The current court structure is dominated by the Crown Prince and Prince Xian.
The Crown Prince has Grand Tutor Liu Changbai, Chief Grand Secretary Gong Zhiyuan, Vice Minister of Justice Luo Mingpu, and Minister of Rites Liu Chenming under him. Prince Xian is backed by Hu Bu Zhangyi, who controls the nation's purse strings, Tang Guangzhi of the Ministry of Personnel, who manages official appointments and removals, and Minister of Works Shang Zhiqin.
The Crown Prince has a Deputy Commander of the Chief Military Commission at his beck and call, while Prince Xian holds the Military Commissioner of Liangzhou, making the two roughly evenly matched.
Logically speaking, choosing one of these two would be most convenient for Wen Zhuo—he could elevate either one to the throne with almost no effort.
Unfortunately, Xie Langyang was right: the current Crown Prince is incompetent, and Prince Xian is hypocritical.
Crown Prince Shen Zhen is too much like Emperor Shunyuan—he seeks no merit in anything, only to avoid fault. If he ascended the throne, the court would remain a stagnant pond.
As for Prince Xian, Shen Bi, he puts on the appearance of being humble and open to advice, gracious to the worthy, but in truth he is paranoid and petty-minded. Anyone who offends him, even by speaking with righteous conviction, will not come to a good end.
As for the other princes...
Third Prince Shen Ting was born disabled, with one leg shorter than the other. Those who saw him for the first time could hardly keep from secretly laughing, and this had made him extremely sensitive and cruel-tempered, often taking out his violence on innocent people.
Fourth Prince Shen He had no ambition for the throne at all. Ever since he married the girl he loved, he spent his days only wanting to eat, drink, and enjoy himself with his beloved wife. The only reason he got involved in this path was because his adoptive mother, Consort Zhen, forced him into it.
Seventh Prince Shen Bing was only ten years old this year—obedient, quiet, and no trouble at all. He would have made a suitable puppet to hold in one's hands, but Wen Zhuo truly had no interest in holding the emperor hostage to command the lords. After all, even if he seized the throne, it would only bring headaches, and he would never have heirs.
And the Fifth Prince, Shen Zheng... Wen Zhuo's lashes trembled, and he paused noticeably.
Shen Zheng's maternal family wielded great power. His maternal grandfather was Marquis Yongning, his mother had been made Consort Liang immediately upon entering the palace, and his own maternal uncle was General Dingyuan, who had just won the great victory over Nanping. Logically, he should have been capable of contending for the position of heir apparent, or at the very least be granted the title of prince.
Unfortunately, he was born dull-witted. He could not speak at three, could barely run and jump at four, recited his first poem at six, and at eight he was sent away as a hostage. Both the imperial physicians and the Bureau of Astronomy had examined him and declared: congenital deficiency in all five faculties, spiritual apertures never opened. In short, this child was a lost cause.
Shen Zheng, ever cooperative, lived up to the assessment—when people said he was done for, he was truly done for.
Ten years as a hostage, and he came back with his courage thoroughly broken. After his return, he had a vacant stare and mumbled indistinctly, looking utterly beyond saving.
If only Shen Zheng had been just a little smarter, perhaps... never mind.
There were still three years left—panning for gold in shit, as it were. He would take his time.
The most pressing matter now was the Spring Terrace Go Tournament. He needed to think about how to make Shen Chen lose that match in utter humiliation.
Wen Zhuo leaned gently against the soft cushion inside the palanquin, gazing out through the parted curtain at the window, his eyes gradually filling with a hatred as deep and cold as night rain.
Perhaps the weather was too damp, the moisture too heavy, or perhaps his body was too weak—Wen Zhuo habitually pressed both palms against his knees and gripped them tightly.
Shen Chen, ah, Shen Chen. What nonsense about auspicious astrological alignment and signs of bearing the great treasure? This minister will choose who becomes the emperor!
When the palanquin stopped before the Wen residence, Liu Qiying was already waiting to greet him. She wrapped a fur robe around him and sent him straight into the bedchamber, swiftly tucking him into a warm, toasty quilt.
Jiang Mannü went further, carrying in three charcoal braziers in one breath, raising the temperature of the room to a high degree.
Only this way could it be ensured that Wen Zhuo would not fall ill from the dampness or suffer all over.
Wen Zhuo, warmed by the fire, wriggled his head out from under the quilt, his eyes following the two bustling figures back and forth.
Two hours ago, he had heard from Shen Chen's own mouth the news of their deaths.
To them, it had been a perfectly ordinary day. To him, it was a reunion he had not had in a long, long time.
Wen Zhuo shuffled forward slightly, his cheeks dusted as if with the colors of sunset. "No need. I don't ache much today."
For the first time since entering prison, he felt no pain—surrounded as he was by warm fire and warm people.
