“Will the players please draw lots—”
The inspector’s voice rang out like a bell, piercing the silence of Huiyang Gate, startling flocks of birds from the trees and drawing every gaze down to the table below.
The viewing terrace was packed to overflowing. Nearly every official in the court had come, their eyes fixed burning on the table, their breaths tangling with the lots held in trembling hands.
Wen Zhuo was no longer seated. He stood apart, robes gathered neatly, watching.
Crown Prince Shen Zhen represented Emperor Shunyuan in attendance, standing alongside Prince Xian to bolster the morale of the Great Qian players—though both wore grim, heavy expressions.
The day before, Emperor Shunyuan had coughed blood upon hearing that Nanping was winning victory after victory. This morning, he had pulled them aside and insisted he must see Great Qian triumph and restore national honor.
But the Crown Prince and Prince Xian saw the truth clearly in their hearts: overturning this battle was already as difficult as scaling the heavens.
They had never personally sullied their hands with those filthy dealings.
Such underhanded schemes were always carried out by their underlings, and as masters, they had to maintain the posture of virtue and righteousness, lest the court cease to believe in them.
If it ever came to light that the heir apparent was the sort to sell his country for power, with no bottom line at all—would not the entire court and country descend into chaos?
Yet to know and stay silent was to give tacit approval. And when the day of reckoning came, they needed only to push those subordinate operatives forward to take the blame, and their own spotless reputations would remain intact.
Either way, their own prestige could never be allowed to suffer.
Commissioner Xie’s heart jumped into his throat. Suddenly, he reached out and yanked back his son, who was about to step forward and draw a lot. “My boy—”
Xie Qian stumbled from the pull, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Father, what are you worried about? If the Xiao, Yang, Zhu, Cheng, and Song families lost, that doesn’t mean I will! Those Nanping rats—ugly and worthless—don’t frighten me. Just wait, I’ll cut them to pieces on the board and make the Xie family’s name proud!”
The Commissioner gritted his teeth in fury, nearly wishing he could knock his son unconscious and send him to an infirmary just to spare him this match. “This is no time for your arrogance!”
Xie Qian, feeling no gravity at all, lowered his voice and said, “Father, those ghosts from Nanping only got their hands on our clan’s chess manuscripts a few months ago. The eight-sect game manuals are profound and abstruse—how much could they really have absorbed? I was raised on the true transmission of the Xie school, and I’ve already mastered it all. Of course I’ll be unbeatable. I’ve seen Yu Shaoqing, Zhou Mingze, and the others fail—it’s because they carried your same cowardice, letting the enemy’s name intimidate them!”
“…”
The Commissioner turned a pleading gaze to Xie Langyang, who stood nearby: “Hengze, please, you must talk some sense into your younger cousin. He absolutely cannot be reckless!”
Xie Langyang was present as a member of the Xie family to stand by Xie Qian’s side, but today his face was haggard, eyelids sunken, with the shadow of stubble, carrying none of his usual bearing.
He looked at Xie Qian, so full of conceit, and felt only bitter, resentful grief.
As a younger member of the Xie family, he could not refuse the marriage to Gong Yuwen. He could not stop the Xie family from casting its lot with the Crown Prince. And he stood helpless, watching his elders betray their country for political infighting.
When he was a boy, his elders taught him the Way of Confucius and Mencius. They spoke of “establishing a heart for heaven and earth, establishing a mandate for the people, continuing the lost learning of the sages, and beginning a great peace for ten thousand generations.” He followed that path, earned his degree, placed first in the imperial examinations, and was ready to make his mark on the court—only to be told that the words of the sages were nothing more than tools to bind and control the people.
That the suffering of the common folk without complaint, their humility under injustice without hatred, their deaths without regret—all of it was sustained entirely by the preachings of the saints.
That revelation had struck him with devastating force. Perhaps he truly was too foolish—no matter how hard he tried, he could never learn that lesson.
Later, Wen Zhuo had said to him: "If you can't learn it, then don't. I'll learn it well enough for the both of us. In times of chaos, you need strategists; in times of peace, you need upright ministers. All you have to do is follow your heart and remain the pure and principled one."
But now, with Wen Zhuo no longer by his side, he had no choice but to learn what he couldn't before.
For the sake of Xie Qian before him, for the sake of the grand cause of the man he was meant to assist, he would have to shatter the person he once was, and stain himself with sins that could never be washed clean.
"No need to dissuade me." Xie Langyang uttered the words flatly, three cold syllables.
The Commissioner of the Transmission Office was stunned.
Xie Qian, however, was delighted: "See, look—Cousin said it himself! Father, you're just overthinking!"
Xie Langyang's eyes were hollow: "Whether they underestimate us or not hardly matters. Go."
After all, someone would bear the consequences, someone would carry the sins. He had been dragged into this mess for no reason of his own, and he hardly knew who to blame.
