On an otherwise unremarkable day, word of the divine game at the Special Grace Banquet had already spread through every alley and street of the capital.
Emperor Shunyuan had spoken with golden words: from this day forward, the Great Qian would no longer have eight schools of Go, but nine. The founder of the ninth school, the Meng School, was none other than the Fifth Imperial Prince, Shen Zheng.
When the news first broke, the city was in an uproar. The many self-styled elite players of the capital, along with high-ranking officials, wealthy merchants, and country gentry who had come from all prefectures, sneered with disdain.
That the Three Masters of Nanping, at just nineteen, could defeat the host of Go players of the Great Qian was already absurd enough. But now they claimed that the Fifth Imperial Prince, who had spent ten years as a hostage and was only eighteen this year, had established a school of his own? It was nothing short of fantasy.
No doubt the old emperor was just saving face, puffing up his own son's reputation!
"Pah! This year's Spring Terrace Go Gathering was an utter mess, beyond words," an old player slammed his hand on the table, shaking his head with a sigh.
Someone nearby chimed in: "Exactly! The court has become like this—officials helping Nanping cheat, and now this 'divine game' appears. One younger than the next. What spirit is left in our Great Qian?"
"Yes, the Fifth Prince grew up in Nanping—in that kind of environment. I don't believe he could have grasped a divine game on his own. Probably some elder from the eight schools cooked it up for him."
"Shh, keep your voice down. You want the Five Wards Military Patrol to haul you off?"
"I can't swallow this. I'll say it no matter what. Word has it the Fifth Imperial Prince was born dull-witted, which is why His Majesty cast him aside and sent him as a hostage. Now they want to claim he's unusually gifted?"
As the crowd argued furiously, someone suddenly pointed at the main hall of the Go house: "Wait—come look at this!"
In the center of the main hall of every Go house in the capital, a massive board had been erected. The board surface was light brown, the grid lines deep red, and the pieces were each the size of a fist.
This was a century-old tradition of the Go houses: whenever a truly masterful, legacy-worthy game appeared, this public board would be set up, inviting players from across the realm to study it free of charge, so the game could be passed down for generations.
As piece after piece fell upon the board, black and white twisted like two dragons locked in deadly combat. Black calculated every trick and ploy; white commanded its forces like a divine general, flawless and unstained. Upon the pristine board, a brutal battle of swords and spears seemed to unfold in all its fierce glory.
When white swallowed a black stone, the onlookers below sighed in regret. When black struck back with raw force to break open the position, the crowd clapped and cheered, cold sweat beading on their brows.
Until finally, black lost by a narrow margin of two points, falling from the heavens—and the crowd watched as one would watch a great general in his twilight years, rising in solemn respect.
After a long silence, one man suddenly cried out in praise: "A fine game! A marvelous composition! Truly the greatest game of the Great Qian!"
"Just this one game alone is enough for us to study for a full year. It is utterly flawless—both black and white deserve to be honored as divine!"
Another player exclaimed: "This game does not follow the style of any of the eight schools. It is truly a school of its own. If anyone still calls this cheating, I dare say not a single master among the eight schools could have produced this game!"
"In the Great Qian, players are convinced by skill alone. No matter who this person is, how young, or what his rank—he deserves the title of 'Go Sage.' His mastery towers above all!"
The owner of the Go house leaped onto a small platform, beaming with pride, and announced to the crowd the full story of what happened at the Special Grace Banquet: "Do you all know? At the banquet, the Nanping envoy made another challenge, claiming that our Great Qian's case of collusion was baseless and demanding the exoneration of the Three Sons of the Mu Family. It was the Fifth Prince who stepped forward—in a single hour, he produced this astonishing game, leaving the Nanping envoy speechless and shamed beyond words!"
"There was such a thing? The Fifth Prince answered the call in a moment of crisis and upheld the honor of the Great Qian's Go players!"
"Could it be that the Fifth Prince is truly wise beneath a plain surface? Heaven blesses the Great Qian—first his uncle Jun Dingyuan crushed Nanping, and now the Fifth Prince brings glory to the nation!"
