By the end of May, the whole school was busy arranging for graduation photo shoots. The academic gowns could be either rented or bought, and Shen Zheng, not wanting to go through the hassle, simply purchased two sets.
On the day of the shoot, he helped Wen Zhuo slip into this purple gown.
Wen Zhuo spread his arms wide, looked down at the wide sleeves that hung well past his knees, and asked curiously, "Is this the official attire of the present world?"
In the Great Qian Dynasty, there were established official attires for top scholars after the imperial examination, for the imperial proclamation ceremony, the gratitude ceremony, and the Enrong Banquet. Back then, as the second-place laureate, he had worn a crimson silk round-collar gown with wide sleeves, a two-rimmed official hat, a plain silver belt around his waist, and a tasseled jade pendant hanging from it — all these details were still vivid in his memory to this day.
Shen Zheng's fingers, which were fastening the buttons, paused slightly, and a thought suddenly struck him.
Right, he had never seen Wen Zhuo look like when he claimed a top spot in the imperial examination.
If he ever got the chance to go back to the Great Qian Dynasty, he would definitely make Wen Zhuo put on the official attires for the top scholar, the second-place laureate, and the third-place laureate one after another, just to show them all to him alone in the Palace of Heavenly Purity.
He would take his little top scholar, little runner-up scholar, and little third-place scholar all into his arms.
"They are not the same," Shen Zheng said, regaining his composure as he explained. "The tradition of wearing academic gowns for graduation originated from the West. The earliest universities were mostly founded by churches, and these gowns were once the identity markers for clergymen. Later, they became proof of academic qualifications, and now, they are considered a symbol of graduation honor."
Wen Zhuo pondered the words thoughtfully.
Ever since Shen Zheng had typed out those three Western letters that day, he had taken that as a starting point to get a rough grasp of the historical changes in the Western world.
And through that, he finally understood why Shen Zheng had always paid special attention to all things Western.
The two of them walked side by side onto the campus, and Wen Zhuo was astonished to find that the place where Shen Zheng pursued his studies was several times larger than the Imperial College of the Great Qian Dynasty — even walking for half a day would not be enough to traverse the entire campus on foot.
Shen Zheng scanned the code to unlock two shared bicycles, and took Wen Zhuo wandering around the campus while taking photos.
Graduates in academic gowns could be seen everywhere, and all the spots with nice scenery had long queues, so the two had to go find a quiet, out-of-the-way place instead.
Wen Zhuo was still new to cycling, so his bike wobbled from side to side, forcing him to focus all his attention on the two wheels, leaving no time to take in the afternoon scenery.
Before long, a thin layer of sweat beaded on his temples.
Shen Zheng reached out to steady his handlebars, and chuckled softly, "Stop cycling for now, Teacher. I'll borrow a bike from a classmate to carry you."
They happened to be at the back of the old library, where green vines hung all over the red brick walls, setting off this Gothic-style building with extraordinary elegance.
The main entrance was crowded with graduates taking photos, but the back side was surprisingly peaceful. Sunlight spilled like shattered gold over the green leaves and red bricks, the grass under their feet was soft, and the whole area was quiet with no other people around.
Shen Zheng told Wen Zhuo to stand still against the wall, and Wen Zhuo unconsciously held his arms up, his back straight as a ramrod, exactly the same posture he used to have when attending court audiences in the old days.
Shen Zheng raised his camera and took several shots in a row.
Wen Zhuo was confused, "Today is Your Majesty's graduation day, why are you so busy taking photos of me?"
"Wanshan can take photos for me later," Shen Zheng said, shoving the camera into Wen Zhuo's hands.
It did not take long for Shen Zheng to discover the only shortcoming of the Grand Chancellor of Da Qian — his photography style was shockingly abstract.
Light and shadow, proportions, composition — Wen Zhuo knew nothing about any of these. The only thing he knew was to frame Shen Zheng within the lens, and a 16,000-yuan camera ended up producing photos that made a 180-centimeter-tall man look like he was only 160 centimeters tall.
Shen Zheng looked at the results, feeling both amused and helpless, "I'll ask a passerby to take a group photo of us two."
Before long, a student walked by, and Shen Zheng quickly stopped him.
Wen Zhuo was not good at making facial expressions, but luckily his face was already so strikingly handsome that the moment he appeared in the frame, he was more than enough to catch everyone's eye.
After taking the photos, Shen Zheng parked the bicycles by the roadside and led Wen Zhuo inside the library for a stroll.
Wen Zhuo had no interest in the architectural style, the university's historical evolution, or the students studying there — he was completely captivated by the vast, sea-like collection of books.
The collection of books in the Imperial College of Da Qian was already impressively vast, but it could not hold a candle to the sheer richness and breadth of the volumes here.
Just as Wen Zhuo reached out to take a book for a closer read, Shen Zheng quickly pulled him back. "I'll bring my alumni card to you tomorrow. If you want to come and read whenever you like, you're more than welcome."
Only then did Wen Zhuo reluctantly withdraw his hand.
