Those words spoken beneath the tree-lined outskirts of the capital had given Wen Zhuo a sliver of hope in Shen Zheng, but he did not dare hope for too much.
Over the years, he had come to understand all too well that the more desperately one yearned for something, the more painful the loss would be. If, one day, Shen Zheng ascended the throne and, constrained by ancestral law and the condemnation of the entire court, forgot what he had said, Wen Zhuo would be able to accept it calmly.
This summer seemed even more sweltering than usual. It was only the hour of the snake, yet the sun already blazed like a furnace hot enough to forge iron.
Wen Zhuo sat beneath the thickest pear tree in the residence, dressed in a blue summer robe of homespun cloth, but the heat still soaked the hair at his temples with sweat.
He had no choice but to roll his sleeves high, exposing half of his slender forearms, and use a paperweight to hold down the white paper on the desk before he could write outdoors.
The letter was for Gu Weizhi, who had just returned from Qianzhou.
Earlier, Wen Zhuo had already sent word to Gu Weizhi. The journey back to the capital would be fraught with danger. The stack of evidence concerning corruption in Qianzhou had to be handed over to merchants from Nanping who did business in Songluo tea. Using tea as a cover, they would transport it along the trade routes and deliver it directly to the Ministry of Revenue.
The Cao faction had always been arrogant, regarding Nanping merchants as little more than ants. They habitually guarded only against the people of Great Qian.
Now Wen Zhuo was telling Gu Weizhi that he could openly let people know the evidence had already reached the capital, saving them the trouble of continuing to contend with the Cao faction.
Over the past three months, Gu Weizhi had endured one peril after another. He had faced several moments of mortal danger in Qianzhou. Fortunately, the Marquis Yongning’s household and the old forces from Bozhou had protected him in secret, allowing him to escape disaster and return safely.
Inevitably, however, the forces belonging to the Marquis Yongning’s household had also been faintly detected by the Crown Prince’s faction. With Gong Zhiyuan’s intelligence, even if his reaction was slow, he should have guessed that the Marquis Yongning had become involved in the struggle for the throne. What he still could not determine was whom the Marquis Yongning was supporting.
Shen Zheng? Shen Chen? Or Prince Xian, who possessed a sterling reputation, had repeatedly humbled himself to seek worthy men, and sent gifts and greetings year after year?
Regardless, there was no doubt that the entire Marquis Yongning household had already become a target the Crown Prince’s faction was determined to eliminate.
Gong Zhiyuan undoubtedly had personal motives as well.
He had two sons. Neither possessed any particular talent, but both bore the responsibility of carrying the Gong family forward.
The elder had pursued a scholarly career and was currently serving as an editorial compiler at the Hanlin Academy, working under Wen Zhuo.
The younger had taken the military path and held the seventh-rank position of company commander in one of the Three Great Garrisons.
Great Qian had long maintained a system of hereditary appointments, under which the Grand Secretary could secure official positions for two sons without examinations. The two Gong sons had obtained their posts through precisely this rule.
But Gong Zhiyuan was not satisfied. He wanted his eldest son to inherit his position as Grand Secretary, while his younger son had set his sights on the post of Chief Commander of the Three Great Garrisons.
Jun Dingyuan’s appearance, however, had disrupted his plans.
Jun Dingyuan was famed for his military achievements, yet was only twenty-eight years old. If he became Chief Commander of the Three Great Garrisons, no one knew how long he would occupy the post.
If the borders remained peaceful for the next ten years, Gong Zhiyuan’s younger son might never be able to match Jun Dingyuan’s accomplishments in his entire lifetime.
For that reason alone, Gong Zhiyuan could not tolerate Jun Dingyuan.
After finishing the letter, Wen Zhuo set down his brush and waited for the ink to dry.
Liu Qiying approached carrying a bowl of iced syrup. Beads of condensation clung to the outside of the white bowl, and a cool mist seemed to wash over him.
Every winter, households throughout the capital stored ice in their cellars for relief from the summer heat.
Wen Zhuo took the bowl and drained it in one go. The chill slid down his throat, and only then did he feel some of the heat leave his body.
Liu Qiying waved a large fan furiously and could not resist teasing him. “How wonderful. My lord can drink ten bowls in a single afternoon. The old physician will never have to worry about losing the Academy Residence’s business in summer again!”
Wen Zhuo: “…”
With practiced elegance, Wen Zhuo set the empty bowl aside and deliberately ignored Liu Qiying’s sarcasm. “How is the secret passage coming along?”
Summer did have one advantage: working at night was less likely to arouse suspicion.
Great Qian followed the Song system and had no curfew, so nighttime commerce in the capital was exceptionally lively. It was perfectly normal for ordinary craftsmen to seek work after dark.
The people digging the secret passage, however, were actually members of the Marquis Yongning’s household. They worked through the night every day, unafraid of being watched, and thus made considerably faster progress.
