In May, the irises flourished tall and thick, just right for warding off pests and evil spirits.
The case of the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering that had shaken the entire capital had finally been concluded.
Of the eighty-plus aristocratic officials involved, more than thirty were executed, more than thirty were sentenced to exile, over a dozen were stripped of their posts and never reinstated, and in the end only seven people walked out of the Judiciary Court unscathed.
The full account of how the Eight Factions had secretly colluded with Nanping was compiled by Wen Zhuo, the Chancellor of the Hanlin Academy, personally approved by the Emperor’s brush, and proclaimed to all citizens of the Great Qian Empire.
On the day of the beheadings, the court fell into a silence so heavy one could hear a pin drop, everyone afraid to breathe. But the common folk in the Western Market stood on their toes, craning their necks, barely able to contain their fury, and as the cold light of the blades flashed, cheers and applause rang out without end. Some even prostrated themselves toward the palace, weeping with gratitude, crying out praises of the Emperor’s wisdom.
The people’s hearts were placated for the moment, and Emperor Shunyuan earned himself a late-life reputation for “discerning right from wrong, wise and decisive.” Only within the deep palace walls did the several princes tied to the Eight Factions feel as though they had been battered by frost.
Nearly a third of the court’s officials had been purged, leaving vacancies that needed to be filled with new loyalists. A decade of careful maneuvering had collapsed in a single day, their power halved or worse.
They had taken this reckless gamble to gain an edge, but the more they tried to win, the more they lost.
Inside the Eastern Palace, Crown Prince Shen Zhen gripped the hand of Grand Secretary Gong Zhiyuan, weeping bitterly: “Ten years lurking in the depths, ten years of step-by-step scheming, and now it’s all gone, all gone, Grand Secretary! How pitiful is my position as Crown Prince!”
Gong Zhiyuan’s temples were streaked with grey, exhausted in mind and body, but he forced himself to offer reassurance: “Your Highness, do not grieve. We have lost some hands, but our foundations remain untouched.”
“But I have lost more, I have lost so much more!” Shen Zhen threw off his hand, and with a sweep of his sleeve knocked a teacup off the table, sending porcelain shards scattering across the floor in a mess of ruin. “Father made me Crown Prince, so why does he give the eldest such power? Why does he let him contend with me! Since ancient times, has there ever been a Crown Prince as terrified as I am…”
Gong Zhiyuan sighed inwardly.
History was full of terrified Crown Princes; Shen Zhen had clearly never studied his classics well, but at this moment, he could not bear to point out the prince’s mistake.
Gong Zhiyuan suddenly recalled something: “Hengze once said that Director Wen had a hand in this.”
The Crown Prince, sniffling and weeping, said urgently: “Impossible! It was all his bad advice that got the Commissioner of the Transmission Court’s entire family executed and everyone else’s sentences increased by three degrees. It must be that he’s jealous that Wen Zhuo placed above him in the court examinations, and now Wen Zhuo enjoys a smoother career, so he wanted to use me to get rid of him! I’m not stupid; would I fall for such a petty trick? At this moment, I absolutely must not make an enemy of Director Wen and push him to the side of Prince Xian!”
“…”
Gong Zhiyuan hesitated, about to speak: “Your Highness, actually, in the sixteenth year of Shunyuan’s reign, the court examination…”
The Crown Prince saw his strange expression and hesitation, swallowed back his tears, and leaned forward: “What does the Grand Secretary want to say? Is there something wrong with the sixteenth year’s examination?”
Before the words died, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door, and a servant knelt to announce: “Your Highness, Grand Secretary Gong, Vice Minister Xie has been released from prison. He did not return to his residence; it seems he is heading toward the palace.”
Xie Langyang was one of the seven who had escaped with his life. Since he had indeed not participated in the secret collusion with Nanping, and since he wasn’t part of the Crown Prince’s faction, he couldn’t even be accused of withholding information. And once Xie Pingzheng took the blame for conspiring against the princes, Xie Langyang seemed even more innocent.