Was it Nanping? The Xie family? The Crown Prince? Shen Chen? Or Wen Zhuo, who had first proposed the scheme? Or perhaps Jun Dingyuan, who had provoked Nanping's vengeance, or even Shen Zheng, who had fled the tiger's den only to walk into the wolf's lair?
Before leaving the residence that day, Shen Chen had deliberately gone to the princes' quarters to check, confirming that Shen Zheng was still asleep and had not stepped out.
Though Shen Chen had said that Shen Zheng was different in this life, everything still seemed to be unfolding along the predetermined track, with not the slightest deviation.
"Hengze, this..." The Commissioner watched helplessly as Xie Langyang turned and walked toward the observation platform.
Xie Qian smoothed his sleeves, held his head high, and strode to the chess arena, drawing the crucial lot from the stand.
A trace of cinnabar red was visible beneath the wooden slip, as fresh as spilled blood, glaring so brightly it stung the eyes.
Xie Qian raised the bronze slip high, and the roving inspector announced in a loud voice: "Player Xie Qian, matched against Nanping's Mu Yi."
A murmur rippled across the observation platform.
Whether it was fate playing its cruel tricks or not, all of the Great Qian players had drawn Nanping opponents, turning the match into a genuine "three-on-three" death struggle.
Earlier, some had still hoped the Nanping players might wear each other down, that even if Great Qian lost a match or two, it could be barely excused. But now, if all three matches were lost, the shame would be absolute.
It had rained the night before, and today an unnatural wind had risen, making the air clammy and cold.
Wen Zhuo tucked his hands into his sleeves, tilted his head to look at the sky. The sun, hidden behind thin clouds, was reduced to a hazy outline, giving off no warmth at all—it seemed still far from the moment the clouds would part and the light would break through.
"It begins." Wen Zhuo's eyes held a faint, shallow smile.
Shen Chen didn't know if he was too fixated on Wen Zhuo's reaction, but seeing that smile on Wen Zhuo's face made his heart jolt for no good reason.
What did Wen Zhuo have to smile about? The lots had been drawn, Great Qian's defeat was beyond reversal, Shen Zheng was doomed to become the scapegoat, and the Marquis Yongning's estate was destined to serve his purposes. Wen Zhuo had no cards left to play.
Unless—could Wen Zhuo be planning to blame someone else this time, or to make the Eight Lineages bear their own responsibility?
But he had no proof that the Eight Lineages had colluded with Nanping, and Nanping would never admit that their victories relied entirely on the chess manuals.
By then, the Three Judicial Offices would all be manned by men loyal to the Crown Prince, Prince Xian, and the Third Prince. Shen Zheng's guilt was all but sealed.
Shen Chen ran through every detail of the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering in his mind once more, confirming there was not a single hole, before the stone in his heart finally settled.
On the field, the players had already taken their places on either side of the chess tables. Per the Great Qian etiquette for matches, the players bowed to each other before sitting down to begin.
The moment Xie Qian bent at the waist, he saw the Nanping player across from him bow like a wooden puppet—lowering his head inch by inch, then slowly, sluggishly bending at the waist. The man's face was ashen, tinged with a bluish gray, utterly expressionless, as if a corpse from the funeral parlor had crawled back to life.
Xie Qian watched in disbelief as a tuft of hair slipped from Mu Yi’s thinning crown, fell onto the go board, and was carried away by the wind.
Mu Yi suddenly had a bald patch, yet he himself was completely unaware.
Xie Qian couldn’t help breaking out in goosebumps.
What on earth was this bizarre thing!
The go players all took their seats, and the match began. The clerks from the various go houses stationed at Huiyang Gate sprang into action.
With eyes as sharp as eagles and steps as swift as the wind, they spurred their horses, galloping back and forth to announce each move as it was played on the boards.
“Board one, black stone: upper right star point!”
“Board two, white stone: upper right star point!”
“Board three, black stone: lower right small point!”
…
Within the imperial palace, dedicated attendants recorded each move and sent them via carrier pigeon, so that the board observed by Emperor Shunyuan lagged the actual match by only half a shichen.
The officials on the Guanlin Terrace could not resist commenting on the game—
“Eh, why has Xie Qian placed his stone on the tengen?”
“Indeed, the tengen is the very center of the board. Although it claims no immediate territory, it radiates in all directions and commands the whole situation. This is the Xie family’s go style.”
“Right! The black stone plays a small knight’s move to defend the corner, solidifying the upper right territory while echoing the tengen, forming a pincer stance. At this rate, Xie Qian holds the opening advantage.”
“After all, Xie Qian has soaked in the art of go for six years longer than those Southern Screen players, so naturally he plays with more solidity and composure.”
“Look! The black stone thrusts out from the tengen, linking up with the upper right force while limiting the white stones’ advance toward the center—two birds with one stone!”
