The palace examination concluded, and the ceremony announcing the successful candidates followed close behind.
An official from the Ministry of Rites stood on the announcement dais and called out the names in a ringing voice. Shen Zheng, appearing in his capacity as Crown Prince, met the newly successful scholars.
When the top scholar, Lu Zhang, looked up, he happened to meet Shen Zheng’s familiar features. His pupils contracted sharply.
After taking a closer look at that tall, upright figure and the slightly curling ends of his hair, Lu Zhang finally realized that the person he had encountered outside the examination compound before the results were posted was none other than the Crown Prince himself.
A eunuch trilled instructions as the new scholars bowed to Shen Zheng. Only then did Lu Zhang return to his senses. He hurriedly bent down and kowtowed, his heart in turmoil.
No wonder the man had possessed such an extraordinary bearing. No wonder he seemed to know Lord Wen.
Lu Zhang repeatedly racked his brain, wondering whether he had said anything inappropriate that day or offended this noble person.
Shen Zheng, for his part, paid him no particular attention. After offering the scholars a few words of encouragement, he waved for them to rise.
That evening, Emperor Shunyuan hosted a banquet at the Palace of Glorious Achievement for the newly successful scholars.
Outside the hall, rows of palace lanterns lit up one after another beneath the covered walkways. Red silk wound around the white marble balustrades, while the copper bells beneath the eaves chimed softly in the wind. Their notes mingled with the strings and ceremonial music inside, weaving together into a single melody.
Within the Hall of Heavenly Mandate, red candles blazed brightly, and embroidered tablecloths lay perfectly smooth across the tables. Emperor Shunyuan sat in the center in a bright yellow dragon robe, with two favored consorts seated on either side of him.
Shen Zheng and the other members of the imperial clan stood to the left, while Wen Zhuo and the other senior officials of the court stood to the right. For a brief moment, their eyes met across the air between them before both tacitly looked away, turning their gazes toward the triumphant scholars in the center of the hall.
The scholars who had placed in the top three could scarcely conceal their excitement. One after another, they walked into the center of the hall and, with trembling hands and quavering voices, paid their respects to the emperor. For ordinary people, this day would be the most glorious moment of the first half of their lives.
Liu Chenming called out loudly, “Let the banquet begin!”
Clear-bamboo chicken soup, Scholar’s Dumplings, peach-blossom pastries, stir-fried yellow croaker, and steamed eggs with morel mushrooms were soon brought out, steaming hot. Their fragrance rose straight into everyone’s noses.
While the emperor remained, everyone adhered strictly to etiquette. Though they drank cup after cup, not one dared lose control.
Once the emperor had eaten and drunk his fill and departed, the atmosphere in the hall immediately relaxed. Some composed poetry and matched couplets, while others exchanged cups over wine. Music drifted across one young face after another, and laughter and cheerful voices broke through the great hall and spilled into the deepening night.
As the top scholar of the year, Lu Zhang was repeatedly toasted by the others. Before long, he had grown slightly tipsy.
Even so, he forced himself to remain upright, his bleary eyes following Wen Zhuo’s figure.
Lu Zhang was from Bozhou. Since childhood, he had heard of Wen Zhuo’s reputation. His elders often said that regardless of how the outside world judged Lord Wen, the people of Bozhou ought to remain grateful to him all their lives.
When Lu Zhang first heard that Wen Zhuo had spent four years in the Hanlin Academy without accomplishing anything, instead lingering in the pleasure quarters, he had assumed that the splendor of the capital had bewitched him. Though he had never voiced it aloud, he had felt disappointed.
But when he heard that Wen Zhuo had sacrificed even his own family for the sake of saving the people, his heart had surged with emotion. Only then did he realize that the guiding light in his heart had never gone out.
During his previous visit, the chatter of the crowd had left him no chance to exchange more than a few words with Wen Zhuo. Today, now that he was the top scholar, he finally had the right to stand before the man he revered and express his gratitude with complete sincerity.
With that thought, Lu Zhang quickly filled his cup. He glanced at it, added a little more wine, and then carefully carried it toward Wen Zhuo.
Shen Chen was speaking quietly with Luo Mingpu when he noticed Lu Zhang approaching with unsteady steps. A trace of satisfaction appeared on his face.
In his previous life, Lu Zhang had been an excellent weapon. When Xie Langyang had laid out Wen Zhuo’s crimes before him, Lu Zhang had immediately flown into a rage and promised to stand alongside Xie Langyang in court, bringing down the treacherous minister who manipulated the political winds.