But he was still tied to the Xie family, so he couldn’t avoid the fallout. He was demoted from Vice Minister of the third rank to Director of the Selection Bureau in the Ministry of Personnel, a fifth-rank post.
But that was not a big deal. After some time, if he performed well and the Emperor’s anger cooled, there were plenty of ways to restore him to his former position.
Gong Zhiyuan straightened his court robes, knowing in his heart: “He must be coming to find me. Perfect, I’ll introduce him to Your Highness.”
But Xie Langyang did not enter the palace. Instead, he turned toward a secluded flower shop near the palace, avoiding the crowds as much as possible, and knocked on the door of a quiet chamber in the back courtyard.
Inside, Shen Chen, dressed in black, stepped forward quickly and locked the door behind him.
Two eunuchs in plainclothes stood guard at the entrance, keeping all outsiders away.
“Xie Qing, you have suffered these days!” Shen Chen studied the haggard Xie Langyang, tears glistening in his eyes. He sighed painfully, “I am too weak right now to visit you in the Judiciary Court, and every day I was frantic with worry, unable to eat or sleep.”
Xie Langyang had indeed lost weight. The once elegant and handsome young nobleman now had a sallow face, wrinkled robes, and hadn’t even bothered to tidy himself.
He knelt on one knee, his voice hoarse: “Your Highness, it has been many days.”
Shen Chen pulled him up with force and comforted him: “I told you, between lord and subject, there is no need for such formality. What’s done is done; we must look forward. Those who achieve great things cannot dwell too much on the past.”
Xie Langyang nodded lightly, but found no comfort in his heart.
Ever since he learned of his uncle’s family’s fate, he had not touched a single grain of rice, surviving only on broth.
The blow had been far too great.
In his previous life, he had hardly lost anything before reaching the pinnacle of power, illuminating mountains and rivers. He had never truly understood the cruelty of the struggle for the throne.
In this life, karma had come calling: he lost his family, betrayed his original convictions, and bore blood on his hands.
“I failed to complete what Your Highness entrusted to me. Hengze is ashamed,” Xie Langyang said, so weak from hunger that he could barely stand without leaning against the wall.
“I am not the one who lost the most in this affair. Although I lost the support of Marquis Yongning, the Crown Prince, Prince Xian, and even the Third Prince have all been weakened. Now the court urgently needs fresh blood, which gives me breathing room.” Shen Chen stood with his hands behind his back before the window, a flicker of ruthlessness passing through his eyes, but he carefully hid the killing intent in his words: “You’ve been cut off from news in prison. Do you know how Wen Zhuo managed it?”
Xie Langyang shook his head: “I cannot yet figure it out.”
Shen Chen said: “On the second day of the Judiciary Court hearings, the Grand Tutor knelt outside the Hall of Nurturing the Mind pleading for mercy. Father was nearly about to relent. But then, at dawn, unrest suddenly erupted beyond the palace walls—ten thousand commoners knelt in the streets demanding harsh punishment for those who had secretly colluded with Nanping. The momentum grew and grew. The hundred officials were shaken, Father was terrified, and so it became this.”
Xie Langyang’s eyes shot up. He had no idea that while he sat in that cold, lonely prison, the world outside had turned over several times.
Shen Chen turned back to him: “Originally, this affair was court secrecy, not meant for the common people. But on the final day of the chess gathering, Gu Weizhi, the Vice Magistrate of Bozhou, stole three chess records from the envoy’s chamber of the Nanping delegation—coincidentally, the very three final games. He brought those records to the East Pavilion on Chess-Viewing Street, and the thousands of people there saw the complete games before the matches even concluded.”
“What does that mean?” Shen Chen suddenly pulled a faint smile, but there was no warmth in his eyes: “The games weren’t finished, yet the records had already leaked. Xie Qian, Shi Qingjiu, and Helian Qiao must have colluded with the Nanping players long before. They played false games! Members of the Eight Factions and court officials cheating at chess in the open—no chess player in the world would tolerate that. No wonder popular outrage formed in just one day.”
Xie Langyang murmured: “That’s impossible! Xie Qian and the others were clearly—
Clearly playing with everything they had.