“Truly worthy of the Xie school—every move purposeful, the formation gradually taking shape, coiled and ready to spring. That stone is simply exquisite!”
…
The officials of the Xie faction relaxed their expressions slightly, silently praying that Xie Qian could hold his initiative and carry the game to victory.
Xie Langyang stepped onto the Guanlin Terrace and, unable to stop himself, drifted closer to Wen Zhuo. A thousand words churned in his chest, but in the end they condensed into a single heavy gaze.
Wen Zhuo leaned against the railing in a leisurely pose, then suddenly clapped his hands. “Xie Qian’s move is truly marvelous—this Director is quite impressed.”
The Commissioner of Transmission, who had been walking midway up the terrace, perked up, shoved through the crowd, and squeezed eagerly to Wen Zhuo’s side, asking in earnest: “Does Director Wen truly think so?”
Wen Zhuo tilted his head to look at him, and the ripple in his eyes seemed to perfume the very air.
He smiled easily, teeth white as jade, born with a divine bearing, always carrying a knack for bewitching the heart.
“Indeed. I think a promising young talent like Xie Qian will definitely win this match. No need for you to worry, sir—just watch.”
The Commissioner swallowed his doubts like a calming pill, cupped his fists, and smiled: “May the Director’s auspicious words hold true.”
Xie Langyang stood a few paces behind Wen Zhuo, his heart surging with turmoil. In all the world, only he, Wen Zhuo, and Shen Chen knew the true outcome of today’s game—how could Wen Zhuo speak so boldly?
Seeing that the sinister schemes of the previous lifetime were about to repeat themselves, did he feel not a shred of shame or remorse?
If Xie Langyang had not suggested framing Shen Zheng in exchange for the Marquis Yongning’s support, how could Shen Chen have ever thought of it?
Had Shen Chen not thought of it, Xie Langyang would not be trapped in such an awkward position today.
“The young talent of the Xie family plays go well, but why does Vice Minister Xie look so glum?”
Xie Langyang turned at the voice and found the speaker to be none other than the retired Marquis Yongning.
In his prime, Marquis Yongning had dominated the northern deserts, but his achievements had loomed too large, making Emperor Shunyuan uneasy. The emperor had pulled him back from the north and kept him confined within the capital’s bustling splendor, to “enjoy his twilight years.”
The marquis knew better than to resist. To forestall imperial suspicion, he had voluntarily surrendered military power and never again meddled in affairs of the battlefield.
Also stripped of his command was Duke Liu, who had once rendered meritorious service in the founding of the dynasty.
But Emperor Shunyuan soon paid a price for his suspicions. Nanping seized the opportunity to strike, capturing seven cities of the Great Qian in one fell swoop. With no generals left to command its army, the Great Qian was forced to swallow its pride and send a royal prince to Nanping as a hostage.
Marquis Yongning watched his eight-year-old grandson be sent away with his own eyes, and in despair he resigned from office. No matter how Emperor Shunyuan summoned him afterward, he refused to return to duty, citing old age and failing health.
But his son, Jun Dingyuan, could not swallow this humiliation.
Jun Dingyuan traveled alone to the southern frontier, starting as a low-ranking officer. With his exceptional courage and strategic brilliance, he rose swiftly to become a commander whose name struck fear across the region.
In the twenty-second year of Emperor Shunyuan's reign, Nanping once again encroached upon the borders. The emperor wished to settle the matter peacefully, but a general in the field does not always obey the sovereign's orders. Jun Dingyuan moved with lightning speed, leaving the emperor no time to react—he simply launched his troops into battle.
By the time the capital received word, Jun Dingyuan had already driven the Nanping forces back over a hundred li and won a resounding victory.
The House of Marquis Yongning, it was true, produced nothing but loyal warriors and born commanders.
Xie Langyang looked at the old general, whose demeanor was kind and gentle, and felt a touch of shame. Reluctantly, he answered, "A sorrowful crane."
"Oh? What is the meaning of that?" Marquis Yongning had taken a liking to Xie Langyang, for he was the only member of the Xie family who had not sided with the Crown Prince, and he had always been of a straightforward and pure temperament.
The current Crown Prince was incompetent, just like his father the emperor. An incompetent emperor grows insecure; insecurity breeds suspicion of meritorious officials and good generals; suspicion of good officials corrupts the court; and a corrupt court spells the decline of the nation.
Xie Langyang glanced toward Wen Zhuo. Given the distance between them, he was certain Wen Zhuo could hear every word he said.
He did not know what possessed him, but he felt a sudden urgency to let Wen Zhuo know what he was thinking and feeling.
