Within the hour, the entire princes’ residence was thrown into chaos.
The eunuchs splashed cold water over Shen Chen’s face and pinched his philtrum hard. At last, they managed to rouse him from his faint.
The imperial physicians hurried over with their medicine chest, placed three fingers against his wrist, and examined his pulse for a moment before hastily inserting needles and prescribing medicine.
Another young eunuch brought warm water and his court robes, while several others scrambled to wash and dress him.
After the whole room had been thrown into disarray, they finally managed to make Shen Chen presentable just as the Hour of the Snake approached.
Shen Chen hastily gulped down a bowl of salty porridge, then charged outside with food still stuffed in his mouth, his hurried footsteps practically striking sparks from the floor.
“Faster! Faster! We absolutely cannot miss the Rite to Heaven, or they’ll use it to find fault with me!”
He cursed himself for fainting in a fit of emotion and losing more than half an hour. Now that Shen Ting had become his enemy and Shen Zheng regarded him as a formidable rival, even the slightest mistake at this critical juncture would give them an opportunity to bite him.
He had only just been released from the rear quarters. If he were punished again, he would truly be adding frost to snow.
The eunuchs hurried after him, panting for breath. “Your Highness, please do not worry. There is still plenty of time…”
“Plenty of time, my foot!” Shen Chen snapped. “His Majesty has only just recovered from his illness. How could he stand for long? The Rite to Heaven will certainly be simplified. The princes and officials will merely offer their worship together, and that will be the end of it. If I’m any later, I’ll miss it!”
The eunuch tried meekly to explain, “That is not the case. This year’s ceremony is a hundred times more grand than in previous years. His Majesty’s throne will stand at the center, while the Crown Prince will perform the Second Offering, shepherding the people on Heaven’s behalf. He will kneel three times and make nine prostrations, then present the ritual wine and sacrificial offerings. Only afterward will it be the turn of the other princes and the officials to pay their respects.”
Shen Chen was too focused on hurrying along to take in the explanation. He immediately scolded him, “What nonsense! The deposed crown prince has been confined to Fengyang Terrace for nearly two years. How could he possibly shepherd the people on Heaven’s behalf?”
The eunuch fell silent at once, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He had forgotten that this prince had only just been released from the rear quarters and did not yet know that His Majesty had appointed the Crown Prince.
Outside the Hall of Heavenly Bestowal, red silk fluttered in the wind, lanterns stood in neat rows, and all the officials waited in solemn silence.
When Shen Chen saw that the ceremony had not yet begun, the heavy stone in his heart finally dropped. He was about to squeeze into the crowd when he glanced up—and was struck as though by five thunderbolts at once. His blood seemed to freeze.
Upon the vermilion steps, the emperor’s throne of bright yellow stood at the center. Emperor Shunyuan had yet to arrive, but beside the throne stood a single person.
That man wore a crown strung with nine rows of jade beads, their red tassels hanging down to slightly obscure his sharp features. He was dressed in a deep-black robe embroidered with the Nine Symbols, while a dark-red lower garment trailed along the ground. A jade-studded leather belt accentuated his tall, straight figure, and nine sets of jade pendants chimed against one another at his waist.
Together, they set off his dignified bearing. He looked noble beyond compare, commanding reverence and utterly untouchable.
From head to toe, he was unmistakably dressed in the robes of the Crown Prince.
Shen Chen’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. His blood surged violently toward his head. He abruptly seized a nearby official and demanded furiously, “How dare Shen Zheng stand at His Majesty’s side wearing those robes! The Nine Symbols are reserved exclusively for the Crown Prince. He is merely a prince—does he not fear being charged with usurpation?”
The official held a low position and was terrified at being seized by a prince. He hurriedly bowed and hunched his neck as he explained, “Your… Your Highness, according to the laws of Great Qian, it is only right and proper for the Crown Prince to wear the nine-symbol ceremonial robes.”
“The Crown Prince?!” Those words struck Shen Chen like a heavy blow. He stared in stunned disbelief.
He remembered that in his previous life, his father had never appointed another Crown Prince. It was only on his deathbed that he had passed the throne to Shen Chen.
