The Dali Temple prison was filthy and dim. The days were short and the cold was biting, as late autumn had arrived, and so had the day set for executions.
Xie Langyang was as motionless as a withered corpse, slumped on a moldy, stinking straw mat, his face and body crusted over with dried blood that had turned as dark as ink.
Every taste of a life worse than death, every day that dragged on like a year, every stab of agony that pierced straight to the marrow—he had endured them all, one by one.
Looking back on his short life, the greatest mistake he had ever made was lingering one extra day to admire the scenery of Qingping Mountain all those years ago. That was where he had met the young, strikingly beautiful Wen Zhuo.
If he had hurried to the capital that very day, if he had never crossed paths with Wen Zhuo at all, he would never have discovered that he could fall for a man.
He would have followed the expected path, become the pride of his clan, and shouldered all the responsibilities of the eldest legitimate son.
He would never have loved Wen Zhuo, never betrayed him, and never ended up in this state of utter disgrace and ruin.
Outside the prison cell, the guards were chatting and bantering. The swords at their waists clanged against the walls as they laughed, making a crisp, clinking racket.
"Hey, have you heard? Lord Liu Kangren really did bring potatoes back from the Western Oceans, and he's already grown a full crop of them!"
"Whoa, how do you know that?"
"My younger sister works at Duke Liu's residence. She told me when she came home to visit. This thing grows fast, doesn't pick and choose its soil or water, tastes great, and fills you up. Once we plant it everywhere in the future, no common folk in the whole empire will ever have to fear a famine again!"
"Is it really that good?"
"Of course it is! When Duke Liu tried it for the first time, his eyes lit right up. Lord Liu is a kind man, he even gave every servant a small piece to taste. My sister said it tastes far better than regular grain. Right now, the harvest is just coming in, and there's barely any of it. All of it has to be sent to the imperial palace first—no one else can get their hands on it, even if they beg."
"I'm so jealous of your sister."
"In three months, there's going to be another harvest. I'll ask my sister to sneak one for me then."
"Make sure you remember to share a bite with the rest of us guys, yeah?"
"Don't worry, don't worry, there'll be a piece for everyone!"
......
Xie Langyang's eyelids fluttered slightly. First came disbelief, then a bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at his lips.
He had been so short-sighted he could not see the mountain towering right in front of him. The thing Wen Zhuo had pointed out to Lord Liu Kangren truly was a path to survival.
It had even managed to resolve the crisis that hung over Duke Liu's household with ease. No wonder Wen Zhuo had been so confident, saying that whoever he chose would be the one the emperor favored.
Now that he finally understood that neither Shen Chen nor he himself had ever been the one destined for the throne, a bitter, unyielding resentment still burned in his chest.
He would never let Wen Zhuo sit back and enjoy everything he had built, stepping over Xie Langyang's bones to seize all the glory and power for himself.
Xie Langyang dragged himself up with great difficulty. His rough, stiff fingers finally closed around a writing brush, and his scattered, unfocused gaze slowly sharpened as he fixed it on the stack of rough yellow hemp paper before him.
His hand trembled as he wrote three characters—Letter of Confession.
"Your guilty subject Xie Langyang, a son of a prominent southern clan. Raised under the tutelage of renowned scholars, and favored by the grace of the imperial court to serve in office, I ought to have upheld integrity, stood by the throne, and become a worthy official of a peaceful era. Yet I failed to hold fast to my original heart, slipped into the mire of vice, and tarnished my own reputation. This is my first crime."
"I once dreamed of becoming a great minister remembered through the ages, yet I was shallow of talent and shallow of resolve, letting my selfish desires override my moral principles, until I strayed down a wicked path. During the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament, though I did not know the secret pact between the Eight Veils faction and Nanping, I still lied and advised the Chief Minister to frame the Crown Prince, just to clear my nephew of his charges. This brought about untold disaster, harming others and destroying myself. This is my second crime."
"After that plot failed, my greed did not fade. I wove yet another underhanded scheme. When I encountered Mo Shu by chance at the estate of the Marquis of Yongning, I realized his identity was far from ordinary. I leaked that information to the Chief Minister, who passed it on to the Former Crown Prince. The Former Crown Prince, in his urgency to save Empress Cao, acted rashly on that intelligence, never anticipating that Your Majesty would see through all his tricks. Not only did you not punish Mo Shu, you promoted him and pardoned all his past offenses. Empress Cao was eventually implicated by that incident, and the Former Crown Prince fell from grace. This is my third crime."