Liu Qiying hung up the fur robe, pulled an abacus from her waist, and rattled off a quick series of calculations, her phoenix eyes sweeping over his flushed face.
"Your annual salary is 155 taels of silver. The household expenses come to 8 taels a month, leaving an annual balance of 59 taels. Given your fine habit of falling ill once every three days and being bedridden once every seven, I sincerely suggest you listen to me from now on like tonight—no wind, no rain. Otherwise, to save costs, I humbly advise you to kick Vice Minister Xie to the curb and take up with an old imperial physician instead."
Wen Zhuo stared steadily at the sharp-tongued Liu Qiying, unable to help asking, "Are you even human?"
Liu Qiying: "..."
Jiang Mannü, reaching out to feel Wen Zhuo's forehead, grumbled, "How can you talk to her like that! You know how many years of feeling she has for you and Vice Minister Xie's seven-year bond!"
Wen Zhuo silently dodged her soot-black sleeve.
Just as the slow-witted Jiang Mannü began to suspect she was being rejected, Wen Zhuo said softly, "Since I'm paying you so much, would you be willing to go through fire and water for me?"
Jiang Mannü, with great loyalty, thumped her chest: "I would!"
Liu Qiying immediately rolled her eyes. "In your dreams. If anything happens to you, I'll turn around and run."
Wen Zhuo laughed at once, but as he laughed, his eyes grew suddenly wet, as if soaked with the damp air outside.
Fool. Then why didn't you run?
Liu Qiying was slightly startled. She was perceptive and quickly sensed something off in Wen Zhuo's mood.
Under normal circumstances, Wen Zhuo would have traded sharp barbs with her in a verbal duel. But today, ever since he entered the door, he had been far too gentle and quiet.
"Did something happen at court?" Liu Qiying frowned slightly.
"Nothing. Just tired." Wen Zhuo flopped onto the bed and burrowed further into the quilt, until only his two eyes were showing, looking as if he was about to sleep.
Rebirth was such a mysterious matter—no point explaining it. Otherwise, there would be no end to the talk. Besides... their fates in the previous life had been terrible indeed.
Wen Zhuo lay with his eyes closed for a while, then opened them again and said, "Tomorrow, go to Vice Minister Xie's residence. Tell him there's an essay by the name of 'Ode to Evening Mountains' and ask him to return it to me."
Liu Qiying's pupils contracted sharply when she heard this—clearly stunned.
Her earlier remark about him dumping Xie Langyang for an old physician had been a joke, but it seemed Wen Zhuo had actually taken it to heart.
That "Ode to Evening Mountains" could essentially be called the testament of their bond.
Back then, when sixteen-year-old Wen Zhuo was traveling to the capital for the imperial examinations, he ran out of money and food along the way, starving. By chance, he met Xie Langyang, a son of a distinguished family five years his elder.
The two became companions, discussing antiquity and the present, sharing kindred aspirations and mutual admiration.
Wen Zhuo was frail and sickly, so Xie Langyang fetched him medicine. Wen Zhuo's purse was empty, so Xie Langyang gave him silver. Wen Zhuo's clothes were shabby, so Xie Langyang unrobed himself and gifted them.
On the day before entering the capital, the two lodged in a small town where a great snowfall had shuttered every shop. Coincidentally, that day happened to be Wen Zhuo's birthday. Xie Langyang searched the green hills far and wide until he found a single branch of camellia, pale as fine jade, and said to him: Wen Wanshan, Wanshan—my feelings I cannot restrain.
Wanshan was the elegant name for the camellia flower, and the match was truly fitting.
To Wen Zhuo, who had known little of family affection, the care and bond Xie Langyang offered were like sweet rain after a long drought—he treasured them as precious jewels.
And so Wen Zhuo composed this ode, titled after Wanshan, and gifted it to Xie Langyang. Only Jiang and Liu knew of this matter.
What on earth had happened now?
Seeing that Wen Zhuo didn't seem inclined to share, Liu Qiying tactfully refrained from asking more. Jiang Mannü, who was anxious out of concern, was about to make a fuss when Liu Qiying quickly grabbed her by the collar and dragged her away.
The Wen residence was relatively peaceful that night, but the Kang'an Palace of the Sixth Prince was in complete chaos.
Although Shen Chen had fainted early on, by the time Emperor Shunyuan learned of it and allowed the imperial physicians to treat him, nearly three hours had already passed.
The small kitchen prepared a cold-remedy decoction according to the prescription, while the physician pried open his jaw and fed him a medicinal pellet to keep him stable, waiting for the decoction to finish brewing before forcing it down his throat and piling on the blankets to induce sweating.
After all the commotion, it wasn't until the sky began to lighten that Shen Chen finally regained consciousness.
Fortunately, he was young and robust, so he wasn't overwhelmed by the sudden illness.
