Seeing that the tactic was working, Shen Zheng sprang down from the carriage shaft, the tips of his boots kicking up a few wisps of dust as they touched the ground.
He hurried over to Ta Baisha, reached into his satchel, pulled out a bright red carrot, and held it out to Wen Zhuo.
“Let Teacher feed it first. This horse understands people. Once it takes a liking to you, it’ll be very obedient.”
This was a necessary step he had learned when studying horseback riding in the modern era, euphemistically called “building a rapport with the horse.”
But when Consort Liang had taught him to ride, she had merely said, “A horse submits to a true master. Overawe it with your presence,” before making him grip the reins and set his feet in the stirrups, relying on sheer strength and pride to subdue the fine steed.
As a result, Shen Zheng currently suspected that feeding horses was nothing more than a scheme by riding schools to sell fifty-yuan bags of carrots.
Wen Zhuo accepted the carrot, his movements hesitant and uncertain.
He spent most of his time hunched over books and rarely interacted with animals, so he had no idea what sort of temperament they possessed.
Ta Baisha tilted its head and studied him with round, gleaming black eyes. After a moment, it opened its mouth and gently took the carrot from him. It chewed obediently, then, having eaten its fill, snorted contentedly.
Wen Zhuo thought, Just as I suspected!
That beast Xie Langyang had never told him that one had to feed a horse carrots before learning to ride!
“All right. Teacher, put your foot in the stirrup and hold on to the saddle. I’ll help you up first.” Shen Zheng patted the horse’s neck lightly to reassure it, then shifted aside to make room by the stirrup. He placed his fingertips against Wen Zhuo’s wrist and guided him to grip the saddle.
Wen Zhuo was a scholar, with shoulders incapable of carrying burdens and hands unused to labor. By now, his palms were already damp with a thin sheen of sweat.
But he had made his claim moments ago and refused to admit defeat.
After tightening his grip, he asked hesitantly, “What about you?”
“Teacher goes up first, then leaves one stirrup for me.”
Shen Zheng’s gaze swept over Wen Zhuo’s slender waist. He reached out and lightly rested his hand against the jade belt at Wen Zhuo’s side.
This was hardly an overstep on his part. He was genuinely afraid Wen Zhuo might fall and injure himself.
Fortunately, Wen Zhuo was unexpectedly light. With a gentle lift from Shen Zheng, his palm seemed to be supporting a wisp of soft cloud, and Wen Zhuo settled securely astride the saddle.
The moment he mounted, Wen Zhuo looked down at the ground. The sky seemed impossibly high and the earth immeasurably vast; suspended in midair, he touched neither heaven nor ground. The wind swept the scent of vigorous grass into his face, and there, in the outskirts beneath the deepening spring, it startled him into breaking out in a thin sweat.
He instinctively called out, “Shen Zheng!”
The words had barely left his mouth before he realized how improper it was. No matter what, he should not have addressed His Highness by name.
He was just about to turn and apologize when Ta Baisha suddenly misstepped, its body lurching violently.
Wen Zhuo’s heart clenched. He was about to cry out when a gust of wind seemed to whirl up beside him, and his back abruptly struck a firm, solid chest.
That chest was hot. Even though the layers of clothing between them could not possibly transmit any warmth, he still felt heat pouring through them, scorching him until he no longer knew what to do with his hands and feet.
He had forgotten. This was what it looked like for two people to ride together—they had to be so close. If he had known, he would never have agreed, no matter what!
“Perhaps we should still—” Wen Zhuo began, wanting to call off this overly intimate, uncontrollable lesson.
“Don’t be afraid.” Shen Zheng’s voice sounded beside his ear. “The horse can sense when you’re nervous. It’ll bully you.”
As he spoke, Shen Zheng’s arms came around Wen Zhuo’s body. With the backs of his hands facing upward, he deftly pulled off both short finger cots.
The motion inevitably caused Shen Zheng’s arms to brush against Wen Zhuo’s, giving Wen Zhuo the illusion that he was being firmly sheltered.
It seemed that, just as Shen Zheng had said, this broad chest would protect him no matter how much he swayed, and would never let him fall.
“Put these on, Teacher. They’ll keep your hands from slipping on the reins.” Shen Zheng’s gaze dropped from over his shoulder. His breathing was light, carrying the fresh fragrance of wildflowers and luxuriant grass from the outskirts.