It was precisely because there had been so many young Hanlin officials like Lu Zhang—new to public life, yet filled with a sense of justice—that the impeachment on that day had proceeded so smoothly, ultimately winning the support of the entire realm.
Shen Chen had already made plans to cultivate Lu Zhang in the future and use him to check the powerful clans led by Xie Langyang. Unfortunately, before he could put those plans into action, he had returned to the twenty-third year of the Shunyuan era.
Upon seeing Lu Zhang again, Shen Chen was still carrying the emotions of his previous life. He set aside his conversation with Luo Mingpu for the moment. Given his understanding of Lu Zhang, he felt that the man might be won over.
He raised his wine cup, preparing to meet Lu Zhang’s toast, only to see Lu Zhang pass him with blazing eyes and walk straight toward Wen Zhuo.
Shen Chen’s raised arm froze in midair. Before he could lower it, Lu Zhang’s excited voice rang out:
“Your student Lu Zhang pays his respects to his teacher! I have come today to offer my teacher a toast and express my admiration. I am from Bozhou. It was my teacher who introduced the people there to Songluo tea, allowing my family to afford rice and giving me the chance to enter school and pursue my studies. I fought my way through every obstacle and have the honor of standing before you today. It would be no exaggeration to say that you changed the course of my life!”
Shen Chen whipped around. Seeing Lu Zhang with tears of excitement in his eyes and the dimples at the corners of his mouth trembling slightly, his expression darkened at once.
Wen Zhuo had already been toasted by many people. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes held a faint haze.
He studied Lu Zhang, then curved his lips slightly and clinked cups with him.
“So it’s you.”
Lu Zhang was so excited he nearly broke into song. He hurriedly asked, “You remember me, Teacher?”
Wen Zhuo suddenly withdrew his gaze and replied indifferently, “…I remember.”
Lu Zhang looked as though he had just received the greatest recognition in the world. He tipped back his cup and drained it in one go before bowing deeply.
“Your student truly… truly does not know how to thank you!”
Shen Chen’s fingers tightened around his wine cup until his knuckles turned white. Gnashing his back teeth, he said ominously to Luo Mingpu, “Tomorrow, you will go and inform Father.”
Even at this critical moment, Luo Mingpu still hesitated. “Your Highness, if this carries any risk…”
Shen Chen reminded him coldly, “Do not forget how you treated Wen Zhuo when you presided over his case before the Three Judicial Offices. If Shen Zheng ascends the throne one day and remembers that you wounded the heart of the person he loves, what do you think your fate will be?”
Luo Mingpu shuddered and lamented inwardly. He cursed himself for his momentary miscalculation and for choosing the wrong side. If only he had waited, like Liu Chenming and the others, to see which way the wind was blowing before speaking.
But it was too late for regrets now.
Shen Zheng had always known that he could not hold his liquor. Afraid that he might get drunk and embarrass himself at the banquet, he had instructed the young eunuch Chen Ping well in advance to secretly replace the wine in his cup with water.
Chen Ping was the same person who had once supported him with his shoulder before the ancestral tablets in the Hall of Veneration. After Shen Zheng had been made Crown Prince, he had deliberately transferred Chen Ping to serve at his side.
Thus, although Shen Zheng appeared to be drinking cup after cup that night, he was not drunk in the slightest.
By the second watch, the banquet was gradually drawing to a close.
Wen Zhuo braced himself against the edge of the table and stood. His body swayed slightly, his cheeks flushed crimson from the bamboo-leaf wine, while his eyes held a rare, uninhibited brightness.
He instinctively searched the crowd for Shen Zheng. When their gazes met, both his arms rose almost by reflex, as though waiting for a familiar embrace.
But in the next moment, he came to his senses. This was a banquet in the imperial palace, with countless eyes and ears around them. How could he afford such recklessness?
He swiftly lowered his hands, composed his expression, and turned to leave on his own.
The moment he stepped outside the hall, the night wind rushed against him with a chill, making Wen Zhuo shiver.
Before he could pull his robes tighter around himself, a warm outer robe was draped over his shoulders. Chen Ping held up a palace lantern and said softly, “Director, His Highness has ordered me to see you out.”
Wen Zhuo steadied himself. Once he recognized that Chen Ping was from the Eastern Palace, he nodded.
“All right.”
The palace lanterns dotted the flagstone path in clusters. Chen Ping carefully supported him all the way until he had escorted him out of the Forbidden City.
The moment Wen Zhuo stepped into the small red-lacquered sedan chair, it was immediately taken over by someone.
