Shen Chen was not the only one bewildered in the hall.
Gong Zhiyuan stroked his beard thoughtfully, the scene before him completely escaping his understanding.
He knew full well that the Xie family had not cheated in the final round, so although he had no idea how Shen Zheng had obtained the chess record, playing against himself at this moment was highly risky.
Shen Chen sounded as though he was setting a trap for Shen Zheng, confident that Shen Zheng would be unable to respond.
But Consort Liang and Consort Yi were sworn sisters, and Shen Chen had for years respectfully addressed Consort Liang as his mother, showering her with care and attention—how could he strike so ruthlessly at her own son?
When Shen Zheng readily agreed, another doubt rose in Gong Zhiyuan's mind—could the two of them have conspired together, playing in tandem?
And what role was Xie Langyang playing in all this?
Gong Zhiyuan suddenly recalled that day in the Liangqing Hall, when Xie Langyang, agitated and unsettled, had abruptly knelt to plead for Shen Chen.
Today, he seemed once again to be acting in coordination with Shen Chen.
Could this somehow involve Gong Yuwen's hand?
But on that day in Liangqing Hall, it was Wen Zhuo who had rebutted Xie Langyang, his words carrying a sharp edge. And now at this Spring Terrace Chess Gathering, Xie Langyang had insisted that Wen Zhuo was the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, with Shen Zheng merely a puppet on stage.
Seen in that light, Xie Langyang did not seem to be cooperating with Shen Chen—rather, he seemed to be targeting Wen Zhuo. Could it be, as the Crown Prince thought, that he was jealous of Wen Zhuo's rise to the pinnacle of power?
And what of Shen Zheng? Had ten years as a hostage somehow allowed him to secretly absorb skills until they became second nature?
At this thought, Gong Zhiyuan felt his mind descend into utter chaos.
Emperor Shunyuan's gaze swept across the hall. He saw both princes filled with spirited vigor, the several chess masters rubbing their hands in eagerness, and the entire hall brimming with righteous indignation, as though it would be impossible to refuse.
Moreover, he was himself somewhat curious as to why Shen Zheng claimed to have forged a style of his own.
Every chess layout in the world could be traced back to the eight great lineages, and the manuals of those eight lineages were treasures passed down through generations by masters of antiquity. Shen Zheng was only eighteen years old—how arrogant would he have to be to dare say such a thing?
Emperor Shunyuan gave a low, muffled cough, his loose eyelids trembling as he spoke: "Very well, then. Play against yourselves. Today, all of you assembled in the Baohe Hall shall serve as judges to decide the finest chess layout!"
Shen Zheng bowed deeply, his voice ringing clear: "Thank you, Father Emperor!"
He turned around, his face brimming with calm composure, then stretched out a long arm and clapped Shen Chen hard on the shoulder. "Sixth Brother, you and Fifth Brother have hit upon the same idea! It seems that even after ten years apart, our hearts remain in sync."
A forced smile appeared on Shen Chen's face, his gaze intensely sincere, and his slender frame, like that of a small dove, swayed slightly to dodge the weight of Shen Zheng's hand. "...Indeed."
Shen Zheng cast a glance at his own palm, then looked up again and asked with familiarity: "Have you eaten your fill, Sixth Brother?"
Alarm flickered in Shen Chen's heart. The Shen Zheng before him seemed reborn, completely devoid of his past life's dullness, yet his words and actions were bizarre and unfathomable.
The two faint dimples on his cheeks surfaced, and he answered cautiously: "I... I've eaten my fill."
"Good, that's all that matters." Shen Zheng's eyes shone deep and bright. Taking advantage of his long legs, he leaned over and snatched the untouched bunch of grapes from Shen Chen's table, tilted his head back to bite into two at once, and, while chewing, bent down to whisper in Shen Chen's ear: "Then you watch carefully—and see what a divine move truly is!"
Shen Chen's expression changed several times in quick succession, yet he still smiled with proper decorum: "I await Fifth Brother's breathtaking triumph."
Eunuch Director Liu Quan was about to order the attendants to clear the tables and musical instruments when a sudden "hold on" came from Wu Kan.