“It’s already been excavated through. The place in our inner courtyard where the camellias used to grow is now just a giant pit. The craftsmen are plastering the passage with white lime mortar. With Prince Xian’s approval, the Ministry of Works has been making things convenient at every turn, so it should be finished soon. The only problem is that the old marquis can’t sleep because of the noise at night. He’s taken to sleeping during the hottest part of the day instead.”
Wen Zhuo was startled, then hurriedly asked with concern, “Introduce the old physician to the marquis at once. If his health cannot bear it, have him treated immediately. Whatever you do, don’t let it delay the work.”
Liu Qiying: “…”
Nearby, Jiang Mannü was rolling the letter into a small bundle and stuffing it into the copper tube tied to the carrier pigeon’s leg. In all honesty, she said, “A-Liu’s mouth was corrupted by my lord.”
The three of them were still chatting when a commotion suddenly came from the gates of the residence.
A short while later, a figure vaulted over the wall.
Shen Zheng wore a thin robe of moon-white, with his sleeves and trouser legs rolled up. He had gathered all his slightly curling hair atop his head and tied it with a strip of blue cloth. Striding beneath the blazing sun, he radiated a wild, unrestrained spirit.
Dressed like this, no one would have believed that he was the famed “Go Saint,” the Fifth Prince who had shaken the capital.
“Your Highness?” Liu Qiying stopped fanning in astonishment.
Since Shen Zheng had spent the past few months constantly running out of the palace—and had occasionally been away when Emperor Shunyuan summoned him—Wen Zhuo had specifically instructed him to leave the palace less often for the time being, lest he incur Emperor Shunyuan’s displeasure.
As a result, Shen Zheng had not visited for quite some time.
Wen Zhuo hurriedly lowered his sleeves, straightened his robe, and frowned at him with his clothing and appearance now impeccable. “Why are you dressed like this, Your Highness? Your hair is a mess.”
Shen Zheng was thoroughly fed up with the ancient style of dress. He waved his folding fan at a furious pace. “In weather this hot, I wish I could cut off my clothes and trousers—and shave my head.”
Wen Zhuo replied bluntly, “Then you probably wouldn’t need to struggle for the throne anymore. The civil and military officials would all think you’d gone mad.”
“Why did you lower your sleeves, Teacher? Aren’t you hot?” Shen Zheng had no patience for such tedious rules of etiquette. Holding up his folding fan to shield himself from the sun, he quickly made his way beneath the pear tree.
Wen Zhuo shook his head. “It would be improper.”
Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow, leaned close to his face, and studied him with a mischievous gaze. “Really? When I first met you, Teacher, weren’t you still wearing only your underclothes? When the wind blew, I even—”
Wen Zhuo raised a hand with a smack and covered his ears, tilting his head back and closing his eyes in an act of deliberate self-deception.
Back then, he had believed Shen Zheng to be half-witted, with nothing in his mind but revenge and no distractions whatsoever. But now… now things were different. Even one of this man’s random remarks was enough to send his thoughts into complete disarray.
“I haven’t finished.” Shen Zheng tugged Wen Zhuo’s wrist and freed his reddening ear from his palm, his voice full of laughter. “When the wind blew, I was so intimidated by your presence that my face turned white as paper, my legs trembled, and I was left shaken to the core. I’m still terrified even now.”
Wen Zhuo knew perfectly well that he was talking nonsense, but he truly did not want to continue the subject. He turned his eyes aside, refusing to look at Shen Zheng’s increasingly powerful forearms or his lean, muscular legs, and asked solemnly, “The secret passage is nearly complete. Do you have some urgent matter to attend to today, Your Highness?”
“My mother received a letter. My maternal uncle has already arrived in Liangzhou, and he should reach the capital within the next few days. He has been following your instructions along the way, proclaiming everywhere that he wishes to resign from office and return to his ancestral home. The response from the various prefectures and provinces has been tremendous. I estimate that by the end of this month, the memorials submitted to Father Emperor expressing their gratitude for this matter will be stacked as high as a mountain.”
Wen Zhuo secretly let out a sigh of relief when he heard that. Good. With public opinion as his foundation, even if Emperor Shunyuan was furious and lost all reason by then, he would still have to exercise some restraint.
This was the first layer of protection Wen Zhuo had prepared for Jun Dingyuan.
As for the second, he would have to bet that Shen Chen and Xie Langyang would inevitably make a move.
“The evidence of corruption in Qianzhou has already reached the Ministry of Revenue. Bu Zhangyi has people urgently sorting through it, and it will likely be presented to His Majesty in the next few days. Once Gu Weizhi arrives in the capital, that will be the moment to impeach the Cao faction. All we need to do is watch the situation unfold and see the Crown Prince and Prince Xian battle it out,” Wen Zhuo said slowly.
“I understand.” Shen Zheng nodded, then suddenly his eyes lit up. “Oh, right. I have something to show you.”
Wen Zhuo was puzzled. “What?”
“Turn around and look.”
Wen Zhuo gave him a quick glance, then immediately turned back to stare intently at a green pear in the tree. “…Then Your Highness should put your clothes on properly first.”