Though he regretted it, he also understood that his imperial father still cherished the bond between father and son. He could not bear to see even Shen Zhen’s last remaining title as the deposed crown prince replaced.
But in this life, why had his father appointed another crown prince?
Why had he made Shen Zheng the crown prince?!
From afar, Luo Mingpu spotted Shen Chen and quickly pushed his way through the crowd. Remembering their former alliance, he let out a long sigh and pulled the disgraced Shen Chen aside.
Lowering his head as he guided Shen Chen forward, he leaned close and whispered, “Your Highness has been confined in the rear chambers for so long that you do not know of the changes outside. A month ago, the Fifth Prince was formally invested as Crown Prince. His Majesty has permitted him to oversee the government, and he has effectively controlled the court for many days already.”
“Impossible!” Shen Chen gritted out, the two dimples in his hollowed cheeks trembling faintly.
Luo Mingpu said in a deep voice, “Your Highness, things have come to this—there is no turning them around. If you wish to know more, after the New Year celebrations, I can arrange for you to meet Minister Xie. I fear it can only be your last meeting.”
In an instant, Shen Chen’s eyes filled with terrifying bloodshot veins. His chest heaved violently. “What do you know? Do you know that I am the one who—”
His words came to an abrupt halt.
Supported by Shen Zheng, Emperor Shunyuan slowly took his seat upon the dragon throne.
The officials fell silent, held their breaths, and straightened their robes. In unison, they dropped to both knees and performed the formal rite of five bows and three kowtows.
“May Your Majesty enjoy great fortune in the new year and enduring health!”
With a covert tug from Luo Mingpu, Shen Chen stumbled to his knees. Hastily pressing his forehead to the floor, he completed the ceremony with feigned reverence.
Once the rite was over and they rose, before he could even catch his breath, the officials turned together toward Shen Zheng on the steps and bowed four times.
“May His Highness the Crown Prince be blessed with unending good fortune, his virtue shining bright!”
Standing high upon the steps, Shen Zheng swept his gaze across the officials below. Like the blazing sun at its zenith, his majestic presence was so resplendent that none dared meet his eyes.
Shen Chen was seething with resentment. He had never realized that Shen Zheng had become so skilled at putting on airs!
He was supposed to bow to Shen Zheng? To submit to the man who ought to have been defeated beneath his feet?
Never!
His face alternated between green and white, his temples throbbing as he glared stubbornly ahead, refusing to lower his head.
Out of the corner of his eye, Shen Zheng noticed him. Suddenly, he fixed Shen Chen with a sharp, wordless stare.
At that single glance, Shen Chen felt a chill rise from the soles of his feet and climb into his heart. Even his breath seemed tinged with blood.
His face turned pale. His knees buckled beyond his control, and somehow, he found himself kneeling on the ground.
Shen Chen passed the entire New Year in a daze.
Once New Year’s Day had passed, Luo Mingpu used the convenience of his office to bring him into the prison of the Court of Judicial Review.
The moment they entered, a foul, turbid stench rushed at them, nearly making Shen Chen stagger.
The blood-soaked instruments of torture hanging on the walls, together with the ghostly wails echoing from deep within the prison corridors, made every hair on his body stand on end.
After turning left and right and passing through several damp prison gates, they finally arrived outside Xie Langyang’s cell.
Shen Chen looked inside—and nearly failed to recognize him.
Xie Langyang was in a truly miserable state.
His hair hung loose and disheveled, dry as straw and tangled in every direction. His once-bright eyes had dimmed, like black stones coated in dust.
The New Year weather was bitterly cold, cold enough to pierce the bone. A small stone window, no larger than a serving plate, let in thin threads of frigid wind, carrying a few flecks of snow inside.
His prison uniform was already in tatters, the seams at the shoulders split open to reveal skin mottled purple from the cold.
He lay sprawled on a damp, frigid straw mat, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle. From time to time, ragged, hoarse groans slipped from his throat.