The two of them took the campus shuttle bus to the "Lotus Pond Moonlight" spot, to meet up with the classmate who had lent out their bicycles.
Their classmate did not come alone, he had brought a few friends along. When the group caught sight of Wen Zhuo, every one of them froze for a moment, before they could not help but let out sounds of amazement.
Shen Zheng took the bike key from his classmate. "Thanks, I'll park it by your dorm entrance tonight and slip the key right into your room."
"Hey, Shen Zheng!" The classmate finally tore his gaze away from Wen Zhuo's face and hurried to speak. "The monitor is organizing a dinner gathering tonight, come join us for a meal."
"At the campus cafeteria?" Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow.
His classmate chuckled. "Of course we booked a private room, you can't drink or sing at the cafeteria."
"I'm not going," Shen Zheng turned him down decisively, then lifted a finger to point at Wen Zhuo beside him. "My alcohol tolerance is terrible, and he won't let me drink recklessly."
Wen Zhuo silently turned his eyes to look at Shen Zheng.
Since when had he ever stopped His Majesty from drinking? It was clearly His Majesty whose drinking capacity was abysmal, and who hated looking cowardly in front of others. During palace banquets, he had always secretly replaced his wine with clear water.
His classmate looked at him with an amused, envious expression. "Whoa, Zheng-ge, you're that obedient?"
Shen Zheng spread his hands, lying through his teeth without the slightest change in his expression. "I had to work so hard to chase him, I even kneel to apologize to him at home. I really don't dare to drink alcohol."
Wen Zhuo jerked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes to stare at Shen Zheng.
What utter nonsense!
How could he ever dare to make the Son of Heaven kneel? Shen Zheng was simply ruining his reputation!
But his classmate believed every word, and waved with a laugh. "Got it, no worries. We're all in Beijing anyway, we can get together another day."
After saying goodbye to the group, Shen Zheng patted the back seat of the bicycle. "Hop on, Teacher."
Wen Zhuo, who was already familiar with this routine, wrapped his arms around Shen Zheng's waist and settled onto the back seat, sounding glum and aggrieved. "Your Majesty spouts random nonsense and tarnishes this official's good name."
Shen Zheng let out a low laugh and started pedaling the bicycle. "Who said I was talking about you, the Grand Chancellor of Da Qian?"
When they got home that day, the private item they had ordered online had just been delivered.
Shen Zheng opened the package, disinfected the contents carefully, and set the item on the corner of the desk.
This man, who had just claimed he knelt to apologize at home, had now taken off his academic robes, wearing only a crisp tailored suit as he leaned against the sofa. The pad of his finger brushed idly over his knee, his eyes dark and heavy as they fixed on Wen Zhuo.
Meanwhile, the Imperial Tutor and Grand Chancellor whose "good name had been tarnished" was completely unclothed. He stepped forward barefoot, performing the proper court etiquette before Shen Zheng, his bearing still as dignified and unyielding as a proud cedar tree.
Shen Zheng reached out, gently cupping both of his cheeks. "Teacher, are you really sure you want to try this?"
Wen Zhuo did not answer. He only lifted his gaze to meet Shen Zheng's, his eyes glistening with a sheen of moisture, his fingers fumbling clumsily at the zipper of Shen Zheng's suit.
He was trying his hardest to look calm, but even the slope of his shoulders had flushed a soft, rosy pink.
Shen Zheng stopped trying to dissuade him. His palm slid down Wen Zhuo's smooth, soft back, moving in slow, gentle strokes to soothe him.
Wen Zhuo slowly let out his breath, his breathing growing heavier, his eyes settling on the birthmark on Shen Zheng's body.
Shen Zheng's movements paused. He looked down at Wen Zhuo, not rushing him, not pushing him in the slightest.
In the still of the deep night, it felt like even time itself had gained a sound.
The tick of the second hand struck the chords of their hearts, sending ripples spreading outward.
Wen Zhuo could no longer bear the gentle, lingering tension. His breath came out hot and scalding as he tilted his head back slightly.
The man who once could talk circles around anyone with his silver tongue was now all but lost for words. The Imperial Tutor knew he had overestimated his own composure, but there was no turning back now.
Soon, tears were pricking at his eyes, his lips were rubbed bright red, and he had to lower his head.
Time suddenly lost all measure. The harsh, ticking sound of the clock faded away, replaced by the soft, unhurried rush of a shallow stream, its water flowing long and slow.
The man who upholds the utmost rituals and decorum commits the most unruly, propriety-defying acts.
The wind has just settled, and the traces of rain are still damp, yet that small box at the corner of the table is already restlessly eager.
Wen Zhuo's heart tightens sharply. He props himself up, trying to stand, but his legs have long since lost all strength. He only manages to move half a step before he topples over with a soft thud.
Staggering, his waist is suddenly caught and held firmly by someone, and the object from the edge of the table is swept away along with him.
Shen Zheng lifts his leg to kick the bathroom door open, hurls that object into the bathtub, and the once calm, still water instantly bursts into splashing, scattered droplets.
