Wen Zhuo sat up, resting his wrist lightly on his knee as his fingertips absently tapped at the air.
Whenever he was devising a strategy, his eyes would shift from time to time, as though he were linking the clues in his mind and weaving them into a viable path forward.
Morning had fully broken, and the room was steeped in the fragrance of dew. For a long while, he said nothing.
Shen Zheng did not dare interrupt him. He simply sat quietly to one side and waited.
After roughly half an incense stick had burned, a ray of warm light seeped through the window lattice and spilled across the desk in a golden streak.
At last, Wen Zhuo stopped moving his fingers and looked up at Shen Zheng.
“I am a man reborn, while Your Highness is a man from a later age. In Your Highness’s memories, when did the memorial arrive in the capital?”
“April eleventh.”
The date matched Wen Zhuo’s memory exactly. In other words, they still had seven days to make their plans.
“Though Your Highness knows what lies ahead, convincing His Majesty will be far from easy. The Tatars and Nanping are worlds apart. Nanping has a capital city, institutions and regulations akin to those of Da Qian, and a populace that guards its lands, settles down, lives, and raises families. It also has fertile plains stretching for a thousand li and a mild, temperate climate. When Da Qian and Nanping take up arms against each other, it is nothing more than each side seeking to annex the other’s territory and seize the other’s wealth.”
Shen Zheng nodded. It was precisely because their cultures and systems were so similar that Da Qian and Nanping would gradually merge in later generations, becoming one.
Wen Zhuo continued, “The Tatar tribes, however, make their homes beneath felt yurts and migrate with the water and the grass. Once they vanish into the vast desert, they are like drifting sand swallowed by the wind, leaving no trace and becoming impossible to find. The Tatars have long coveted Da Qian’s vast territory and mild climate, as well as the abundance of the Central Plains. They know full well that they lack the strength to contend with Da Qian, yet they continue to raid the borders and plunder the common people because it is what they require to survive. They have no choice but to do so.”
“Yet the lands beyond the passes are bitterly cold, with fifty days of wind and snow each year. The territory is vast and sparsely populated, while the soil is barren and desolate. Da Qian has neither the strength nor the desire to station a heavy force there, so we defend without attacking, securing the borders. This is why the Marquis Yongning and Duke Liu of the Kangzhen era are both indispensable. One excels at defending strategic passes, while the other excels at taking cities. One guards the south and the other the north, together maintaining Da Qian’s balance. Unfortunately, His Majesty has shattered that balance.”
“Once the balance is broken, it must be restored. While His Majesty remains on the throne, no one desires to eliminate the Tatar threat more completely than he does. If he has yet to settle on a course of action, we can still make use of the circumstances, plan carefully, and act only once everything is ready. But if he has already made his decision, arguing with him on principle will only provoke his anger. Not only will we fail, but we may also bring disaster upon ourselves. It would be a poor bargain indeed.”
Shen Zheng’s heart sank. Following Wen Zhuo’s analysis, he found himself thinking that Emperor Shunyuan and the Tatars were, in a sense, rushing toward each other.
How could he not understand? Once a man reached that position, he could no longer take everyone into consideration. Whatever policies he implemented or decisions he made in the future, he would inevitably disappoint some people. That was why people said that a grain of sand in the tide of history became a mountain when it landed on an individual’s shoulders.
But he could not bear to see Zhaoyue meet such an end.
He was not a bystander separated from events by the distance of written words. He was standing here in person.
If he had never seen the little girl who laughed brightly in the imperial garden and leapt for joy over candied autumn pears, then to him, Zhaoyue might have been no more than one of countless tragedies in the long river of history—a cruel stroke that added complexity and weight to the past, allowing later generations a glimpse into human nature and the inner workings of a feudal empire.
He had once been fascinated by the allure of history, sensing the grandeur of nations and the world through its endless cycles of life and death, rise and fall.
The records spanning more than a thousand years had once immeasurably enriched his life of over twenty years.
But now, fate had pushed him onto this moving train, while Zhaoyue had been placed on the tracks ahead. He was no longer a spectator. He was someone who could truly determine her fate.