Looking at him, Shen Chen could find no trace of the former Grand Chancellor’s austere, dignified bearing. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. “You—”
By the light of the candle, Xie Langyang slowly lifted his head. The instant he saw Shen Chen, two streams of anguished, indignant tears burst from his clouded eyes. “Your Highness... save me!”
Struggling, he tried to crawl toward Shen Chen. Only then did Shen Chen see clearly that his legs no longer obeyed him; he had plainly suffered severe torture.
With every ounce of strength he had left, Xie Langyang suddenly lunged for the wooden bars of the cell, like a vengeful ghost reaching for the living. Shen Chen instinctively took a step back in alarm.
“Minister Xie, how did you end up like this?” Shen Chen’s heart went cold.
Before coming here, he had already learned from Luo Mingpu that Xie Langyang had been sentenced to death and was to be executed on the autumn equinox.
“...Wen Zhuo is the one who condemned me to death!”
Xie Langyang slammed his head against the wooden bars, leaving a bruise across his forehead. Choking back sobs, he recounted the chain of events in broken fragments.
Shen Chen was utterly shaken. Had he not been bracing himself against the bars, he might have collapsed to the floor.
He had never imagined that Wen Zhuo could find another path out of such a hopeless predicament—turning the tables on them and cutting off every avenue before them.
What he could not understand was how Wen Zhuo had fabricated such an absurd rumor, claiming that he resembled Consort Chen.
But now, none of that mattered anymore.
What mattered was that his father, the Emperor, had believed him and protected him—while Xie Langyang had become the scapegoat in his place.
Shen Chen was silent for a long while. Then he suddenly bared his teeth in a smile, uglier than a cry, deep creases appearing in his hollow cheeks.
“Shen Zheng has already become Crown Prince. I am alone now, with no power over my own fate. How could I possibly save you?”
In an instant, overwhelming hatred flared in Xie Langyang’s eyes. Blood seeped beneath the nails gripping the wooden bars, but he seemed not to notice. He pressed his face desperately close to the cell door, his gaze fixed on Shen Chen. “Your Highness bears the mandate of Heaven—how can you speak so lightly of giving up? I have pondered for many days in prison and discovered that we still have one last chance. Perhaps we can yet reverse the tide and rise again...”
Xie Langyang’s words set Shen Chen’s blood racing. His eyes blazed. “Speak!”
Xie Langyang caught in his throat, his expression twisting as though something were lodged there. Forcing down his humiliation, he said, “Shen Zheng... he personally confessed to me in prison that he and Wen Zhuo have long been carrying on an illicit affair—debauched beyond all measure!”
This time, Shen Chen was completely stunned.
Had they both gone mad? They were actually willing to do such shameful things with Wen Zhuo! There were countless women in the world—could none of them compare to Wen Zhuo’s face?
A fierce wave of nausea rose in Shen Chen’s throat, and he nearly vomited on the spot.
“Leaving aside whether what you say is true, who would believe it if this got out?” Shen Chen’s brows drew sharply together. “In Father Emperor’s eyes, I am nothing more than an ornament now. If I rashly tell him this, he will surely conclude that I am trying to frame Shen Zheng!”
Xie Langyang lowered his eyes and took several slow breaths before he could barely endure the searing pain in his leg.
He spoke in a low voice. “Your Highness has forgotten. Shen Zheng has yet to take a wife, and after the imperial examinations in the twenty-fifth year of Shunyuan, there will be another major event.”
Shen Chen stood stunned for a moment, then quickly recalled it.
In the spring of the twenty-fifth year of Shunyuan, the Tatars sent envoys to Great Qian to seek the hand of Princess Zhaoyue.
They were willing to acknowledge Great Qian as the Celestial Empire, offering horses and cattle in exchange for Central Plains silk and tea. All they asked was for trade to be opened between them, so that the Tatars and Great Qian might forge an enduring alliance.
Emperor Shunyuan had always known that the Tatars could never be wiped out entirely. Coexistence was the only answer.
Now that they had taken the initiative to seek peace, there was no reason to refuse. Such an arrangement would not only reduce military expenditures, but also give the people a chance to recover and prosper.