Could such an unassuming, ordinary object really stir up the entire pool of water?
Wen Zhuo cannot even begin to imagine what follows, and he calls out urgently, "Shen Zheng!"
The moment his voice fades, his lips are sealed shut in a deep, thorough kiss.
Shen Zheng kisses him deeply yet softly, swallowing all his urgent cries, and when he pulls back, a thin silver thread of saliva stretches between their lips. He smirks and says, "Too late."
Wen Zhuo slips helplessly into the hot bath, the warm water wrapping around his entire body. The surface of the bathtub is so unnervingly smooth that his fingertips can barely find a spot to cling to.
Compared to the warm pavilion in the Eastern Palace, this place feels even more tricky and confining. He is like a sparrow trapped in a cage, with no way to escape. In the blink of an eye, most of the hair at his temples is already soaked through.
Shen Zheng kneels on the outer side of the bathtub, just as he has done countless times before, tucks up Wen Zhuo's long hair, and brushes the stray strands away from his cheeks.
A moment later, Shen Zheng leans down to pick up the object from the water, wraps both of Wen Zhuo's hands in his own, steals his breath away, and cuts off every possible escape route.
The bathtub is like a shallow bowl, leaving Wen Zhuo with barely a single point of support.
But that accursed object makes him feel as if he has been jolted by electricity, trembling nonstop in the warm water.
The composure he has been straining so hard to maintain crumbles completely. His tears can no longer be held back, and they roll down from the corners of his eyes, pattering down one after another.
"Shen Zheng, you hateful man!"
There is no response.
"Your teacher... I can't hold on any longer." His tone softens, a hint of weakness seeping through as he pleads.
Still no answer.
Wen Zhuo is sharp-witted, catching on immediately. He leans over in a sob, finds Shen Zheng's lips, and presses his own to them in a messy, fumbling kiss.
"Your subject does not want this thing. I would rather Your Majesty come here in person..."
Shen Zheng laughs and releases him. "As Wanshan wishes."
...
After they are fully sated, Wen Zhuo tucks the erotic picture album along with that unassuming object under his pillow, smooths the pillowcase back over it, and acts as if nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.
He still wakes up early every morning to heat a cup of milk, picks out two pastries, and sits on the balcony poring over the canonical works of sages from China and abroad.
Who could have guessed that barely a month later, the historical academia would be hit by a thunderclap out of nowhere.
Word spreads that a European international student, who usually dislikes studying and loves wandering around secondhand antique shops, stumbles upon a copper-gilded old artifact one day. The surface of the artifact is engraved with stories from the Bible, and after hundreds of years of wind and frost, its luster remains deep and restrained.
According to the shop owner, this artifact was salvaged from an ancient shipwreck on the seabed. Back in the day, a fleet of official Western merchant ships set sail for the East, the land of Da Qian, to establish friendly relations, but they encountered a violent storm halfway. The entire ship sank, and not a single soul survived.
That would have been all well and good, after all, countless ancient relics have been unearthed over the years.
But a line of neat foreign characters engraved on the bottom of the artifact instantly shocks everyone.
There are no variant characters or disputes over interpretation with the foreign text. The carving strokes are smooth, done in one go, and the words are glaringly clear —
"To Emperor Shen Zheng of Daqian, Empress Wen Zhuo."
This single line sends shockwaves rippling far and wide. The already bustling Shen Zheng and Wen Zhuo fan supertopic instantly boils over completely, with posts flooding in so fast the platform nearly crashes.
A blogger posts high-definition photos of the artifact: Here is the proof! Who still dares to say the emperor and the grand chancellor were nothing more than confidants? Em-press Wen Zhuo!
1st comment
Waaaah I've said it all along, there's no such thing as a "confidant" mistranslation! My OTP is the one and only true pair in the historical fan circle! All you experts can finally open your eyes now!
2nd comment
This body of mine is now fully convinced! Next time anyone calls me out for shipping them wrong, I'll shove this picture right in their face!
3rd comment
Hahaha, what did you say? I don't know about that, but all I know is that Wen Zhuo is the empress~
4th comment
Question 2 on the classical Chinese section of the Pingyang High School senior year mock Chinese exam! I order you to apologize to me right now!
5L
I went digging for sweet little moments again in *The Veritable Records of Qian* and the *Imperial Diary*! Ahhh~~~ The great Zhu Xiwen never lied to us! All the experts owe the great Zhu Xiwen an apology!
6L
Think about it and it's actually kind of chilling, guys. The person who left that message at the Wanshan site at the National Museum that day was telling the whole truth!
7L
Fellow fans, there's another thing too. My dad already knows that line of characters was added later, but he says he still can't find any evidence that it's a forgery...
Before long, an even bigger bombshell of a news story came out one after another --
The National Textbook Committee officially released a document correcting past misinterpretations of *History of Qian*, formally recognizing Wen Zhuo as the only empress of Emperor Hongyu of the Great Qian Dynasty.