“So Zhaoyue must marry,” Shen Zheng said, his voice strained. He gave a bitter laugh. “Because it serves Father’s interests. Putting an end to the Tatar threat would become his achievement, and having those barbarians bow before him would satisfy his vanity as well.”
Wen Zhuo took in all his tenderness and inner struggle, and his heart stirred faintly.
He was somewhat curious about the sort of environment in which Shen Zheng had grown up, and what the later age was truly like—what kind of world could produce someone so different from everyone else?
Wen Zhuo slowly shifted into a kneeling position on the bed. His posture remained composed, yet warmth suffused his bearing. He opened his arms and gently embraced Shen Zheng around the shoulders and back.
His voice was calm and certain. “With me here, I will never let Your Highness be placed in a difficult position.”
A spark of light flared in Shen Zheng’s eyes. He lifted Wen Zhuo’s face between his hands.
“Teacher already has a plan?”
Wen Zhuo did not answer directly. Instead, he said, “Your Highness may ask General Jun to select someone trustworthy from the southern border and have him deliver a letter from me to Wu Kan.”
“Wu Kan?” Shen Zheng raised his brows, immediately realizing who he meant. “The Nanping envoy who came to the capital for the Chuntai Chess Gathering?”
Wen Zhuo nodded. “Yes. Now that Your Highness knows of my past, there is no need for me to conceal anything. I reached an agreement with him back then, and only then was he willing to help us bring about the matter concerning Mo Shu.”
“What do you intend to do this time, Teacher?” Shen Zheng asked, brimming with curiosity.
Wen Zhuo curled his lips slightly. A sharp glint flashed through his eyes as he spoke with unruffled confidence. “Since ancient times, there have been only three ways to break an alliance: intimidation, inducement, and sowing discord. As Sun Tzu said, ‘To subdue the enemy without fighting is the supreme excellence.’ Since that is so, I shall offer him a road reaching all the way to heaven.”
After hearing Wen Zhuo’s entire plan, the anxiety in Shen Zheng’s heart vanished completely. He buried his face against Wen Zhuo’s neck, his breath brushing over the delicate skin while his hair grazed the tender flesh there.
With a sigh, he murmured, “Wanshan, you even understand military strategy. How are you so capable?”
“I merely read a little in my spare time… As long as one reads more, one can learn—Your Highness! I said I didn’t want any more!”
Shen Zheng had begun nuzzling and sucking at his neck so intimately that Wen Zhuo felt both ticklish and numb. Heat raced up his spine, and half his body went limp in an instant.
He raised a hand to push him away, but could not bring himself to use any force. Before he knew it, Shen Zheng had slipped beneath his inner garments and was caressing his waist and abdomen.
“Who told Teacher to feed me that enchantment potion?” Shen Zheng said, sweeping him up into his arms and drawing the bed curtains closed.
Wen Zhuo felt the space beneath him vanish. The inner trousers he had only just changed into fell to the corner of the bed.
His pupils contracted in disbelief. “How can Your Highness lie with your eyes wide open? When did I ever feed you an enchantment potion?”
The sun climbed higher and higher. The bed curtains remained drawn tight. Wen Zhuo’s voice became indistinct, and before long, all that emerged from his lips were trembling moans.
—
The lingering warmth of the Qionglin Banquet still clung to the palace walls, yet Luo Mingpu had spent the entire night sitting stiffly in his study.
The corners of the paper had been crumpled from his handling. He had set it down several times, only to pick it up again, sighing repeatedly.
His wife, worried about him, came into the room again and again with food, gently urging him to rest.
After hearing it too many times, Luo Mingpu became irritated. He waved her away and snapped, “Take it away! Stop bothering me!”
His wife’s eyes reddened. She did not dare say another word and quietly withdrew.
At daybreak, Luo Mingpu splashed his face haphazardly with cold water. After adjusting his robes before the bronze mirror, he picked up the sheet of paper and set off for the Forbidden City.
There was no regular court assembly that day, yet the inner cabinet offices were still brightly lit. Luo Mingpu bypassed them, hurried onward, and went straight to the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs, where he requested an audience with the emperor.