Wu Kan appeared drunk, his steps unsteady, yet his gaze was remarkably clear: "Your Imperial Majesty, everyone here is a subject of the Great Qian—there is a risk of partiality. The foreign envoy proposes that the competitors play against themselves behind closed doors in the side hall, with the eunuchs relaying each move one by one. The rest of us shall observe from the Baohe Hall and select the finest chess layout."
"Presumptuous! Our Great Qian is a celestial court—there are no cheaters here. You envoy is projecting your own base suspicions onto gentlemen!" Chen Xiaoming was so furious that even his beard beads were knocked askew, a wisp of white hair poking out, fluttering in his anger.
"Fine! We shall do as you say!" Emperor Shunyuan's face was solemn. He waved a hand, and Liu Quan, catching the signal, at once ordered the side hall to be prepared.
Within the time it takes half a stick of incense to burn, everything was in order.
Five of the Great Qian's chess masters volunteered for the match, along with Shen Zheng, who was determined to prove himself.
Nine chessboards were placed in the side hall, and another nine boards were set up in the Baohe Hall. The assembled ministers crowded around, and even Emperor Shunyuan rose to his feet with Liu Quan's aid to watch.
As the palace lanterns were lit, the side hall's great doors shut with a heavy thud. Shadows moved within, and no one could know who sat behind which board.
In the Baohe Hall, whispers buzzed among the ministers—
"I heard that Elder Chen has recently refined a brilliant new chess manual—no doubt he will win today."
"Senior Song Chenghui is the head of the Song clan; he is certain to take first place this time."
"I'm placing my hopes on Cheng Tiandong, though—he's the youngest master of the realm, winning the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering at just twenty-two."
"Hmph, let's just see what that Nanping whelp can do without his cheating devices!"
"I told you all from the start that no one could achieve such results at nineteen—none of you believed me."
"But those three did seem rather abnormal—let's hold off before judging."
...
Even Nanping's Mu Yi, Mu Er, and Mu San were topics of discussion, yet Shen Zheng, a hostage for ten years, was given not a single thought by anyone.
Meanwhile, Wen Zhuo stepped down from his carriage and noticed quite a few sedan chairs that had just arrived along the long avenue before the palace. Several retired elder ministers, leaning on canes, were slowly climbing out with trembling steps.
Perplexed, he walked over and asked: "He daren, Qian daren, arriving at the palace this late—are you also attending the special grace banquet?"
Qian Fang's eyes were dim with age; only upon leaning close did he get a blurred look at the figure. Under the hazy lamplight and neon glow, the man was as beautiful as an immortal descended to earth—who else could it be?
"Wen Wanshan, Director Wen?"
"Yes, it's me." Wen Zhuo reached out to support him.
"Ah, we've come to watch the chess." Qian Fang sighed with emotion. "The special grace banquet is to be accompanied by chess as entertainment. That Nanping envoy is eager to overturn the verdict and demanded another match against our chess masters. Then Sixth Prince came up with an idea—everyone would play against themselves, which leaves no room for cheating. When I caught wind of it, I hurried over to take a look."
"Playing against oneself?" Wen Zhuo murmured, his mind racing with calculations.
He knew Wu Kan would never admit that the last three rounds had been cheating, but that was fine—Emperor Shunyuan would not believe him anyway.
Shen Chen's move was simply to make the Nanping players display their true skill, planting doubt in the Emperor's mind about the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering.
Wen Zhuo credited him with some brains, but this scheme was hardly watertight—it felt improvised and forced.
Even if the Nanping players won by playing against themselves, it would not prove they had cheated at the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering. Emperor Shunyuan had no way of explaining the chess records that had appeared in advance.
He Shouyi added: "Ah, that Wu Kan also claimed that Fifth Prince had never once touched a chessboard in Nanping and couldn't possibly have memorized the records. Sixth Prince and Director Xie, indignant on the prince's behalf, thus recommended that Fifth Prince also take part in the self-play. To clear his own name, Fifth Prince declared in big words that he had absorbed the art by exposure during his time in Nanping and had forged his own independent style. I came to see whether our Great Qian might just give birth to a ninth lineage."
"…"
Wen Zhuo knew better than anyone just how skilled Shen Zheng truly was—he could barely qualify to enter the eight lineages, let alone claim a style of his own.
