"Me, lacking the ability to judge people?" Wen Zhuo's words cut like a blade, straight to the bone, so much so that even the magnanimous Jun Guangping found it hard to stomach. His tone dropped slightly as he said, "This old subject is, after all, the Marquis Yongning personally ennobled by His Majesty, and several decades your senior. Director Wen, the way you speak today has been far too discourteous."
Shen Zheng also turned his head to look at Wen Zhuo. In fact, back at the Wen residence earlier, he had already sensed that Wen Zhuo's attitude toward Marquis Yongning was somewhat strange.
The moment those words left his mouth, even he was taken aback.
But although he had no idea why Wen Zhuo was suddenly pressing the attack, he still listened quietly without interrupting.
He trusted that Wen Zhuo must be acting with his best interests at heart, and that whatever he planned was far more far-sighted than anything Shen Zheng himself could conceive.
Still, this affable old man, who was otherwise rather endearing in his sense of justice, was now being rather pitifully put on the spot.
Ah well, he thought. He could always come back another day by himself and soothe the old fellow's feelings.
Wen Zhuo left the last dregs of barley tea in his cup—he truly couldn't stand the taste of it, that lingering hint of unwashed vegetable root.
Marquis Yongning was fine in every respect: loyal, frugal, the first to charge into battle, kind to others, and immensely respected within the military. But on this treacherous, shifting ground of the imperial court, sometimes one's virtues could become fatal weaknesses—and the ones who got hurt were often the people closest to that person.
Wen Zhuo was not intimidated by Jun Guangping's rising anger, nor was he in a hurry to defend himself. Instead, he changed tack and brought up old history.
"In the eleventh year of Shunyuan, the two great military talents of the Great Qian dynasty—known as 'Southern Liu and Northern Jun'—had been confined in the capital for years, and both were getting on in years. At that time, Nanping came raiding our borders. His Majesty dispatched Liu Kangren, son of Duke Liu, who then held the post of Metropolitan Military Commander, to lead troops in resistance."
"Marquis, you had extensive experience on the northern front, but out of excessive self-restraint and modesty, you believed that the sixteen-year-old General Jun Dingyuan was still green behind the ears, mere talk on paper, unworthy of shouldering such a heavy responsibility. And so you did not compete with Duke Liu for this chance to win glory, even though you were well aware that Liu Kangren was talentless at best, and that Duke Liu, in order to push his son up the ladder, did not accompany the campaign himself."
"Indeed, Liu Kangren suffered one crushing defeat after another against Fan Wan, the ghost general of Nanping, costing our army countless dead and wounded, and draining all morale. By the time you, Marquis, thought to arm yourself and take to the field, it was already too late; and when Duke Liu wanted to atone for his mistakes by earning merit, the situation was beyond salvaging. His Majesty had already lost all confidence and only wished to cut a loss early. Along with the fact that the faction in court favoring surrender was in the majority, he sent envoys to negotiate for peace."
As Marquis Yongning listened to the retelling of those old affairs, every word grated like needles in his ears. His fingers clenched so tightly that his knuckles went white—clearly he was struggling to contain his rage.
"So Director Wen's meaning is that the defeat back then was actually my fault."
"There are many opinions on this matter, and each has its own reasoning. But in my eyes, Marquis, you do bear a share of the fault. Because you refused to clash with Duke Liu, you allowed the Great Qian to sink into a dire crisis, and the nation foundered for over a decade."
Marquis Yongning was just about to retort when he heard Wen Zhuo let out another sigh. "Of course, the reason I hold you to such a strict standard is that you are the pillar of the state, the anchor that stills the stormy sea, and you cannot be judged the same way as ordinary men."
This mix of belittlement and praise, a needle wrapped in silk, caught Marquis Yongning's angry words in his throat, choking them off completely.
The marquis could only glare, fingers flying to stroke his beard in his agitation, accidentally yanking out several strands in the process.