"I once chanced upon a crane. Both of its eyes were blind, and it had wandered by mistake into a farmyard. Before the courtyard stood a jackal, and behind it a dog, both baring their teeth, glaring with hungry intent. The crane wandered about at ease, utterly unaware that danger was near. And yet the farmer stood by the door with folded arms, watching with cold indifference, not a trace of pity in his eyes."
Wen Zhuo did indeed hear him. There was still a smile in his eyes as he cast a glance behind him and caught sight of Xie Langyang's gaze—stubbornly pedantic and self-righteous, just as it had always been.
He understood perfectly well. In Xie Langyang's parable, Shen Zheng was that crane—now trapped in a predicament and completely unaware—and only Xie Langyang had offered pity, though it was useless. As for Wen Zhuo, he was the indifferent farmer watching from the sidelines, without the slightest compassion.
"Oh?" Marquis Yongning sensed that there was more beneath the surface, yet it did not occur to him that the matter concerned his own grandson. He thought for a moment, then replied, "Perhaps one might throw a stone to startle the crane."
"What?" Xie Langyang pulled his gaze away from Wen Zhuo's back and stared directly at Marquis Yongning.
Marquis Yongning smiled. "Since Inspector Xie was right there, and pitied that blind crane, why not throw a stone into the yard and startle it into flight? Vicious as jackals and dogs may be, how can they harm a crane that spreads its wings?"
"Well, I cannot—" Xie Langyang stood frozen on the spot. "I mean, the farmer—"
Marquis Yongning was puzzled. "The farmer is the master of the jackals and dogs, so naturally he would not save the crane. But why should Inspector Xie hesitate as well?"
Xie Langyang hastened to defend himself: "The farmer's heart is cold as iron; he watched and did not save. But I have troubles that forbid me from acting, so I cannot save it. How can the two be equated?"
Marquis Yongning: "Whether the heart is iron-cold or the circumstances are difficult, to the crane it is all the same—it was not saved. The sages often say that we judge by deeds, not intentions. No matter how many thoughts one harbors in the heart, if they are never put into action, what meaning do they hold? One cannot invoke the words of the sages when it is convenient, and cast them aside when it is not."
Xie Langyang swayed as if struck a heavy blow. He stood rooted to the spot, speechless and dumbfounded.
The Marquis Yongning's words were too sharp; for the first time in his life, he caught a glimpse of the baseness within his own heart—so hard to speak of, so dim and unbearable.
In his past life, he had known full well that Shen Chen and Wen Zhuo had done such a thing, yet he had not stopped them, deceiving himself into believing that as long as he had not participated, he remained innocent.
This life, when the matter fell to him to carry out, he could again excuse himself—claiming it was a predicament with no words to justify it, something done out of sheer necessity.
But in the eyes of others, what difference was there?
Wen Zhuo could not help but think that these words, coming from the Marquis Yongning's mouth, could not have been more fitting.
The blow Xie Langyang had suffered today was perhaps even heavier than the day he had been sent back to the Liangqing Hall.
Wen Zhuo turned around, a faint, ambiguous smile on his lips: "This tale is amusing. The farmer is shameless and naturally cold-blooded, but Vice Minister Xie, with your compassionate heart, you must surely intend, as the Marquis Yongning said, to cast a stone and startle the crane?"
Xie Langyang dared not meet Wen Zhuo's eyes.
Wen Zhuo stepped closer, his gaze cold and piercing: "If Vice Minister Xie can truly follow his conscience, then you would indeed be the finest among the pure stream. This Director stands in awe, hardly worthy of comparison. Surely the crane is still trapped in its game—if you step forward to save it now, it is not yet too late."
Xie Langyang involuntarily stepped back, murmuring in a low voice: "Wanshan... I know I have many faults."
Just then, someone suddenly cried out in alarm—
"Not good! The white stones have forcibly broken through and shattered the black encirclement!"
"Xie Qian's black stones are at a disadvantage in the ko fight. He wants to consolidate his exterior position, but the white stone's shoulder hit prevents the black from taking root!"
"Xie Qian wants to split the white formation and open a new battlefield, but the white has captured the black stones!"
"Disaster! Xie Qian has fallen for the trap! It's a feint to the east, attack to the west—the white is about to burst into the black's right-side territory and break through the empty space!"
"Xie Qian is panicking. He wants to abandon this section, expand his territory at the bottom, and open up another front—but now the advantage already lies with white!"
In just half an hour, the game had suddenly turned. The Nanping player seemed utterly devoid of emotion—when losing ground, he showed no discouragement; when gaining advantage, no restlessness. By comparison, Xie Qian was far more wanting in composure. Though he was six years older, he was nowhere near as steady as Mu Yi.
"The Shi gate is in trouble too! Mu Er counter-cut against Shi Qingjiu, forcing Shi Qingjiu to divert his attention and respond—he had no chance to surround and destroy!"
"The Helian gate is even more precarious! Helian Qiao is entangled in a killing fight along the border, his moves already tangled into chaos—his previous stone should not have flown out to shield the top!"