If he truly had that kind of skill, Wen Zhuo would have simply let him enter the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering and defeat Nanping to make a stunning name for himself. Not only would the conspiracy against him collapse on its own, but he would also immediately secure a firm footing in the Great Qian court and catch the eyes of all the officials. Why would he need to proceed slowly and carefully?
But Shen Chen and Xie Langyang assumed that Shen Zheng had no background whatsoever and was entirely manipulated by Wen Zhuo—in that, they had miscalculated.
Although Shen Zheng was only average at chess, he did know how to play. And as long as he could play, it proved he had indeed learned chess at Nanping. After all, when he left back then, all he had in his head were a few poems.
"Director Wen, what urgent matter brings you here at this hour?" Qian Fang asked.
Wen Zhuo gave a faint smile: "My health has improved somewhat, so I thought I'd come and join the excitement."
He shielded himself from the night wind with his robes, took advantage of the two elder ministers' convenience, boarded a small sedan chair, and, guided by two young eunuchs, headed straight for Baohe Hall.
He Shouyi remarked: "I notice Director Wen looks rather pale, with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. You really should rest more."
Wen Zhuo had been rushing on the way over. He dabbed at his temples with his sleeve: "Thank you for your concern, Lord."
Upon arriving at Baohe Hall, the sedan chair came to a stop, and he found the side hall's doors tightly shut while the ministers gathered in the main hall.
Wen Zhuo silently clenched the red pill in his palm, his expression calm as he stepped into the hall.
"Your servant Wen Zhuo pays respects to Your Majesty." He bent his knee to kneel.
Emperor Shunyuan caught sight of him and quickly waved his hand. If there was one official in the entire court whose constitution could rival the emperor's own, it was Wen Zhuo—no contest. He took more sick leave than the emperor himself, and Emperor Shunyuan was afraid he might be the one to send Wen Zhuo off first.
"Rise, no need for that. Wanshan, are you feeling better?"
"Much better. So much so that I skipped dinner just to come and mooch a good meal off Your Majesty."
Emperor Shunyuan chuckled: "Then eat first, and watch after you've eaten."
Wen Zhuo's eyes held a smile: "How would I dare, with Your Majesty here to watch the chess? I just heard Elder He mention that the Great Qian might produce a ninth school today. I wanted to see His Fifth Highness's skill for myself."
He was the first person in Baohe Hall to bring up Shen Zheng's name, and in doing so, he planted that name in the ears of all the lords present.
In truth, Shen Zheng had no reason to feel pressure, because no one expected anything of him. He only needed to prove he could play chess, and that was enough. Wen Zhuo wasn't particularly worried.
Wen Zhuo's gaze swept across the hall and quickly found Shen Chen and Xie Langyang among the crowd.
This was the first time since his rebirth that he had seen Shen Chen in the halls. Without the imperial robes to bolster him, Shen Chen seemed to have been reduced to his original form—still that timid, obsequious figure who smiled at everyone, utterly devoid of any imperial bearing.
Wen Zhuo curled his lips slightly in contempt.
Shen Chen, seeing Wen Zhuo's composed expression, felt his heart tighten.
He couldn't help but worry—could it be that Wen Zhuo had foreseen even this day, and had actually taught Shen Zheng some chess manual?!
Impossible!
The Special Grace Banquet had never happened in his previous life, and today's ambush was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Wen Zhuo couldn't possibly have prepared for it.
He was certain that Shen Zheng had suffered endless humiliation at Nanping and had never had the chance to learn chess.
Suddenly, the sound of chess pieces clattering came from the side hall. The solo games had begun.
A young eunuch announced through the door: "Game one, black stone one, star point at 4-4; white stone two, star point at 16-4!"
"Game two, black stone one, komoku at 3-5; white stone two, komoku at 17-5!"
"Game three, black stone one, 3-3 and 4-4; white stone two, tengen!"
"Game seven, star and komoku against double star opening!"
...
Bu Zhangyi frowned in commentary: "Placing a stone on tengen—that move in game three is far too aggressive. It seems they're forcing innovation for its own sake."
Tang Guangzhi followed along: "Game one is a flow against double star—solid and steady."