"I knew full well that Wen Zhuo favored Shen Zheng, yet I threw my lot in with Shen Chen. My jealousy and resentment grew beyond all control, and I plotted to use the Ode to Wanshan to put Wen Zhuo to death. In this case, I told lie after lie to deceive Your Majesty. This is my fourth crime."
"From the day the Former Crown Prince fell until I presented the Ode to Wanshan, I delayed for so long only because my heart was still torn, still unwilling to let go. When we faced each other in the Hall of Martial Valor, Wen Zhuo refuted every one of my claims with sharp, reasonable arguments. I fumbled and stammered, because the truth was that Wen Zhuo had never lured me into indulging my desire for men. We had loved each other, and shared our affection in secret, of our own free will."
"He gave me the Ode to Wanshan, and I gave him clothing, silver, and poems in return. Later, when I obeyed my father's orders to take a wife, we cut all ties. That was when Wen Zhuo began to turn against me. Even so, I have only ever felt guilt and love for him. It was only when I saw him sharing an intimate moment with Shen Zheng that my jealousy burned out of control, and I resolved to kill him."
"On New Year's Eve years ago, the Crown Prince did not attend the imperial court's new year audience. It was not because he was worried that Your Majesty had lost your appetite and had snuck out of the palace to find food. He went to celebrate Wen Zhuo's birthday. I had gone there that night to make peace with Wen Zhuo, and I heard and saw everything through the door. I was foolish and delusional, convinced that the Crown Prince was being manipulated by Wen Zhuo's intelligence, that he would bring ruin to the dynasty and violate the ancestral edicts. That was why I wrote that ode to inform Your Majesty."
"Every word I write today is written in blood, every sentence is the unvarnished truth from the bottom of my heart. I only beg Your Majesty to distinguish the loyal from the treacherous, to uphold the ancestral laws, to protect the great Qian dynasty, and not to be led astray by false, evil men. I will face my death without flinching, and accept the axe's blow. Even in the underworld, I will wait for that traitor who endangers the realm, so that true justice may be done."
"Your guilty subject Xie Langyang bows a hundred times, and awaits Your Majesty's sacred judgment."
Emperor Shunyuan read this confession over and over, until his eyes stung with tears. Then he passed it to the Liu Quan at his side. "You read this too."
Liu Quan took it respectfully with both hands. The more he read, the tighter his brows drew together. When he reached the end, he could not help but gasp sharply.
"Your Majesty, this..."
Emperor Shunyuan pressed a hand to his forehead. His voice was hoarse and rough, like a beaten gong. "Do you believe what Xie Langyang wrote?"
Liu Quan's expression shifted rapidly. He set the document gently back on the table, and forced a tight, strained smile as he shook his head. "This servant does not believe it."
"Oh?" Emperor Shunyuan looked surprised.
"This servant thinks that knowing his execution day is at hand, he is deliberately trying to hurt Your Majesty, using this scheme to drive a wedge between Your Majesty and the Crown Prince. I have to say, this plot is vicious, and there is almost no way to refute it." As he finished speaking, a bead of cold sweat trickled down Liu Quan's temple.
He had never taken such a clear, firm stance in front of Emperor Shunyuan in his entire life. It was dangerous, and went against everything he had ever stood for.
He had served the Emperor since childhood, and his only loyalty was supposed to belong to his master. But things had come to such a pass, he had no choice but to guide his Emperor's judgment, if he wanted any measure of peace in his old age.
Emperor Shunyuan had clearly taken his words to heart. He sat in silence for a long moment, then spoke slowly, his voice low. "Xie Langyang is at the end of his rope. It is very possible that he would make this desperate last gambit to turn me against the Crown Prince."
Liu Quan nodded quickly, just starting to relax and let a smile show on his face—until Emperor Shunyuan's tone shifted, heavy and pained. "But I cannot afford to take that risk. If even one word of this confession is true, I must eliminate all hidden dangers for the sake of the great Qian dynasty."
The smile on Liu Quan's face vanished instantly.