He jolted sharply, and only relaxed when he looked up and saw it was Shen Zheng, asking in confusion, "Your Highness, why are you not in the palace?"
Shen Zheng stretched out the back of his hand, gently brushing against his burning cheek, and frowned, "Why did you drink so much?"
Wen Zhuo closed his eyes, leaning closer to him, his voice muffled, "They all came to toast me."
Shen Zheng lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to his eyelid, saying helplessly, "Since when has the Teacher been so honest that you have to drink every toast others offer?"
Wen Zhuo mumbled, "They never toasted me in the past life."
A sudden twinge of ache tugged at Shen Zheng's heart. He brushed the strands of hair from Wen Zhuo's forehead with his fingertips, unreservedly taking his side, "Then they were truly awful in that past life."
"It was I who was awful," Wen Zhuo insisted stubbornly, his tone laced with a faint, barely detectable trace of grievance.
Shen Zheng sighed, pressing his lips to Wen Zhuo's to stifle those self-deprecating words, and at the end, lapped the faint bamboo-leaf fragrance off his lips.
People who have endured severe trauma often struggle with self-loathing, which was exactly why Wen Zhuo had formulated his plan earlier, placing his own safety as the very last priority.
Wen Zhuo grew quiet as expected.
This was the first time Shen Zheng had ever seen Wen Zhuo drunk. Those long-overdue recognitions, the respect he had never received in the past life, had all added up to make him overestimate his alcohol tolerance, leading to this rare state of inebriation.
The small red-lacquered sedan chair came to a steady stop in front of the Wen Manor. Shen Zheng swept Wen Zhuo off his feet in a bridal carry and brought him all the way to the backyard bedchamber.
Jiang Mannü fetched a basin of warm water. Shen Zheng took the cotton cloth, carefully wiping Wen Zhuo's cheeks, then untied his official robes and tucked him under the quilt.
Wen Zhuo's face had been rubbed thoroughly by the cotton cloth, and he seemed to sober up a little. Lying on his side, he stared at Shen Zheng unblinkingly with his big, round eyes.
Shen Zheng quickly washed and dried his own hands and face, turned around to see him looking like that, and could not help but cover his eyes with his palm.
"Teacher, go to sleep."
The tips of Wen Zhuo's eyelashes brushed against his palm, his warm breath fanning over the skin. Then he tilted his neck up and pressed his lips to Shen Zheng's, "Don't pity me."
Shen Zheng quickly climbed onto the bed, pulling Wen Zhuo close to his side, "Love and pity are never separate, just as respect and admiration are. Don't be too harsh on me, Teacher."
Wen Zhuo fell silent for a moment, then suddenly grabbed Shen Zheng's hand and pressed it to his warm chest, "When Your Highness speaks, this place starts beating very fast."
Shen Zheng rested his palm against Wen Zhuo's heart, feeling the more rapid thrum than usual. He slowly laced his fingers through Wen Zhuo's, their hands fully interlocked, "But my heart starts beating fast the very moment I lay eyes on you, Teacher."
On ordinary days, Wen Zhuo always liked to curl up into a ball hiding under the covers. But today, acting completely out of character, he took the initiative to snuggle into Shen Zheng's embrace, leaning on his shoulder like a little beast, as if seeking the coolness from Shen Zheng's body to soothe his overheated skin.
Shen Zheng wrapped his arms around his waist naturally, his fingertips brushing along his spine in a soothing gesture.
Wen Zhuo pressed closer and closer, nuzzling the side of Shen Zheng's neck, and even tugged at his collar to sneak a peek at the muscle lines beneath.
After a while, that faint coolness completely dissipated, and Shen Zheng himself started growing warmer and warmer.
He seemed to sense something off, and tried to slip away immediately. But as soon as he propped himself up with his arms, his strength gave out, and he fell back into Shen Zheng's embrace with a thud.
"Mn!"
His chin knocked against Shen Zheng's collarbone. He was about to whine from the pain, but heavy drowsiness washed over him. He simply tilted his head, and his eyelids drooped heavily.
Shen Zheng held him like that, fanning him with one hand while patting his back gently with the other, until Wen Zhuo gradually relaxed in his arms, sleeping with a soft, docile look.
When daylight spilled through the window, Wen Zhuo drifted half-awake, his fingers groping randomly across the bed. His fingertips brushed a patch of cool skin, and he opened his eyes abruptly.
He saw Shen Zheng casually draped in an outer robe, its sash hanging loosely down his front, leaning over to untie his undershirt.