Shen Chen watched Xie Langyang’s trembling gaze and slowly revealed the truth: “As for why the Emperor believed Shen Zheng over the hundred officials, I suspect Shen Zheng also showed Father those three records ahead of time. Apart from you and me, who else among ordinary people could explain this?”
Xie Langyang’s mind exploded with a deafening roar. He tasted blood in his throat. The day after day of dread reached its peak in that instant, and the panic he had felt in front of the Cool Breeze Hall now surged back, devouring him whole with a vengeance.
In that dazed moment, the scarlet and resolute figure before him seemed almost like the reincarnation of the God of Literature himself, descended to the mortal world to punish those who had committed betrayal.
Was this truly something a mortal could accomplish? Why had he never noticed how meticulous Wen Zhuo was in his methods? It was chilling.
"Wanshan... he memorized all three chess games by heart!"
"Not a single move off." Shen Chen spoke each word deliberately, then exhaled softly and added, "I've completely lost all memory of those three games. I've even forgotten who I played against. Does Vice Minister Xie still remember?"
Xie Langyang said bitterly, "I am humbled by your superior memory."
Shen Chen: "We lost this round precisely because of four words: 'taking it for granted.' We assumed he was beyond recovery, assumed the outcome of the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament was sealed from the start, so we replicated his plan to the letter—only to have him turn our own strategy back against us. It's just as well. This has been a wake-up call. We can find another way to use his machinations."
"Your Highness means...?"
Shen Chen's figure was carved into light and shadow by the window lattice: "He chose Shen Zhen, didn't he? But in this world, who truly has no weaknesses?"
Outside the window, a bird hopped past a branch, and a fruit fell from the tree with a thud against the blue bricks, its skin splitting open and juice splattering like spurting blood.
On the day of the case closing report, the last petal of peach blossom had just fallen in the capital.
Wen Zhuo and Xue Chongnian walked side by side into the Qingliang Hall. There were no cabinet ministers present—only Emperor Shunyuan seated on the dragon throne, his expression greatly pleased.
The Spring Terrace Chess Tournament case had been handled cleanly and decisively, both purging the court and reassuring the people. To show his approval, Emperor Shunyuan rewarded them generously, with Wen Zhuo receiving a bit more.
Before they left, Emperor Shunyuan also asked them to draft a list of names when they had the time, to see who might fill the vacancies in the court.
As they exited the Qingliang Hall, Xue Chongnian could no longer contain his curiosity and pursued Wen Zhuo, asking, "Director Wen, how did you know the people's grievances would boil over?"
The more he thought about it over these past few days, the more astonished he became. He even suspected Wen Zhuo might possess the ability to divine the future or communicate with the gods.
Wen Zhuo kneaded his sore neck and smiled lightly: "Vice Minister Xue, don't overthink it. Lord Gu Weizhi once worked with me. This time, he happened to discover something suspicious in the Southern Envoy's quarters and informed me in advance. That's how I was prepared."
Xue Chongnian suddenly understood: "I see! We really must thank Lord Gu. Were it not for him, things might have gone in a completely different direction."
Wen Zhuo's eyes held a smile: "Lord Gu is brave and resourceful, with a sincere heart devoted to serving the country. When he and I were both in Bozhou, he did an exceptionally fine job with tax collection and budget accounting."
Xue Chongnian suddenly thought of something and stopped in his tracks: "Oh!"
Wen Zhuo was puzzled: "What is it?"
"The emperor just asked us to help draft a list of officials—isn't there a vacancy in the Ministry of Revenue this time?" Xue Chongnian's eyes held a hint of excitement.
He had only just received the assignment, and already he had an idea. Naturally, he was thrilled.
Wen Zhuo frowned slightly, uncertain: "My memory isn't what it used to be. There are over eighty names on that list. Is there one in the Ministry of Revenue?"
Seeing that Wen Zhuo hadn't followed his train of thought, Xue Chongnian slapped his thigh in urgency: "There is! Vice Minister of Revenue Helian Ying! You know—the one who was exiled!"
"Oh... now I remember. Yes, there was such a person." Wen Zhuo spoke softly, idly weighing the tassel on his jade belt as if he hadn't really been paying attention, his face showing little expression.