Seeing the Xie gate, the Shi gate, and the Helian gate all fall into dire straits one after another, the light in the eyes of the Crown Prince and Prince Xian gradually faded.
The sky grew ever more overcast; the chill of rain after the storm seeped into the bones. It truly was no good omen—could it be that today was destined to become a calamity for the Great Qian?
Perhaps the only hope was that His Majesty would show leniency, smooth things over, and not pursue the matter too deeply. After all, His Majesty's health was failing; he might not have the energy to investigate thoroughly.
But Shen Zheng was determined to shatter that consolation.
He leapt up from his bed, dressed hastily, and made straight for the Hall of Mental Cultivation, where he found Emperor Shunyuan staring despondently at the chessboard.
Eunuch Liu Quan saw Shen Zheng striding over quickly and was about to offer a greeting when Shen Zheng grabbed him firmly by the shoulder.
"Eunuch, listen to me. I have urgent news for His Majesty—it concerns the outcome of today's game. His Majesty must hear this!" Shen Zheng's expression was grave, his tone so frantic one would think the Great Qian was on the verge of collapse by tomorrow.
"..."
Liu Quan said helplessly, "Fifth Prince, please release this old servant. This old servant will report to His Majesty at once."
Everyone needs psychological comfort, and an emperor is no exception. Seeing the chess match grow ever more unfavorable, Emperor Shunyuan began to doubt everything—could it really be that the Great Qian, with its myriad of experts, was no match for three so-called prodigies from Nanping?
Hearing that there was news to report, something that could even determine the outcome of the chess match, his heart leaped into his throat, and he nearly shot up from his chair.
“Summon him in.”
The moment Shen Zheng stepped inside, he saw three chessboards laid out in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, each game already half-finished. A young eunuch was busy untying a slip of paper from a pigeon's leg, placing a stone on one of the boards according to the message.
Shen Zheng glanced at the boards, then bowed his head with folded hands, his expression heavy with grief: "Father, when I saw today's chess games, I was utterly shaken. There is something I can no longer keep silent about!"
Emperor Shunyuan frowned deeply, leaning forward in his seat, pressing urgently: "Speak quickly—what has this to do with victory or defeat?"
He had even forgotten to reprimand Shen Zheng for failing to perform the full kowtow.
Shen Zheng stole a glance at his father's face, then feigned hesitation: "This matter has far-reaching implications. I fear Your Majesty may not dare to hear it…"
Emperor Shunyuan was already growing angry: "No matter who is involved, speak!"
Seeing that the emperor's emotions were sufficiently stirred and his curiosity thoroughly piqued, Shen Zheng raised a hand and pointed at the chessboards: "These three games—I have seen identical ones before, in the palace of Nanping."
"What did you say?" The emperor's eyes flew wide in shock.
"I would never dare deceive you, Father. Identical games, along with a thick stack of chess manuals—the eunuchs of Nanping had people memorizing them day and night. When I was a hostage in Nanping, I happened to catch sight of them while bringing tea and water. They treated me as if I were invisible, muttering to themselves, 'With these manuals, we will surely defeat the Great Qian this time and crush their military prestige!' Since it concerned our nation, I dared not take it lightly, so I secretly committed everything to memory. At first I noticed nothing unusual—until today's final match… I never imagined!"
Shen Zheng's delivery was theatrical, his voice rising and falling with dramatic flair, sending the emperor's heart bouncing up and down like a man listening to a storyteller.
Eunuch Liu Quan shifted his gaze discreetly, taking a long, careful look at the Fifth Prince who had returned to the court.
"Identical games… Could it be that our Qian chess players are secretly colluding with Nanping? That is impossible!" Emperor Shunyuan refused to believe it.
"Father, please look."
Shen Zheng walked to the chessboard, took the pieces from the young eunuch's hands, and began placing stones without hesitation.
He had long since memorized the games to the point where he could replay them with his eyes closed. His moves fell like rain, as effortless as filling in a word puzzle.
And he was not playing one game at a time—he was playing all three simultaneously.
The emperor stared, dumbfounded, feeling that Shen Zheng placed stones faster than a man eating a meal. This could not possibly be improvised on the spot.
At that moment, message pigeons flew in one after another through the window. The young eunuch hastily untied the slips and read aloud: "White 71, knight's move at center; Black 72, downward attachment at the lower side; White 73, connection at the lower side…"
The eunuch's voice grew more shocked with each word, more terrified. Were it not for his duty, he would rather have gouged out his own eyes than learn of this court scandal.
Eunuch Liu Quan gazed at the board and said softly: "Your Majesty, every move matches."
The emperor did not need him to say it—he could already see for himself. The reports from Huyang Gate matched Shen Zheng's placements exactly.
