Upon learning that Wen Zhuo had fallen ill, Emperor Shunyuan, out of consideration for him, granted him leave from court and permitted him to rest at home.
The days of convalescence passed quietly enough. Aside from his three meals and a half-hour of sunbathing in the corridor each afternoon, Wen Zhuo spent most of his time drowsing in bed.
This time, he had truly overexerted himself. His qi and blood would not be restored in a day or two, but what was even worse off than his constitution was his spirit.
For him, the month of torture and interrogation in the Dali Temple prison still haunted him like a shadow. His body bore no wounds now, but the memories were engraved deep in his bones. Every day, he had to face the very people who had brought him torment and suffering, and it weighed heavily on his mind.
Fortunately, during his illness, everything proceeded according to plan, just as he had arranged.
Shen Zheng, after all, could not visit the Wen residence every day, though he wished he could.
Wen Zhuo had given him a stack of book lists—all classics of history and governance required reading for a prince of the Great Qi Dynasty—and urged him to catch up on his previous studies, warning that his speech still carried a Southern Ping accent that might provoke displeasure among the court officials.
Shen Zheng's reading had improved far faster than rumors suggested, and his comprehension was excellent, which made Wen Zhuo suspect: could Shen Zheng's rebirth have taken place at the same point in time as his own and Xie Langyang's?
Could it be that Shen Zheng had returned even earlier—say, while still in Southern Ping, having avoided certain persecutions and humiliations—so that he was not dazed or inarticulate?
As for Wen Zhuo himself, his childhood had purely been a matter of slow development, gradually normalizing with age?
But these doubts he could not voice to Shen Zheng. After all, the theory of rebirth was absurd, and if Shen Zheng suspected that Wen Zhuo shared the same experience, then the hidden truth behind the Spring Terrace Go Gathering could no longer be concealed.
Previously, he had thought he could hide the frame-up from his past life from Shen Zheng forever, treating it as if it had never happened—that would have been no difficult task for him.
But now, whenever he thought of having to keep secrets from Shen Zheng, his chest felt heavy and stifled. This heaviness was not like the wariness of a sword hanging overhead; he could not quite articulate what it was.
Shen Zheng, as Wen Zhuo had expected, trusted him greatly. He believed that protecting Liu Qiying had earned him Wen Zhuo's favor, unaware that Wen Zhuo had long harbored intentions to change course.
But he could not ponder this for long before his head began to ache again, so he had no choice but to empty his mind and focus on sleeping.
Gu Weizhi, following Wen Zhuo's instructions, had, after the conclusion of the Spring Terrace Go Gathering case, begun purchasing local specialties of the capital and packing his belongings, intending to return to Bozhou.
However, because he had made a name for himself with that single shout in the East Tower, many people now recognized his face. Ordinary folk claimed that he had turned the tide and saved the dignity of the Great Qi Dynasty, so chess enthusiasts and wealthy households in the capital vied to invite him for a chat, to hear in detail about the hair-raising moment and his impassioned outburst on the final day of the tournament.
Thus, Gu Weizhi was reasonably delayed.
A few days later, Xue Chongnian's recommendation was placed upon Emperor Shunyuan's desk.
Emperor Shunyuan narrowed his eyes and pondered again and again but found no flaw.
Wen Zhuo was ill and had always been indifferent to power, and even more averse to forming factions, so he had not recommended Gu Weizhi.
As for Gu Weizhi, in this case, he had inadvertently interrupted the Grand Tutor's pressure, allowing the emperor's decree to be carried out smoothly and resolving Xue Chongnian's predicament, so Xue Chongnian's recommendation was perfectly reasonable.
Moreover, Gu Weizhi was not of noble lineage and had not entered the gates of the Eight Bloodlines, so making him the Vice Minister of Revenue was indeed a good way to weaken the power of the great clans.
"Approved."
The emperor's word was law. The imperial guards were immediately dispatched to chase after Gu Weizhi, who was already on the road home.
As for these developments, because no one wished to stir Wen Zhuo's emotions, everyone tacitly agreed not to disturb him.
Fortunately, everything was calm, and Wen Zhuo slept soundly.
On the afternoon of the seventh day of recuperating at home.