The owner lowered his voice, adding mysteriously: "The Fifth Prince said that two beings beyond human form played this game in his mind, leaving this composition behind. The Imperial Observatory immediately examined the heavens and found that the Fifth Prince's spiritual aperture had returned to its seat, guarded by divine light!"
"No wonder. Without divine protection, how could such a game be produced?"
"The Fifth Prince is truly chosen by heaven. As the saying goes: when heaven is about to confer a great mission on a person, it first afflicts his heart and will, exhausts his muscles and bones. So the Fifth Prince endured ten years of tempering—and now he has soared with a single cry."
"My friend, don't speak carelessly. Word like that could get you accused of ill intent."
"But the celestial signs say so. Can they silence everyone's mouths?"
...
Even Shen Zheng himself had no idea that he had already become, in the minds of the common people, the Go Sage who held up a falling house and turned the tide of a doomed battle.
At this very moment, he was nervously preparing for his very first court audience to discuss governance.
Strictly speaking, as an imperial prince bearing the stigma of a hostage, his very existence was a slap to Emperor Shunyuan's face. Surely the Emperor would not wish to see him again, let alone have him attend court.
But things were different now. He was the loyal subject who had endured humiliation and protected the Great Qian, the hero shielded by the gods who had crushed Nanping. The more Emperor Shunyuan looked at him, the more he felt his own glory reflect.
Still, the honor of attending court had come far too soon. Shen Zheng hadn't yet learned the endless, fussy court protocols.
He felt a familiar pang, like being at a thesis defense, spouting nonsense in front of industry giants.
Inside the Hall of Martial Valor, the officials had arrived early, and Emperor Shunyuan had not yet appeared. Shen Zheng stood amid the cluster of princes, utterly bored.
So he decided to strike up a conversation.
He shuffled forward a few steps and tapped lightly on the broad back in front of him, addressing the man who stood as immovable as Mount Tai: "At the Special Grace Banquet I sat far away and didn't get a good look. Brother, you stand eight chi tall, with a leopard's head and round eyes—truly majestic. You must be the Crown Prince, yes?"
The moment he spoke, the assembled ministers seemed to have their throats cut off. All chatter ceased, robes went undisturbed, and every face wore a hint of amusement, eager to watch the show.
Prince Xian had barely paid attention to this fifth brother he hadn't seen in ten years. Who would have thought the boy would shine so brilliantly at the Special Grace Banquet, earning repeated praise from the Emperor?
Prince Xian, positioned at his high rank, had been reduced to a supporting figure—which secretly stung a little. But he was, after all, "Xian"—virtuous and magnanimous—so he maintained a generous and tolerant demeanor, unlike the Crown Prince, who had started cursing with his faction the moment he stepped out of the Baosheng Hall.
As for Shen Zheng, Prince Xian was still in a wait-and-see mode. Whether this brother would become a threat or an ally was yet to be determined, so he hadn't made any move to approach him.
Who would have thought that today, Shen Zheng would shower him with compliments the moment he arrived—especially that line about resembling the Crown Prince. It felt like a warm bath of praise, so smooth it made him light as a feather.
Prince Xian let out a low chuckle and turned around: "So many years without seeing each other—it's no wonder the Fifth Brother doesn't recognize me. I am your eldest brother."
Shen Zheng showed no sign of embarrassment—he had actually guessed right in the first place. "Oh, eldest brother! How have you been?"
He nearly broke into song right there.
Prince Xian found the warmth of the gesture quite agreeable, so he reached out and patted Shen Zheng's shoulder, embodying his name "Xian" to the fullest: "Your elder brother is faring well, thank you for your concern, Fifth Brother. Since you've just returned, if anything comes up in the capital, don't hesitate to come to me."
Shen Zheng, a master of smooth words, immediately pivoted: "Since I'm new here, I heard yesterday that the wall of my maternal grandfather's study has cracks—it probably needs to be torn down and rebuilt. The old man has lived there for so many years; I want to have it properly renovated. The materials needed will be extensive. Will the Construction and Maintenance Bureau under the Ministry of Works be able to approve it?"
In the Great Qian Dynasty, there were strict regulations regarding the scale of official residences. Any mansion built beyond the approved size—even a princely estate—could be forcibly demolished by the Department of Construction and Maintenance.
