that he had never met with Wen Zhuo to confirm the matter—and was deliberately concealing something.
Suspicion spread wildly through Shen Zheng’s heart like frost. He waited for five days.
It was not until the morning of the sixth day that Wen Zhuo’s letter finally arrived as scheduled.
Shen Zheng hurriedly removed the message tube and unrolled the paper. The handwriting was as familiar as ever—
“Writing late at night, I unroll the paper and reply. These days, affairs in the Grand Secretariat have kept me constantly occupied. By the time I return home, I am often ravenous. I find myself thinking of the taste of Your Highness’s cotton candy—and of the taste of Your Highness’s fingertips… Your Highness, rest assured and remain here in Jinhai, laboring for Great Qian’s maritime transport. I await your return.”
After reading the letter, Shen Zheng closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, forcing down the anxiety surging within him.
When he opened his eyes again, only icy severity remained in them.
Seeing his grave expression, the guard could not help but be puzzled. “Your Highness received Director Wen’s reply today. Why do you not seem pleased?”
“Leave first. I have an important task to give you later.” Shen Zheng’s voice was calm.
The guard froze for a moment, but did not dare ask anything further. He hurriedly bowed, clasped his hands, and withdrew.
Shen Zheng had already determined that something must have gone wrong in the imperial city, and that whatever had happened was very likely connected to Wen Zhuo.
In his letter, Shen Zheng had asked about the important affairs of the maritime transport administration and the conflict between the officials and the common people—matters Wen Zhuo had always cared deeply about. Yet Wen Zhuo had taken five days to reply, and the contents of his letter consisted entirely of romantic sweet nothings, with not a word addressing Shen Zheng’s questions.
This meant that the letter had been written in advance. Jiang Mannü and Liu Qiying had not dared open the letter Shen Zheng sent, and had merely dispatched Wen Zhuo’s prepared reply according to the plan. That was how such a glaring flaw had escaped notice.
Shen Zheng placed the two letters side by side on the desk. He paced around it several times, then suddenly let out a low laugh.
They really did understand him well. If not for the sudden scent of scallion oil on the paper, the letter Wen Zhuo had written in advance would have been flawless, perfectly matching his manner of speech.
It contained longing, flirtation, anticipation—sometimes earnest, sometimes suggestive. It would have kept Shen Zheng savoring its sweetness for several days.
And once that warmth had faded, the second letter would have arrived in turn, trapping him securely inside a jar of honey.
“Jun Ping!” Shen Zheng suddenly raised his hand and brought his palm down hard upon the desk.
Jun Ping had been waiting outside the door. At the sound, he immediately pushed it open and entered. “Your Highness?”
Shen Zheng lifted his gaze. His eyes were dark and heavy, his expression utterly solemn.
“You are now my personal guard. You no longer serve Marquis Yongning’s household. From this day forth, you need only pledge your loyalty to me.”
Jun Ping’s heart jolted. He immediately dropped to one knee. “This subordinate will follow Your Highness’s command without question!”
“Good.” Shen Zheng nodded and ordered, “Set out for the capital at once. Investigate everything that has happened there recently, especially anything concerning Director Wen, and report it all to me. I give you five days. If anyone obstructs you or conceals anything from you, delaying your investigation, I will return to the capital myself!”
“This subordinate receives his orders!” Jun Ping clasped his fists, rose, and hurried away without delay.
A man’s feet could never outrun a homing pigeon. Shen Zheng stood before the window, watching the waves crash heavily against the cliffside and scatter into snow-white spray. Yet unease still filled his heart.
He picked up his brush once more and, for the first time, wrote to Marquis Yongning in an openly stern tone—
“Teacher has never mentioned Grandfather’s illness. My question was merely a probe. Judging from the various signs, I already have my suspicions. I hope Grandfather will tell me the truth. What exactly has happened to the Wen household? Where is Teacher? Why have you joined forces to deceive me?”
“On a personal level, I am your flesh and blood. Our fortunes are bound together, and if one of us suffers, we all suffer. I should not be kept in the dark. On a public level, I am a prince and Grandfather is a court official. Today, you deceive me in the name of ‘acting for my own good.’ Does that mean you will treat the future emperor the same way? I have already sent Jun Ping back to the capital overnight to investigate. If Grandfather insists on keeping silent, I will learn the truth sooner or later!”