Emperor Shunyuan turned slowly to look at him. His eyes were red, and his voice was raw with unmistakeable pain. "I do not want to do this. I cannot bear it. He is the only person in this world who shares blood with Xingluo. But I am the Emperor of the Great Qian first, and Xingluo's lover second. Before my time runs out, I must leave the throne to the Crown Prince, with not a single hidden danger left to threaten it."
Liu Quan could not find the words to reply.
The dragon's spikenard incense in the burner had burned out, and its scent had faded until it was barely noticeable. The window was wide open, and the autumn wind blew through the room. From far outside the palace walls, they could smell the sweet, rich scent of a bountiful harvest of fruits and melons.
This season, so full of the joy of abundance, was already on the verge of a piercing, icy winter.
"Wen Shan has not come to see me for a long time. I miss him a little. Summon him here at once."
This was the first time Liu Quan hesitated for a brief moment in his life before bowing deeply and responding, "As Your Majesty commands."
Taken aback by the sudden summons from Emperor Shunyuan, Wen Zhuo felt a flicker of surprise in his heart. Doing the math by the calendar, the emperor's health was already hanging by a thread.
To be fair, while serving the emperor was like walking beside a tiger, Emperor Shunyuan had always treated him with great leniency. No matter if this leniency stemmed from the fact that Wen Zhuo never coveted power, or from him being Consort Chen's nephew, he had reaped all the tangible benefits of that kindness for real.
Now that his life was stable and fulfilling, he could not help but feel a sliver of pity for this dying monarch.
As the saying goes, a man near death speaks his mind. Wen Zhuo straightened his official robes and stepped into the Hall of Mental Cultivation once more.
"Your subject greets Your Majesty."
Emperor Shunyuan was surprisingly full of spirit that day. Without needing Liu Quan to support him, he stood by the desk on his own, admiring ancient calligraphy masterpieces.
Spotting Wen Zhuo, he smiled faintly, raised his hand and gestured, "Wanshan, rise. I recently got a copy of Wang Xizhi's *Sunny After Snowfall Timely Note*. Come take a look and tell me if it is the authentic work."
Wen Zhuo had long known that Emperor Shunyuan adored Wang Xizhi's calligraphy.
In the past, whenever he obtained a genuine calligraphy masterpiece, the first person he would seek out was always Liu Changbai. Liu Changbai was a connoisseur of fine arts, and his wife was a descendant of the Langya Wang clan, so she was the most qualified to judge such works.
But now Liu Changbai had passed away, and Madam Liu had also died of illness. The renowned scholars and great masters that the late Emperor Kangzhen had left for Emperor Shunyuan had long been chased away or executed by him, leaving no trace.
It seemed that Wen Zhuo was the only person left who could discuss calligraphy with him.
Wen Zhuo got to his feet, smoothed his robes, walked over to stand beside Emperor Shunyuan, and studied the scroll before him carefully.
He brushed his fingertips lightly over the paper, then leaned down to sniff the ink gently, before straightening up and remaining silent for a long while.
Emperor Shunyuan urged him, "Speak quickly!"
Wen Zhuo bowed with cupped hands. Though he did not wish to disappoint the emperor, he could only speak the truth. "Your Majesty, the ink tone and the paper of this scroll do not match the Eastern Jin Dynasty at all. But the characters are copied so vividly, with strokes as firm and sharp as forged iron, that it should be an exquisite Tang Dynasty facsimile. Even so, it is still a work of immense value, a famous masterpiece passed down through generations. Congratulations, Your Majesty."
"Alas..." Emperor Shunyuan slowly sat back in his chair, a look of disappointment crossing his face. After a moment, he slowly rolled up the scroll. "Never mind. Since it is not the authentic work, I will give it to you to admire and play with."
As he spoke, he passed the scroll over.
Wen Zhuo raised an eyebrow slightly, and asked with genuine amusement, "Is Your Majesty not afraid that your subject might deliberately claim this scroll is a fake just to trick Your Majesty's treasure away?"
Emperor Shunyuan turned his head and huffed softly at him, "If you had begged for it the moment you stepped through the door, I might really have doubted you."
Wen Zhuo lowered his eyes and chuckled softly, cradling the scroll in his arms with great care.
Emperor Shunyuan, seeing how clearly fond he was of the piece, looked him up and down, and could not help frowning. "Tsk, you wouldn't really have deliberately tried to cheat that scroll away from me, would you?"
Wen Zhuo immediately suppressed his smile, and reluctantly placed the scroll back on the desk. "If Your Majesty is reluctant to part with it, then forget it. Your subject never really wanted it anyway."