Trading away a single princess in exchange for years of peace was more than worthwhile.
He married Princess Zhaoyue off to the Tatars, though he had little interest in the tribal beauty they sent in return.
The Tatar envoys claimed that this jewel had been enchanting since childhood, fragrant by nature, capable of stealing souls and bewitching hearts. They now offered her to the Emperor of Great Qian as a token of their sincerity.
Emperor Shunyuan was already in the twilight of his years and had long ceased to be capable of indulging in such pleasures. Moreover, he had never been one to dote on beauty; taking consorts had merely been part of an emperor’s duty—to ensure the continuation of the imperial line.
He declined several times, but the Tatar envoys were insistent. In the end, for the sake of a successful alliance, he reluctantly accepted their Jewel.
Yet not long after she arrived, Emperor Shunyuan passed away. She had never once been summoned to his presence.
Shen Chen suddenly grasped the implication. His pupils constricted. “You mean—”
A cold, sinister gleam seeped into Xie Langyang’s eyes. His fingers slid slowly over the bars of his cell. Leaning back against the wall, he raised his gaze toward the narrow strip of sky beyond the window.
“If His Majesty has no interest in the Tatar Jewel, it would be entirely reasonable to bestow her upon the Eastern Palace instead. It would neither slight the Tatars nor betray Great Qian’s intentions. If Shen Zheng accepts her, discord will surely arise between him and Wen Zhuo, and in time they will fall apart. I am proof enough of what comes before that. But if he refuses, His Majesty will inevitably grow suspicious. My predicament will then resolve itself.”
“While in prison, I can write a letter in my own hand. Your Highness can secretly have Minister Luo present it to His Majesty. I do not ask that His Majesty fully believe it—only that, upon seeing my words, he retain some impression of them. When the Tatars come to court and His Majesty hesitates, Your Highness may advise him to bestow the Jewel upon the Crown Prince.”
—
After the New Year, the examination compound was soon to be sealed. This was Wen Zhuo’s last day seeing Shen Zheng.
Together with Guo Pingmao and Lan Jianghe, he entered the Wenhua Hall to offer the Crown Prince their wishes for the new year.
As he took in the towering pillars of the Wenhua Hall and the curling smoke of sandalwood incense, Wen Zhuo nearly choked with emotion. At last, he was not here to be punished. He was here properly, respectably, to fulfill his duties as a teacher!
Along the way, Guo Pingmao and Lan Jianghe chatted without pause.
One of them said, “These days, trifling affairs have kept me so occupied that I have scarcely given the Crown Prince any lessons. I am truly ashamed.”
The other said, “Fortunately, Director Wen has been holding things together. The young can endure more hardship, after all. He has taken on quite a few responsibilities for us old men.”
Wen Zhuo held the copybook in his arms. The more he listened, the more grating their words became. What did they mean, “the young can endure more hardship”?
Lan Jianghe turned to him and asked curiously, “The Director must have assigned His Highness the Crown Prince quite a bit of coursework these past days. Would you be willing to share some of it with us? It would help us avoid overlapping subjects in future lectures.”
“There won’t be any overlap.” Wen Zhuo did not even lift his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Guo Pingmao was somewhat surprised. Lectures generally fell into a few broad categories—classics and histories, philosophy and literature, strategies of governance. How could he be so certain there would be no repetition?
He was about to ask further when Shen Zheng strode in from outside. Rather than court robes, he wore the black riding attire he usually donned for horseback riding, its hem still carrying a trace of the winter chill.
“You three gentlemen have arrived early,” Shen Zheng said, his gaze sweeping over them before lingering for a moment on Wen Zhuo’s face. A barely perceptible smile flickered in his eyes.
The three men hurriedly bowed, preparing to perform the formal fourfold salute, but Shen Zheng reached out to steady them. “With the new year upon us, you have all labored greatly, gentlemen. There is no need for such ceremony.”
