By the time the lanterns were lit, Emperor Shunyuan’s condition had finally stabilized, and Shen Zheng was at last able to take his leave.
During this time, he had not been idle. He had begun to piece together the whole affair.
According to the Qian historical records, Wen Zhuo and Xie Langyang had seemingly stood on opposite sides. Wen Zhuo was greedy, power-hungry, and ruthless, while Xie Langyang was incorruptible, benevolent, and upright. The contrast between them had made the two a favorite subject of later plays and popular tales.
That was because they were, in truth, remarkably alike. Both had been born into wealthy families. One had placed first in the imperial examination, the other second. After entering officialdom, both had enjoyed smooth and successful careers without a single major setback, yet somehow they had ended up walking entirely different paths in life.
There was a saying among the common people: “The top scholar has both talent and beauty; the second scholar has talent, but falls short in looks.” In later adaptations, Xie Langyang had always been the central protagonist, played by the most handsome actors, while Wen Zhuo’s image had remained vague, because the Qian historical records contained no detailed description of him.
It was only after the discovery of Emperor Shengde’s personal notes that scholars learned the reason for the starkly different endings the two men had met: they had supported different princes.
Wen Zhuo had chosen Shen Ting, while Xie Langyang had chosen Shen Chen.
Xie Langyang’s words in his later years—“I failed to bring Wanshan out of the muddy mire”—seemed to corroborate this theory, while also making his personal image appear even more benevolent and radiant.
Yet after truly arriving in Great Qian, Shen Zheng discovered that everything was vastly different from what the historical records described.
Wen Zhuo possessed an extraordinary bearing and a beauty as dazzling as jade. His appearance was unparalleled beneath the heavens, and his intelligence and stratagems were likewise unmatched, surpassing everyone at court. Time and again, he left people in awe.
Shen Chen, on the other hand, was merely a petty schemer who appeared cautious on the outside but harbored sinister designs within. He was utterly unworthy of the image of a wise ruler.
And Xie Langyang was nowhere near as brilliant and perceptive as the history books claimed. Instead, he was slow to react when faced with trouble, repeatedly stumbling and suffering setbacks. Time after time, Wen Zhuo played him for a fool.
If Wen Zhuo had truly assisted Shen Ting, who had the backing of the powerful Helian family and considerable influence at court, then with his intelligence and skill, he certainly would not have lost to the alliance of Shen Chen and Xie Langyang.
Although the historical records described the struggle among the seven princes for the throne in considerable detail, they concealed many inexplicable particulars.
The princes had fought one another to the death, yet after every upheaval, it was Shen Chen who benefited. He seemed never to have taken part in any of the dark deeds, and yet he somehow obtained advantages that others could only dream of.
When the logic failed to hold together, scholars split into two camps. One claimed that Shen Chen was heaven’s chosen one, blessed with extraordinary luck—or perhaps Emperor Shunyuan had favored him from the very beginning.
The other argued that only novels required logic. Real history, they said, was never obliged to make sense.
Yet no one had ever suspected that someone might have been quietly erased from the story.
When those dark deeds were committed, when people resorted to every possible means in the struggle for the throne, had someone borne all the consequences on Shen Chen’s behalf?
A bold conjecture arose in Shen Zheng’s heart.
The person Wen Zhuo had supported in history had actually been Shen Chen.
But after ascending the throne, Shen Chen had erased all of Wen Zhuo’s achievements—and even deliberately blackened his name—in order to fashion a glorious image of himself as emperor, and to make his succession appear ordained by Heaven and entirely legitimate, rather than the result of emerging victorious from a sinister struggle.
If the “Rhapsody of Wanshan” was genuine, then it meant Wen Zhuo and Xie Langyang had already been close friends before entering officialdom. They had once been comrades on the same road.
It was simply unclear for what reason, or at what point, the two had turned completely against each other, until they reached the point of fighting to the death.
That would also explain why Xie Langyang had remained relentlessly entangled with Wen Zhuo, and why Wen Zhuo had been willing to throw himself into the game, determined to ensure that Xie Langyang would die without a grave.
But this falling-out did not exist in the historical record.
Shen Zheng had once believed that he had arrived at precisely the right moment and, after helping Liu Qiying, had managed to win Wen Zhuo over to his side.