In the study of Marquis Yongning’s residence, the letter on the desk still carried the scent of fresh ink.
When Marquis Yongning first received Shen Zheng’s letter, he had been somewhat surprised. Why had the prince suddenly begun writing so frequently? Could it be that he missed them terribly?
But the moment he unfolded the letter, his expression changed drastically.
He immediately summoned Jun Dingyuan back to the residence and handed him the letter.
Jun Dingyuan took the paper and read it hurriedly. Then he let out a long sigh. “We can’t keep it from him any longer.”
“Gu Weizhi and I have endured this for quite some time. Director Wen has been doing everything he can to delay matters in prison, and His Majesty has not yet completely lost heart. Everything is proceeding according to plan. Within ten days, the matter should be settled. If His Highness learns of it now and returns to the capital rashly, he may disrupt Director Wen’s arrangements. Whether that would be a blessing or a disaster, I cannot say.”
Marquis Yongning asked, “Would it not be better to tell him the truth and persuade him to remain here in Jinhai? Once the plan succeeds, everything in the capital will naturally be resolved. What do you think?”
Under normal circumstances, Jun Dingyuan would certainly have agreed. He, too, felt that Shen Zheng’s return to the capital at this time would not be wise.
But then he suddenly recalled the hesitant look Mo Shu had worn that day. He remembered that Shen Zheng had spent the night at the Wen residence more than once, as well as the rumors that Wen Zhuo favored men. For that reason, he did not dare make a decision lightly.
“I’ll ask my elder sister about it. If we wish to persuade His Highness, she is the one who must speak to him.”
The letter was sent to the inner palace through Gu Weizhi. After reading it, Jun Mulan shook her head helplessly, a trace of pity flashing through her eyes.
“Tell him the truth,” she said. “I have felt from the beginning that this was improper. Director Wen is trapped in prison and enduring great suffering, while we can only stand by helplessly. If anything goes wrong, would we not regret it for the rest of our lives? In the end, Shen’er must learn of this and decide for himself. If he truly is the one chosen by Heaven, if he possesses the bearing of an emperor, then he should never have his path arranged by others without his knowledge.”
Only two days later, Shen Zheng received a reply from Marquis Yongning’s residence. One homing pigeon was not enough—three arrived in succession.
Shen Zheng spread the letter open. It began with Xie Langyang making his move, followed by the sudden appearance of the Wanshan Rhapsody, and went on to describe Wen Zhuo’s imprisonment in the Dali Temple.
When he learned that Wen Zhuo had already endured nearly twenty days in prison, Shen Zheng’s chest tightened. His back teeth ground together audibly, and the murderous fury in his eyes seemed almost ready to burst free.
But he knew all too well that, at a time like this, he had to cast aside every emotion—his worry, anxiety, concern, and rage.
Shen Chen and the likes of Xie Langyang were counting on him to panic and rush back to the capital to plead for Wen Zhuo. That would give the emperor reason to suspect him of forming a faction, while also destroying Wen Zhuo’s reputation as an impartial lone official.
He absolutely could not fall into their trap.
Shen Zheng rushed out of the house and ran several steps to the water’s edge. Bending down, he scooped up a handful of bone-chilling seawater and slapped it hard against his face.
The salty, bitter cold slid down his cheeks. He gazed at the gulls shrieking and wheeling over the distant sea, then drew several deep breaths of the briny air. Only then did his flustered mind gradually settle.
He needed a foolproof plan—one that would allow him to return to the capital openly without arousing the emperor’s suspicion, while also delivering a fatal blow to Shen Chen’s faction and forcing them to fend for themselves.
The candle in the bamboo house burned until dawn. As the eastern sky shimmered with iridescent light, Shen Zheng pushed open the door and immediately summoned Wei Shunping, the assistant commander of the Jinhai Coastal Defense Office.
Upon receiving the summons, Wei Shunping hurriedly threw on his clothes and rose from bed. He had not even properly put on his shoes and socks before stumbling toward the bamboo house, gasping for breath the entire way.
Shen Zheng did not wait for him to offer his greetings or exchange pleasantries. He went straight to the point.
“Tell me, is Bu Zhangyi, the former Minister of Revenue, still working at the coastal salt fields?”
