The Spring Terrace Chess Tournament had finally arrived.
A light rain had fallen the night before, but because the awnings had been erected in time, the chessboards and tables below remained completely dry.
And thanks to the rain's urging, the peach blossoms inside and outside the Huiyang Gate had burst into full bloom, crowding the branches in shades of pink and white, drenching teahouses, taverns, peddlers, and porters alike in a night of peach-scented air.
Lifted by this auspicious occasion, Emperor Shunyuan's spirits had improved somewhat. He brought Consort Zhen with him to the city wall and cast down a hundred jade chess pieces, meant to scatter blessings and share joy with the people.
The commoners standing outside the city wall finally got a glimpse of His Majesty's countenance. They fell to their knees in unison, crying out long live the Emperor, their eyes glistening with tears.
Emperor Shunyuan was pleased. He gripped the parapet and smiled, waving at his subjects, whose faces he could barely make out from that height.
The crowd below expressed their gratitude once more.
Shortly thereafter, a hint of fatigue crept onto the Emperor's face. His gaze swept over the assembled ministers below the steps and finally settled on Wen Zhuo. He spoke with deliberation: "The Spring Terrace Chess Tournament bears upon the realm's prestige and reflects the dignity of our Great Qian. You must preside over it properly and ensure absolute fairness."
"Your servant shall bear this in mind."
Emperor Shunyuan nodded. The eunuch Liu Quan hurriedly draped the imperial cloak over him, and only then did the imperial carriage slowly make its way back into the depths of the palace.
Beyond the city wall, the sound of horse hooves had already begun to echo. Wen Zhuo straightened his court robes and stepped onto his carriage first. Hooves struck hard against the blue stone road, heading in the direction of Huiyang Gate.
After a bout of horsewhip and galloping, the ministers arrived at Huiyang East Street. The Martial Arts Command had already cleared away the idlers and onlookers, inviting Wen Zhuo to ascend the Observation Terrace.
Wen Zhuo wore crimson official robes, draped over with a brocade fur cloak. As sunlight fell upon him, his bearing was awe-inspiring.
His left hand held the imperial edict, his right hand lightly gathered the hem of his fur cloak. Every step he took seemed to tread directly upon the hearts of those watching.
He held high office, possessed a noble and striking appearance, and was gifted with brilliance. Any single one of these attributes would be enough to earn envy—yet he had them all.
The chess players who had come from various prefectures and provinces were, for the most part, seeing a high-ranking official of the capital for the very first time.
The moment they caught sight of Wen Zhuo's face, their minds stirred and spun as if lost in clouds and mist, even the memorized chess manuals slipping clean out of their heads.
Some painters fumbled frantically for their brushes, sketching against the wind, their paper trembling, their hands trembling too—barely managing to trace the cloak as it billowed in the breeze.
Reaching the highest point of the Observation Terrace, Wen Zhuo slowly turned around and swept his gaze across the ground below.
In one glimpse, he spotted the familiar stall of Granny Wang.
A large steaming pot sat out front, with a teeming crowd pressing around it, peering eagerly. Granny Wang's fingers flew as she wrapped hot jujube cakes in oiled paper and handed them to customers.
There were clearly six more steaming trays left, yet the sign above her stall had long read "Sold Out." Still, the crowd kept staring with hopeful eyes, wishing that one more portion might be spared so they could taste this famed delicacy of the capital.
He should have expected this—with so many out-of-towners flooding into the city lately, the jujube cakes would be near impossible to buy.
He wondered how much effort Shen Zheng had put into obtaining some.
Wen Zhuo quietly withdrew his gaze and turned his attention back to the thousand spirited chess players below.
"By imperial decree, I hereby announce to all: the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament shall commence at once. Marshals, let the players draw lots."
With that, Wen Zhuo took his seat. The other officials also settled into their places on the Observation Terrace, waiting for the matches to begin.
In truth, the first few days had little to offer—hundreds of chess tables, far too many to watch at once, and most of the players were of middling skill, incapable of producing truly brilliant games.
Gong Zhiyuan led the members of the Xie school up as well. Only officials of the first or second rank were permitted to sit at the highest level, so Gong Zhiyuan took a seat while the rest stood behind him.
The Xie family of Nanzhou had long placed their bets on the Crown Prince, which was why Gong Zhiyuan had arranged a marriage alliance with the Xie family, and why Gong Yuwen had been married off to Xie Langyang.
But Xie Langyang had not sided with the Crown Prince.
This was also part of Gong Zhiyuan's advance planning.
At present, Tang Guangzhi of the Ministry of Personnel was a man of Prince Xian's faction, and in matters of official appointments and reassignments, he consistently made trouble for the Crown Prince's party. Gong Zhiyuan had long intended to groom Xie Langyang for the Ministry of Personnel, so that he could eventually take Tang Guangzhi's position.