Shen Zheng wiped the faint sweat from his hands, clasped them behind his back, and stepped aside, leaving the stage to Emperor Shunyuan.
All three games ended in Nanping's victory. The emperor's face darkened with each passing move, the fury in his chest nearly bursting through the top of his head.
For any sovereign, the greatest hatred is being fooled by his own ministers—and this time, the ones fooling him were more than just one.
Meanwhile, Gu Weizhi raced by carriage straight to the East Pavilion on Chess-View Street. The pavilion was already packed to the brim—with the reputation of the Great Qian players on the line, nearly every chess enthusiast in the city had crammed into the various chess houses.
When Nanping had first arrived in the capital, their arrogance had been insufferable, and everyone had been stewing with indignation, hoping the Great Qian players would teach them a proper lesson and show them their place.
But now, who was the one being shown their place? It seemed to be Great Qian itself.
“Amateur play!” someone cursed.
“Exactly, I’d do better than Xie Qian myself!”
“To squander the advantage of the first move like that—shameful!”
“Is Shi Qingjiu bewitched or something? Or has he been so dazzled by the Nanping devils that he’s lost his mind?”
“Ha! Helian Qiao plays even worse than these two. What a bunch of useless trash in the Eight Meridians these days!”
“And why? Because they only promote their own family factions instead of true talent. Well, this is the bitter fruit of that rot!”
“Refund our money!”
“If they lose today, the three of them should dash their heads against the pillars in atonement!”
...
Gu Weizhi stumbled and shoved his way through the crowd, rushing toward the center of the hall: “Everyone! Everyone! I am Gu Weizhi, the Subprefect of Bozhou, here for the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament, and I am staying at the Qinghua Guesthouse!”
Gu Weizhi bowed in every direction, brandishing three sheets of rice paper, each bearing a complete chess record drawn in ink.
“Seeing the Nanping players win time and again, I felt deeply aggrieved. So I found an excuse to linger outside their room—and to my astonishment, I discovered these three game records! I recognized their subtlety at once and took care to memorize them. Little did I imagine that today I would see them played out exactly, move for move, in the final battle at Huiyang Gate! In my shock, I quickly smuggled the records out and rushed straight here! Please, everyone, take a look! Look!”
Gu Weizhi shouted until his voice cracked, desperate that no one miss a word. Then, abandoning all pretense of decorum, he leapt onto a table, hoisting the papers high for all to see.
The East Pavilion’s proprietor, a savvy master of crowd-pleasing, ordered the papers hung beside the chessboard for easy comparison.
Everything proceeded with uncanny smoothness. No one stepped forward to stop Gu Weizhi, because the people of Great Qian wanted, from the bottom of their hearts, to believe that the Spring Terrace Tournament was rotten with hidden schemes.
Soon, messengers kept returning from Huiyang Gate with the latest moves—
“Black 74, press on the top. White 75, connect on the top...”
“White 78, counter-press on the left. Black 79, connect on the left. White 80, thrust through the center. Black 81, connect in the center...”
“Game ends at move 96. Young Master Xie Qian, holding black, totals one hundred eighty-one points; Mu Yi, holding white, totals one hundred eighty-two points. With the komi for black’s first move, the win goes to white.”
The messenger’s report matched the records Gu Weizhi held—not a single move out of place!
“Identical! It’s truly identical, not one stroke different!”
“Since when did the Spring Terrace Tournament start rigging matches?”
“Better question: why would anyone help the Nanping players win this game?”
“There are traitors in the court, colluding with foreign enemies! Where are the imperial censors? We demand this be reported to the throne!”
“How absurd! How infuriating! If not for Magistrate Gu exposing the Nanping plot, our Great Qian’s name would have been dragged through the mud!”
“Ha! The Eight Meridians conspiring with Nanping—our Great Qian has already lost all face!”
...
It was over. They had lost.
Xie Qian and the others slumped into their chairs, eyes glassy, lost in a daze that stretched on.
They had given everything, every ounce of their strength. But no matter how they strategized, how they changed their tactics, the opponent saw through it all at a glance. It was as if the secret manuals of the Xie family were utterly transparent to the Nanping players.
Xie Qian felt as though an invisible giant hand loomed over him, trapping him like a cricket in a cage—no matter how he struggled, he could not escape the preset deadlock.
Shi Qingjiu felt the same way. The secrets of the Shi School had been thoroughly seen through by the other side; every move he made looked like a joke in their eyes. This sensation of being restrained at every turn was utterly suffocating.
Gong Zhiyuan let out a long sigh and slowly closed his eyes.
What he had feared most had come to pass.
The people of the capital had witnessed the Great Qian's defeat with their own eyes, and the palace must have received the news by now. The emperor would certainly fly into a thunderous rage, and an imperial edict would soon arrive, summoning them all to the palace to explain themselves.