“What about you?”
Because Shen Zheng had kept the backs of his hands facing upward, Wen Zhuo did not see the marks left by the reins in his palms, nor did he know how necessary the finger cots were for Shen Zheng at this moment.
Shen Zheng smiled. “I’m very familiar with riding. Of course my hands won’t slip.”
Wen Zhuo obediently put them on. They were slightly too large, and he had to tug them backward with some force before they barely caught on his fingers.
Remembering how Shen Zheng had looked wearing them moments earlier, Wen Zhuo recalled how the finger cots had accentuated the length of his fingers, making them look both powerful and beautiful.
Shen Zheng said nothing more. He closed his bare hand around the reins and lightly squeezed the horse’s belly with his legs. Ta Baisha immediately began trotting forward beneath the shade of the trees.
The wind moved with the horse, whistling past their ears as though deliberately trying to compete with them, scattering their low conversation.
Wen Zhuo could not hear him clearly, so he asked, “What did Your Highness say?”
Shen Zheng leaned down toward him, his lips nearly brushing Wen Zhuo’s shoulder. At last, his voice broke through the wind and struck against Wen Zhuo’s ear:
“Is this pace slow enough?”
“…It is.”
Wen Zhuo felt as though the ear on his left, along with the side of his neck, were being singed continuously by a gentle flame. He could neither hide nor escape; all he could do was shrink away from time to time, trying to ease the involuntary fluttering in his chest.
It was a physical defect of his, one he could only conceal with all his might.
Shen Zheng, however, unexpectedly discovered that Wen Zhuo seemed unusually sensitive. Even when Shen Zheng merely leaned close to speak, the breath brushing his ear made him stiffen and draw his head aside.
He quickly looked away, refusing to watch the plump earlobe whose faint flush might have been caused by the wind—or by something else entirely.
“Try squeezing your legs. That’ll make it speed up a little. If it feels too fast, tug the reins back.” Shen Zheng gave him the stirrups and maintained his own balance by gripping the horse’s sides with his legs.
According to riding instructors in the modern era, this was a dangerous maneuver. Fortunately, the horse was not moving quickly, and after two days of intensive training from Consort Liang, Shen Zheng could still manage it.
“It is not that I fear speed,” Wen Zhuo said, forcing himself to remain calm. He then gave the horse’s belly the lightest squeeze.
Who would have thought Ta Baisha would completely ignore such feeble pressure and continue trotting beneath the trees at exactly the same pace?
Wen Zhuo was about to turn around and say, “You see?”
Shen Zheng was indeed struggling not to laugh, but the tremor in his chest traveled through the places where their bodies were pressed together and reached Wen Zhuo.
Clearly they were galloping at breakneck speed. What was there to laugh about?
Wen Zhuo’s cheeks grew hot, and he swiftly steered the conversation toward the field he knew best.
“Gu Weizhi’s journey to Qianzhou to investigate the termite damage to the embankments may prove dangerous. I have no one at my disposal, so I hope the Yongning Marquis’s residence can send some people to protect him in secret.”
The matter of Gu Weizhi investigating the case had never happened in his previous life, but Wen Zhuo had no choice but to prepare for every possibility.
He knew very well that Cao Fangzheng could not possibly refrain from embezzling the five million taels allocated for disaster relief and embankment construction. It was not simply that Cao Fangzheng was insatiably greedy and utterly depraved. The Crown Prince needed to win over officials at court, and that required money.
And where would that money come from?
Naturally, it had to be extracted from the land of Da Qian by the network of people who depended on the Eastern Palace.
At Wen Zhuo’s words, Shen Zheng raised his brows slightly. “I understand. If the corruption there really runs so deep… Teacher, did you know about this all along?”
He often felt that Wen Zhuo was a little too prescient.
He certainly was not questioning Wen Zhuo’s intelligence. It was just that, in the case of the Spring Terrace Chess Society, and now with Jun Dingyuan’s affair, Wen Zhuo was always precise and ruthless when plotting against others, striking at their vital points every time. Yet whenever he explained his reasons to Shen Zheng, his account became somewhat vague.
