Wen Zhuo soon realized Shen Zheng had not been exaggerating—there were indeed rather specific preferences the younger man held in intimate matters.
Every little trick left him so flustered and crimson-faced that he wanted to burrow under the covers and hide his head entirely.
But Shen Zheng always found the long-life lock strung around Wen Zhuo's ankle with pinpoint accuracy. Before Wen Zhuo could react, he would tug the lock sharply, pulling him right out of the layers of bedding, and coax him gently into trying every new thing.
Half-resisting and half-surrendering, Wen Zhuo would sink into overwhelming waves of sensation, all the while half-convinced the spirits of ancient sages were floating in the clouds above, looking down at him with nothing but disappointment.
When he thought back to how naively he had once assumed that Shen Zheng's affairs of the flesh would never involve him, he wanted to reach back and shake some sense into his past self.
One night, he was so thoroughly worn out that he fell into an unusually deep sleep. When he finally stirred awake, the sun was already high in the sky, the rain had stopped, and a soft clear breeze drifted through the air.
Shen Zheng had gotten up at some point without him noticing. He was sitting at the nearby imperial desk going through memorials, moving so quietly he was careful not to disturb Wen Zhuo. The quilt draped over Wen Zhuo was tucked in so neatly even the edges were perfectly smoothed down, and the bed curtains hung low, keeping anyone from daring to intrude.
He had actually spent the entire night alone, asleep on the imperial dragon bed.
This went completely against every principle he held as a court official. After turning the situation over in his head over and over, Wen Zhuo resolved to move back to his own Wen Manor. That way he could sort out his tangled thoughts and focus fully on pushing through the new administrative policies.
It was just at this time that Wu Kan, who was far away in Nanping, sent a confidential letter by messenger.
With the help Wen Zhuo had given him in the past, Wu Kan had risen to the position of Nanping's Vice Minister of Revenue. The purpose of this letter was to take things a step further, and propose opening up mutual trade and regular commercial exchanges between Nanping and the Great Qian.
Within the entire Great Qian court, Wen Zhuo was the only high-ranking official Wu Kan knew well, and he was also deeply trusted by the Great Qian emperor. For that reason, he earnestly begged Wen Zhuo to speak on his behalf before Shen Zheng and help push the arrangement through.
Wen Zhuo was far too sharp and perceptive not to see right through what Wu Kan was really after.
Right now, undercurrents were churning through Nanping's officialdom, and internal unrest was flaring up constantly. The country was in no shape at all to withstand the strain of war.
The Emperor of Nanping urgently needed to stabilize his position, and produce tangible, solid achievements to win the hearts and loyalty of his people. If he could maintain trade relations with the Great Qian and keep the border peaceful, he would have no worries holding him back from rooting out the internal rebellions and consolidating his rule.
Wen Zhuo spread the confidential letter out on the surface of the table before Shen Zheng, his eyes bright and sharp as he analyzed every line of it point by point.
"Nanping is mired in internal chaos and political instability right now. This is the perfect opportunity for our Great Qian to expand our territory. If we raise an army to strike them now, the Sui, An, and Luo prefectures will be ours for the taking. Back in the time of our founding ancestor, he was held back by the fact that the Great Qian's population had been decimated by war, so he could not press his campaign further to wipe Nanping out entirely. That regret has lingered ever since. If Your Majesty can accomplish the unfinished work of our ancestor, your name will shine through the ages and be praised by all generations to come."
Shen Zheng rested his cheek on one hand, read the letter over and over several times, sat silent for a long moment, then said in a calm, unhurried tone, "Open negotiations for cooperation with them."
Wen Zhuo froze, frowning in confusion.
Since the dawn of time, what emperor would ever let an opportunity to strike a vulnerable enemy slip through their fingers?
Shen Zheng stood up, reached to pull Wen Zhuo over to his side, his arm looping naturally around his waist as he explained earnestly, "Nanping's internal chaos is their own affair. But the common people of the Great Qian have only just gotten to live a few days of peaceful, stable lives. Back when my father was on the throne, we fought two wars against Nanping. We lost one, and won the other. In the end, neither side gained even an extra inch of land. All we had to show for it was countless soldiers dead and wounded, and ordinary people displaced from their homes. If you really think it through, all that talk of being praised for a thousand generations is nothing but an empty reputation for the emperor alone."