Xue Chongnian analyzed: "Look at Gu Weizhi—his abilities come with your guarantee, his character is beyond question, and he rendered meritorious service in the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament case. He's wholly devoted to the Great Qian Dynasty and its people. A sub-prefect is a fifth-rank official, while a vice minister is third-rank. He's been a sub-prefect for many years now, hasn't he? This promotion is very fitting."
Wen Zhuo's eyes brightened slightly at that, and he finally nodded in agreement: "When you put it that way, there is some logic to it. But he and I are fairly acquainted, and I wouldn't want him to feel he owes me another favor. Perhaps it's better if Vice Minister Xue claims this good deed for yourself."
If this succeeded, Xue Chongnian would hold the merit of recommendation, and Gu Weizhi would owe him a substantial debt of gratitude, remembering his kindness.
After all, the court was a web of interlocking connections. You prop me up, I give you a hand—that was how one held one's footing.
Making allies with an official who came from afar with a clean background like this, with no entanglements to worry about behind him, put Xue Chongnian at ease.
Besides, the position of Vice Minister of Revenue was only one step away from the Minister's post—a future of boundless promise.
Warmth surged in Xue Chongnian's heart. He bowed deeply with clasped hands and said gratefully, "Ah, Director Wen! You already had my back during the trial, and now you generously yield this opportunity to me as well. I'll gladly accept this kindness!"
Wen Zhuo reached out and patted the back of his hand, the pressure of his fingers gentle: "We've faced things together, and this is nothing more than a trifle. Vice Minister Xie need not dwell on it."
Wen Zhuo could afford to be modest, but Xue Chongnian knew better than to take that at face value: "No, no! Director Wen's favor—I'll remember it."
From the Qingliang Hall all the way to the palace gates, they exchanged pleasantries the entire way. Wen Zhuo declined several times in various ways before finally escaping Xue Chongnian's dinner invitation.
The moment he returned to the Wen residence, he spotted Shen Zheng waiting beneath the pear tree in the distance. The taut nerves in Wen Zhuo's body suddenly relaxed—and before he could even speak, he collapsed from exhaustion, as expected.
Fortunately, Shen Zheng had quick reflexes. Combined with his diligent practice over the past month, he managed to catch Wen Zhuo before he toppled onto the threshold.
"Wanshan!" Shen Zheng held him steady, immediately reaching for the pulse at his neck. His touch found warm skin, but the heartbeat racing like rapid drumbeats. "Teacher, are you alright?"
He didn't bother about the smooth, slick skin beneath his fingers and called out toward the interior:
"Liu Qiying! Jiang Mannü!"
The two were in the kitchen preparing food and hearing Shen Zheng's shout, hurriedly trampled over firewood and ran out.
"What did you just call me?" Wen Zhuo frowned, his face pale. His head was spinning, making it hard to keep his eyes open, and his limbs felt weak and unsteady.
But he had heard that name clearly—"Wanshan."
Many people in this world had called him Wanshan: his tutor who first taught him as a child, fellow students, colleagues in the officialdom, and senior officials above him in rank and age.
But Shen Zheng was his student. To use his courtesy name felt... off somehow.
"Don't call me that."
"You're not allowed to call me that."
So rude.
Shen Zheng pretended not to hear. Seeing that Wen Zhuo was still capable of rational thought and had sharp ears to boot, his hanging heart eased slightly.
He reached up to feel Wen Zhuo's forehead, found it cool, and since Liu and Jiang had just arrived, asked, "He just suddenly collapsed. Should we call for a physician?"
Liu Qiying studied him anxiously for a moment, then said helplessly, "It's exhaustion syndrome—caused by depletion of qi and blood, malnourishment of the internal organs. The physician said this condition is common in those who spend long hours at a desk, overwork themselves, or worry too much. He's had several episodes back in Bozhou, and each time, acupuncture was needed to help him recover."
These past few days, Wen Zhuo had hardly slept or rested at all—conducting review, drafting documents, manipulating minds, scheming. And all of this in the Court of Judicial Review, a place that still haunted him. He had honestly been running purely on spirit and willpower to make it this far.