He had changed the course of history, just as all those time-travel stories claimed. Time travelers, after all, were naturally granted such a golden advantage.
But now he felt that it was Wen Zhuo who had taken the initiative to change history.
And because he wanted to change it, he had chosen Shen Zheng.
In the final three games of the Chuntai Chess Gathering, Wen Zhuo had always claimed that the Eight Branches had colluded with Nanping, and that he had learned of it in advance from a Nanping merchant.
Yet the Nanping envoys, as well as the Xie, Shi, and Helian families, had all denied the matter categorically.
At the Special Grace Banquet, Shen Zheng had paid particular attention to the moves made by the three members of the Mu family during the game played against themselves. He discovered that they truly possessed considerable skill; defeating the Eight Branches through their own abilities was perfectly reasonable.
In the matter of Mo Shu, Wen Zhuo had planned every move with such foresight that he had begun laying his scheme a full month in advance. Using the so-called “treasure” in the account, he had calculated against Emperor Shunyuan, the Crown Prince, Shen Chen, Jun Dingyuan, and even the forces of Nanping.
Yet he had claimed that he had done it all merely to escort the remains of an old general home.
But in the military camp beneath Qingping Mountain, he had not acted like someone meeting Mo Shu for the first time. It was as though every part of his plan had originally been designed to save Mo Shu and protect the Jun family.
During the night interrogation of Lou Changsui in Mianzhou, Wen Zhuo had once mocked himself, saying, “No one understands better than I do how people change, how they take one step after another until they become utterly depraved.”
The expression in his eyes and the tone of his voice had not seemed like an act performed before Lou Changsui.
All those tangled, complicated threads had intertwined in Shen Zheng’s mind, finally weaving together into a relatively clear pattern—one that pointed toward a possibility so absurd that it made his heart tremble.
Emperor Shunyuan had personally written the order, “Investigate and verify through the night; review the case and determine the verdict anew.” Thus Shen Zheng had been permitted to interrogate the case that very night.
He spurred his horse toward the Court of Judicial Review. Plain-colored goat-horn lanterns already hung beneath the eaves, their dim yellow light swaying gently in the night breeze.
He had no time to admire the imposing government office. He entered through the vermilion doors beneath the lantern light, tore off his cloak, and flung it into the hands of a guard. Then he strode straight into the main hall.
“Bring them in. Begin the hearing at once!”
Luo Mingpu and He Mingzhen had been sitting on tenterhooks. At the sound of his voice, they rose together and bowed nervously.
“Fifth Highness.”
Shen Zheng did not bother with pleasantries. He climbed the steps, seated himself behind the magistrate’s desk, and rested his right hand lightly on the courtroom block.
“Sit.”
The two men returned to their seats in trepidation. Before long, everyone involved in the case was escorted into the hall by the prison guards.
The clerk called out, “The Three Judicial Offices of Great Qian convene to review the case of Xie Langyang forging the ‘Rhapsody of Wanshan’ and framing the Hanlin Academy’s Wen Zhuo. Supervising officials are present. The hearing shall now begin—”
Below the steps, Xie Langyang’s hands were locked in square wooden shackles, and two prison guards forced him to kneel. His face was as pale as paper as he raised his eyes and stared fixedly at Shen Zheng seated above.
But Shen Zheng’s gaze did not fall on him. It passed over the people in the hall and settled instead on Wen Zhuo, who was walking at the very back.
Wen Zhuo had been imprisoned for more than twenty days. The chill illness clinging to him had yet to heal, and he had only just broken free of a nightmare. His body was already at the end of its strength, which was why he had been walking behind the others, his steps still unsteady.
His hair remained disheveled, dark strands cascading down like a waterfall. The outer robe had been torn and frayed, hanging wrinkled from his shoulders. Dried blood stained the corners of his eyes, while a dark-red blotch spread across one sleeve. His already slender body appeared even more frail after enduring these past few days.
When he saw that Shen Zheng occupied the seat of the presiding judge, he obeyed the order and willingly bent his knees, slowly lowering himself to the ground.
It felt as though a hand had seized Shen Zheng’s heart and twisted it viciously. If he had not been acting under the emperor’s orders, if so many people had not been watching, he would have rushed down the steps at once and pulled Wen Zhuo tightly into his arms, soothing away every trace of his dishevelment and every one of his wounds.