Even if a secret tunnel were the most direct route, the materials required would be considerable, and this would inevitably draw the attention of the Ministry of Works. And the Minister of Works, Shang Zhiqin, was a man loyal to Prince Xian.
Prince Xian laughed heartily. "How thoughtful of you, Fifth Brother. That's no trouble at all—just have Lord Shang put in a word with those below him. The Marquis's residence is decades old; it's about time it got a fresh look."
For such a trivial matter, Prince Xian was happy to do a favor.
Shen Zheng clasped his fists in delighted gratitude: "Thank you, Big Brother. You'll always be my brother."
Then his gaze shifted, landing on another figure—one brimming with arrogance. "And this distinguished gentleman, with his broad ears, square face, ample belly, and robust frame—looking so hale and hearty—must surely be the Crown Prince."
"Hale and hearty" was typically used to praise the elderly for remaining vigorous. The Prince Xian faction in the court heard this and could not help but tug at their sleeves to stifle their snickers, unsure whether to blame the Fifth Prince for his poor choice of words, or the Crown Prince for looking so aged.
As for Crown Prince Shen Zhen, it was as if a bowl of chili oil had been splashed across his face—he flushed crimson, gnashing his teeth.
"Fifth Brother certainly has a silver tongue."
"Not at all, not at all. If I had the Crown Prince's good fortune at the dining table, I wouldn't be reduced to this scrawny frame." Shen Zheng cupped his hands and bowed with feigned humility, a triple show of modesty.
Since he had just flattered Prince Xian, it hardly mattered if he offended the Crown Prince.
One should never have it both ways—trying to please everyone almost always ends with pleasing no one. Besides, the Crown Prince's eyes had practically rolled to the back of his head a moment ago, so Shen Zheng might as well fire back.
As his words trailed off, his gaze drifted to Third Prince Shen Ting. Shen Ting's eyelid twitched involuntarily as he was caught in the crossfire.
He had been quietly watching the commotion from the sidelines, but now that Shen Zheng seemed ready to turn his attention his way, he quickly forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes: "Fifth Brother, I am your Third Brother. I'm truly happy you've returned."
Better to shut that up before the fool said something utterly nonsensical.
Shen Zheng glanced down and noticed that Shen Ting leaned on a cane—not because one leg was shorter than the other, but because his left leg turned outward with a clearly bent knee joint, which gave the illusion of uneven length.
He suddenly clapped his hands, feigning sudden realization: "Third Brother, this is… this is a calcium deficiency!"
At this outburst, a wave of curiosity swept through the hall. Shen Ting's leg ailment had been caused by his mother's fright and strain during pregnancy—what did calcium deficiency have to do with anything?
"How old is Third Brother this year?" Shen Zheng asked with show of concern.
Shen Ting was taken aback, wondering if there was some medical insight from Nanping behind this question. He answered hesitantly: "Twenty-six."
A flicker of urgency vanished from Shen Zheng's eyes, replaced by a look of gentle regret: "Sorry, Third Brother—after eighteen, it's too late for that to be fixed."
"..."
Shen Ting felt a lump stuck in his chest, rising and falling with no relief, his cane trembling slightly in his grip.
With those three brothers serving as cautionary tales, the remaining princes became eager to step forward on their own, each desperate to avoid becoming the next object of laughter in the hall.
Shen He was the fairest-skinned of the princes, with bold eyebrows that swept up toward his temples, giving him an air of carefree detachment. He patted his stomach right in front of Shen Zheng and said with a laugh: "If Fifth Brother is after some good food, come ask your Fourth Brother. If there's one thing I know like the back of my hand, it's every delicacy this capital has to offer."
Shen Chen huddled near the back of the line, small in stature and stiff in manner. Yet his features were delicate, and his eyes were remarkably clear, like autumn water, brimming with sincerity.
"The day before yesterday, Fifth Brother struck a heavy blow against Nanping. I went back and told Consort Yi all about it, and she clapped her hands in delight. Over the years, she and Mother Consort Liang have burned incense and prayed daily for your early return. Now that wish has finally come true."
Shen Chen's words were dripping with warmth. Everyone knew that Consort Yi and Consort Liang were sisters, so it was only natural that he and Shen Zheng shared a close bond.