Wen Zhuo laughed inwardly, though his face gave the old marquis no kindness.
But the matter of the battlefield was not what he was here to discuss. The words that followed were the true focus of this visit.
"In the thirteenth year of the Shunyuan reign, the terms of the peace treaty were finalized. Besides our Great Qian having to pay one million taels of silver in tribute to Nanping each year, we were also required to send a prince to Nanping as a hostage."
At this point, Wen Zhuo and Marquis Yongning both turned their gaze, almost in unison, toward Shen Zheng.
Shen Zheng had been casually cracking open walnuts from the plate in front of him, but seeing the way they were looking at him, he suddenly realized he ought to show some reaction. So he hurriedly put the walnut back down and deliberately adjusted his expression into something suitably somber.
Wen Zhuo truly wanted to commend him for his emotional composure—hearing about something so life-changing, and yet he could still treat it with such indifference.
Wen Zhuo continued: "The Fifth Prince had been slow-witted since childhood and never knew how to ingratiate himself, so His Majesty decided to send him. Consort Liang was pregnant at the time, but she still fought desperately, kneeling for hours outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Yet at that critical moment, Your Lordship chose not to argue in his defense."
Shen Zheng widened his eyes in shock, his face full of disbelief—this part of history had never been recorded in the annals of the Qian dynasty, so he hadn't known about it before.
Marquis Yongning's entire body went rigid at these words.
"At that time, the Crown Prince and the Prince of Xian were already older, their positions deeply entrenched, so neither could be sent as a hostage. The Third Prince, though disabled, had a mother from the powerful He Lian clan, with deep backing. The Fourth Prince was the adopted son of Noble Consort Zhen, who was highly favored and could protect her child. The Seventh Prince hadn't been born yet, and the only one who could replace the Fifth Prince was the Sixth Prince."
"His Majesty's logic was that Consort Liang was pregnant—lose one child, and there would still be another. But you, Your Lordship, what were you thinking?"
Wen Zhuo paused and turned his gaze out the window toward the hazy sunlit sky, unable to bear looking into the eyes of the old general at that moment. He hadn't wanted to pierce an old soldier's heart like this, but the struggle for the succession left no room for hesitation or wavering.
"Your Lordship is renowned for righteous generosity—when you passed by Nanzhou and saw a brocade embroiderer being humiliated, you took her in as your adopted daughter and treated her as your own flesh and blood. The Sixth Prince was sweet-tongued and endearing, having grown up at your knee for years. How could you, to protect your biological grandson, push out your adopted grandson and condemn your adopted daughter to the agony of separation from her child?"
"That word 'righteousness' looks beautiful from a distance, but when you touch it, it's ice-cold. Surely Your Lordship never imagined that Consort Liang, heartbroken beyond consolation, would lose her unborn child. And General Jun, who was deeply devoted to his elder sister, stormed out in fury, went straight to the southern frontier, and hasn't returned in ten years. Lady Marquis was constantly grieved and melancholy, and she unfortunately fell ill and passed away two years ago."
"To keep your conscience clear, to put on a show of fairness, Your Lordship would rather let your family fall apart, your own son bear you hatred. So am I wrong to say that the Fifth Prince has no backing from his maternal relatives? If not for General Jun Dingyuan's unwavering loyalty over these ten years, his desperate fighting and bloodshed, did Your Lordship ever think about how Consort Liang and the Fifth Prince would ever be reunited?"
By this point, Marquis Yongning's eyes were bloodshot, tears staining his long beard. He strained to hold himself together, but he trembled like a lone stalk in a winter gale.
Shen Zheng was no better off than Jun Guangping. Those words weighed down on him just the same, making it hard to breathe.
He had always told himself that he'd merely borrowed the Fifth Prince's shell—that his maternal grandfather, his mother, his father, they all belonged to someone else. So the things that had happened before, he either faced them with composure or dismissed them with indifference.