Guo Pingmao straightened and took a thin booklet from his sleeve. Smiling faintly, he said, “Your Highness bears countless responsibilities. Before the new year, this old man was unable to devote himself fully to teaching, and I have felt uneasy ever since. Today, I present this *Handbook on Border Defense*. May Your Highness strengthen our military preparedness, guard against threats at the frontier, remember the danger posed by the Tatars, and protect the territory of Great Qian.”
Every year, as winter gave way to spring, the Tatars would reorganize their forces and harass the northern borderlands. It had always been a grave concern of the court.
This matter had formerly fallen under the authority of the Marquis of Yongning. Later, it was handled by his former subordinates, but none of them possessed anything close to Jun Guangping’s prestige.
Shen Zheng accepted the booklet solemnly. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, sir. I will study it carefully.”
With that, he tipped his chin. Huang Ting immediately stepped forward and presented Guo Pingmao with a neatly bound stack of copied ancient texts.
Seeing this, Lan Jianghe stroked his beard and smiled. “Lord Guo is indeed far more thoughtful than I. I have brought no weighty gift—only a list of books suitable for the New Year. I hope Your Highness will pursue your studies diligently and continue to improve without cease.”
Shen Zheng nodded. “Very well. I will read them all according to your list.”
He gestured again, and Huang Ting offered up a seasonal blessing pouch.
After the two had presented their gifts, they both turned to Wen Zhuo. Shen Zheng’s gaze followed, amusement glinting in his eyes as he raised a brow.
“And what New Year’s gift does Teacher intend to offer?”
Wen Zhuo met Shen Zheng’s eyes and handed over the copybook, still warm from where he had held it against his chest. “Your teacher has prepared a copybook for Your Highness to practice from. I hope Your Highness will work at it diligently and achieve results soon.”
“Oh?” Lan Jianghe’s interest was piqued. “I have long heard that Director Wen’s calligraphy is graceful yet vigorous, refined yet disciplined. Which classic has he copied? Might this old man have the pleasure of seeing it?”
As he spoke, he reached out to open it.
The tips of Wen Zhuo’s ears immediately reddened. With a sharp smack, he pressed the copybook flat against the table, forcing himself to appear composed. “My poor handwriting is crude and unpolished, hardly comparable to Lord Lan’s elegant brushwork. It is merely suitable for His Highness’s beginner’s practice.”
Shen Zheng had asked him to make a copybook from those ten letters. There was no way the contents could be shown to anyone else!
Lan Jianghe was advanced in years and his eyesight had grown poor, yet he remained utterly oblivious. Turning to Shen Zheng, he asked again, “This old man has noticed that after court sessions before the New Year, Your Highness often invited Director Wen to remain in the Eastern Palace. What area of learning have the two of you been discussing?”
Wen Zhuo’s eyes flew open. The flush at the tips of his ears instantly spread across his cheeks as he stared at Lan Jianghe in disbelief.
The old man was no longer young—so why was his curiosity still so excessive?!
Shen Zheng replied with composed ease, “Director Wen and I once traveled to Mianzhou together to provide disaster relief, where I personally witnessed the suffering of the common people. The impression left on me was profound. At the end of the year, I learned that the land surveys in Mianzhou, Pingzhou, and the two prefectures of Yingjing had been completed and the registers revised, so I kept Director Wen behind to discuss rice-seed improvements, grain cultivation, and the storage of provisions.”
As he spoke, he cast Wen Zhuo an amused look. “Teacher even gave me a copy of <i>Essentials of Agriculture and Sericulture</i>. It contains ten chapters, every word a gem. Isn’t that right?”
Wen Zhuo’s eyes shifted toward the ceiling. He pretended not to hear.
Lan Jianghe said, “I see.”
Huang Ting said, “I see.”
Yet he was somewhat puzzled. He had also gone to provide disaster relief, and he also cared about Yingjing and Mianzhou. Why was it that His Highness insisted on sending him away every time?
After half an hour of conversation, the hall gradually fell silent.
Guo Pingmao was the first to rise. He cupped his hands and said, “His Highness is busy at the start of the new year. You should retire early. This old minister will take his leave first.”
“This old man will take his leave as well,” Lan Jianghe said.
“Then I’ll be going too.” Wen Zhuo rose with them, only to hear Shen Zheng give a soft cough. Wen Zhuo shot him a glance.