"How very thoughtful of you, you little pond." Shen Zheng smiled—though it wasn't a warm one. If he hadn't known that Shen Chen was desperate to see him dead, having stolen his place all those years ago, he might have mistaken this for the words of a good little brother.
Shen Chen blinked in confusion: "Fifth Brother, what does 'little pond' mean?"
Shen Zheng replied: "A green pond ripples with spring water, where fair birds come to roost at night. I'm complimenting you."
Shen Chen smiled sweetly, cupping his hands in thanks: "Thank you, Fifth Brother. How poetic and lovely it sounds."
Wen Zhuo entered the Hall of Martial Valor in a robe of vivid crimson. Shen Zheng was in the middle of his little performance.
At this moment, officials throughout the hall were sizing up the Fifth Prince, so Wen Zhuo could watch him freely and without drawning notice.
It had to be said—standing among the other princes, Shen Zheng's bearing and stature were by far the most striking.
In the past, he had been timid and reserved, diluting much of his natural charisma. Now, with spirit and vigor, he was genuinely a pleasure to behold.
The only downside was that his daily habit of swallowing raw eggs and lifting stones had filled out his frame considerably since they first met. Sharing a sedan chair was quite cramped now—they had to hold each other close to fit. Perhaps it was time to get a roomier carriage.
While Wen Zhuo was lost in these idle thoughts, Xie Langyang was drowning in bitterness.
He had already removed the silk sash from his waist, now dressed in all plain simplicity, just as he had been when they first met.
But Wen Zhuo had hardly glanced in his direction since entering the hall—his eyes were fixed on Shen Zheng, with no acknowledgment, no concern for whether Xie Langyang still wore the gift of someone else around his waist.
A moment later, a eunuch's announcement rang out from outside the hall as Liu Quan escorted Emperor Shunyuan inside.
The Emperor had drunk too much wine two days prior, and his legs had grown increasingly unsteady—numb and weak—so that he leaned heavily on Liu Quan just to walk.
The hall fell into immediate silence. The assembled officials bowed in unison.
Emperor Shunyuan pinched his brow, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. His tone was slow but weighty: "This court seems far more spacious than before. Quite pleasing to the eye, I must say. The other day, I ordered officials to recommend candidates for office. Yet some of you, with ulterior motives, recommended only your own disciples or former followers. Are you trying to form factions and covet the imperial throne?"
The Crown Prince and the Prince Xian faction were startled into immediate prostration: "We dare not! Never such intention!"
Emperor Shunyuan let out a cold snort: "In this regard, you should learn from Wen Wanshan. He handled the Spring Terrace Chess Case with great diligence, and even fell ill from overwork. When I asked him to recommend talents, he put forward only learned but overlooked scholars—men with no ties to him, who had never even visited the Hanlin Academy. As for his former subordinate Gu Weizhi, it was Xue Chongnian who had the sharp eye to recommend him. I see Gu Weizhi has made genuine achievements in Bozhou. He's a promising talent. Wanshan—"
The Emperor changed his tone, now speaking earnestly: "I also have a word for you. A man of worth need not avoid promoting his kin. You should not have left out your old acquaintance."
Wen Zhuo lowered his gaze respectfully and knelt, his voice tinged with gentle humility: "Your subject believed Your Majesty sought recommendations from within the capital, and thus neglected worthy men in the provinces. In that regard, I am not as thorough as Lord Xue's thinking."
Xue Chongnian quickly stepped forward, waving his hands in all modesty: "No, no! It was simply a flash of inspiration on my part—I felt Lord Gu's contributions to the state deserved recognition. It is not that I think more deeply than Director Wen."
Emperor Shunyuan had never intended to rebuke Wen Zhuo severely. In fact, his lukewarm attitude toward his own former subordinates was quite reassuring to the Emperor.
But seeing Wen Zhuo keeping his head bowed, seemingly truly remorseful, Shunyuan couldn't help but soften.
"I'm not blaming you. Rise." He paused, then said, "Director Wen has rendered meritorious service in recommending talent. Bestow upon him: one set of imperial kiln jade ware, two sets of stationery, five catties of pre-rain Longjing tea, and ten bolts of cloud-pattern silk."