He'd often looked at everything from the perspective of an observer, detached, examining the joys and sorrows of every figure in this era, judging right and wrong with modern eyes.
Only recently, because of Wen Zhuo's inexplicable trauma and bitter tears, had he truly begun to feel a connection to this age.
He began to set aside the cold words of history books, and to pity a man who was even famed as a treacherous courtier.
Yet for some reason, at this moment, an indescribable sense of grievance and sorrow surged within him, nearly overwhelming his reason.
Could it be that he had truly merged completely with this body, beginning to feel the grief and bitterness of this heart?
Wen Zhuo finally looked directly at Jun Guangping, and directly into the regret and confusion in his eyes.
“These past years, the Sixth Prince and his mother have often come to visit, showing constant care—surely it has brought the Marquis no small warmth. If Xie Langyang were to serve the Sixth Prince, if the Fifth Prince had already begun contending for the succession, if the two of them were destined one day to fight to the death—would the Marquis then be willing to stand wholeheartedly on the side of your own grandson, without hesitation?”
Jun Guangping’s beard trembled slightly. He slowly turned his head to look at Shen Zheng, tears streaming down his aged face.
These ten years, his wife had died of grief, his son had stormed off in anger, and his daughter languished deep in the palace. He felt as if he had done right, and yet as if he had done wrong.
But this matter had gone unmentioned for so long that he had grown numb, no longer probing into whether he had been right or wrong.
When Shen Zheng returned to the capital this time, he had been anxious, cautious, afraid to even broach the subject—yet Shen Zheng was unexpectedly cheerful and optimistic, warm and affectionate toward his grandfather as well.
For Jun Guangping, this was an unexpected blessing. In the twilight of his life, he had finally recovered the family joy he had lost long ago.
He often consoled himself, thinking: perhaps his grandson’s days in Nanping had not been so painful after all.
Jun Guangping smiled bitterly: “Director Wen has come today to pierce my heart, has he not?”
Wen Zhuo did not answer, only said slowly: “Marquis, I only want a single word from you.”
He was not fond of such interrogations of human nature, of pushing a man to the edge—but was he himself not also trapped in extremity, walking toward death with life in his grasp?
Jun Guangping rose to his feet, wiped the tears away with his palm, and spoke each word deliberately: “Even if Xie Langyang devised such a treacherous scheme for Shen Chen, Shen Chen would never agree to it. Director Wen, why should I believe the words of an outsider, letting you drive a wedge between me and the only family I have left?”
The main hall fell abruptly silent, save for the wind battering the half-shut door with a “thump, thump” against the frame.
Beneath the same bright clear sky, Xie Langyang was just stepping out of the Crown Prince’s Eastern Palace.
Gong Zhiyuan had just introduced him to the Crown Prince, but as Xie Langyang had expected, the Crown Prince was thick with drink, half-asleep, and did not even deign to look at him properly—only offering a few polite words out of respect for Gong Zhiyuan.
But Xie Langyang could still tell whether that courtesy was genuine or feigned. He performed all the proper rites before the Crown Prince, laid out his analysis of the state of the court, and shared the insights he had gained over these years in the Ministry of Personnel.
The Crown Prince nearly dozed off listening to him.
Gong Zhiyuan gave a heavy cough, and only then did the Crown Prince’s head lurch forward onto the desk, blinking blankly: “The Grand Secretary calls for me?”
Xie Langyang said nothing. He only sighed and shook his head as he walked out through the Eastern Palace gates.
And indeed—the Crown Prince had the Grand Secretary beside him, and the Grand Tutor, and the Vice Minister of Justice and the Minister of Rites. A mere director of a bureau like himself truly carried no weight at all.
Only at Shen Chen’s side might he have any hope of escaping his father-in-law’s surveillance and suppression, and truly realizing his political ambitions.
So upon leaving the Eastern Palace, Xie Langyang went quietly to the prince’s residence.