Fortunately, Emperor Shunyuan’s condition had improved somewhat. When he heard that Luo Mingpu was seeking an urgent audience, he pondered for a moment before giving his consent.
Inside the Palace of Mental Cultivation, Emperor Shunyuan wore a bright-yellow lined jacket and was reclining half against the imperial throne.
The moment Luo Mingpu stepped into the hall, he dropped to his knees in trepidation and saluted Emperor Shunyuan.
“Your Majesty, this subject Luo Mingpu pays his respects!”
Emperor Shunyuan beckoned to him. “Rise and speak. What urgent matter compelled you to come see Me? Have you discussed it with the Crown Prince?”
Luo Mingpu did not dare to get up. He lowered his head even further, his neck flushed crimson from the blood rushing through him.
“Your Majesty, I have failed in my duty! When I conducted Xie Langyang’s sentence review in accordance with the law, I granted him the opportunity to make a final statement. Who could have known that he had already gone mad?”
“What?!” Emperor Shunyuan leaned forward abruptly, astonishment filling his eyes.
“While in prison, Xie Langyang would sometimes weep bitterly and sometimes laugh hysterically. He even smeared the blood from his own wounds across the walls, scribbling and scrawling without rhyme or reason! Seeing that he was deranged, I gave him a sheet of yellow hemp paper to see whether he could clearly write down the matter. But he… he actually wrote this!”
“Tell Me at once!” Emperor Shunyuan demanded, his brows drawing tightly together.
Luo Mingpu hurriedly pulled the sheet from his robes and raised it high above his head with both hands. “Your Majesty, please look!”
Liu Quan quickly stepped forward, took the paper, and held it out before Emperor Shunyuan before quietly retreating half a step.
Emperor Shunyuan unfolded it, and his face instantly turned black as the bottom of a cooking pot.
The words had been written in blood by Xie Langyang. The characters were enormous, crooked, and sprawling, an appalling sight to behold—
“Wen Zhuo, you hypocrite! You actually told my father that you and the Crown Prince were carrying on an illicit affair, disgracing the moral order! I hate you! I hate this treacherous sycophant!”
“I knew he had truly gone mad!” Emperor Shunyuan snarled. He crushed the bloodstained letter into a ball and hurled it viciously to the ground.
The violent movement aggravated his illness, and he immediately began coughing violently, the sound tearing from his lungs. A trace of dark-red blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
“Your Majesty!” Liu Quan hurried forward with warm water and a handkerchief. As he gently patted Emperor Shunyuan’s back, he quietly ordered the palace servants to dispose of the bloodstained letter.
Luo Mingpu repeatedly knocked his forehead against the floor. “Your Majesty, please calm your anger! Xie Langyang has gone completely mad and lost all reason! I will have him bound at once and gagged so that he can never spout such nonsense again!”
Emperor Shunyuan accepted the handkerchief and covered his lips, breathing heavily for a long while before finally recovering. Trembling, he pointed at Luo Mingpu, his eyes filled with savage fury.
“You… cut out his tongue!”
Luo Mingpu’s entire body stiffened. He looked up in astonishment. “Your Majesty, he has already been sentenced to execution at the autumn equinox. There is no need to—”
“Xie Langyang is utterly hateful. Do exactly as I say!” Emperor Shunyuan’s gaze was vicious.
Luo Mingpu’s eyes darted about in panic, but he could only bow stiffly and accept the order.
When he left the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Luo Mingpu’s back was already soaked with cold sweat. He could not tell whether the Emperor had truly taken the words in the blood letter to heart, or whether even the slightest suspicion of the Crown Prince had arisen within him.
Xie Langyang had hoped to evade disaster by pretending to be insane, but in the end, he had overestimated the Emperor’s tolerance.
An emperor had never been a merciful man.
That night, a heart-wrenching howl rang out from the Dali Temple prison, chilling everyone who heard it.
“What? Father had his tongue cut out?” Shen Chen shot up from his chair, an involuntary shudder running through him.
Luo Mingpu lowered his head and said gravely, “His Majesty was enraged. I pleaded for mercy, but to no avail. Xie Heng devised this plan, and I fear he never anticipated the bitter consequences. Even if he succeeds in the future, in his current condition, he will likely never be able to serve at court again.”