Gong Zhiyuan explained in a low voice to the Crown Prince: "Game two has diagonal komoku against opposite komoku, avoiding the star points. This is a fight for the corners. In the middle game, one can use corner invasions, flexible maneuvering, and edge-corner exchanges to create separation. Can Your Highness see the subtlety?"
Shen Zhen was completely lost and mumbled vaguely: "Game seven looks rather unremarkable to me."
Time flowed on, and the announcements came without end—
"Game nine, black stone seventeen at the corner, white stone eighteen, a three-space extension!"
"Game six, white stone twenty-one invades the corner, black stone twenty-two blocks!"
"Game four, black stone twenty-three invades, white stone twenty-four encloses!"
"Game seven, black stone fifty-one strikes through the center, expanding the eastern flank; white stone probes in, black stone attaches on the right, white stone cuts on the right side..."
...
Gradually, everyone began to notice something off. The pace of moves in game seven was far faster than all the other games!
Xue Chongnian exclaimed in surprise: "Look closely—game seven seems unremarkable at first glance, but the white stones are truly unfathomable, suppressing the black stones to the point of having no room to move!"
He Shouyi had a different view: "I see the black stones as resourceful as well. Every time, they narrowly escape disaster and find a new path to survival."
Gu Weizhi asked in confusion: "Why didn't white just push just now, to press the advantage?"
Wen Zhuo analyzed for her: "If white pushes, black blocks; if white sits, black can wriggle out from above. White's fight in the center would then lose its certainty. So that cut on the right side was a brilliant move—whether black tries to break out on the right center, upper right, or upper left, white gets the advantage either way. And that white stone up above doesn't need to be rushed into action."
Gu Weizhi's eyes sparkled, and she clasped her hands to her chest in admiration: "As expected of the Director! I could never have thought of those follow-up moves!"
Wen Zhuo slowly shook his head with a wry smile: "I couldn't think of that white move either."
Gong Zhiyuan stroked his beard in deep thought: "Who in the world is game seven? It doesn't look like one of the eight schools' styles."
Xie Langyang frowned deeply, his eyes utterly fixed on game seven. This style of play, this strategy—he had never seen anything like it in his entire life.
"Indeed, there's no trace of the eight schools."
Hearing this, everyone turned to look at game seven. Even Emperor Shunyuan adjusted his spectacles to observe closely.
In just half an hour, game seven had already reached move one hundred and eighty. The black stones' four corners were slaughtered. When white placed move one hundred and eighty-four, the center linked up and completely clamped down on the dragon.
Black had no path to survival left and could only concede. But the loss was not disgraceful—it could even be called tragic and noble. Had it not been for such a godlike opponent, these black stones would surely have been invincible.
In the end, white won by a narrow margin of two points.
Baohe Hall fell into dead silence.
Some with lesser skill, such as the Crown Prince, had long since lost track of game seven's strategy, feeling utterly confused and lost.
But those renowned masters of the game were shaken to their core, their hearts surging and unable to settle for a long while.
One single thought dominated everyone's mind: please, may game seven not be a man from Nanping!
Wu Kan was also stunned. He had completely fallen behind during game seven's endgame phase, but he was certain that the three Mu brothers had nowhere near this level of ability.
Another hour passed, and it was now deep into the night. All the solo games had come to an end.
Eunuch Liu Quan raised his eyes slightly and announced in a loud voice: "The players are waiting outside the side hall. Please, Your Majesty and all the lords, select the finest game!"
The Crown Prince quietly asked Gong Zhiyuan: "Grand Secretary, which one is the best? Which should I pick to please Father?"
Gong Zhiyuan took a deep breath: "Whichever one gets the most picks, Your Highness should pick that. There's no telling who among them is our own."
Shen Chen staggered back a step, his mouth dry. Regardless of the final outcome, the mere fact that Shen Zheng had managed to finish a game meant his scheme had already failed.
Shen Zheng could actually play chess!
Could it be that Wen Zhuo had once taught him the Xie family chess manual?
But not a single one of these boards was a direct replica of a chess manual; each was crafted with its own ingenuity, and the seventh in particular could only be described as unfathomably profound, far surpassing the essence of the Eight Meridians.