Shen Zheng looked down at himself. He had not exposed anything important. His sleeves were merely pushed up to his elbows, and his robe had ridden up to his knees. Sweat trickled down the lines of his muscles, sparkling brightly whenever the light caught it.
If he couldn’t even handle this, he had no business claiming to be uninhibited.
What a prudish little kitten.
Only after Shen Zheng lowered his trouser legs and straightened his sleeves did Wen Zhuo turn around again and see the little object in his palm.
Shen Zheng was holding a small wooden box. Several rhombus-patterned mirrors were set inside it, secured around the edges with thin wooden strips.
“This is called a waist-level viewfinder. I made it with rhombus mirrors and some scraps of wood left over from constructing the secret passage.” Shen Zheng placed it in Wen Zhuo’s hand, brimming with excitement. “Look down into it. You can see the clouds in the sky. Isn’t it interesting?”
It was nothing more than the basic principle behind a single-lens reflex camera. In an age without photography, it was hardly a practical invention.
Shen Zheng had simply been seized by a sudden impulse to make a little toy to relieve Wen Zhuo’s boredom. He also wanted to see those expressions of curiosity, hesitation, and countless other emotions appear on Wen Zhuo’s face—the sort of rich, lively expressions found on any young man in his twenties in the modern era.
Not the expression of a strategist constantly burdened by the struggle for the throne and the fear left by past trauma.
Though summer was scorching, thick clouds billowed like cotton against a sky as blue as freshly washed silk, creating a magnificent sight.
Wen Zhuo lowered his head to look. Sure enough, in the smoothly polished rhombus mirror, he saw rolling white clouds beneath a clear blue sky. Though only a small patch was visible, it seemed as if the entire scene had been compressed and mounted inside the mirror.
He studied it for a while, then raised his head to look at the sky and steady his thoughts. Finally, he asked Shen Zheng with perfect composure, “Why don’t I simply look up at the sky?”
Shen Zheng: “…”
The question left him utterly speechless.
Seeing that Wen Zhuo was not particularly curious, Shen Zheng was not discouraged. “Then wait a few days. I’ll think of something else and make you a device that can keep you cool, so you won’t have to fear the heat in summer.”
Wen Zhuo quietly closed his fingers around the waist-level viewfinder and hid it behind his back. “I’m not a child. Why do you always want to make toys for me?”
Shen Zheng propped his chin on one hand as he sat on the stone stool beneath the tree, his gaze burning as he looked at him.
“Because I like to.”
Wen Zhuo’s body stiffened violently, and he nearly dropped the object in his hand.
“…I like making little things to cheer my teacher up.” Shen Zheng smiled, then stood and wiped the sweat from his throat. “I should go back and study. I’ve fallen behind by ten years, so there’s a lot to catch up on. I’ll make time to come again another day.”
Wen Zhuo’s heart slowly settled back into place. His five fingers tightened slightly inside his sleeve, but he still advised him against his true wishes, “Your Highness shouldn’t come too often. It would be better to wait until the secret passage is finished. There’s no need to rush. If anything important comes up, I’ll give Your Highness a signal in court.”
“Very well.”
Shen Zheng stood silently for a while, taking in every detail of Wen Zhuo’s expression before slowly producing his folding fan. Shielding himself from the blazing sun, he left.
Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannü saw him out. For a time, no one remained in the inner courtyard.
Wen Zhuo secretly pulled open his sleeve, pinched the viewfinder between two fingers, and gave it a light flick. The wooden box made a crisp clack.
Shen Zheng was fond of giving complicated, peculiar names to his inventions—things like Monte Carlo tree search and waist-level viewfinders.
Wen Zhuo looked inside once, then again.
The white clouds were still drifting across the mirror, white and beautiful.
He lifted the device toward the sky and looked through it again. To his surprise, what he saw was the stone path beneath his feet.
How fascinating.
How strange. Why was that?
He turned it over and fiddled with it repeatedly, searching through everything he had once read in the books of the ancient sages, but he found that not one of them had mentioned anything like this.
Unable to resist, Wen Zhuo curved his lips into a smile. Holding the device up, he looked around in every direction. All the scenery truly was reversed.
“My lord!”
Liu Qiying’s voice approached from a distance.
Wen Zhuo jumped. His hand loosened, and the little device bounced three times between his palms before narrowly avoiding a fall to the ground.
He hurriedly placed it on the stone table, no longer daring to hold it while playing. Then he immediately picked up a book and pretended to read with complete concentration.
When Liu Qiying returned, she glanced at the waist-level viewfinder on the stone table, looking thoughtful. “Everyone in the city already knows that General Jun is about to arrive. Why do I get the feeling that His Highness came today just to give you this little toy?”
Wen Zhuo turned a page, his voice calm. “Not at all.”
Liu Qiying walked around the stone table, examining the device. “But it really is amazing, isn’t it? Don’t you think so, my lord?”
Both of Wen Zhuo’s eyes swiveled toward the mirror, though his lips said, “It’s nothing special.”