"Your Majesty truly sees things that way?" Wen Zhuo was so shocked he barely even noticed Shen Zheng's hands roaming and squeezing gently at him through his official robes.
"If my own reputation can buy decades of peace and prosperity for the people of both our countries, that's more than worth it, isn't it?" Shen Zheng smiled, his gaze unusually solemn. "Wanshan, in my past life I was never an emperor at all. I was just an ordinary, regular person. I can't forget who I used to be. For all the living souls in the world, there is nothing more precious than peace."
Wen Zhuo was quiet for a long while. Then he knelt forward on his own and settled himself onto Shen Zheng's lap, undisguised admiration shining in his eyes. "Very well. This teacher of yours will write Wu Kan a letter to make this arrangement happen. But we can never let our guard down. Your Majesty may act with the well-being of the people at heart, but Nanping might not be as sincere as they claim. Our Great Qian's soldiers must never slack off, and our border defenses must remain constantly on high alert. Otherwise, trouble will be sure to find us."
"I know that," Shen Zheng patted his back. "I've already sent Mo Shu several new designs for firelocks, and told him to rush their research and development work."
Only then did Wen Zhuo relax. He put the confidential letter away, preparing to head back to the Inner Cabinet to continue handling the trivial matters of the new policies. "Your Majesty, I shall take my leave now."
Shen Zheng tightened his grip with a twist of his wrist, yanking Wen Zhuo right back onto his lap, his chest pressed to Wen Zhuo's back. "What's the rush?"
He leaned in to press a soft kiss to the shell of Wen Zhuo's ear, then said with a faint, knowing smile, "The last time we were in bed, I told you what you're supposed to call me when no one else is around. How could you forget it only a few days later?"
Wen Zhuo pressed his lips tight, glancing back at him from under his lashes, the pink flush creeping all the way up his neck.
Shen Zheng looked perfectly calm, not pushing or pressing at all, just waiting quietly.
Wen Zhuo twisted around, pressing his palm lightly to Shen Zheng's chest, glancing left and right like a thief terrified of being caught. He made sure there was no one else in the great hall, only the glow of the sunset slipping in through the windows, before he leaned in right next to Shen Zheng's ear, adding a few extra terms for good measure: "My husband, my lord, my beloved... Is that enough to please Your Majesty?"
The second the words left his mouth, Wen Zhuo tried to make a clean getaway, scrambling to his feet and making a run for it.
Shen Zheng was faster than him by a mile. He grabbed Wen Zhuo's official robe sleeve in one hand. "Come to the Qianqing Palace tonight."
Wen Zhuo squirmed and tugged at his sleeve in a panic, finally yanking it free from Shen Zheng's grasp before hurrying away as fast as he could. "The Inner Cabinet is swamped with work! Neither of us can neglect our public duties for private affairs. This teacher of yours is going back to my own manor to sleep today!"
And true to his word, Wen Zhuo really did go straight back to Wen Manor.
When word of this reached the Imperial Astrologer's office, Zhu Xiwen immediately ground ink and spread out a sheet of paper, writing furiously and solemnly recording in the imperial daily records: "Wen Zhuo devoted his days to advancing the new policies, but spent his nights residing in the imperial palace, sparking widespread whispers of discontent across the court and the public. The Emperor, seeing the public opinions, realized the situation was inappropriate, and thus ordered him to return to his own residence."
When Shen Zheng heard about this, he laughed softly. By now he had long since learned to simply treat Zhu Xiwen as if he did not exist at all.
Wen Zhuo's work at court kept him busy, but not so busy that he could not carve out a little bit of free time for himself.
One day, when the morning court was dismissed early, he lazed about peacefully at home, hiding under the thick shade of a pear tree in his courtyard. He had set up a rattan daybed, and leaned back against it lazily, a volume of *Vegetable Root Discourse* spread open across his knees, and a packet of date sweet pastry sitting beside him. He picked up pieces of the pastry to nibble slowly, his eyes drifting over the pages of his book, so wrapped up in his relaxed moment that he lost all track of time.