Xie Langyang had not left the palace all night, keeping vigil by Shen Chen's side. As soon as Shen Chen woke, he immediately rushed to the bedside.
The ruler and his minister exchanged a glance, both reading complex and troubled expressions in each other's eyes.
After a long moment, Shen Chen waved away the others, leaving Xie Langyang behind.
"Minister Xie remembers too, doesn't he?" Shen Chen cut straight to the point.
Xie Langyang thought to himself, so Shen Chen has also returned with his memories. Now there are three who know the future. He wondered if there would be more, but judging by the reactions of the ministers in the court yesterday, none of them seemed to have any memories.
Seeing Xie Langyang's silence, Shen Chen understood. He leaned against the bed, grinding his teeth: "Absurd, truly absurd! I fought so hard to ascend the throne, only to run into this bizarre affair, and now it's all for nothing!"
Xie Langyang hastily knelt down: "Your Highness, last night was my fault. I failed to dissuade His Majesty."
"What about Wen Zhuo? Why didn't Wen Zhuo plead for mercy? Does he remember too?" Although Shen Chen was ill, his mind remained sharp. He hadn't actually fainted last night—he had feigned unconsciousness when he saw the situation turning bad. But who would have thought those eunuchs were so timid that they took forever to deliver a message, forcing him to endure three whole hours in that state.
If he wanted to protect Wen Zhuo, Xie Langyang should have said Wen Zhuo knew nothing, to reduce Shen Chen's wariness and hostility. Unfortunately, the education he had received from childhood made it impossible for him to lie to his sovereign. So after a long internal struggle, Xie Langyang lowered his head.
"...He does know." Xie Langyang crawled forward on his knees, that spine that had once stood tall against heaven and earth seeming to have bent again and again. "But Your Highness, Wen Zhuo's resentment is understandable. If you would only retract your order and grant him a path to survival, I will certainly counsel him, teach him the greater righteousness, and have him share your burdens."
Having said this, Xie Langyang bowed deeply.
Shen Chen looked at Xie Langyang's devout kowtow, but was not moved.
Sometimes he felt that although Xie Langyang was deeply devoted, he didn't truly understand Wen Zhuo at all.
After what had happened, no matter what Shen Chen did—even if he tore out his own heart to show Wen Zhuo—Wen Zhuo would never trust or support him again.
Only Xie Langyang could still harbor such wishful thinking.
Shen Chen's current situation was awkward. Although he knew very well how he had fought his way past his older brothers to the throne, now there was the added variable of Wen Zhuo.
If Wen Zhuo didn't cause trouble, fine, but what if he did?
He came from a poor background and had few allies to begin with. When he had approached Gong Jinjin, he had hoped to gain the support of Gong Zhiyuan, but that old fox was too cunning—knowing the risks of switching allegiances, he ignored Shen Chen entirely, even abandoning his own daughter.
Later, Shen Chen learned from Gong Jinjin that her younger sister Gong Yuwen had married a man who liked both men and women. When he discovered that the one sharing peach blossoms with Xie Langyang was Wen Zhuo, his scheme of self-injury was formed.
Could this truly be divine retribution, sending him back to this point in time?
"Your Highness, I beg you!" Xie Langyang had not slept all night, and red veins covered his eyes. In fact, he hadn't had a proper night's rest for over a month.
He felt as though he were squeezed between two stone walls—one inscribed with loyalty, the other with righteousness—both pressing ever closer, crushing the breath out of him.
He could push with all his might against one wall, but when he did, he saw blood seeping through the cracks in the stone. He quickly let go, realizing that no matter which direction he pushed, he was destined to stain his hands with blood and become a man without loyalty or righteousness.
Shen Chen suddenly looked at Xie Langyang strangely: "You truly believe I'm the one who wants to kill Wen Zhuo?"
Xie Langyang froze.
Shen Chen smiled with an unreadable expression, then reached out and helped Xie Langyang to his feet, as though sovereign and minister had bared their hearts in the chaos of that turbulent night.
"Very well, I promise you, my esteemed minister: if Wen the Master does not oppose me, this time I will allow him to resign from office and return to his hometown."
Xie Langyang's feelings toward Shen Chen were complicated.
Although Shen Chen had coerced him into impeaching Wen Zhuo, forcing him to personally send his beloved to hell, Shen Chen had also relied heavily on him and trusted him, even declaring before the assembled courtiers: "What I expect of you, sir, is to illuminate the mountains and rivers."
To any scholar with ideals and ambitions, such words were worth dying for.
In order not to betray the sovereign's grace or fail the realm, Xie Langyang had struggled bitterly and ultimately, in pain, sacrificed Wen Zhuo.
Since Shen Chen was now willing to promise a satisfactory conclusion, Xie Langyang believed a ruler's word was his bond.