Emperor Shunyuan waved his hand hastily. "Fine, fine, it's yours, all yours..."
Wen Zhuo immediately took the scroll back into his arms, and even pulled over the wooden box that held it.
Emperor Shunyuan's eyes went wide. "This box is a Chu state lacquerware, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and scented with cassia and pepper. Even if the scroll is a fake, this box is worth more than the scroll. How can you just take it without a second thought?"
Wen Zhuo kept a straight face and lied casually, "Your Majesty is mistaken again. Chu lacquerware uses black as the base and vermilion for patterns, thick and lustrous like congealed fat. This box's lacquer is gaudy, its body is thin, and its carvings are stiff and lifeless. It is obviously a later forgery. Your subject only took it because it is convenient for holding things."
"Hmph!" Emperor Shunyuan pointed at him. "Don't show off your skills in front of me. Though I am not a connoisseur of calligraphy and painting, Chu lacquerware was my elder brother's favorite. I have watched and studied it since I was a child. Even if my eyes are growing dim, I would never mistake it."
Wen Zhuo was left speechless for a moment. He quietly put the wooden box down, knelt down and bowed. "Your subject knows his mistake."
It was rare for Emperor Shunyuan to leave Wen Zhuo at a loss for words. He leaned back contentedly in his imperial throne, looking down at Wen Zhuo kneeling before him.
"If you want me to give you the box too, it's not impossible. I have a question for you. If your answer satisfies me, the box will be yours as well." The high spirits Emperor Shunyuan had felt a moment ago gradually faded away. The look he turned on Wen Zhuo became complicated and conflicted.
Wen Zhuo kept his head bowed as he knelt, and did not catch the expression on the emperor's face. "Your Majesty, please speak."
Emperor Shunyuan said slowly, "Use the three characters 'ying', 'xing' and 'luo' as the core themes, and compose two lines of poetry. If you can do that, the box will be yours too."
Wen Zhuo's eyelashes fluttered slightly. According to what Consort Zhen had told him, Xingluo was Consort Chen's childhood name. The emperor must have assumed that he did not know of this.
He could not fathom why Emperor Shunyuan would ask him to compose poetry using Consort Chen's name as the prompt. Perhaps, facing death, he just wanted to seek a sliver of comfort from him, a man related by blood to Consort Chen.
Wen Zhuo thought for a brief moment, then chanted, "Surely longing pierces the highest heavens, the frosted light of stars falls all night on my brows."
Emperor Shunyuan was filled with a wave of melancholy upon hearing that.
He murmured the lines over and over to himself, but secretly lamented that it was wrong, all wrong. It should be ying xing luo, not ying luo xing. Wen Zhuo really did not understand.
Then Emperor Shunyuan smiled faintly. "The lines I wrote back then were: 'Surely I meet her fairy bones standing against the wind, the glint in her eyes falls and locks my whole life away.'"
That was why he had given her the name, Ying Xingluo.
Wen Zhuo adapted to this smoothly and replied, "Your subject's poetic talent is far inferior to Your Majesty's. It seems this wooden box rightly belongs to Your Majesty."
But Emperor Shunyuan directly placed the box in his hands, chiding him gently with a smile. "How strange. Why are you being so polite today? In the past, whenever you set your sights on one of my good treasures, you would have done anything to wheedle it out of me as a reward."
Wen Zhuo felt as if the way he got along with Emperor Shunyuan had slipped back to how it was in the earliest days.
The feeling was familiar to him, and it put him at ease. Perhaps the emperor had grown old and frail, and just wanted to cling to the few warm moments left in his life.
After sitting for so long, Emperor Shunyuan grew tired. Wen Zhuo rose to take his leave, and had already reached the palace gate when Emperor Shunyuan suddenly called out to him.
"Wanshan."
Wen Zhuo turned around, and saw the gaunt old man, his eyes already reddening, with cloudy brimming with tears. The emperor spoke to him almost with a tone of supplication and pity, "I want to go on one last autumn hunt, to see the great Qian realm one final time. You are the person I trust most... Go to Qingping Mountain and make arrangements for me."
Wen Zhuo saw the emperor raise his hand, stretching it out toward him through empty air. The single tear finally rolled down, and fell onto the empty imperial desk.
"Your subject obeys the edict."