When Shen Chen heard of it, he laughed: “My second brother has been given too much since childhood, and has had too smooth a life. Incompetent yet arrogant, looking down on everyone—he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. And our dear father-in-law wants you to replace Tang Guangzhi, to become a convenient tool for him and the Crown Prince.”
Xie Langyang lowered his head and said, “Your Highness, I am utterly loyal to you.”
Shen Chen patted him on the shoulder, signaling him to relax. “I have no doubt about that, but I think this is a good opportunity.”
Xie Langyang looked up, waiting attentively.
Shen Chen instead asked, “Does Xie Qing still think of Wen Zhuo?”
Xie Langyang faltered, as if reluctant to revisit the topic, but since Shen Chen had asked, he had no choice but to answer.
“Although it was because of him that my Xie family suffered a heavy blow, in the end I was the one who wronged him first. I will not give up on him.”
Shen Chen was silent for a moment, then asked again, “Xie Qing, were you born fond of men?”
Xie Langyang shook his head. “No. When I was young and ignorant, the first person I developed feelings for was a woman.”
Shen Chen said, “Then why must it be Wen Zhuo and no one else?”
Xie Langyang did not know how to answer.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the journey to the imperial examinations, and finding a fellow traveler who understood him deeply. Perhaps it was Wen Zhuo’s brilliance that left him in awe, their all-night conversations never tiring. Or perhaps it was the way Wen Zhuo looked when he was strapped for money, sick, or asking for help—what stirred his pity and tenderness. In any case, these feelings were unlike anything he had ever felt for anyone else.
Shen Chen shook his head. “Never mind. Wen Zhuo is already assisting Shen Zheng. If one day Shen Zheng ascends the throne and Wen Zhuo becomes the Grand Secretary, second only to the emperor—then I fear Xie Qing will never be able to have him again.”
Xie Langyang trembled at these words. His eyes sharpened, and his palms clenched tighter and tighter.
Seeing that he had provoked enough, Shen Chen continued, “Once the Spring Terrace Go Tournament is concluded, Nanping will have to stay quiet for a few years. In the previous life, His Majesty appointed Jun Dingyuan as the supreme commander of the Three Great Camps, and in this life it will likely be the same. The supreme commander holds the capital’s troops, commanding all camps. Though he has no power to mobilize forces—only the command of those already assembled—he is still a figure of great fear and envy. I recall that the Crown Prince’s associate commander has long had his eye on this position.”
“Your Highness, you mean…”
“You and I both know what kind of secret Jun Dingyuan carries. Why not offer this matter to the Crown Prince and use his power to cut off Shen Zheng’s right arm?”
Xie Langyang was shocked and spoke urgently, “Your Highness, Jun Dingyuan is a pillar of the state, a rare and outstanding general!”
Shen Chen felt that Xie Langyang sometimes just looked for trouble to upset him. This man was fine when governing with benevolence, but when it came to strategy and schemes, he was far inferior to Wen Zhuo.
Shen Chen gave a cold laugh. “What about Han Xin and Xiao He? Fan Li and Wen Zhong? Were Emperor Gaozu of Han and King Goujian of Yue not wise rulers and hegemons? If a minister becomes so meritorious that he overshadows his lord and gradually develops arrogance, if he can no longer be used by me, then even the rarest pillar can be replaced!”
Xie Langyang was alarmed by his demeanor, as if he were seeing the greedy, thankless face of Shen Chen from the previous life.
But Shen Chen quickly changed his attitude. He smiled, revealing his two dimples, and softened his tone. “Xie Qing, after yesterday, Shen Zheng’s name will shake the capital. Add the support of the Marquis Yongning’s household, and he has already become a threat to the Crown Prince. Even if we do nothing, the Crown Prince and the Grand Secretary will not let him go. All you need to do is provide a little convenience for the Crown Prince. Whether anything is done or not—doesn’t that still depend on the Crown Prince himself? If the Crown Prince also thinks Jun Dingyuan is a noble general, then he will naturally be safe. If the Crown Prince decides to take action, on what grounds can you demand that I remain purely virtuous?”