Wei Shunping paused, searching his memory. Then he hurriedly replied, “Indeed. Bu Zhangyi is working in the brine ponds to atone for his crimes.”
Back then, Bu Zhangyi and Tang Guangzhi had been convicted and sentenced to one hundred strokes and three years of penal servitude. The emperor had not wanted them dead, so the hundred strokes had been administered with great precision—enough to leave them half dead and burdened with chronic injuries, then send them off as laborers to waste away the rest of their lives.
Before his wounds had even healed, Bu Zhangyi was sent to the salt fields, where he spent every day beside the brine ponds. Tang Guangzhi, meanwhile, was exiled to the ironworks in Liangzhou, where he was made to endure the heat of furnaces and burning charcoal.
Anyone who had weathered the rise and fall of officialdom possessed extraordinary resilience. Though Bu Zhangyi and Tang Guangzhi had suffered a devastating reversal of fortune, neither had chosen to end his life. They gritted their teeth and endured, hoping that once their sentences were complete, former acquaintances might extend them some assistance and keep them from sinking into destitution.
When Shen Zheng had first arrived in Jinhai, an official had presented this matter as gossip, hoping to curry favor with the “rising star” among the princes by telling him of the downfall of Prince Xian’s faction.
Even Shen Zheng had not expected that Bu Zhangyi would prove useful today.
“Bring Bu Zhangyi here intact. I have questions for him.”
“Yes!” Wei Shunping accepted the order.
By afternoon, the sun stood high overhead. A layer of bright white salt crystals had formed along the shore, glaring painfully in the eyes.
Bu Zhangyi was escorted before Shen Zheng by two constables, shuffling forward one step at a time.
His hands were locked in heavy iron cangues, the flesh around his wrists rubbed raw. His back was hunched like a reed battered and bent by a violent storm. His head of graying white hair hung loose, clotted with salt and dust and obscuring most of his face.
The imposing air he had once possessed while seated high in the Ministry of Revenue, issuing commands with ease, had long since been ground away by the salt fields.
Only when one of the constables barked at him did he slowly raise his head. His cloudy eyes struggled to focus on Shen Zheng, and a few dry sounds scraped from his throat.
“Your guilty subject, Bu Zhangyi, greets Fifth Highness.”
He lifted the chain around his wrists and slowly bent both knees, concealing a pair of coarse, blackened hands.
He had no idea why Shen Zheng had summoned him, nor whether this meant fortune or disaster. But he had long since lost the right to choose. All he could do was let fate push him onward into the unknown.
Shen Zheng stood beneath the eaves with his hands behind his back. His cloak billowed in the wind, and the dark-brown leather belt around his waist gleamed coldly, lending his entire person an intimidating authority that brooked no offense.
“Bu Zhangyi, I can offer you a chance to secure protection for your descendants.”
Bu Zhangyi’s entire body trembled, and his pupils abruptly contracted.
Yet he had weathered too many storms to show excessive excitement. In his hoarse voice, he asked with bitter self-mockery, “Your Highness is now at the height of your power, with influence and authority in abundance. What could you possibly want from a ruined man like me?”
“I have a question for you.” Shen Zheng had no patience for beating around the bush. He asked directly, “At the Spring Terrace Go Gathering, when the people of the Eight Branches joined forces to frame me, whose idea was it?”
The instant those words were spoken, Bu Zhangyi looked as though he had been struck by a bolt of lightning.
He suddenly remembered that after Prince Xian’s downfall, he had been so distraught that he seemed to have forgotten something of vital importance.
At the time, on the Observatory Terrace, Gong Zhiyuan had personally drawn him aside and demanded that they temporarily set aside their differences and agree on a single story…
“It was… it was Gong Zhiyuan!” Bu Zhangyi blurted out.
Shen Zheng nodded. Whether it had been Gong Zhiyuan or Xie Langyang made no difference to him. He needed only a reason.
“So Xie Pingzheng took the blame for him back then. You are now reporting this matter to me, and it is of great consequence. I must take you back to the capital so you can report it to Father personally.”
Bu Zhangyi was an exceedingly shrewd man. He immediately understood what was happening and fixed Shen Zheng with a fierce stare.