In the past, Shen Zheng had read about literary inquisitions only in history books. The brutality and suffering had all been lightly brushed over in black ink.
On an intellectual level, he understood that the overwhelming power of the imperial throne had brought endless misery to the people. But he had never truly grasped just how deep that suffering went.
But now, he finally understood that just a single rhapsody, a few dozen words in all, could so easily turn a person's life upside down, pushing them straight into the depths of hell overnight.
Back then, he had been fearless out of pure ignorance, freely pouring out passionate, affectionate lines to Wen Zhuo, and even willfully demanding that every response from him be no less tender than his own.
Yet Wen Zhuo, born and raised in this era with reverence for the law and the imperial authority carved deep into his bones, knew full well the kind of catastrophic disaster that words could bring. Even so, he had still chosen to respond with equal affection, placing that immense trust in him.
That precious, unspoken devotion now left Shen Zheng utterly at a loss for what to do.
"Director Wen, rise. You need not kneel," Shen Zheng said, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty as he lifted a hand gently.
It had only been two months since they last saw each other, yet the person he had cared for so tenderly had been worn down to this state, swaying unsteadily as if he might collapse at any moment.
The second Wen Zhuo laid eyes on Shen Zheng, a bright glow burst forth in his eyes. He rose to his feet as told, tilting his chin slightly upward, and the corners of his lips curled into a smile that was entirely directed at Shen Zheng.
Right then, he felt his spirits soaring, his eyes brimming with the unyielding excitement of someone who knew they had already won.
He had no idea why Shen Zheng had been able to return ahead of schedule, but everything had fallen perfectly into place. He had completely broken the trap laid by the "Rhapsody of the Late Mountain", and at this very moment of triumph, he got to see the person he had longed for most, to share this overwhelming joy with him.
Shen Zheng looked at the fearless, exhilarated light in his eyes, and for a moment did not know how to react.
Should he play along and share his happiness? But his own heart ached so badly it felt like it was tearing apart.
Should he ask after his suffering, check on his injuries? Clearly, Wen Zhuo had already cast all of that pain far out of his mind.
Shen Zheng's fingers tightened until his knuckles blanched. "Did they torture you?"
Wen Zhuo grinned, proud of himself. "They never got the chance."
Shen Zheng let out a quiet breath of relief, his deep voice turning hoarse, as if he had narrowly escaped the disaster himself. "Then where did all the blood come from?"
Wen Zhuo lifted his hand, flicking his sleeve open gently to reveal his wrists, which had been rubbed raw and bleeding by the wooden cangue, his gaze still fixed intently on Shen Zheng.
Shen Zheng snapped out an order sharply. "Remove his restraints!"
Two bailiffs did not dare delay. They stepped forward to take the cangue off Wen Zhuo, freeing his wrists from the heavy shackles.
Wen Zhuo lifted the corner of his mouth, ready to give Shen Zheng a knowing look that signaled all his plans had succeeded, only to find Shen Zheng frowning deeply, his gaze fixed heavily on the wounds on his wrists.
He paused for a moment, then instinctively lowered his hand, letting his sleeve fall back to cover the scars on his skin.
Shen Zheng took a deep breath, forcing his emotions under control before finally turning his gaze to Xie Langyang, who stood below the dais.
The entire hall fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the candle flames.
All at once, Shen Zheng lifted the gavel and slammed it hard against the tabletop. The deep, resounding thud made the flames in the hall flicker, and everyone in the room jumped in shock.
"This joint trial of the Three Judicial Divisions is conducted in accordance with the laws of the Great Qian, with justice as its guiding principle," Shen Zheng said, his voice cold and heavy, his sharp eyes glinting with unforgiving frost. "Xie Langyang, confess fully the details of how you forged letters, slandered court officials, spread malicious rumors, and insulted the late emperor's good name. If you dare to lie, your crimes will be punished all the more severely."
Xie Langyang's eyes widened in shock. He craned his neck, the veins on his forehead bulging as he roared, "I didn't do any of that! You know I didn't! The 'Rhapsody of the Late Mountain' is real! Wen Zhuo has always preferred men—there is no one in this world who knows that better than you do!"
Luo Mingpu gasped in horror. Though he had already been distraught, his heart turned ice cold the second those words left Xie Langyang's mouth. He knew Xie Langyang had completely lost his mind, daring to openly implicate the Fifth Prince right in the middle of a public trial.