There was not the slightest trace of pity on Shen Chen’s face. He drew a deep breath and slowly sat back down. The alarm in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by an almost emotionless calm.
“Only by facing death can one find life. The fact that he can survive is already the best possible outcome.”
Luo Mingpu glanced at him. “Does Your Highness wish to see him one more time? I can do my utmost to arrange it.”
“No.” Shen Chen waved his hand decisively. “At present, I must have nothing more to do with him.”
Looking at Shen Chen’s cold, impassive profile, Luo Mingpu suddenly felt a chill rise in his heart.
—
With the arrival of April, the magnolia trees began to unfurl fresh blossoms. A memorial and a totem carved from animal bone traveled through the fragrant spring air all the way to the Forbidden City.
The letter stated that the Tartars had long admired the might and prestige of the Celestial Dynasty and now wished to form a marriage alliance. From that day onward, the two sides would exchange goods, never invade one another, and jointly preserve peace. They respectfully offered a thousand head of cattle and sheep, one hundred fine horses, one hundred fox-fur cloaks, and a single pearl, humbly beseeching the Emperor of Great Qian to grant his approval.
The letter made no mention whatsoever of seeking marriage with Zhaoyue. Instead, it was filled from beginning to end with humble declarations of submission. Emperor Shunyuan was naturally delighted and thus permitted a delegation of forty Tartar envoys, along with their tribute, to come to the capital.
Ten days later, the envoys entered the capital in a grand procession. Border troops escorted them along the entire route. Dust-covered from their journey, they attracted throngs of curious citizens who crowded the streets to watch.
The man at their head was of average height, with a broad, rounded face and a pair of slightly upturned, triangular eyes. Whenever he looked at someone, there was always a faint, chilly smile in his gaze. His lips were somewhat dark, with fine creases running across them, and his jawline was hard and angular. Coarse wrinkles extended from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth.
Although spring had clearly arrived, he still wore a brown leather robe. A rawhide belt was fastened around his waist, and a bronze beast’s head was embossed on the hard armor covering his chest.
Around his neck hung a necklace strung from animal bones, each one densely carved with Tartar characters whose meaning was unknown.
His current name was Ghost Khan, but his true identity was Wanye, the son of Aluchi.
After unloading his belongings at the guesthouse, Wanye immediately received an imperial summons from Emperor Shunyuan.
He wiped the heat from his neck, straightened his robes, and followed a eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs toward the magnificent Forbidden City with two trusted attendants in tow.
The day was still and windless.
Consort Zhen was sorting through the clothes Zhaoyue had worn as a child.
Many of them no longer fit. Keeping them would only take up space, so she had planned to send them to the Imperial Household Department to be remade into pillowcases and sleeve covers for the palace servants.
But as she turned them over one by one, every garment reminded her of how adorable Zhaoyue had looked at that age. The thought of giving them away pained her terribly.
A palace maid advised her, “If Your Highness cannot bear to part with them, then don’t. Keeping them would still preserve the memory.”
Consort Zhen hugged the clothes to her chest and kissed them with a faint smile. “What memories can clothes preserve? Zhaoyue grew so quickly that she outgrew them one after another. If I keep piling them up, they’ll overflow the room.”
The palace maid said, “Your Highness is kindhearted.”
Consort Zhen sighed. “Let’s just consider it a way of gathering blessings for my Zhaoyue.”
As she continued sorting, a sharp object hidden inside one of the little jackets suddenly sliced her finger. A bead of blood welled up at once.
The palace maid cried out, “Your Highness! Who would dare hide something sharp in Her Highness’s clothes?”
Consort Zhen stared at the blood on her palm. For no apparent reason, her heart seemed to skip a beat.
At that very moment, Wanye clasped his fists. The iron rings on his arms clanged softly against one another as he lifted his dark-red lips and called out in a ringing voice to the aged Emperor seated above the imperial hall:
“I, Ghost Khan, representing Chieftain Alu Chi, respectfully offer generous gifts and request the hand of Princess Zhaoyue of Great Qian!”