“Your Highness already knew that this was Gong Zhiyuan’s doing!”
If that were not the case, Shen Zheng would never have gone out of his way to summon a disgraced official like him, much less asked so precisely about this long-buried incident.
Seeing the sudden change in Bu Zhangyi’s expression, Shen Zheng smiled. He bent down and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“You were the one who reported this to me. Before that, I knew nothing.”
—
Inside the study of the He residence, a brazier of glowing charcoal burned fiercely.
Luo Mingpu paced back and forth. In less than fifteen minutes, he finally raised his voice at He Mingzhen, who sat silently in his chair.
“Lord He, are we really going to let him keep dragging this out?”
He Mingzhen lowered his eyes. “You know I drafted the memorial impeaching Xue Chongnian long ago. To be candid, Xue Chongnian has visited me several times over the past few days, speaking with great sincerity. That is why I have repeatedly held back and refrained from submitting it.”
Luo Mingpu said, “Lord He, you are a censor! Have you forgotten your duty to ‘act on hearsay’?”
“I naturally remember. Rest assured. At the next hearing, if Xue Chongnian dares to use ‘too many doubts’ as an excuse to evade a decision again, I will submit the memorial at once and impeach him for dereliction of duty and favoritism.”
Luo Mingpu slapped his thigh. “Good! That is exactly what I wanted to hear! When the time comes, I will go before His Majesty with you. We must get that presiding judge stripped of his post!”
He stormed out of the He residence. After turning a corner, he headed straight for the Xie residence.
The main gate creaked shut behind him. Without even brushing the frost from his clothes, Luo Mingpu hurried into the study and demanded of Xie Langyang, “How is the rumor-spreading going? When will we be able to use public opinion to force His Majesty to make a hard decision? Wen Zhuo has already been delayed for twenty days. Aren’t you afraid something will happen if this drags on?”
Xie Langyang leaned against the desk, his expression gloomy and his voice hoarse.
“Wen Zhuo sacrificed his own family for the greater good, provided relief to disaster victims, and purged criminals like Lou Changshui and the others. His reputation among the common people is excellent, so the rumors about his fondness for men have… spread rather slowly.”
Xie Langyang put it tactfully. In truth, because Wen Zhuo enjoyed such strong public support, many commoners had taken it upon themselves to defend him. If Xie Langyang had not investigated personally, he would never have known that even Wen Zhuo’s visits to the pleasure quarters had been romanticized into the tale of “a second coming of Liu Yong, who loved only moonlit romance and not worldly convention.”
Luo Mingpu’s temper flared at once.
“We cannot afford to go any slower!”
Gong Yuwen entered with a tea tray, her steps graceful. Seeing Luo Mingpu’s agitated appearance, then Xie Langyang’s face full of vexation, she couldn’t help covering her lips with a soft laugh. “Why such impatience, Lord Luo? Have a cup of tea to moisten your throat first.”
Seeing it was her, Luo Mingpu’s fury abated slightly, though his face remained livid. “The situation is urgent enough to set our brows on fire. How could I possibly have the leisure for tea?”
Gong Yuwen did not take offense. She set down the tea tray and leisurely picked up the Ru porcelain teapot, tilting it to pour a cup of Silver Needle tea.
“Lord Luo, in my opinion, public sentiment need not be genuine.”
Luo Mingpu stared at her in surprise.
“His Majesty sits high within the Ninefold Palace and attends to countless affairs every day. How could he see the true state of the common people?” Gong Yuwen smiled brightly, yet there was not a trace of warmth in her eyes. “All you need to do is have someone fabricate a few catchy folk songs and claim they are being sung throughout the populace. Then bribe several local gentry, elders, and licentiates in the capital to sign a joint petition. After that, send a group of commoners to make a clamor outside the Office of Transmission. When the time comes, my lord can enter the palace to see His Majesty and say that public sentiment is fervent. With the memorials submitted by the Office of Transmission as further proof, His Majesty will certainly believe you.”
Luo Mingpu drew a sharp breath and looked at Gong Yuwen with considerable surprise.
Xie Langyang, however, knitted his brows tightly and objected in a low voice. “The Directorate of Ceremonial has special agents who investigate rumors among the people on His Majesty’s behalf. Liu Quan is also utterly loyal to the throne and cannot be bribed. Once His Majesty sees through this, none of us will escape responsibility.”