Shen Zheng's expression did not change in the slightest after hearing that outburst. He only said calmly, "Ranting wildly in the courtroom, insulting the chief judge. Strip off his official robes and remove his rank at once. He will stand trial as a commoner."
Xie Langyang was consumed by a searing, uncontrollable fire of jealousy. He bore the humiliation, his gaze bloodshot. "I want to see the Emperor! I will explain all of this to His Majesty in person, and tell him every last detail of what happened! Lord Luo, you must carry my words to the Emperor!"
Luo Mingpu was panicking, his eyes full of anxiety. He was just about to open his mouth to plead for leniency when Shen Zheng cut him off coldly. "My Father, Emperor Shunyuan, sees everything clearly, and has long since uncovered your treacherous schemes. Your tricks of spreading lies to deceive others are useless now. I suggest you abandon that foolish hope and confess the truth."
Xie Langyang jutted out his chin, closing his eyes tightly as he put on a show of unyielding defiance. "I will not say a single word until I see the Emperor! Your Highness the Fifth Prince is wasting your time here!"
Shen Zheng suddenly laughed. His eyes swept over the torture warrants Luo Mingpu had placed at the side of the table. "You defy the law and refuse to confess. Thirty blows across the mouth. Then we will ask again."
Xie Langyang's eyes flew open in disbelief, and he shrieked, "The Three Judicial Divisions' joint trial is forbidden by law to use torture! You dare to use punishment without authorization!"
Shen Zheng picked up the black warrant holder casually, resting it in his palm as his fingers tapped gently against its side. He asked in a low, unhurried tone, "Is that so? Then who brought this thing here? And who was it originally meant to be used on?"
Cold sweat dripped down Luo Mingpu's back, and he stood up hurriedly. "That was prepared by the former chief judge Gong Zhiyuan, with His Majesty's approval, to interrogate Wen Zhuo..."
He Mingzhen also frowned, speaking up in a solemn, serious tone to dissuade him. "Your Highness, according to court regulations, to apply torture one must first submit a memorial to the throne and await His Majesty's approval. If you do this now—"
"Lord He," Shen Zheng cut in, lifting his eyes to meet his. His tone was even and easy, yet carried a dignity that no one could oppose. "I will allow you to submit a memorial to accuse me of unauthorized torture after this case is concluded."
With that, he took a torture warrant out of the holder, flicking it sharply toward the floor of the courtroom. The silver buckle on his sleeve traced a cold glint through the air. "Do it."
He Mingzhen was left speechless, staring in stunned disbelief.
Everyone in the imperial court knew that Emperor Shunyuan's health was failing, and the next heir to the throne would almost certainly be this Fifth Prince. If he dared to submit a memorial of impeachment now, what chance would he have of surviving once Shen Zheng took the throne?
The wooden ruler cut through the air, landing hard on Xie Langyang's cheek.
The sharp, crisp crack echoed through the silent hall, leaving a bright red welt across Xie Langyang's face. The burning, stinging pain spread like snake venom across his skin.
He had been the privileged eldest son of a noble family since childhood, raised in luxury, rising steadily through official ranks to the position of Minister. He had never suffered such humiliation, such agony in his entire life.
The first blow left him dazed, his pride shattering like a porcelain vase smashed to the ground. He stared at Shen Zheng in utter disbelief, his eyes burning with venomous hatred, but as blow after blow rained down on him, he could no longer hold himself upright. He could not help but let out cries of pain that wrenched from his throat.
Xie Langyang struggled against his restraints, the iron chains clattering loudly as blood trickled from his nose and mouth. The pain slowly blurred into a numb haze, his vision darkening at the edges. His body trembled violently, as if it no longer belonged to him, beyond his control.
He was still full of resentment, but every muscle and bone in his body had been broken by the harsh punishment, crying out in fear, begging to give in.
All at once, the words he had said to Luo Mingpu that day in the Xie Manor flashed through his mind.
"Use torture, and he will confess to anything."
In that moment, he finally understood the bone-deep cruelty and despair that torture brought. He finally understood why someone as proud as Wen Zhuo would have broken under interrogation, admitting to every false charge laid against him.