The remnants of drunkenness vanished completely. Wen Zhuo quickly grabbed his wrist, the tips of his ears burning, "Your Highness, not in the morning."
Shen Zheng glanced at him, patted the back of his hand, and chuckled softly, "Where did your mind wander, Teacher? Your undershirt is soaked through with sweat. Let me help you change into a fresh one."
Wen Zhuo's face burned even hotter. He released his grip, letting Shen Zheng strip off the damp clothes for him. The moment he was free of the wet fabric, he quickly pulled the brocade quilt over himself, wrapping up tightly.
Shen Zheng fetched a clean undershirt, carefully dressed him in it, then said in a serious tone, "Wanshan, do you remember the matter that the Tartar envoys came to the Great Qian to ask for a princess in marriage?"
Wen Zhuo's brows furrowed slightly, looking confused, "Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?"
He naturally remembered this matter.
Emperor Shunyuan had always doted on Princess Zhaoyue, but the thought that the Tartars would finally stop harassing the Guanzhong region for peace eventually made him nod his approval.
The emperor's attitude set the tone, and the entire court echoed in agreement. The practice of sending a princess for a marital alliance had existed since ancient times, even the prosperous Tang Dynasty had many such princesses whose names went down in history.
Princess Zhaoyue was likely the youngest princess to be married off since the founding of the Great Qian. She was not even fourteen when she left the capital, and the sight of her weeping in the palanquin was still vivid in Wen Zhuo's memory.
Aluchi, the Tatar chief, had promised that he would hold the formal wedding ceremony only after the princess turned fifteen, the age of maturity.
But after that, he never heard any news about Zhaoyue again, until the early years of Shengde, when he traveled back to that rainy night.
"I am a person from the future, and I remember this period of history clearly," Shen Zheng's voice sank. "The *History of Qian* records that on the very day Princess Zhaoyue arrived outside the pass, Aluchi forced her into the wedding ceremony. Because she was far too young, her three-month-old fetus miscarried. The Tartars never treated her as a princess at all. They practiced the levirate marriage custom there, and Aluchi's son Wanye had long harbored improper intentions towards Princess Zhaoyue, often taking liberties with her right under Aluchi's nose, who turned a blind eye to all of it."
Hearing this, Wen Zhuo's brows knitted tightly.
He recalled that at that time, Emperor Shunyuan's health had already collapsed, and most court affairs were handled by the Supervisor of Rites. The emperor was on the verge of death, who could spare any energy to care about the princess thousands of miles away beyond the frontier?
He had never imagined that those barbarian tribes would be so reckless, treating a princess of the Great Qian with such utter cruelty.
"The Tartars never had any true intention to submit. This winter, countless of their cattle and sheep froze to death. Their people went hungry and their horses grew thin, so they urgently needed time to recuperate and regain their strength. They used this marriage alliance as a delaying tactic, to make the northern border guards of the Great Qian lower their guard. At the end of March in the first year of Shengde, they suddenly tore up the covenant, raised their troops and invaded the northern border. They burned, killed, and looted, committing every kind of atrocity. At that time, my father had just passed away, and Shen Chen had just ascended the throne in a rush. The Great Qian was in a precarious state, and the Tartars managed to break through three passes in a row, almost reaching Yezhou."
Wen Zhuo's expression turned completely solemn, his fingers unconsciously clutching the quilt, "How could such a thing happen?"
Shen Zheng sighed, his brows furrowed tightly, as he gritted his teeth and continued recounting that cruel chapter of history—
"Wanye offered a plan before the tribal tent, saying 'If we want to rouse the fighting spirit of our people, we must take Princess Zhaoyue of the Great Qian, hang her from the tall sorghum stalk, cut her throat and use her blood as a sacrifice to our land, paving our path to unify the Central Plains.' Aluchi heard this, nodded in approval, and immediately adopted his plan. The princess, in her plain dress dusted with grime, showed no trace of fear. The sharp blade slit her throat, her blood flowing like a red ribbon. For one last time she looked towards the Central Plains, her soul forever tied to her homeland, before she met her tragic end. Her bones and flesh were trampled under the hooves of horses."
"Generations of people after her time, moved by her unyielding integrity, built a Princess Shrine in her hometown. It is said that only an old garment she once wore during her lifetime is buried there," Shen Zheng said firmly as he wrapped his hand around Wen Zhuo's cool, slightly cold hand. "Wanshan, Zhaoyue must never be married off to the Tartars."