Now illness struck down like a collapsing mountain. His body refused to obey him entirely. He struggled a few times, but ultimately couldn't resist that wave of weakness and helplessly crumpled into Shen Zheng's arms.
"No need for acupuncture... I just need to sleep for a day."
He had always been deathly afraid of acupuncture. Those rows of fine needles hidden beneath the linen cloth—the mere sight of them sent chills down his spine.
The needle pierced beneath his skin, the icy pain making him want to flee even more.
Liu Qiying disapproved: "My lord, have you forgotten how long a sickness can drag on with your robust constitution and excellent blood energy?"
Wen Zhuo turned his head toward the side of Shen Zheng's collar, burying his head like an ostrich, refusing to comment.
Liu Qiying: "..."
Shen Zheng had been full of worry, but seeing him like this, his chest felt as if a claw had scratched it, and he couldn't help but laugh.
The little treacherous minister was certainly stubborn, and had the bad habit of avoiding doctors.
"Then we won't call one. Chronic fatigue syndrome really does require rest on one's own." Shen Zheng took the opportunity to steady Wen Zhuo and guide him toward the bedroom.
Jiang Mannü asked as she walked: "Your Highness, you recognize this illness as well?"
Shen Zheng let out a long sigh, sounding deeply pained: "In Nanping, this is a common ailment, especially during exam weeks. Students stay up all night for their grades, studying relentlessly — it's truly unbearable to witness."
Liu Qiying clicked her tongue: "Is survival in Nanping really that harsh?"
Shen Zheng nodded repeatedly.
They entered the bedroom, and Wen Zhuo seemed to have regained some strength. He broke free from Shen Zheng's embrace, undoing his official robes, murmuring to himself: "Though the Spring Terrace Chess Case is closed, we cannot let our guard down. I tricked Xue Chongnian into recommending Weizhi to the emperor as Vice Minister of Revenue. Tomorrow you can let Weizhi know, and have him pretend to pack his belongings, preparing to return to Bozhou. He must not show any sign that he knows about this."
"And... there's one more matter..." Wen Zhuo pressed his palm against his forehead, desperately trying to remember.
There was something of utmost importance, prickling at his heart like a thorn, hanging over him — why couldn't he recall it now?
After the Spring Terrace Chess Case, something concerning Shen Zheng, a matter of imminent danger...
The court, the Crown Prince, Prince Xian, Shen Chen, Xie Langyang, Gong Zhiyuan... none of them — what was it?
A sharp pain struck, interfering with his thoughts. He clutched his chest, feeling like he might vomit.
"Stop thinking." Shen Zheng interrupted him with a low voice, grabbing his elbow, tossing the half-removed official robes to Jiang Mannü, pulling him to the bedside and pressing him down onto the bed. "You need to lie down and rest right now."
Wen Zhuo instinctively lifted the blanket and crawled under it, the pain on the side of his head easing slightly.
But he suddenly realized that this posture seemed somewhat disrespectful. After all, Shen Zheng was a prince — what did it mean for him to be shedding his robes and sleeping comfortably in front of him?
Wen Zhuo was about to push himself up, but saw Shen Zheng naturally sit down at the edge of the bed, reaching out to tuck the corner of the blanket around him.
"..."
Wen Zhuo couldn't help but recall that day when Shen Zheng had tucked his hand back under the blanket. His thoughts went muddled for a moment, and then he stopped fussing over etiquette, slowly settling down properly.
Shen Zheng said again: "No need for acupuncture. Could you two steam an egg custard, add a few red dates and a handful of goji berries? I'll press a few acupoints for him in a bit — it'll make him more comfortable."
Liu Qiying raised an eyebrow in surprise: "Your Highness knows acupoints?"
Shen Zheng said with all seriousness: "I know a little something. Back in the day, when I was learning tomb raiding, I studied human anatomy. More skills never hurt, you know."