This would be their last chance. He had to devise a foolproof plan to protect everyone.
But with the situation as it was, how could it be easy? He, Gong Zhiyuan, was no immortal after all.
The Crown Prince looked at Gong Zhiyuan in helpless bewilderment, instinctively seeking shelter: "Grand Secretary, this... this, this..."
Gong Zhiyuan waved his hand wearily: "Your Highness, do not panic. Allow me to think a while longer, think a while longer."
Shen Chen stood among the crowd, his face a mask of regret and agitation: "How could this be? Our Great Qian is full of masters. I know the skill of Xie Qian and Shi Qingjiu in chess. There must be something off—could it be that they are unwell today?"
He grabbed hold of the officials from the Xie and Shi factions, desperately seeking a hollow comfort: "Lord Xie, Lord Shi, say something! Did they catch a chill today and lose their form?"
The two men, filled with shame, lowered their heads: "The juniors of our houses are incompetent and have failed Your Highness and the people of Great Qian."
Shen Chen's eyes reddened, as if deeply struck: "I don't believe it! How could their three defeat the elites of our eight veins? This is wrong! My lords, go ask them at once!"
As he raised his sleeve to dab at his tears, he stole a glance at Xie Langyang, letting his gaze linger on him for a brief moment.
Xie Langyang caught that glance with sharp perception and understood—there was no more time to stall.
Why, knowing that Shen Chen was fickle and ruthless, did he still choose Shen Chen?
Was it truly because Shen Chen promoted the pure-stream scholars, suppressed the consort clans, and could become a wise ruler?
Perhaps he himself was not as innocent as he liked to believe.
Shen Chen and he were brothers-in-law. Although Shen Chen had used this to threaten him, fortune and misfortune were intertwined—precisely because of this kinship, he had been able to ascend to the position of Grand Secretary and hear Shen Chen utter those words: "I place my hopes in you, to illuminate the mountains and rivers."
He yearned to achieve something, to realize his ambitions, to leave his name in history and become a celebrated minister.
That dream could only be fulfilled by Shen Chen.
Xie Langyang stepped toward Gong Zhiyuan, each footfall as heavy as a thousand pounds, each step crushing a little more of his conscience beneath his feet.
He finally reached Gong Zhiyuan's side. He knew Wen Zhuo was watching him, watching him tread the same path he himself had once walked, swallowing up all those lofty accusations he had once made.
From now on, the death of the Fifth Prince would no longer be tied to Wen Zhuo, but to him—Xie Langyang. He could no longer accuse Wen Zhuo in such self-righteous terms, nor would he have any standing left to demand that Wen Zhuo wash away his guilt.
Xie Langyang kept his head down, lightly touching Gong Zhiyuan's arm, his throat choked as if stuffed with cotton, forcing the words out: "Master, may I have a word in private?"
Gong Zhiyuan opened his eyes. Seeing it was Xie Langyang, he nonetheless kept his patience and followed him to a corner.
"Hengze, what is it?"
Xie Langyang felt as though his soul had left his body, allowing another shell to speak on his behalf. His voice was calm, almost ruthless in its coldness: "Shen Zheng can be framed."
Gong Zhiyuan's eyes narrowed sharply. In the space of a lightning strike, it was as if he had found a path of escape through the tangled maze before him.
He was shocked by his son-in-law's precise grasp of the political situation, his thorough understanding of the emperor's thoughts, and even more so by the fact that he could devise such a daring scheme to rescue the eight factions in so short a time.
He could not help but reassess this son-in-law of his. Perhaps all along, he had underestimated Xie Langyang's strategic brilliance.
There was no time to dwell on it now. Gong Zhiyuan gripped Xie Langyang's hand firmly: "Hengze, after this is over, come see me."
He intended to formally bring Xie Langyang into the crown prince's camp. With Xie Langyang offering counsel in the days ahead, the crown prince would surely be able to advance even further.
Afterward, Gong Zhiyuan dragged Bu Zhangyi into a corner. With things having come to this, the only way to avoid mutual destruction was to turn hostility into cooperation and align their stories.
Bu Zhangyi listened to Gong Zhiyuan's plan, his expression shifting several times, and finally, with a hint of lingering doubt, he slowly nodded.
(Content omitted per instruction flag)
Just then, the emperor's oral decree arrived—
All officials at Huiyang Gate, along with Xie Qian, Shi Qingjiu, and Helian Qiao, were ordered to enter the palace immediately to appear before the throne.
The officials, some by carriage, some on horseback, rushed hurriedly toward the Imperial Avenue. On the way, they passed Guanqi Street and found it in utter chaos. The commoners were seething with excitement, and inside the East Pavilion the noise was deafening—everyone red-faced and shouting, cursing without end.
Gong Zhiyuan had no time to look closely. He thought only that it was a mere game of chess lost, and the common folk were truly boorish.