Wen Zhuo sat propped up in bed, holding a bowl of Jiang Mannü-style egg custard loaded with red dates, longan, walnuts, yam, red beans, goji berries, and ginseng root. He ate while gagging.
His retching made him break out in a light sweat, yet it actually made him feel more energized.
He handed half the bowl of custard back to Jiang Mannü, and his gaze unconsciously drifted toward the window. But outside, there was not a sound—only the little swallows on the eaves chirping noisily.
"How long have I been bedridden?" He shook his sleeves, pressing both arms against the quilt to air out the sweat.
"Seven days now," Jiang Mannü said with a hint of regret, eyeing the egg custard that had been enriched with every ingredient imaginable. All because the master had too small an appetite—if it had been her, she could have downed three bowls in a row.
Seven days already.
Had he read through the books by now?
Didn't he have any questions?
The witchcraft curse disaster in Emperor Wu of Han's late years; the Xuanwu Gate Incident under Emperor Taizong of Tang—both were internal upheavals triggered by succession disputes. Didn't he want to ask how a prince should understand the "foundations of standing firm in one's role"?
Emperor Xiaowen of Wei promoted sinicization, yet it sparked the Rebellion of the Six Garrisons; the First Emperor of Qin built the Great Wall, and Emperor Yang of Sui dug the Grand Canal, yet both accelerated the fall of their dynasties. Didn't he want to consider how to balance reform policies and the degree of enforcement?
He said he should come less often—but he never said not to come at all.
Annoying.
Wen Zhuo pushed himself up, hunched his back, and coughed twice.
"What's wrong, master?" Jiang Mannü quickly set the egg custard aside and patted his back.
"My back aches," Wen Zhuo said. "Help me press the Shoulder Well acupoint."
"I don't know where that is," Jiang Mannü confessed guiltily. That day when the prince had pressed the acupoints for the master, her mind had been sluggish, and she hadn't thought to go closer and learn.
"It's fine—it's not that sore." Wen Zhuo straightened his back and asked casually, "The prince hasn't been running over lately, has he? I told him to come less often, so as not to draw attention."
Jiang Mannü answered promptly: "Rest assured, master—the prince hasn't come even once!"
"..."
Wen Zhuo threw back the covers and lay down again, face turned inward, eyes closed, refusing to see anyone.
Jiang Mannü scratched her head, puzzled as to why the master had suddenly gotten drowsy. After a moment, she went on: "...He sent a servant boy to say that he's been confined at the palace these past days, drilling day and night in prince's etiquette—can't leave until he learns it."
Wen Zhuo threw back the covers again and sat up slowly.
So that was it.
"Drilling etiquette—could it be that His Majesty intends to let him attend court hearings?"
That was sooner than he had expected.
Those currently allowed to attend court hearings included the Crown Prince, Prince Xian, the Third Prince, the Fourth Prince, and Shen Chen.
Shen Chen had only earned that privilege in the past six months because Consort Yi had received merits for attending the emperor during his illness.
Though Shen Zheng had promptly exposed the plot orchestrated by Nanping, for this son who had carried the label of hostage, Emperor Shunyuan still preferred to turn a blind eye—after all, he represented the emperor's and the father's failures.
Jiang Mannü asked, puzzled: "Master, are you no longer sleepy?"
Just then, Liu Qiying walked in from outside carrying a vegetable basket. Seeing Wen Zhuo frowning in thought once more, she chided him: "Master, how can you relapse into your old habits the moment you're a bit better? It's not about attending court hearings—the emperor is hosting a Special Grace Banquet, and the prince is required to attend."
"Special Grace Banquet?"
This had never happened in his previous life, because after losing the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament to Nanping, Emperor Shunyuan had been too consumed by fury to care about hosting any banquet.
Eunuch Ge came to notify us, but you were asleep. Eunuch Ge said the Emperor instructed that if you weren't yet recovered, there was no need to disturb you, so you could rest well. Liu Qiying patted the vegetable paste from her palm, wiped her hands clean with a damp cloth, and draped a robe over Wen Zhuo's shoulders.
"What's the occasion for this special grace banquet?" Wen Zhuo tugged at his collar.