To thrive in the Ministry of Personnel, Xie Langyang absolutely could not grow too close to the Crown Prince—though Gong Zhiyuan was not worried about that.
With Gong Yuwen married into the Xie household, every move Xie Langyang made was under his surveillance. When the time was ripe and Tang Guangzhi had been eliminated, if he ordered Xie Langyang to side with the Crown Prince, would Xie Langyang dare refuse?
Then the Gong family would earn the merit of supporting the new emperor, and he would surely be made a prince of a different surname. As for Xie Langyang—well, he could settle into the position of Minister and be content.
Gong Zhiyuan sighed with emotion: "Wise men gather together, a hundred boats race upstream, robes of brocade and garments of coarse cloth sit face to face—this calls for a poem."
A disciple of the Xie household, quick to read the room, hastened to flatter him: "The Grand Secretary's talent is boundless—this will surely be a masterpiece for the ages!"
Gong Zhiyuan stroked his beard and drew a breath, just about to recite—
When Wen Zhuo lazily waved his folding fan and said with a smile, "Forget it."
Gong Zhiyuan: "..."
He was like a leather pouch pricked by a needle tip, deflating with a soft pfft.
Gong Zhiyuan's brows knit deeply, suspicion rising in his heart.
Why would Wen Zhuo, out of nowhere, come looking for trouble with him?
Gong Zhiyuan had weathered decades in the court, and his judgment was keen. He knew Wen Zhuo had some real cleverness—otherwise, the man could not have risen several ranks in just a few years. But Wen Zhuo had always operated with a stance of watching the tigers fight from a safe distance, never involving himself in factional strife.
At first, Gong Zhiyuan had even considered recruiting him. But he had dropped hints multiple times, and Wen Zhuo remained impervious. He could no longer figure the man out.
Any discerning person could see that the Emperor did not have many years left. When that time came, the court's power structure would be completely reshuffled. If Wen Zhuo did not place his bet soon, was he waiting to be buried alongside the Emperor?
Gong Zhiyuan sneered: "Director Wen seems to be in a foul mood today?"
Wen Zhuo thought to himself, Of course I find you foul to look at, you old bastard—I'll see you dead before long!
He snapped his fan shut and rolled up his sleeves: "Grand Secretary Gong is getting on in years, and your eyes are growing dimmer by the day. Take a closer look—there isn't a single coarse robe down there on the stage."
Gong Zhiyuan's face stiffened.
Wen Zhuo said calmly: "For the various prefectures, traveling to the capital takes anywhere from a few days to over a month. The expenses along the way can equal what a tenant farmer earns in two years. Even provincial scholars who come to the capital for the metropolitan examination are aided by their local governments and still struggle to make ends meet—let alone a chess player dressed in rags."
"Everyone who appears before us now is, without exception, wealthy gentry, officials' relatives, or local residents. But even for locals, aren't all the slots at the qualifying rounds taken up by the sons of the Eight Lineages? How could ordinary families ever have the chance to study advanced chess techniques or see the breadth of the world?"
Gong Zhiyuan's face had turned quite sour. He was, after all, the Grand Secretary, and Wen Zhuo was giving him not a shred of face.
"Director Wen seems to know an awful lot about this."
Wen Zhuo responded carelessly: "It's just that the Grand Secretary has sat in his high position for so long, he's only ever seen coarse robes in books."
The Xie household also belonged to the Eight Lineages, and naturally could not abide such words. Someone stepped forward and said, dripping with sarcasm: "It seems Director Wen has many grievances with the Spring Terrace Chess Assembly. What skill is there in throwing your weight around here with us? If you've got the guts, go tell His Majesty that!"
Wen Zhuo turned his head and carefully committed those faces to memory.
There were two provincial officials who looked unfamiliar, but the fact that they could stand behind Gong Zhiyuan meant they must be from the direct line of the Xie family of Nanzhou—close relatives of Xie Langyang.
Wen Zhuo propped one hand against the back of his chair, a fan resting against his fingertips, looking utterly languid: "Fine then, go ahead and tell the emperor exactly what I said."
The man was not intimidated in the least: "Though I serve in Nanzhou, I am still qualified to submit a memorial to His Majesty!"
Gong Zhiyuan said in a low tone: "Enough! His Majesty is weighed down with state affairs daily; let's not add to the noise."
The man was taken aback, clearly not having expected Gong Zhiyuan to oppose him.
"But... Grand Secretary?"
"Watch the game." Gong Zhiyuan said, displeased.
He knew very well that even if this were reported, the emperor wouldn't do anything to Wen Zhuo anyway.
Back when the Cao Fang case had ended, the emperor had turned a blind eye to Wen Zhuo privately harboring the rouge bandit, let alone a mere complaint spoken today.
If anything, the emperor, upon seeing the memorial, would only resent the Xie family for making trouble just to get Wen Zhuo off the hook.