He pulled the carriage curtain shut and said impatiently, "Faster."
The sky remained neither bright nor dark, casting the Imperial Avenue in a deep gray. The wind began to rise, sweeping up several peach blossoms that struck the face with surprising sting.
Inside the palace, the atmosphere was stifling enough to suffocate.
Imperial guards stood in formation outside the hall with blades drawn, while royal archers, faces covered with red cloth, stood sternly along both sides of the long stone steps.
Emperor Shunyuan was fully robed, and beneath his tasseled crown, his eyes were deep and cold, murderous intent unmistakable.
Wen Zhuo held a chess piece hidden in his sleeve, already warmed by his body heat.
As he approached the hall, he caught sight of Commissioner Xie. The man's legs gave way, and he fell to his knees before the emperor with a thud, tears streaming down like rain: "The Xie family has failed Your Majesty's great trust—I would die ten thousand deaths and still not atone!"
"But there is one matter I must report! In today's chess match, the three players from Nanping seemed to know the Xie family's chess manuals inside out. Even several of our most secret techniques, they managed to evade without fail! I strongly suspect that someone has secretly leaked our family's chess strategies!"
Bu Zhangyi cast a glance at Shi Yuan from the Dali Temple, who caught the signal and knelt as well: "I share the same suspicion! When Mu Yi faced Xie Qian, he used techniques from my Shi family. I suspect the Shi family's chess manuals have also been leaked!"
Seeing which way the wind was blowing, the members of the Helian family also knelt one after another: "We have seen the same! We beg Your Majesty to investigate thoroughly!"
Most of the officials had arrived, and the chess players themselves were kneeling before the hall, trembling.
Eunuch Liu Quan looked down the Imperial Avenue, saw that no one else was coming, then turned back with a smile and asked, "Director Wen, why have you not yet entered the hall?"
Wen Zhuo tapped the chess piece between two fingers lightly against his leg, and said with a casual air: "No rush."
Eunuch Liu Quan said no more. He only cautioned, "Mind the wind, Director," and withdrew quietly into the hall.
Gong Zhiyuan slowly raised his head and stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the leak of the Eight Veins chess manual is indeed shocking, but Nanping is far beyond our borders—how could they have obtained such a secret?"
Before the truth had even been investigated, he had already set the tone of the matter.
Bu Zhangyi, seeing that even Gong Zhiyuan had stepped forward, also left the ranks and said, "Your Majesty, of the Eight Veins disciples who participated in the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering, not one has ever set foot in Nanping, nor are they acquainted with any Nanping person in the slightest—there is absolutely no possibility of a leak! Your servant dares to ask, why did the Fifth Prince not go to Huiyang Gate today to observe the chess match?"
In the court, a host of Eight Veins disciples, each with their own hidden agenda, chimed in one after another—
"Yes, indeed, we haven't seen the Fifth Prince these past few days."
"The Fifth Prince spent ten years in Nanping—wouldn't he be the one most familiar with Nanping?"
"Could it be... how utterly shocking and scandalous!"
"The Fifth Prince has been back in the capital for over a month now; by all means, he would have had the opportunity to obtain the Eight Veins chess techniques!"
"He and the Nanping envoys both resided in the guest mansion—it would have been more convenient for him to make contact than for others."
"But what would he have to gain from it?"
"Perhaps Nanping treated him well? Perhaps he harbors resentment toward the Great Qian? Or perhaps Nanping simply offered him some reward, and, ah, I dare not even speculate..."
The ministers, one after another, had already perfectly deduced Shen Zheng's motive, method, and opportunity—so airtight and reasonable that it all made perfect sense.
Shen Chen concealed the ecstasy in his heart, waiting quietly for Emperor Shunyuan's thunderous rage to haul Shen Zheng into the Dalisi for harsh interrogation.
Yet a minute passed, and Emperor Shunyuan said not a word.
A quarter of an hour passed, and still Emperor Shunyuan remained silent.
The emperor's aged and sinister gaze slowly swept across the assembled courtiers, a layer of cold desolation rising gradually in his pupils.
Shen Chen inadvertently met those eyes and felt a chill shoot up from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making him tremble violently.
Wen Zhuo kept his eyes lowered, his light tapping having ceased. He released two fingers, letting the black stone slip and roll from his grasp.
A crisp ding—the black stone fell onto the marble floor, then bounced and clattered all the way down the smooth steps, rolling to the bottom and out of sight.
Within seconds, the stone had lost all lingering warmth, swallowed entirely by the gloomy, overcast sky.
Wen Zhuo stepped into the Wuying Hall. Just at that moment, Emperor Shunyuan's icy voice rang out: "Seize every Eight Veins official in the court and commit them all to the Dalisi for questioning!"
Shen Chen and Xie Langyang's faces changed dramatically; were struck dumb with shock.