"The stated purpose is to honor the hardships of the border troops and remind the capital's officials to count their blessings, but really it's because over eighty officials were dealt with this time, throwing the court into turmoil. So they're trying to soothe the ministers and demonstrate imperial favor."
"Oh, but because of that angle, the Emperor also had the Nanping envoy and the three chess players attend. Probably trying to use this to put Nanping in their place again. After all, they can't truly break off relations with Nanping over a chess tournament, and if another war broke out, the Ministry of Revenue's silver reserves probably couldn't bear it."
Wen Zhuo paused slightly: "You're saying Wu Kan has already been released from house arrest."
Liu Qiying said, "That's right. They can't actually kill the Nanping envoy. Having the prince attend the banquet is probably meant to shame them into slinking back to Nanping in disgrace. Once they're fully subdued, General Jun Dingyuan can lead the troops back to the capital."
Jun Dingyuan.
Jun. Ding. Yuan.
Wen Zhuo's mind rang with a dull shock. These past idle, carefree days shattered in an instant. He threw off the covers and rose sharply, his robes slipping from his shoulders and falling to the floor with a soft thud.
He finally remembered what he had forgotten.
Jun Dingyuan's triumphant return to the capital was the most life-threatening crisis staring him in the face right now!
There was something that not only he knew, but Xie Langyang knew just as well. If Shen Chen also had memories of the previous life, or if Xie Langyang had already exchanged information with him, then the Marquis of Yongning's entire household was already hanging by a thread!
Time was short. He had to find a way immediately to fix this fatal mistake. Patch the fence after the sheep are lost—but how could he do it without leaving a trace...
Wen Zhuo was genuinely panicked now. A surge of anxiety burned through him, and his temple began to throb again. He had to press hard against his brow to fight the pain.
"My lord?" Liu Qiying's expression shifted.
Jiang Mannü grew frantic: "My lord, what's wrong? Please stop thinking, you need to rest!"
Wen Zhuo drew in a sharp breath, forced his eyes open, and gasped: "If I don't think now, it'll be too late for everything. I knew it—walking this path, heaven was never going to let me rest easy!"
His teeth chattering, he reached for the tea on the table, long grown cold, tipped his head back, and drained it in one gulp. The chill sliding into his chest cleared his mind considerably.
This was something he hadn't even managed to do in his previous life. Because this mistake had happened too early, too definitively, too indefensible—so much so that when the Third Prince had dragged it into the light, they'd nearly been knocked back to square one overnight.
Now the Marquis of Yongning had become Shen Chen's enemy. Shen Chen would never fail to seize on this. The time left to him was even shorter than in the last life.
"What time is it now?"
Liu Qiying said, "Just past yǒu hour, almost xū hour."
"When does the special grace banquet end?" Wen Zhuo asked.
Liu Qiying shook her head.
Wen Zhuo said in a low voice, "I'm going to the palace to see His Highness. Help me change into my formal robes!"
Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannü couldn't enter the palace, nor could they carry messages inside, so unless Shen Zheng came to them, or Wen Zhuo went in himself, they had no way to meet.
But this matter couldn't wait. He had to discuss it with Shen Zheng immediately!
Seeing the grave expression on Wen Zhuo's face, Liu Qiying understood the severity of the situation. Without another word, she hurried to retrieve his ceremonial robes, then told Jiang Mannü, "Quick, go fetch water!"
Jiang Mannü was immensely strong, and Liu Qiying worked briskly—before half a stick of incense had burned, they had Wen Zhuo washed, combed, and dressed neatly.
A servant boy was already waiting in the front pavilion. As soon as Wen Zhuo stepped into the official sedan, the boy cracked his whip once, and the brown horse broke into a swift gallop.
By now dusk was falling, and every thoroughfare leading toward the imperial city was crowded with vendors packing up their stalls and heading home, which inevitably slowed their pace.
The wooden wheels rolled over the brick-paved road, creaking “grrk-grrk” as they went. Wen Zhuo sat upright in the sedan, his body swaying gently with the motion.
When no one was watching, he slipped his hand out of his sleeve and slowly unfurled his palm—a deep-red pill lay still in the center.
It was one he had secretly taken from the box while Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannü weren’t paying attention.