Gu Weizhi asked: “Director, whose do you wish to choose?”
Wen Zhuo replied coolly: “It is already quite clear.”
Emperor Shunyuan’s expression turned grave. He raised his hand, took up the cinnabar imperial brush, and struck a heavy checkmark on the seventh board.
A sovereign cannot openly lie before the court. This game, even if born from an enemy’s hand, was an unrivaled masterpiece of the age.
Seeing this, the assembled courtiers made their choices one by one—over a hundred without hesitation casting their votes for the seventh board.
Liu Quan’s expression remained calm: “Summon the players to the hall!”
The nine who had been playing against themselves filed in from outside, entering the Hall of Preserving Harmony. Several of the national champions already wore weary looks, staggering as they walked, while the three Mu brothers looked closer to death than life; one of them, as he walked, had blood trickling from his nose.
Wen Zhuo looked through the layers of figures toward Shen Zheng.
But the moment his gaze touched Shen Zheng, the other seemed to sense it as if by some telepathy, and sought him out in return.
Their eyes collided abruptly. In that instant of meeting, surprise flickered through Shen Zheng’s eyes, followed by a smile that rippled outward—one that seemed to see through everything.
Wen Zhuo quietly gripped the hem of his robe, quickly averting his gaze.
He thought to himself, how should he comfort Shen Zheng afterward?
Say that losing didn’t matter, that as long as he could prove he knew chess, that would be enough to break this deadlock.
After all, he was going to teach Shen Zheng to be an enlightened sovereign, not a chess sage.
At most… he could permit him, when they were alone in private, to impolitely call him by his courtesy name “Wanshan.”
Wen Zhuo had barely reached this thought when he saw Eunuch Liu Quan suddenly break into a smile, his brows kind and his eyes gentle, kneeling to offer congratulations: “Congratulations, Your Majesty, congratulations to Great Qian—the seventh board was played by His Highness the Fifth Prince!”
Wen Zhuo snapped his eyes up, as if a star had fallen into his pupils, trembling with a bright shimmer.
He stood there, dazed, at a loss for words.
Emperor Shunyuan, after his initial astonishment, burst into hearty laughter, saying repeatedly: “Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!”
The ministers looked on with newfound respect, offering congratulations one after another: “The Fifth Prince is gifted with extraordinary talent, placing his stones like a divine being, bringing glory to Great Qian’s name. We ministers congratulate Your Majesty!”
Emperor Shunyuan glanced at Wu Kan, and sneered: “Will the envoy of Nanping still struggle in vain now?”
Wu Kan’s face flushed deep red. His cheeks twitched, his eyes filled with disbelief, he drew in breath several times, and finally collapsed to his knees like a deflated leather sack.
The drunkenness had fully worn off, replaced by a profound terror. Nanping had spent a fortune in jewels to bribe the Eight Meridians, wasting a full six months of effort—and now this complete and utter defeat. How was he supposed to face the Emperor of Nanping?
His death might come soon.
Wu Kan played dumb: “I… I’m drunk, I really am drunk, I think I’m about to faint.”
And then he really did fall flat on his back with a “thud.”
In his wild jubilation, Emperor Shunyuan couldn’t be bothered with him. He beckoned Shen Zheng closer, took his hand, and held it.
“Tell me, how did you come to master such exquisite chess? I can see not a trace of the Eight Meridians in it!”
Shen Zheng began his performance, his voice rising and falling with practiced cadence: “To answer Your Majesty, while in Nanping I often thought of Your Majesty and Mother Consort’s teachings, and dared not slacken even for a moment. I seized every opportunity to study. After accidentally coming across the Eight Meridians chess manual, one day I entered a dream and saw two forms unlike any human battling over a chessboard in my mind—like a heavenly game. I committed that game to memory and brought it back to Great Qian, hoping that our dynasty’s chess arts might endure long and flourish far!”
Emperor Shunyuan listened with great enthusiasm, and hastily said: “Bureau of Astronomy! Bureau of Astronomy! Tell us, what is the meaning of this!”