Either a merchant from Nanping whom he had met in Bozhou had happened to reveal the information, or he had calculated every move involving Liu Quan, the Emperor, Wu Kan, and Nanping solely to expose a spy and recover the remains of an old acquaintance.
Shen Zheng felt that Wen Zhuo was hiding something from him.
At that moment, Wen Zhuo was busy adjusting his posture to keep his buttocks from colliding with Shen Zheng’s thigh whenever the horse jolted. He did not notice the change in Shen Zheng’s expression.
“All these years, Cao Fangzheng has spared no effort to return to the capital, offering his humble services to the Grand Secretariat, the Eastern Palace, and the Directorate of Ceremonial. If no one investigated, that was one thing—but once they did, his submissions were riddled with errors.”
That was why pulling on one thread would affect the entire web. The Cao faction would inevitably do everything in its power to obstruct the investigation.
The simplest method would naturally be bribery: lure Gu Weizhi into the Crown Prince’s camp and promise him the benefits of promotion and wealth.
But Gu Weizhi was upright and forthright, filled with a sincere desire to serve his country. He would never agree.
Wen Zhuo would have to remind him of this when he returned. An official needed to know when to be tactful—not only for his own safety, but also because, just as in his previous life, once Shen Chen decided to settle accounts with him and Xie Langyang led the impeachment, there would be no room left for Gu Weizhi to turn back. He should not have openly opposed Shen Chen.
The long road into exile had even implicated his entire family. Wen Zhuo did not know whether Gu Weizhi had ultimately remained safe and sound.
“I’ll tell Mother when I get back.”
“And if we manage to bring down the Cao faction and expose the chain of corruption within the Eastern Palace, the Crown Prince may be deposed. That would leave you with one less rival. But once General Jun returns to court, you will also become the target of everyone’s hostility. From then on, even more eyes will be watching you.” Shen Zheng paused and lowered his gaze to the grass beneath the horse’s hooves. “Like today… something like what happened today must never happen again.”
Even the outskirts of the city held dangers. There could be no moment of carelessness on the road to seizing the throne.
In the future, Shen Zheng would no longer be able to take him riding. Once he claimed the throne, it would be even more impossible.
Thinking about it, today was perhaps the only opportunity they would ever have.
A faint sense of tenderness stirred in Wen Zhuo’s heart. Unable to resist, he gently stroked the horse’s mane. The horses of the northern frontier were all rough and hardy; their stiff manes pricked his fingers painfully.
He had only been enduring the pain for a moment when Shen Zheng said, as though speaking to himself, “Then we’ll have to finish repairing the secret passage soon. Otherwise, it’ll be difficult to deliver your date pastries in the future, Teacher.”
Wen Zhuo’s heart stirred. He was both exasperated and amused.
He was only eighteen, after all. His thoughts were still far too simple. He actually believed that a secret passage was meant for such trivial errands.
In the future, the things the two of them would do could never be revealed to anyone. That passage would ultimately bear secrets of far greater weight.
The horse’s hooves carried them along the narrow path and into the depths of the shaded woods. Fallen leaves crackled beneath them, while the midday sunlight was sliced into scattered chunks of tofu by the trees.
Wen Zhuo edged forward again, until his hip pressed against the iron pommel and he could move no farther.
Shen Zheng noticed. He suddenly reached out, wrapped an arm around Wen Zhuo’s waist, and pulled him back with a flex of his forearm, undoing all his efforts.
“Move back a little, Teacher. I don’t have my feet in the stirrups, so I need to lean against you to keep my balance.”
Wen Zhuo crashed squarely between his legs.
“…Mm!”
A low groan escaped him. He was embarrassed and irritated—not only because of the reaction his body had produced, but also because he had developed such peculiar feelings toward his student.
Why was this happening? In Bozhou, he had always been perfectly at ease around Gu Weizhi and the other officials.
Could his illness have grown worse in this life?
“What’s wrong, Teacher?” Shen Zheng asked with concern.
Wen Zhuo turned his head away and looked toward a muddy hollow not far off.
A green fruit had fallen into the puddle. Ta Baisha had stopped to inspect it, and Shen Zheng did not urge the horse onward.
They remained there in the woods, surrounded only by the rustling of wind through the leaves and the deafening thud of Wen Zhuo’s heartbeat.