Though Nanping’s sinister medicine was said to rival poison in toxicity, it could indeed clear the mind and keep one’s spirit from flagging.
His thoughts were muddled now; perhaps one was worth…
Two conflicting urges clashed violently in his mind. Wen Zhuo clenched his fingers hard, the pill growing slightly warm from his grip while his knuckles turned pale and cold.
He turned his head toward the curtain. The entire street was swallowed by twilight, save for the direction of the imperial palace, where lights blazed in brilliant rows.
Emperor Shunyuan was hosting a special grace banquet in the Hall of Preserving Harmony. Civil and military officials, imperial clansmen, and honored nobles all attended—more than a hundred and eighty people in total.
The Emperor sat upon the dragon throne, with royal relatives and high-ranking ministers seated on either side. Dishes were arranged by rank, and by the time they reached the bottom seats—reserved for the Nanping envoy and the chess players—the fare had grown noticeably meager.
This was deliberate on Emperor Shunyuan’s part.
By the hour of xu, the rites of the yan ceremony, music, tea presentation, and wine circulation had all been completed. In the warm haze of drink, these robed courtiers and armored ministers began speaking freely as the emperor intended.
“Today His Majesty holds this special grace banquet—first, to honor our soldiers’ sacrifices from afar, and second, to offer a farewell send-off to the Nanping envoy. Two fine occasions joined as one—surely we must share a cup with Grand Secretary Wu Kan?”
“Indeed, indeed—let us drink together.”
“Fill Lord Wu’s cup to the brim; don’t let it be said that our Great Qian is petty.”
Wu Kan’s face was ashen. He knew full well this banquet was meant to shame him and Nanping, yet having just been released from house arrest, he dared not lose his temper in public.
In truth, he was no diplomatic emissary from Nanping at all—merely a messenger sent to participate in the chess tournament. But with this maneuver, Emperor Shunyuan had tacitly elevated his status, placing him directly over a slow fire.
Wu Kan swallowed his rage, swallowing the wine with bitter resentment.
No sooner had he drained that cup than another voice spoke up: “Lord Wu, having received an audience with our emperor in the capacity of an envoy, should you not raise three cups in gratitude?”
“You—” Wu Kan clutched his goblet so hard his knuckles whitened, fixing the offending official with a venomous glare. The atmosphere froze for a few seconds before he slowly rose to his feet and raised the cup toward Emperor Shunyuan, his tone rigid. “This foreign servant thanks the Great Qian Emperor for his gracious hospitality—a profound honor.”
With that, he threw back the biting liquor in one go.
The three chess players seated beside him showed no reaction whatsoever, as if the banquet, the delicacies, the song and dance, and the sharp exchanges hidden beneath the words had nothing to do with them.
One sat down, another rose; in succession they kept targeting him, and Wu Kan had no choice but to lift his cup again and again.
No matter how great one’s tolerance, it could not withstand such relentless badgering. Wu Kan soon grew half-drunk, and his emotions could no longer be neatly concealed.
He wiped the wine stains from the corner of his mouth, lifted his drunken, bloodshot eyes, let out a burp, then staggered to his feet and flashed Emperor Shunyuan a grinning smile. "Your Majesty, the Great Qian Emperor, you have prepared such a lavish banquet, yet you only treat us to music, dance, and acrobatics—such vulgar fare. Is that not beneath the dignity of a great civilized nation? We barbarians of crude birth can still appreciate the elegance of painted rafters and the refinement of fine prose in Nanping, yet arriving here in Great Qian, we find instead—"
Gong Zhiyuan said coldly, "What do you mean by that? Are you suggesting that the calligraphy and literature of Great Qian cannot compare to that of Nanping?"
Wu Kan waved his hand repeatedly, though his tone carried a hint of provocation, "Ah, I came to Great Qian today precisely to meet friends over a game of Go. I have heard that Great Qian is teeming with master players, and since so many worthies are gathered here, why not liven up the occasion with a match?"
Bu Zhangyi was furious. "The Spring Terrace Chess Gathering is something His Majesty has already tolerated with great magnanimity, and you still dare to bring up the subject of Go!"