So Xie Langyang moved to kowtow in gratitude, but Shen Chen stopped him: "But Minister Xie, you must not tell Wen the Master that I, too, have memories of our past life. Otherwise, before you manage to persuade him, my position will become very precarious."
He needed to create an information gap, to make Wen Zhuo lower his guard and misjudge, in order to turn passivity into initiative.
Xie Langyang did not want to deceive Wen Zhuo.
Back when they had pledged their love on Qingping Mountain, he had promised that between him and Wen Zhuo there would only be sincerity, never lies.
But he also knew that circumstances were unusual now, that Shen Chen's position was delicate, and that Wen Zhuo was ruthless and vengeful by nature.
A gentleman should put the realm before his own private concerns, so he could only do Wen Zhuo wrong.
"...Your minister obeys the decree."
Having stabilized Xie Langyang, Shen Chen breathed a sigh of relief.
Wen Zhuo was irretrievably lost to him now; he needed Xie Langyang to help him carry out the next step.
—The Spring Terrace Chess Gathering.
The people of the Great Qian Dynasty revered chess. Scholars made friends through the game, warriors dueled across the board, and from the imperial clan down to the common folk, everyone knew something of it.
Among distinguished families, having a national-level master in residence was a hallmark of their prestige.
In the current chess world, there were eight orthodox lineages, each standing as equals: the Shi Gate, the Xie Gate, the Xiao Gate, the Song Gate, the Cheng Gate, the Yang Gate, the Zhu Gate, and the Helian Gate.
Each lineage possessed its own exquisite techniques and infinite variations. Players across the realm had to choose a school to study under and continually refine their skills to compete at the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering.
Although all eight lineages were formidable, only the top three each year earned the title of National Chess Master. The victors naturally basked in glory, while the losers were subjected to a year of ridicule.
If several years passed without a National Master emerging from one's school, that lineage would inevitably decline.
Over the past decade or more, many disciples of the eight lineages had taken office in the court, and their ties with the princes had grown tangled and complex.
Though an ultimate contest was inevitable, the gaps between masters were minuscule. Simply manipulating the draw slightly—arranging for strong opponents to exhaust each other while they conserved their own strength—could alter the outcome dramatically.
This required covert maneuvering by those in power.
So when Emperor Shunyuan's decree came down, Wen Zhuo, as the person in charge, instantly became a hot commodity.
Shen Chen remembered very clearly: on this very day, the threshold of the Wen residence would be worn thin by messengers from the Crown Prince and Prince Xian.
Nor were those the only two—the Third Prince, Shen Ting, also sent songstresses and new tunes from the imperial music bureau.
Of course, he went as well, but under the guise of thanking his master for taking him on as a disciple, which sounded pure and uncomplicated enough on the surface.
At the time, Wen Zhuo had dismissed all the people sent by the Crown Prince and Prince Xian, and he had also refused Shen Ting's gifts. Despite the pain he was enduring, he alone treated Shen Chen with courtesy and respect.
Shen Chen said in a low voice, "Father has decided that Wen Zhuo will preside over the Spring Terrace Go Tournament. I imagine quite a few princes will be going to pay their respects to him today. Last time, Wen Zhuo chose me. Vice Minister Xie, what changes do you think there will be this time?"
What he truly wanted to ask was whom Wen Zhuo intended to elevate to the throne this time.
The Crown Prince and Prince Xian's faction was growing powerful, and Third Prince Shen Ting was brimming with ambition. Perhaps both were within Wen Zhuo's consideration.
"I believe he will not choose anyone for the time being—not the Crown Prince, not Prince Xian, nor Shen Ting or Shen Zheng."
Xie Langyang naturally could not repeat the reckless words Wen Zhuo had spoken before the Cooling Pavilion—"I will decide the throne"—lest Shen Chen revoke his promise. He preferred to believe that it was merely a momentary outburst of anger from Wen Zhuo.
"Shen Zheng?" Shen Chen let out a bitter laugh. He knew full well that in his previous life, Shen Zheng had also gone to pay his respects, and he had even asked Wen Zhuo to humiliate him then—he simply hadn't bothered to mention it just now. "Even if Wen Zhuo truly wanted to choose him, my foolish Fifth Brother would have to be someone worth propping up. The key issue still lies with those three..."
"If he wanted to choose any of those three, he would have done so long ago. In truth, aside from Your Highness, he has no other viable option." Sweat trickled down Xie Langyang's temples, though his words were earnest and sincere.
Shen Chen fell silent for a moment, thinking back to the bitter words Wen Zhuo had spoken before his death, and he was still shaken by the memory.
So he took Xie Langyang's hand, and with a face pale and sickly like a youth's, he pleaded, "The Spring Terrace Go Tournament is of utmost importance to me. I must ask Vice Minister Xie to help me win this round."