He did not snap back to his senses until the sun began to sink low in the west, and the glow of the sunset dyed the courtyard walls a deep red. Jiang Mannü was walking in carrying a full basket of fresh fruits and vegetables, while Liu Qi stood by the stove in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist, lighting a fire to start cooking dinner.
It was the very picture of peaceful, quiet days. His back did not ache, his legs did not throb, there were none of those embarrassingly revealing sleeping robes to make him flush bright red, and he had only the last single piece of date sweet pastry left in its oil paper wrapper.
Wen Zhuo smacked his lips, thoroughly savoring the moment, and decided he would take a few more days to rest and recuperate at the manor.
Just then, a startled cry rang out from the back courtyard, from Jiang Mannü. "Your Majesty?"
She leaned over the low wall, yelling at the top of her voice toward the front courtyard. "Sir! The Emperor has come to find you again through the secret tunnel!"
Wen Zhuo's ears shot straight up. He did not even need to think to know exactly what Shen Zheng had come here for.
The Grand Secretary Wen did not care a single bit about keeping up his dignified reputation. In a complete fluster, he stuffed the last piece of date sweet pastry into his sleeve and turned to run.
Shen Zheng had just stepped out of the secret tunnel entrance when he caught sight of that flurried figure darting away into the distance. He could not help but burst out laughing.
If he really wanted to, he could catch up to Wen Zhuo in the blink of an eye, his speed and strength more than enough to overtake him.
But the sharp, unyielding Grand Secretary Wen that everyone in the court saw, who fled in a total panic just to avoid a set of frilly intimate garments, was a sight so vivid and endearing he did not want to spoil it.
Shen Zheng crossed his arms to admire the sight, for the moment allowing him to successfully make his escape.
A few days later, Shen Zheng made up his mind to head to Jinhai again, to witness the launching of the largest treasure ship the Great Qian Dynasty had ever constructed up to that point.
He had personally overseen this project, so he naturally took it extremely seriously.
Apart from Wen Zhuo, quite a number of other court ministers accompanied the trip. Trapped by court affairs on ordinary days, they rarely got a chance to get away, so this trip was a perfect opportunity for them to catch a glimpse of the scenery of Jinhai.
The journey stretched long, with the cool dawn breeze brushing against their faces, and the official road winding far ahead.
Wen Zhuo rode in his carriage to rest at times, and at other times mounted Ta Baisha to walk alongside Shen Zheng for a while.
Ta Baisha had grown increasingly spoiled lately — whenever anyone drew near, it would immediately hold its head high and open its mouth, its pair of shiny black eyes staring straight at the person, waiting to be given a carrot.
If others failed to catch on to what it wanted, or were stingy and refused to feed it, it would snort and blow a face full of fine sand at them.
Fortunately, Wen Zhuo had long been prepared, carrying a small pocket of washed, sliced carrots with him. Every time before he mounted the horse, he would hand it a piece, and Ta Baisha would then lower its head obediently.
The group of riders reached an official post, where the trees stood lush with interlaced branches and leaves, making the path rather hard to traverse.
A guard from the Ningning Marquis Estate spurred his horse forward, drew near to Wen Zhuo's side, and said with a smile, "Grand Secretary, back when you encountered trouble in the capital, His Majesty was so anxious the moment he heard the news that he galloped all the way back from Jinhai without a single wink of sleep for two whole nights. It was right at this very spot that His Majesty accidentally fell off his horse. His entire robe was torn, and he suffered countless scrapes and bruises, but he only tended to his injuries briefly before mounting up and hurrying on his way again."
Wen Zhuo jolted in shock and turned around to look at Shen Zheng behind him. Shen Zheng had never mentioned this matter to him before.
He only knew that Shen Zheng had brought Bu Zhangyi to the capital to denounce Gong Zhiyuan, then had Xie Langyang interrogated through the night. By the time he carried Wen Zhuo out of that dark, lightless prison cell, Shen Zheng's eyes were already lined with red bloodshot streaks.
He had fallen ill and lay in bed, groggy and disoriented, never knowing that Shen Zheng had gotten hurt just rushing back to rescue him.
"Your Majesty?"