Wu Kan narrowed his eyes and stared at Bu Zhangyi with a sinister gaze. "What’s the matter? Since the chess skills of us Nanping players all derive from the Eight Schools of Great Qian, and the victories we won in Nanping were all allegedly colluded with the Eight Schools—what is there for Great Qian’s master players to fear?"
The hall fell into instant silence.
The assembled officials stared coldly at Wu Kan as the atmosphere plunged to freezing point, friction on the verge of igniting.
The Spring Terrace Chess Gathering case had already been settled. It had shaken the entire Great Qian bureaucracy, and countless people had paid a price. No one wanted to keep dragging this matter up.
But to decline the challenge now would look like guilt, and to accept and then lose—who could bear that responsibility?
Of course, most of them didn’t actually believe they would lose. Except for the inner circles of the Crown Prince, the Wise Prince, and the Third Prince, the other officials all believed that Xie Qian, Shi Qingjiu, and Helian Qiao had genuinely been bribed into throwing their matches.
Wu Kan saw the silence and laughed maliciously without restraint. "Could it be that all you gentlemen are afraid? Very well. I am drunk today and speaking nonsense. If the master players of Great Qian dare not measure themselves against these three children, then forget it—unless, of course, the master players at this very banquet have also been bought off by Nanping?"
At these words, a master player was indeed provoked and snapped back: "Insolent whelp, cease your arrogance! How dare a Nanping barbarian spew such nonsense here? Today I shall play you a match and wipe the shameful look off Nanping’s face!"
Wu Kan grinned. "To lose to the venerable Elder Chen Xiaoming is these three children’s good fortune—how could that be called shameful? So, Elder Chen is willing to compete?"
Shen Chen observed the shift in the situation. Seeing his left-hand neighbor Shen Zheng still casually picking at peanuts, he had a sudden thought, rose to his feet, and wore an innocent, harmless smile. "Father, I feel that Envoy Wu’s proposal is rather amusing. Since this is a gathering of chess enthusiasts, why not add some entertainment with a game? I have heard that Envoy Wu, in order to preserve Nanping’s honor, would rather die than acknowledge the final three match-fixed games. So today, at this feast, why not make them yield by conviction?"
Wu Kan, seeing that Shen Chen’s words were playing right into his hands, quickly agreed before anyone else could object. "Excellent! This prince speaks with uncommon eloquence and magnanimity. It seems the spirit of Great Qian lives on after all!"
Emperor Shunyuan knitted his brows deeply.
It wasn’t that he thought Great Qian would lose, but recently the chess gathering affair had deeply vexed him, and he had no desire to be entangled in it further. He had expected a minister to stand up and refute Wu Kan, but instead it was his own son who had taken the lead in supporting him—this displeased him greatly.
Shen Chen seemed not to notice Emperor Shunyuan's displeasure, lifting a face of pure innocence as he deliberately glanced at Shen Zheng, who sat quietly with his head bowed, and smiled at Wu Kan: "If Lord Wu loses this time, you'll be left speechless and have no choice but to admit that Nanping's move was nothing but a case of 'trying to steal a chicken only to lose the rice.'"
His words seemed to speak for the Great Qian, but his real aim was to provoke Wu Kan into responding.
As expected, Wu Kan clapped his hands in agreement: "Fine! But if Nanping wins, then it proves our country never needed to rig those three games with fake moves. The so-called leaked game records must be a trick—perhaps even a scheme orchestrated by Great Qian itself!"
At these words, everyone finally grasped Wu Kan's true intention—
He wanted to overturn the case!
Shen Chen's smile widened, chin raised arrogantly as he declared: "Let me be blunt. At court two days ago, His Majesty informed us that the matter of the fake moves at the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering was witnessed firsthand by my Fifth Brother in Nanping. You lot spend all your time drilling your players on memorized boards and tricks, relying on shady methods with no real skill. My Fifth Brother sensed something amiss, quietly noted down the game records, and exposed your scheme. Surely Lord Wu doesn't mean to say that my Fifth Brother is deceiving His Majesty and the whole world?"
Wu Kan let out a loud scoff at this, his tone dripping with sarcasm: "I wouldn't know where the Fifth Prince got his so-called game records, but in Nanping, he—hah! Don't talk to me about memorizing boards—he'd be lucky to even set eyes on a chess piece!"