Xie Langyang found that he was almost persuaded by Shen Chen.
He was merely revealing a secret that would eventually come to light in the previous life anyway—and early, to the Crown Prince. Jun Dingyuan’s fate was decided by the Crown Prince’s hand, not his.
Besides, this matter wouldn't cost Jun Dingyuan his life, because there would ultimately be a solution. Wen Zhuo knew how they had resolved it in their past life—painful as it was, it had at least preserved the Jun family's safety.
Shen Chen calculated aloud, "After this, Shen Zheng will inevitably be implicated and will no longer have any strength to contend for the throne. That way, no one has to die, and everyone gets what they want. Xie Qing, isn't that good?"
"Your servant... understands." Xie Langyang replied in a low voice.
Shen Chen reminded him again, "Given that your last attempt at framing failed, the Crown Prince will likely find it hard to trust you. Don't deliver the message yourself. When Jun Dingyuan returns, go to his tent under the pretext of congratulating him, pretend to discover it by chance, then return and speak with your wife in private. Let the spy in your household leak the information to Gong Zhiyuan—he will believe it without a doubt."
Xie Langyang clutched his sleeves tightly and accepted the charge once more.
He felt as though he had stepped into a vast marshland where the water never dried, sinking deeper and deeper with each step, terrified of where it might end, yet already powerless to turn back.
The last wisp of warmth from the teacup dissipated, leaving the barley tea as cold and desolate as the wilderness beyond the northern deserts.
Wen Zhuo and the Marquis Yongning stared at each other for a long moment. Then, with a sudden sweep of his sleeves, he rose and said coldly, "Very well then. The Marquis may choose his adopted daughters and grandsons time and again—that is his right. But since I have pledged myself to my lord, the next time we meet, we shall be enemies."
With that, Wen Zhuo truly ceased his entreaties and turned to leave, his strides brisk and unhesitant, like a proud, aloof cat too dignified to bicker with common folk.
The cat moved too quickly, and Shen Zheng hurriedly rose to chase after him.
"You—"
Jun Guangping was taken aback. He had only asked offhandedly a moment ago; he never expected Wen Zhuo to turn on him so abruptly, leaving not a shred of courtesy. The burst of martial pride that had just risen in his chest dissolved without a trace. He was about to call out to stop him when a thunderous "bang" rang out—the main hall's doors were kicked clean open!
Beyond the threshold appeared a face with sword-like brows and starry eyes, radiating authority at every glance: "Director Wen, hold on! My father may harbor rot and villainy, but the Yongning marquisate still has me, Jun Mulan!"
Consort Liang wore a crimson narrow-sleeved riding jacket above an embroidered cloud-pattern horse-face skirt. Without a trace of makeup, she had simply gathered her hair into a high bun with a single jade hairpin. At first glance, she was tall and striking, bright as peach blossom in full bloom—yet her eyes carried none of the fragility one might expect.
"You are willing to help my son root out that venomous woman and her treacherous offspring—then I and my brother Jun Dingyuan are yours to command!"
"Mulan?!" The Marquis Yongning shouted in shock.
Since Shen Zheng had gone to Nanping, Jun Mulan rarely returned to the manor. As an imperial consort, leaving the palace was indeed inconvenient, but even when she had the chance, she always found excuses to decline.
Naturally, there was resentment—but Jun Mulan was level-headed enough not to break with her father over it.
"Mother, why are you here?" Shen Zheng, sizing up the situation, immediately stepped to stand beside the formidable Jun Mulan, and glancing at his grandfather's stunned and flustered expression, figured the old man wasn't far from wilting.