The Director of the Astronomy Bureau rushed forward to shower him with sycophantic praise: “I observe the response of the earth’s veins—last night, sweet dew gathered before the court, and the grasses and trees suddenly took on auspicious signs. This is the return of spiritual wisdom, the protection of the divine, and the blessing of the Literary Star. I congratulate the Fifth Prince on his enlightenment, and congratulate His Majesty on this heavenly omen. This is the fortune of the nation, and the blessing of the people!”
Emperor Shunyuan patted Shen Zheng’s hand heavily and said with relief: “So it was divine protection—all things have their causes and effects!”
Shen Zheng smiled in a manner that was perfectly standard and cooperative.
In truth, he wasn’t entirely lying. AlphaGo battling AlphaZero—what were they if not forms unlike humans, fighting within a machine?
Emperor Shunyuan said: “This chess manual shall be shown to the people of Great Qian, and shall become the Ninth Meridian of our dynasty’s chess arts. Have you thought of a name?”
“I have.” Shen Zheng bowed once more, and said with perfect seriousness, “Your son believes it should be called—
Monte Carlo Tree Search.”
Wen Zhuo frowned slightly, understanding none of it.
All the ministers in the hall: “…”
Emperor Shunyuan naturally didn’t understand either, but he would never admit it. He made the decision on the spot: “Good! The Ninth Meridian of Great Qian’s chess arts shall be called the Meng Sect! My fifth son, Shen Zheng, shall be its founder!”
The courtiers kneeled in confusion: “Congratulations, Your Majesty. Congratulations, Your Highness the Fifth Prince.”
Wen Zhuo watched Shen Zheng, radiant with triumph, and slowly bent his knee.
The crisis at Jun Dingyuan—it seemed he had found a way out.
So he gave a faint curve of his lips, and with force from his fingertips, crushed the red pill in his palm.
Then it was back to music and dance, lasting until the small hours.
When the revelry had not yet fully faded, Wen Zhuo slipped out alone for some peace. Outside the hall, the night dew had already dampened the blue bricks, and overhead the stars hung thick and full, with a round moon suspended high.
He had only been gazing for a moment when he was suddenly yanked by a powerful force into a damp, shadowed corner at the side of the hall.
Startled, he was about to snap at whoever it was, when he saw Shen Zheng’s lightly intoxicated face.
Shen Zheng’s features were even more vivid and intense in the darkness, with untamed locks of hair curling at the tips, dampened with a few drops of wine and carrying a faint, clear scent of bamboo. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, keeping a neither-close-nor-distant distance, watching Wen Zhuo with a smile.
There was a gleam in his eyes, a hint of pride, and something else—unnameable, and hungry.
Wen Zhuo’s nostrils were filled with the scent of green bamboo wine. He raised a hand to push against Shen Zheng’s chest, putting on the airs of a teacher, warning him: “What do you think you’re doing? This is the palace, and right now all eyes are on you!”
The other princes and their factions were all still inside the hall—just one wall away. It was too dangerous.
Having said his piece, Wen Zhuo tried to shake Shen Zheng off and slip away.
Shen Zheng raised an arm to block him, half-shoving, half-coaxing, his eyes shining as if they held moonlight within them: “Hey, hey, hey—I just want to say one thing.”
Wen Zhuo stopped. “What is it?”
Shen Zheng suddenly leaned in close to his ear, his breath warm: “Teacher, I won.”
Wen Zhuo’s ears went warm. He turned his head slightly, hiding the curve of his neck: “I know.”
A sound came from the side hall—a eunuch who had finished his cleaning duties, holding up a lantern, was walking toward the Hall of Preserving Harmony.
“Don’t forget—now I’m no longer the one who always loses.” Shen Zheng quickly squeezed Wen Zhuo’s arm, then slipped out of the corner. “I’ll bring you date and osmanthus cake tomorrow!”
How utterly absurd.
He must be drunk.
Wen Zhuo had only taken two steps when he suddenly froze in place, the memory of that conversation at the Eastern Tower flashing through his mind.
— I want to ask what kind of person Teacher likes?
— Well, certainly not someone who always loses at chess.
“…”
Wen Zhuo never made it back inside to finish that imperial meal.
He sat crouched outside the hall, clutching his outer robe, his ears and neck flushed with wave after wave of rising heat, sulking quietly.