Moreover, Wen Zhuo was now the director of the Spring Terrace Go Tournament. While he hadn't given any faction an unfair advantage, that didn't mean he couldn't put obstacles in any faction's way.
Offending Wen Zhuo at this moment would hardly be wise.
Below the stage, the games had been underway for some time. Clerks from the various go houses in the capital had obtained passes to come find the most brilliant matches, and once found, they would display them live at their houses, drawing the capital's citizens to come enjoy tea and watch.
Wen Zhuo hadn't been seated long before he spotted Shen Zheng standing among the crowd, holding a bundle of jujube osmanthus cakes.
Since no princes were in attendance for this first match, Shen Zheng hadn't revealed his identity, simply observing from amidst the people.
Even so, his bearing and appearance were too striking, and wearing such fine robes, it was hard not to notice him.
How on earth had he managed to get those through that crowd, and with his clothes still so neat?
Wen Zhuo noticed that in his other hand, Shen Zheng was holding that stone, lifting it up and down—and only then did he realize the man hadn't been joking.
Could it be that he'd gone to buy the jujube osmanthus cakes carrying that boulder, scaring off every other customer?
Please, don't frighten Granny Wang!
He was lost in such speculations when he heard a voice from behind him—bright and clear, with a hint of familiarity.
"Director, you've been well, I trust! Weizhi has come specially today to pay his respects!"
Wen Zhuo spun around sharply, his spirits lifting at once: "Gu Weizhi!"
The newcomer stood tall and straight as a pine, dressed in plain linen robes with not a single piece of jade or pearl adorning him. A simple dark-blue silk ribbon held his hair loosely, yet it did nothing to diminish his imposing presence.
"Director, do forgive Weizhi for intruding unannounced. It's been so long, and I've been entrusted by the officials of all ranks in Bozhou to come see how you fare." Gu Weizhi had a square face and large eyes, and though his complexion was far from fair, he exuded honesty and openness.
Wen Zhuo rose hastily, tossing his folding fan aside, and gripped both of Gu Weizhi's arms, his eyes bright as if lit by starlight: "Your arrival truly makes me happy! How has everything been in Bozhou?"
When Wen Zhuo had served as the judicial magistrate in Bozhou, Gu Weizhi had been the clerk at his office, responsible for drafting official documents and managing the seal.
Later, when Wen Zhuo became prefect, he promoted Gu Weizhi to the post of assistant prefect, in charge of reviewing household registries and tax rolls.
It was the two of them who had worked on the rouge bandit case together, which made Gu Weizhi someone Wen Zhuo could trust completely.
Beyond Gu Weizhi, many of Bozhou's current officials had been discovered and promoted by Wen Zhuo himself, and they all held deep respect for him.
"Director, you laid the foundations solidly—everything is going well."
Wen Zhuo nodded: "This isn't the place to talk. Wait for me below, and once today's tournament ends, we'll speak at length."
Last time Gu Weizhi came to see him, he had been just as delighted, and that was when he introduced Gu Weizhi to Shen Chen.
Gu Weizhi was highly experienced in collecting tax silver and handling fiscal matters. Before impeaching Wen Zhuo, Shen Chen had tested the waters with Gu Weizhi.
But Gu Weizhi had said: “Any man under heaven may impeach the Director, but Weizhi alone cannot. The kindness of patronage is a debt I must repay to my dying breath—I may forfeit my name as a worthy official, but I will not be a petty man.”
And so Gu Weizhi was demoted by Shen Chen. As for what happened afterward, Wen Zhuo never knew.
“Very well, I shall await the Director!” Gu Weizhi let out a bright laugh and turned to leave with eager steps.
Shen Zheng’s eyes were sharp as a torch, and he saw everything clearly—including how Wen Zhuo had taken the initiative to grab Gu Weizhi by both arms.
He thought to himself: with a beautiful villainous minister’s kitten-like temperament, could he really be so familiar with someone? Ha?
As Gu Weizhi came down, Shen Zheng drifted over with a faint smile, hiding the jujube pastry cake behind his back, hands clasped, looking every bit the harmless young gentleman of an illustrious clan: “Sir seems quite acquainted with Director Wen?”
Gu Weizhi, seeing Shen Zheng’s luxurious attire and extraordinary bearing, knew the man was someone of status. The capital was full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers, and he felt a bit uneasy.
“I wouldn’t presume—I am merely a subordinate of Director Wen’s from Bozhou.”
Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow: “Oh… still coming to see him after all these years? It seems Director Wen is quite popular in Bozhou.”
“More than that!”
Gu Weizhi tilted his head at a forty-five degree angle, gazing skyward with a radiant sigh: “Plum blossoms like snow, snow like one pure—not a trace of dust. Mountains like jade, jade like a lord—one smile exchanged, and it warms the heart.”
“…”
What in the world was that fanboy look in his eyes!