Consort Liang reached up and smoothed Shen Zheng's hair, saying softly, "The Emperor, in his grace, has permitted you to attend court and hear state affairs. You were supposed to go and thank him today. When I heard you had left the palace early, I assumed you had come to see your grandfather, so I begged the Emperor's leave to come find you."
Wen Zhuo had no choice but to stop. He offered Consort Liang a slight smile and began to bow: "Your servant pays respects to Consort Liang."
But Jun Mulan grabbed him and pulled him up, her strength far exceeding that of an ordinary woman.
She stared intently at Wen Zhuo, her gaze burning, and said with utmost seriousness: "You saved my son's life and are willing to assist him in his bid for the throne—this debt of gratitude should be repaid by me bowing to you."
Jun Mulan practiced martial arts year-round, and her grip carried considerable strength. With that one tug, she squeezed Wen Zhuo's wrists until they flushed red.
Wen Zhuo's lashes trembled twice as she fought through the pain, steadying herself before speaking slowly: "The princes in the capital today were born amid luxury and raised in hothouses, their eyes long blind to the hardships of the common folk and the suffering of the people. But the Fifth Prince, tempered by ten years of wind and frost, understands the bitterness of prison and the trials of low station. He firmly believes that all people, high or low, noble or humble, possess their own integrity. I can see he is unlike the other princes—he carries the bearing of a wise sovereign. When the old horse is lost, how do we know it is not a blessing? In days past, the King of Qin was a hostage in the state of Zhao, yet by gaining the aid of Lü Buwei, he ultimately swept across the six kingdoms and unified the empire. Lady Consort Liang, I hope you may find it in your heart to let go of the grievances of that year."
Jun Mulan looked Wen Zhuo up and down, her gaze shifting from the earlier resolve to one of pleasant surprise and admiration, and she tightened her grip even further.
"Times have changed, and even His Majesty no longer mentions it. Thank you for still remembering the suffering I endured back then."
"..."
Wen Zhuo kept a faint smile on her face, but inside she was crying out: It hurts! It hurts! It hurts so much!
Marquis Yongning was frantic with worry. Seeing that his own daughter and his adopted daughter were about to tear each other apart, he stamped his feet in agitation: "Mulan, do you truly mean to fight to the death with your little sister?"
Jun Mulan turned to shoot her father a cold glare, fury blazing in her eyes: "When have I ever treated her as anything less than a true sister? But while I was heavy with child, she came to the palace under the pretense of visiting me, and under the guise of tailoring garments, she lured His Majesty into her bed! Later, when I was about to give birth, she was pregnant with Shen Chen again, and day after day she provoked me with her words. When my son was sent away to Nanping to suffer, she grew even more arrogant and refused to show me any respect. Only you, with your eyes and ears shut, cannot tell good from evil. I, Jun Mulan, swear here and now that I will have that vicious woman's life. So you choose—do you stand with me, or stand with her?"
"I... you... alas!" Jun Guangping was rendered speechless, left only to heave a long sigh. He truly could not understand how things had come to this pass.
Seeing her chance, Wen Zhuo seized the moment to fan the flames: "Had I known things would come to this, Wanshan should have gone directly to see Your Ladyship. As for General Jun's matter—may I ask, would Your Ladyship's words carry weight with him?"
Jun Mulan turned to Wen Zhuo and said reassuringly: "Don't worry. My younger brother was raised by me since childhood, and we share a deep bond. He has always been of one heart with me. My words carry more influence than my father's."
Wen Zhuo's eyes lit up, and she smiled: "Excellent. In that case, there is indeed a matter requiring Your Ladyship to write to General Jun at once... only, the Marquis is not of one mind with us, so it would not do for him to learn of this."
Jun Mulan nodded: "That goes without saying."
Jun Guangping: "..."
Wen Zhuo sighed: "There is one more thing. The matters I have been plotting in secret with the Fifth Prince are not meant for outsiders to know. I wish to build a secret passage between the Marquis Yongning's residence and the Wen manor, so that we may meet with ease."