He heard his own hoarse, screaming cries, more shrill and agonized than the ones he had once heard from outside a locked door in a past life.
"Ah! Aaaaah—it hurts! Spare me—!"
When the thirty blows were finished, Xie Langyang collapsed limply onto the brick floor, spitting out a mouthful of searing, hot blood.
"Xie Langyang, I am not a man who takes pleasure in torture, so I am doing you a kindness by advising you that the outcome is already set in stone. Confess sooner, and you will spare yourself a great deal of unnecessary suffering," Shen Zheng looked down at him from above, his voice completely calm and unruffled.
Xie Langyang summoned every last bit of his strength, straining to prop himself up on his hands. His body swayed unsteadily several times before he managed to lift his torso halfway, and his unfocused gaze slowly sharpened into clarity.
First, he glowered at Shen Zheng with venomous hatred, then he twisted his neck stiffly to fix his sights firmly on Wen Zhuo.
Wen Zhuo's eyes were truly striking. Even holding a sharp, cutting edge, they carried the quiet, grand elegance of green mountains rising in the distance.
Blood and saliva trickled from the corners of his mouth as he spoke incoherently, his tone full of fury and bitter disbelief as he demanded, "Why would you do this to me! You... why would you do this to me!"
He had once climbed to the position of Grand Secretary, his reputation known across the realm, his glory unrivaled, bringing honor to his ancestors—that was the life he was meant to have!
Reborn once more, he had plotted every step with meticulous care, yet he ended up losing everything, left with nothing, and dragging the entire Xie family into an abyss from which there was no return.
All of this was Wen Zhuo's fault! How could he be so cruel, as to strip away every last thing that belonged to him?
Wen Zhuo's eyes were filled with undisguised scorn when he heard that. He had never met anyone so brazenly shameless, so convinced that every good thing in the world was theirs by right, and every misfortune that befell them was nothing but a plot set by others.
Looking at Xie Langyang in that pitiable state, he curled his lips into a cold smile. "Xie Langyang, you are finally getting a taste of what it means to have every path to salvation blocked off. But the agony of being worse off than dead is still a little way off. You'd better hang on."
Xie Langyang panted heavily, the corners of his eyes almost bursting with strain, red veins spiderwebbing across his entire field of vision.
"I will not confess! I would rather die than confess! I am a son of the Xie family of Nanzhou, born with the unyielding bones of a righteous man. I will never bend my will or compromise my integrity before torture!"
Yet his proud, unbreakable spirit was crushed to dust after ten strikes of the interrogation staff.
The heavy wooden staff cut through the air as it landed on his legs, each blow seeming as if it would shatter the bone beneath. His upper body jerked high off the interrogation bench against his will, his whole frame wracked with violent convulsions, until finally he tumbled off the edge onto the ground. The sound tearing from his throat was a shrill, inhuman scream that rent the air.
It was a pain designed to shatter a person's very sanity, and all his stubborn defiance turned to nothing but a bitter joke.
Sweat and blood seeped through his robes, his legs almost completely devoid of sensation. Xie Langyang dug his fingers deep into the cracks between the stone tiles, his nails peeling back until his fingertips were raw and bleeding.
His willpower became the most trivial thing in the world. He had no idea when he started confessing, nor what incoherent, rambling details he spilled out. By the time he snapped back to his senses, two full pages of confession had already been written. An officer came toward him holding a pot of bright red vermilion ink paste, and he instinctively tried to pull his hands back—only to catch a glimpse of the finger-crushing torture device resting off to the side, and his whole body shuddered violently.
In the end, he still pressed his ink-stained fingerprint down in utter humiliation, sending Gong Yuwen and every last member of the Xie clan to their doom along with him.
For a dazed, fleeting moment, a wave of bewilderment washed over him.
How had Wen Zhuo endured that entire month? What kind of searing, bitter grief had he carried to survive all of that same agony?
Night had worn deep, everyone in the courtroom was worn out from the long hours, and Xie Langyang's spirit had finally collapsed entirely. Shen Zheng finally rubbed at his tired temples and said in a low voice, "Xie Langyang's crimes are clearly proven. He is to be immediately transferred to the Imperial Prison, to await the second review for formal sentencing. Wen Zhuo is found completely innocent of all charges. Remove all his restraints, and he shall remain here temporarily to await the imperial decree."