The Ministry of Revenue official hurriedly registered the rewards, which turned out to be several times more lavish than those given to Xue Chongnian, who had actually recommended Gu Weizhi.
Yet Xue Chongnian bore no resentment; instead, he secretly worried that the emperor's praise of one and disparagement of the other might make Wen Zhuo feel uncomfortable.
This scene did not escape Shen Chen's notice. Seizing a moment when no one was looking, he rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner.
This Xue Chongnian was a fool too—sold by someone and still counting the money for them.
He didn't even need to investigate to know that Gu Weizhi had definitely been recommended by Wen Zhuo. It was just that Wen Zhuo had manipulated Xue Chongnian to play the role of a solitary loyal minister before the emperor.
"With this matter concluded and the war subsided, let Jun Dingyuan return in triumph. On that day, all of you, together with me, shall greet the hero along the main thoroughfare before the imperial hall!"
Emperor Shunyuan left these final words and withdrew from court to rest.
Once the emperor was gone, the ministers prostrated themselves in farewell and gradually filed out of Wuying Hall.
Wen Zhuo patted the dust off his knees. There was no trace of the self-reproach he had shown moments before. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Xie Langyang looking utterly distracted and weighed down with worries—a sure sign that Shen Chen had once again assigned him some task that went against his conscience.
A sudden idea struck Wen Zhuo. While Xie Langyang was still present, he walked straight toward Shen Chen, who was about to leave: "Sixth Prince, a moment, please."
Hearing this voice, Shen Chen stiffened slightly. His expression flickered through several changes before settling into a mask of innocent cheerfulness as he turned around: "Director Wen?"
Xie Langyang's heart tightened, and he hastily focused his gaze on them.
In all the court, no one knew of the tangled history and secrets shared among these three. Now, finally face to face, the atmosphere instantly grew tense.
Wen Zhuo smiled at Shen Chen. "So the Sixth Prince has been permitted to attend court again."
Shen Chen blinked his round eyes, putting on a shy demeanor. "By my father's grace, and with your concern, Director Wen. I was granted permission at the banquet that day."
He still had to pretend he had not been reborn, to lull Wen Zhuo into a false sense of security, so he treated Wen Zhuo with extreme deference.
But Wen Zhuo raised an eyebrow. "I was not concerned about you, Director. When Vice Minister Xie pleaded on your behalf that day, it was I who rejected the petition. The Sixth Prince wouldn't hold a grudge, would he?"
Shen Chen's smile nearly faltered. Hatred seethed within him, yet he dared not show it: "How could I? It was indeed my error in speech."
Wen Zhuo nodded. "The Sixth Prince is so reasonable and magnanimous that I am relieved. Since ancient times, love between men has often been false-hearted and full of broken vows—utterly unworthy of trust. Our dynasty has worked hard to right the wrongs, and it has been no easy task. I hope the prince will say fewer such reckless words in the future, lest you disturb the moral order of our Great Qian and lose the emperor's regard."
Shen Chen ground his molars until his jaw ached, forcing the words through clenched teeth: "Thank you for the reminder, Director Wen."
These words pierced Xie Langyang's heart like a sharp blade, leaving him in agony.
He knew Wen Zhuo's words were meant for him—a taunt, a mockery, for having betrayed a sincere heart.
But he wanted to make amends now. He had already noticed the mistakes he had overlooked in his previous life and had come to feel the searing pain of Wen Zhuo's imprisonment.
Unable to stop himself, Xie Langyang stepped forward, his voice hoarse: "Wanshan... I..."
Wen Zhuo looked at Shen Chen, then at Xie Langyang, let out a derisive laugh, and suddenly asked, "On the day of the procession along the main thoroughfare, did the Sixth Prince also return?"
His voice was low, but it struck like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, making Xie Langyang's expression change instantly and Shen Chen's blood run cold.
But Shen Chen reacted quickly, feigning confusion: "Director Wen, what did you just say? I didn't quite catch that."
Xie Langyang took several deep breaths, his gaze darting anxiously between Shen Chen and Wen Zhuo, before he finally shook his head with difficulty: "...No, I did not. Wanshan, why would you bring this up here!"