Gong Yuwen’s voice remained light and airy. “By the time His Majesty sees through it, Wen Zhuo will already have confessed and been sentenced. Do you think he would overturn the verdict for Wen Zhuo? By then, what the people think will no longer matter. So long as we bring Wen Zhuo down, what does it matter if a few subordinates have to be sacrificed?”
Xie Langyang was cautious and still felt that something was amiss, but Luo Mingpu had been persuaded. “Then that’s what we’ll do! I’ll go find a gang of thugs and rabble to cause trouble outside the Office of Transmission!”
He hurried toward the door, but just as he reached it, he suddenly stopped and turned back to look at Xie Langyang. “As long as we use the instruments of torture, Wen Zhuo will confess, right?”
Xie Langyang’s eyes were clouded with bewilderment. After a long while, he finally moved his lips with difficulty. “Once the torture is used… he’ll confess to anything.”
Long icicles hung from the eaves of the Dali Temple prison.
A jailer pushed open the door to replace the candle. When the candlelight struck his eyes, Wen Zhuo found them so sore and stinging that he instinctively narrowed them.
After spending day after day in a dark, sunless cell, his eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom and had begun to fear the light.
But as soon as the flame was replenished, he immediately brought both hands close to it, greedily drawing in that small measure of warmth.
The weather grew colder with every passing day. He had completely stuffed the window with cotton batting, yet the chill still seeped up through the cracks in the floor and wrapped itself around every inch of his limbs.
Ever since Xie Langyang had crushed all his heat packs, Wen Zhuo’s cold affliction had flared up right on schedule. Although Xue Chongnian had shown him considerable care, sending hot water every few days so that he could wipe himself down and ward off the cold, the Dali Temple prison had its regulations. Charcoal braziers could not be brought in, nor could thick quilts. In the end, it was hardly enough to make a difference.
Enduring pain had long since become second nature to Wen Zhuo. It was difficult, certainly, but his desire for revenge surpassed everything else. Before sending Xie Langyang to his death, he was entirely willing to suffer a little.
He held his hands over the candle flame for a long while before they finally warmed through. His feet, however, were as cold as ice, and needle-sharp pain pricked his ankles and knees, tugging constantly at his concentration.
He had no choice but to draw his feet beneath him and absentmindedly run his fingers over the fine patterns along the edge of the candlestick. When exhaustion overcame him at night, he would move the candlestick beside the straw mat, curl himself into a ball, and lie next to it.
He did not dare get too close. The day before yesterday, he had lost himself in thought for a moment, and the flame had caught his sleeve. The fire leaped with terrifying speed, blistering the inside of his wrist in the blink of an eye. Fortunately, the jailer had heard the commotion and hurried over, pouring cold wine over the injury to wash it before wrapping it in clean linen.
By late night, the jailer had fallen asleep. Once the lamp oil ran out, the cell sank into absolute darkness.
Whenever the pain burrowed into his bones, Wen Zhuo would close his eyes and silently recall the good things he carried in his heart.
Mo Shu’s return to court would surely earn him great merit. In time, when he took the position of Minister of War, no one would dare obstruct him.
Shen Zheng had successfully implemented maritime transport, so the position of Crown Prince was as good as his. Emperor Shunyuan was old now and no longer had the energy to stir up trouble.
Once those two secret reports reached Emperor Shunyuan’s ears, the “Wanshan Rhapsody” would truly become a falsehood as well. This chapter of Wen Zhuo’s past would be erased completely. Shen Zheng would never need to learn of it, nor would he have to add even the slightest bit of worry over such a revolting old affair.
Shen Zheng loved him deeply. When he saw that everything had been resolved, he would surely be forgiving of Wen Zhuo’s concealment.
Today should be the day Shen Zheng received his fourth reply.
The words in the letter had made Wen Zhuo burn with shame as he wrote them. His hand had trembled over the brush, and he had felt utterly without a place to hide. He wondered whether, upon reading them, Shen Zheng would feel his heart fill with warmth and joy—or whether his thoughts would drift into fevered fantasies, his desire blazing out of control.
In the darkness, the corners of Wen Zhuo’s lips lifted faintly.
Either way, it would surely bring delight.