Huang Ting took the initiative to escort the three gentlemen out. They had just reached a spot not far from the entrance of Wenhua Hall when Wen Zhuo suddenly stopped and turned to Huang Ting.
“There’s something I forgot to tell His Highness. I’ll go back for a moment.”
With that, he turned and hurried back.
The moment he stepped into the hall, he saw Shen Zheng standing not far away, clearly waiting for him.
Shen Zheng opened his arms. Wen Zhuo quickened his steps and threw himself into Shen Zheng’s embrace. Shen Zheng caught him securely, stroking him affectionately.
Wen Zhuo lifted his chin, and Shen Zheng bent down to meet him, capturing his lips in a kiss.
Their lips and tongues entwined in lingering tenderness.
“What exactly is Teacher’s New Year’s gift?” Shen Zheng finally released him after kissing him for quite some time.
Before Wen Zhuo had left, Shen Zheng had secretly glanced through the copybook. He had indeed transcribed the ten letters according to Shen Zheng’s instructions—only, at the end of every single one, Wen Zhuo had added the same line:
<i>His Highness is a bastard.</i>
“Me.” Wen Zhuo lifted his limpid, affectionate eyes and softly uttered a single word.
Shen Zheng smiled deeply. “What a fine gift. Then I shall accept it with pleasure.”
As he spoke, he pretended to carry Wen Zhuo toward the bedchamber, intending to repeat what they had done that day.
This time, Wen Zhuo panicked. He braced a hand against Shen Zheng’s shoulder. “Your Highness, the marks on my body haven’t faded yet. I have to enter the examination hall tomorrow!”
Shen Zheng came to a halt and said meaningfully, “Then why did Teacher provoke me?”
Wen Zhuo lowered his eyes, looped his arms around Shen Zheng’s neck, and slowly drew the distance between them smaller.
“For half a month, we won’t be able to see each other. I’ll miss Your Highness every day.”
“I’ll miss Teacher too.” Shen Zheng toyed with his hair, breathing in the faint medicinal fragrance drifting from his body.
“And what else?” Wen Zhuo raised his eyes suspiciously.
Shen Zheng laughed. “Teacher is truly unreasonable. You say your gift is yourself, yet you refuse to let me have it—and you still want to demand so much from me.”
Wen Zhuo was faintly displeased. “Your Highness is always so skilled at sweet-talking…”
Shen Zheng nodded in agreement, then suddenly straightened his expression. His gaze grew utterly solemn as he said, each word deliberate, “Wanshan, I hope you will preside over the Spring Examination and become a paragon for scholars throughout the realm. May your school be filled with brilliant talents, each one a pillar of the state. I hope your writings will endure through the ages, revered by generations to come, and that your reputation in literary circles will reach the highest heights. I also hope your name will be recorded in the annals of history, that you will become a worthy minister of your generation, standing shoulder to shoulder with Guan Zhong and Yan Ying, and thus fulfill the ambitions you have held all your life.”
Wen Zhuo was indeed moved. His eyes grew faintly warm, and the corners of his lips curved into a trace of satisfaction.
The ambition he had cherished all his life had never been taken to heart by anyone in his previous life. In the end, even he had gradually forgotten it.
Now that the clouds had parted and the moon shone clear, he could finally return to his true self and face once more the aspirations he had sworn to uphold when he first entered officialdom.
“His Highness truly knows how to flatter.”
“Now that His Highness has finished with the sweet talk, would you care to take a look at His Highness’s gift?” Shen Zheng asked slyly.
“Hmm?”
Shen Zheng turned around, picked up the woolen covering he had carried in from outside, and untied it. From within, he took out a package wrapped in oiled paper.
The wool had kept it snugly warm, and the package still radiated heat. Through its folds drifted the sweet, enticing fragrance of dates.
Wen Zhuo recognized it at once. “Date cake? Your Highness, when did you—”
Shen Zheng unwrapped the oiled paper and held a piece to his lips. “Otherwise, what did you think I went out riding so early in the morning for?”