Wen Zhuo smiled, a smile tinged with a reckless, heedless arrogance. Since Shen Chen claimed not to have heard, he leaned in closer and said in a voice meant only for the two of them—
"I once taught you that the essence of scheming is to mislead your opponent and profit from the gap. Now there are two possibilities: one, you have returned, but you convinced Xie Langyang to hide it from me and put on an act; two, you have not returned, but Xie Langyang has told you everything. Yet in truth, whether you have returned or not, whether you are acting or not, it makes no difference—because every step you can think of is merely a choice I have laid out before you. From this day forward, no matter how you struggle, you will only plummet into ruin."
Xie Langyang stood frozen in shock. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Wen Zhuo would so directly expose the matter of rebirth!
The muscles in Shen Chen's face twitched. At first, he put on expressions of confusion, bewilderment, and incomprehension. Even as Wen Zhuo began speaking, he had already woven a set of excuses in his mind.
But once Wen Zhuo had finished, his face went utterly blank. He simply stared coldly at this man who was once his teacher and was now his sworn enemy.
His earlier smiles and feigned innocence now seemed like a colossal joke.
He had thought he had gained the upper hand by moving first, but in Wen Zhuo's eyes, it had merely been a clumsy performance.
"Just as I thought." Seeing Shen Chen's eyes regain that cold, ruthless gleam, Wen Zhuo knew his guess was correct. "Indeed, as the saying goes—times change, and karma comes full circle."
Shen Chen let out a chilly laugh. With his hands clasped behind his back, he left behind a sinister remark: "Director Wen, we shall see."
With that, he flicked his sleeves and strode away.
Xie Langyang, panicked and alarmed, grabbed Wen Zhuo's sleeve and whispered urgently, "I have already begged the prince to allow you to return home safely this time. Why must you still provoke him head-on!"
Wen Zhuo yanked his sleeve free, his tone dripping with scorn: "What sweet dreams is Director Xie having? Wen has reached the pinnacle of officialdom. He does not need his permission."
Xie Langyang's palm was left empty, and so was his heart. At last, he fell silent.
He thought to himself: Wanshan does not know that Shen Chen has already set his sights on Jun Dingyuan.
Today in court, Shen Zheng had spoken without restraint and offended the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince would surely go after the Jun family with ruthless determination.
The Third Prince's foundation was far weaker than the Crown Prince's. In this life, the Jun family would likely not escape as narrowly as they had in the previous one.
Shen Chen must have already calculated this move.
Very well. Once the dust settled and the Fifth Prince had no more chance at the throne, he would speak to Wen Zhuo properly.
Xie Langyang turned and walked away, his heart heavy with despair.
Wen Zhuo had successfully tricked Shen Chen into revealing his true face, knowing that ungrateful wretch would be fuming with rage. Delight flickered in his eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips.
But as he turned his head slightly, he noticed Shen Zheng gazing at him quietly, his eyes fixed on Wen Zhuo.
By then, Wuying Hall was nearly empty, yet it was still not the place to talk. Though Wen Zhuo could tell there was something wrong with Shen Zheng's expression, he could only look away, steady himself, and head outside.
He had just walked out onto the long thoroughfare before the imperial hall and climbed into his sedan chair at the palace gate when the curtain lifted and Shen Zheng stepped in after him.
A few sedan chairs were still just departing. Wen Zhuo could not tell whether anyone had noticed. Startled, he hastily lifted the curtain to check. Seeing no one peering their way, he breathed a small sigh of relief.
"Why has the prince followed me in?"
Shen Zheng's expression remained calm, but it was a calm tinged with sorrow. He did not crowd against him or wrap an arm around him as he usually did. Instead, he simply smiled and asked, "What my teacher said earlier—was it truly from the heart?"
Wen Zhuo could see that Shen Zheng did not want to smile. There was no joy in his eyes at all.
"What?"
"That since ancient times, love between men has often been false-hearted and full of broken vows—utterly unworthy of trust." Shen Zheng repeated the words from before, staring into Wen Zhuo's eyes, reciting them word for word.
Wen Zhuo, seeing that he hadn't caught the latter part of her words, breathed a sigh of relief and replied, "Naturally, such an act violates the laws of the court and defies morality and ethics."
Shen Zheng's lashes suddenly drooped, and only after a long moment did he say flatly, "Very well."