Wen Zhuo's voice trembled slightly, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on Ta Baisha's mane.
Shen Zheng had not interrupted the guard while he was speaking. Only now, when he heard Wen Zhuo's voice, did he lower his eyes and look at him with unhurried ease, "What is it?"
"I..." Wen Zhuo trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, overwhelmed by guilt and self-reproach. Shen Zheng had treated him with such deep devotion, yet he had run away out of nothing more than the shyness he had felt in their intimate moments. He really should not have done that.
That same night, the imperial carriage stopped at the official post, and Grand Secretary Wen went into His Majesty's bedchamber.
Shen Zheng was leaning against the head of the bed reading a book, his thin quilt loosely draped over his waist, his moon-white undergarment half unfastened. The candle flame flickered, tracing the outline of his skin with soft, fuzzy light.
Wen Zhuo stole a glance at his expression, saw that it looked no different from usual, then forced himself to stay calm as he took off his outer robe and hung it on the clothes rack.
The book in Shen Zheng's hands slipped down half an inch. His deep dark eyes peeked over the edge of the book spine, and he raised an eyebrow to ask deliberately, "What is Teacher doing here?"
Outside the door, the guards changed shifts. The clink of armor pieces brushing against each other mixed with a few low whispers, before all fell quiet a moment later.
Wen Zhuo bit his lower lip, took off his boots and socks, leaned over to step onto the bed, lifted the quilt and slipped inside. He propped himself up on his arms and lay gently on top of Shen Zheng.
Shen Zheng still held his book, his body not moving an inch. He only slowed his voice, "What is the meaning of this?"
Wen Zhuo's breathing gradually grew heavier. He buried his head in Shen Zheng's chest and nuzzled around clumsily, half-irritated that Shen Zheng was pretending to be clueless when he knew perfectly well what this was about.
Shen Zheng remained still, his patience unshaken. He looked down at the strands of his disheveled black hair and guided him slowly, "The post station prepared a bedchamber for Teacher, didn't they? Why have you come to my room instead?"
The window was half ajar. The night wind drifted through the hall, dissipating the summer heat in the room. From the stable in the front yard came a few horse whinnies, and the post station official was feeding the animals, murmuring to them not to fight over the fodder.
Wen Zhuo did not utter a single word. He only stretched a hand out from under the thin quilt, his fingertips tracing along Shen Zheng's contours slowly, round and round, until he himself was soaked through.
Shen Zheng's heart had been surging with emotions the moment Wen Zhuo voluntarily took off his official robes, yet his gaze still stayed calm, not letting out even a soft sigh. It was almost as if the body Wen Zhuo's palms were pressing against, the one he could barely get a full hold of, was not his own.
Seeing that Shen Zheng still would not budge, Wen Zhuo felt as if he was being steamed inside a food steamer — his cheeks and the roots of his ears were flushed bright red, and every breath he exhaled carried warm heat.
He simply arched his back, turned his face away, fumbled around under the quilt for a moment, and took off his formal trousers.
Then he sank his hips slowly, lowering himself little by little.
A sharp pain shot through him, making him frown, but he did not run away. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, held back tightly, and his lower back tingled with numbing waves of sensation.
When he sank all the way down, he lifted his head. The tears in his eyes turned into a soft, lustful glow, and he looked right at Shen Zheng with full affection, refusing to admit what a bold thing he had just done.
Shen Zheng gazed at him quietly for a long moment, then finally reached his hand into his cascading black hair, sliding from the nape of his neck down his back to stroke and soothe him.
Beneath the candlelight, their skin was as pale and smooth as porcelain, so slippery it slipped right through one's fingers, making one want to touch and caress it over and over again.
The horses seemed to have been fed their fill. The post station official walked along the gravel path, carrying his wooden bucket as he headed back.
His footsteps startled the frogs croaking in the corner of the yard. The sounds mingled with the starry night, and the thick leaves all over the yard sent a gust of wind blowing in, knocking the window frame with a thud. The quiet night was only left with soft, faint whispers.
"There is only a bamboo door between this room and the next. No sound can be hidden here. Don't cry out, Wanshan."
"Your subject... humbly begs Your Majesty to be gentler."