Jiang Mannü suddenly understood. Out of respect for the dead, she lowered her voice and said cautiously: "I've heard that when some nobles die in Nanping, their bodies are stuffed with gold, silver, and jewels — priceless treasures. An experienced grave robber would know exactly where they are, but if a novice who doesn't know what he's doing fumbles around, the traps would trigger and explode. Is that why Your Highness learned the acupoints?"
Shen Zheng nodded: "Something like that. Go fetch a brazier, don't let him catch a chill."
Wen Zhuo opened his eyes slightly, looking at him with a complex expression.
Indeed — because he loved it, he took it seriously.
Liu Qiying hesitated: "Your Highness, let me do this instead. Your body is precious and dignified..."
"It's not that particular. It's not convenient for you ladies." With that, Shen Zheng rolled up his sleeves.
Liu Qiying opened her mouth, then stopped herself.
Your Highness, for our lord, you are the most inconvenient thing of all!
Soon, the brazier arrived, and the room became warm and cozy. Since the weather in the capital wasn't cold at this time, Jiang Mannü opened two small windows as well.
Shen Zheng said in a low voice: "I originally bought you jujube cake, but you shouldn't eat anything hard to digest right now. You need to supplement protein and iron, nourish your blood, and fix your sleep schedule. The books never mentioned — your constitution is actually this weak."
He thought to himself: how had this fragile frame survived that month of interrogation torture in the Dali Temple prison?
In the past, this piece of history had been nothing more than a cold line of text in Shen Zheng's eyes. It narrated the downfall of this treacherous minister, giving later generations a happy ending for all.
He never had to think about how terrified this person was at the time, how much pain, how much despair. Whether those cruel torments had broken his spirit, and whether the last words he left the world were regret — or resentment.
He only knew that when that page was turned, it declared the complete end of Emperor Shunyuan's era, and the beginning of the era of Emperor Shengde — when the sovereign held sole power and the masses fell silent.
Shen Zheng reached out toward the side of Wen Zhuo's face, feeling the warmth of the breath before him. He suddenly felt that line of text come alive. It leapt up from the page and seized his heart, showing him what that kind of pain truly meant.
Shen Zheng took a deep breath. His movements became extraordinarily gentle as his fingertips landed on Wen Zhuo's temples and began to slowly press and massage.
Wen Zhuo stiffened at the touch of the dry, warm fingers. He quickly pushed at Shen Zheng's arm: "Your Highness, no need."
"Your Highness has no need, but Shen Zheng can." Shen Zheng would not accept refusal. He simply leaned in closer, burying several fingers into Wen Zhuo's silky black hair. "Close your eyes. It'll only take a moment."
Wen Zhuo hesitated for a few seconds, then finally released the tension in his hands.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Shen Zheng's pressure was just right, and the pain really did ease.
He gradually relaxed, his breathing becoming even. Just as he was adjusting to the rhythm of the massage, Shen Zheng's fingers suddenly slid backward, parting his collar, finding the back of his neck.
Wen Zhuo jolted, eyes flying open. He looked up at him with startled, misty eyes, his breath so shallow it was barely audible.
Shen Zheng was extremely close to him, his deep, dark eyes holding Wen Zhuo's reflection. With those brows and set of the eyes, he looked utterly devoted.
In a daze, Wen Zhuo almost felt like he was going to lean down and kiss him.
Wen Zhuo loathed himself for having such a filthy thought. He pressed his lips together until they hurt: "Your Highness?"
"This is the shoulder well point. It might ache a little, but it's very good for people who spend long hours at a desk." Shen Zheng smiled — openly and honestly — as he leaned close to Wen Zhuo's finely shaped nose, pressing down with more force. "Teacher, what are you afraid of? Right now, I only have heartache for you. I haven't the mind to think of anything else."
Wen Zhuo winced slightly, shrugging his shoulders in retreat, but a wave of clarity washed over him.
He realized he'd misunderstood. The princes of the Great Qian dynasty all abhorred male intimacy. Shen Zheng had merely been born with deep-set, soulful eyes — he looked at everyone that way. Why would he ever want to kiss him?
He turned his face to the inner side, exposing a small strip of pale neck: "What your teacher means to say is — be gentle."