Shen Zheng had been enjoying his meal thoroughly, and at these words he raised an eyebrow slightly, but he didn't look up. Instead, he picked up a bunch of grapes and began peeling them with slow, deliberate care.
Shen Chen pressed his advantage: "Are you saying my Fifth Brother doesn't know chess? Absurd! If he knew nothing of the game, how could he have reproduced all three exquisite matches from memory?"
With that, Shen Chen immediately shot a meaningful glance at Xie Langyang.
Xie Langyang sat in his seat, inwardly groaning, but he had no choice but to steel himself and rise, bowing humbly: "Your Majesty, regarding the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering case, the Xie family bears guilt. I beg Your Majesty to grant the Xie family a chance to atone for their sins, and allow us to win back honor for Great Qian. Though my kinsmen have been slaughtered to the last, I believe every word the Fifth Prince spoke is true. The Fifth Prince, while in Nanping, kept Great Qian in his heart, secretly memorizing the game records to resolve this crisis. I believe that, having been steeped in the Eight-Line Chess Manual, the Fifth Prince surely possesses insight into the game of Go. Perhaps for this match, the Fifth Prince might also join in as a friendly contest, and put Lord Wu's drunken boasts to the test."
Only then did Shen Zheng set down the grapes, wiping his hands with a silk handkerchief. His gaze swept over Shen Chen and Xie Langyang with a faint, unreadable smile: "So you two, one after the other, are pushing Great Qian into the fire. Since when does Nanping winning prove they didn't cheat at the Spring Terrace Gathering? Those are two entirely different matters, aren't they? And if some lord here, overwhelmed by stress, happens to lose, does that mean he's guilty of collusion and should be dragged off and beheaded at once? Are you two trying to liven up the occasion, or are you trying to make the lords gamble with their lives?"
Shen Chen was taken aback and hurried to explain: "That's not what I meant, Your Majesty!"
Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow: "Then what did you mean? Do you think the Nanping players have no skill at all, and that Great Qian is sure to win? And even if we win, it doesn't prove our national masters are superior—after all, the opposing side cheated all along. What glory is there in defeating such an opponent? That's hardly a toast to good sport."
Shen Chen was rendered speechless, a thin sheen of sweat forming at his temples. He hadn't expected Shen Zheng to be so adept at twisting arguments now: "I didn't mean that either!"
His heart raced with urgency, but then a sudden spark of inspiration struck. He quickly said, "Very well, since matching wits against you esteemed lords would hardly be fair, I propose we compete in solo chess! Any true master of the game can pit their own mind against itself, crafting exquisite board positions. The very founder of our dynasty's eight major chess lineages created countless secret manuals through this very method. Solo chess requires no direct confrontation, yet one's true skill becomes immediately apparent—it decides the victor without putting any of you gentlemen on the spot. Fifth Brother studied so many chess manuals in Nanping; surely he learned more than those three games. He wouldn't need to display any extraordinary mastery—simply reciting one more brilliant board from memory would prove his claims were no empty boast."
The suggestion was fresh and intriguing, and the court officials nodded in approval one after another. With solo chess, the pressure would be far lighter, yet it could still reveal the depth of one's foundations. For a Nanping player who had relied on rote memorization, however, this would be a true challenge.
Shen Zheng stared fixedly at Shen Chen's face.
Shen Chen looked innocent and harmless, always smiling when he spoke, and everyone called him clever and kind.
Who could have guessed that this was the future Emperor Shengde—a man known for his crafty manipulation of power and stubborn arrogance?
Seeing that Shen Zheng remained silent, Shen Chen knew full well that his brother could not recite another board from memory. After all, Wen Zhuo was ill, and even if he weren't, there was no time to coach him now.
The corner of Shen Chen's lips curled ever so slightly, as if to summon an innocent smile.
Then Shen Zheng turned sharply, faced the emperor with righteous indignation, and declared without the slightest shame: "This son seconds the motion! Let it be solo chess! Just as Court Gentleman Xie—oh, pardon me, Director Xie—said, I was steeped in the eight lineages' chess manuals during my time in Nanping, and they inspired me to forge a school of my own. Today, I shall play solo chess to prove my sincerity!"
The smile on Shen Chen's face froze instantly.