Jun Mulan narrowed her eyes slightly, her gaze turning cold and sharp, and her grip grew even more careless of its force: "That is easy to arrange. I have a group of trustworthy people under my command. By tomorrow, they can sweep through the Marquis residence completely, leaving not a single hidden corner. Once my brother Jun Dingyuan returns with command of the army in hand, I swear that venomous woman and her bastard son will never dare set foot in this residence again."
Jun Guangping: "..."
Wen Zhuo felt the pain in her wrists grow ever stronger, her fingers instinctively curling inward, but this was no time to show weakness. A few glistening hints of moisture gathered in her eyes as she said with deep emotion: "Your Ladyship is so astute—truly, Wanshan feels as if she has been blessed by divine aid."
Consort Liang noticed Wen Zhuo's nose tip was slightly red, his eyes glistening with moisture. She hadn't expected him to be so sentimental, so she hastily scrambled for some fine words of her own.
"Er... I've long heard that Director Wen is peerless under heaven, but I never imagined he also possessed such a heart for helping the world. I wonder what kind of extraordinary woman might one day catch your eye."
Shen Zheng: "?"
He quickly gave a low cough, reaching out to pat Consort Liang on the back, cutting her off: "Mother, please let go first. Teacher's constitution is weak; he can't withstand your grip."
Only then did Consort Liang realize her lapse. She hurriedly released Wen Zhuo's wrist, a little embarrassed: "I've been training in martial arts for years, I quite forgot."
Wen Zhuo swiftly withdrew his hand into his sleeve, feigning composure: "...It doesn't hurt much."
Jun Guangping watched the three of them in perfect harmony, discussing how to sideline the marquis's household and destroy Consort Yi, their faces brimming with joy. Knowing there was no turning back, he could only heave three long sighs: "Alas! Alas! Alas! Whose side could I even stand on now? You are, after all, my own flesh and blood."
Wen Zhuo had known this outcome all along—Jun Guangping would naturally favor his own daughter and grandson. He could treat his adopted daughter and adopted grandson well, but he had never offered to hand over his connections in the military camp to Shen Chen. He had always been waiting for his own biological grandson to return.
What had been an intractable problem in the last life had, in this life, become remarkably easy.
Wen Zhuo: "Very well. The marquis's word is his bond, and I trust you will keep it. This matter hangs by a thread; there is no room for the slightest carelessness."
Jun Guangping, left with no choice, gave a bitter smile: "I understand perfectly."
Wen Zhuo then hurriedly said to Shen Zheng: "Since the Emperor is still waiting for you to offer thanks for his favor, you should return to the palace with the Consort at once."
Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow: "Won't Teacher see me off?"
Wen Zhuo was puzzled: "Why?"
Shen Zheng said with a straight face: "I don't have a sedan chair."
Consort Liang immediately thumped her chest: "I came on horseback! You can share my mount!"
Shen Zheng replied without changing expression: "Then I'd get dizzy from the horse."
Consort Liang: "?"
Mine? Born from a family of generals?
Wen Zhuo: "..."
There was no help for it—the small lacquered sedan chair once again bore Wen Zhuo and Shen Zheng, squeezed together, rattling along toward the palace gate.
In the sedan chair, Shen Zheng suddenly took Wen Zhuo's hand, gently pushing aside his wide sleeve, and said in a low voice: "Let me see what she's done to you."
There on Wen Zhuo's wrists were two rings of red marks, starkly visible against his fair skin.
Though red they were, the pain had long since faded.
"...It's nothing." Wen Zhuo tried to pull his hand back, but Shen Zheng held it fast.
Shen Zheng cradled both wrists gently in his arms, slowly rubbing them.
His fingertips traced circles, following the pulse and the bones, and his gaze, as if solid, swept over the flushed skin again and again, his stare growing deeper and deeper.
"Only now do I realize—Teacher can't bear pain at all. When it hurts, you cry."