“That day… did you have something on your mind?” In that narrow space, beneath the brilliant sky, Wen Zhuo sat on Shen Zheng’s horse and finally asked the question that had been lodged in his heart for days.
“What day?”
“The day after court. I was speaking with the Sixth Prince and Director Xie. Later, you chased after me and climbed into my sedan. You suddenly became angry, didn’t you? Why?”
“Oh…” Shen Zheng paused and thought for a long while before smiling as he explained, “I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t angry with Teacher. But I did have something on my mind.”
Wen Zhuo’s ears twitched faintly as he focused on listening.
Shen Zheng began cautiously patching up the traditional little cat once more. “But once I’ve said it, Teacher can simply listen and take it as you please. I respect that you may disagree, and I won’t force you to understand. Is that all right?”
Wen Zhuo drew a deep breath. Shen Zheng had taken so long to prepare him that it must be something important.
“Go on.”
Shen Zheng tightened his hold around him, afraid that the little cat might be startled and leap from the horse. The difference between their eras was more than a chasm—it was the Mariana Trench.
“Teacher said that when men love each other, their feelings are often false and unworthy of trust.” Shen Zheng looked down at the dark hair spilling across his chest. Unable to resist, he gently stroked it with the hand that had gone numb from pain, careful not to disturb him. “I only think that every human heart is different, just as every face is different. Without knowing the details, one should not make rash judgments. The untrustworthy person is merely that particular individual—not men or women as a whole.”
Wen Zhuo abruptly raised his head, disbelief written across his face.
“Among men, too, there can be a bond that lasts for a lifetime.” Shen Zheng ventured, “Would saying that offend you, Teacher?”
He waited for Wen Zhuo to quote the classics and refute him. When it came to reading ancient texts, Shen Zheng knew he was far inferior. He was certain that Wen Zhuo would soon argue him into silence.
But Wen Zhuo did not.
He merely turned his face toward Shen Zheng and stared at him in astonishment, his breathing so light it was almost imperceptible.
Those eyes were like jade newly emerged from the mountains. As they rolled through the still waters of a deep pool, they released a radiant gleam capable of taking one’s breath away.
Shen Zheng suddenly wished he could pluck a flower to hold that fleeting light.
So this was what it looked like when an ancient man’s beliefs were shaken?
Or was it simply that his little cat of a treacherous minister was especially adorable?
“All right, I won’t say any more. I’m just spouting nonsense.” Shen Zheng chuckled and tugged on the reins, making Ta Baisha lift its head. “How about I take Teacher for a ride? The scenery outside the city is lovely. This is the first time in my life I’ve taken someone riding.”
That applied to horseback riding, wild horses, and bicycles alike.
Wen Zhuo’s mind was a complete muddle. He was incapable of thinking.
The most quickly extinguished, most humble and sordid, most devoutly cherished desire in his heart had unexpectedly descended upon him—so abruptly and so easily—after he had stumbled along a thorn-strewn path through one lifetime after another.
The words Shen Chen had used to deceive him for three years had just been spoken so openly by Shen Zheng.
Shen Zheng did not actually despise the love between men?
Ta Baisha suddenly broke into a gallop, and only then did Wen Zhuo remember that he had forgotten to tell Shen Zheng to slow down.
The horse raced forward, recklessly trampling across lands beyond their reach as the scenery rushed past on every side. Wild grass bowed low across the mountains and plains.
“Ah!” Wen Zhuo instinctively shut his eyes and curled tightly into Shen Zheng’s chest, pressing his cheek against the warmth of his neck.
The horse jolted so violently that it felt as though his heart might leap from his chest. Every muscle in his body was rigid with tension. The only thing he could feel was Shen Zheng’s steady breathing each time he inhaled.
When the horse finally slowed and stopped beside the small red-lacquered sedan, Wen Zhuo’s hair was disheveled and his robes had come loose. He was on the verge of exploding with fury.
He was just about to cite chapter and verse and scold Shen Zheng for breaking his promise, but when he opened his eyes, he caught sight of the faint blood staining the reins in Shen Zheng’s hand.
In an instant, every word lodged itself in his throat.
Shen Zheng dismounted and held out a hand, carefully concealing his palm. With a smile, he asked, “Would you like me to carry you down, Teacher?”
