Shen Zheng was filled with growing doubts. Could it be that even the disasters recorded in The History of Qian were fabricated?
But that made no sense. Emperor Shengde had no reason to deliberately slander Shen Bi. By the time Zhu Xibang revised The History of Qian, Shen Bi had already hanged himself, and a dead man posed no threat whatsoever to Zhu Xibang’s hold on the throne.
If it was out of jealousy toward Shen Bi’s good reputation, and he had insisted on pinning a false accusation on him, that would have been even more unnecessary. Shen Bi’s renown had always been confined to the scholar-official circles of the capital; few common people had ever heard of him. Moreover, after Emperor Shengde’s general amnesty, he had already used one pretext after another to bring the literati who had supported Prince Xian to heel. There was no need to go to such lengths.
What was more, according to modern scholars’ research into the descendants of the former inhabitants of Mianzhou, their dietary habits and accents closely matched those of the people from the old prefectures of Ping and Liang. This indicated that the later inhabitants of Mianzhou had indeed migrated there from those two regions.
“Let’s enter the city first and investigate.” Wen Zhuo’s tone was calm, his gaze deep and inscrutable.
In truth, Mianzhou had not left him with many dark memories. He had not lived here as a child, but in Liangping County, which lay beyond a mountain ridge from the prefectural capital.
The Wen family of Liangping was the most prestigious clan in the county.
As the foremost local gentryman, Wen Yingjing owned estates stretching for several miles, and the clan’s influence ran deep and wide. Even the county magistrate would bow and greet him respectfully upon seeing him.
The Wen family ancestral hall was also the grandest building in the county seat. Every beam and pillar was painted with gold lacquer, and even the plaque was made from thousand-year-old timber.
In the eyes of outsiders, he was Great Benefactor Wen, a philanthropist who delighted in charity and cultivated friendships. But within the family…
A shadow passed through Wen Zhuo’s eyes. He had not expected to remember everything from before the age of thirteen so clearly—even the despair-inducing gleam of the gold lacquer on the ancestral hall’s beams was still vividly etched in his mind.
“We’ll have to enter the city separately. We’re too conspicuous as a group,” Shen Zheng said.
Wen Zhuo collected his thoughts and shifted his gaze. “Very well. Liu Qiying, Jiang Mannü, and I will go together. Your Highness—”
“I’ll follow behind you,” Shen Zheng cut in.
Thus, the thirty-odd people immediately scattered, forming groups of two or three and blending into the flow of travelers entering the city before the gates closed.
Wen Zhuo had just raised his foot to move when Shen Zheng grabbed him. “Wait. Teacher’s face is far too striking. You should cover it somehow.”
Shen Zheng had personally witnessed the power of Wen Zhuo’s looks.
As a modern man who had seen all sorts of film and television stars, he had nevertheless been so overwhelmed upon meeting Wen Zhuo for the first time that his nose had started bleeding.
And at the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering, when Wen Zhuo had simply taken his seat on the Viewing Platform, the capital’s normally proud and aloof painters had transformed into crazed fan accounts chasing a celebrity, their brushes flying as they produced picture after picture.
As for how the game was played or who the players were—who cared?
Here in this remote little city, someone as handsome as Wen Zhuo was probably one of a kind. If he drew a crowd and blocked the gates, it would only cause trouble.
“Is that really necessary?” Wen Zhuo frowned. “When I came here to sit the provincial examination at thirteen, I walked around freely and caused no trouble.”
Shen Zheng thought to himself: According to scientific research, twenty-seven is the peak of human facial development. At thirteen, you were just a pretty little kitten carved from jade!
“My lord, I happen to have some handy tools here. Let me give you a taste of how difficult life can be for ordinary people.” Liu Qiying untied her satchel and revealed the eyebrow pigment and forehead yellow she carried with her, her eyes gleaming mischievously.
“…”
Wen Zhuo was helpless and could only let her transform him.
A short while later, a sickly young gentleman appeared before them, his face sallow and his brow darkened with ill fortune.
His features were still exquisitely beautiful, but paired with that complexion, he looked as though he had only a few days left to live. He seemed born under an unlucky star, the sort of person people instinctively avoided.
Wen Zhuo still felt it was not thorough enough. He simply took the eyebrow pigment and drew a palm-sized black mole behind his ear.
“Your Highness, will this do?” He lowered the brush and met Shen Zheng’s eyes.
Shen Zheng was once again rendered speechless by the unfairness of the world. Some people went to great lengths to make themselves beautiful and still ended up looking utterly ordinary. Others deliberately ruined their own appearance, yet the moment they lifted their eyes to look at someone, their gaze still shimmered with tender allure.
“…That should be about enough.” Wen Zhuo had successfully gone from breathtakingly beautiful to merely campus-heartthrob handsome.
“Then let’s go.” Wen Zhuo shifted his injured leg and headed toward the city gate.
The skin on his leg was already chafed raw, and he limped with a wavering gait that suited his sickly appearance perfectly, making the disguise all the more convincing.
They successfully blended into the crowd.
Sure enough, when the people nearby caught sight of Wen Zhuo, they stared for a moment, then shook their heads regretfully and looked away.
Shen Zheng, however, drew frequent glances from the women around him. He was dressed in riding clothes, leading a white horse, with his face hidden behind a veil.
Shen Zheng decided to go along with it. Pretending to be bored, he turned to smile at an older woman beside him. “Ma’am, what are you going into the city for?”
Seeing that he was tall and broad-shouldered, with a handsome, spirited face, the woman responded warmly enough. “Why, to attend the Mianzhou Fragrance Fair, of course.”
“Oh? What’s the Mianzhou Fragrance Fair?” Shen Zheng asked, feigning curiosity.
A trace of suspicion flashed through the woman’s eyes. “You don’t know?”
Shen Zheng smiled. “To be honest, I’m from the capital. My father does some business, and he heard that Mianzhou’s suhe incense is famous throughout the land, so he sent me here to buy some and transport it back to the capital to make a profit.”
At that, the woman curled her lip disdainfully. “Suhe incense? Such vulgar stuff is worth making a special trip for? Since you’ve come to the Fragrance Fair, why not take a look at the real treasures?”
Shen Zheng’s heart stirred.
He remembered that Mianzhou suhe incense and ambergris were both tribute-grade fragrances, treasures that even the imperial consorts regarded as priceless. How had they become nothing more than vulgar goods in the mouth of an ordinary woman?
“Are there fragrances even better than suhe incense?”
“What rare fragrance can’t you find at the fair? But money makes the world go round. If you’ve got none, go back where you came from. The question is whether you can afford what you’re looking at.” The woman pursed her lips. Her tone was blunt and grating, and she ignored Shen Zheng after speaking.
Although her face was pale and malnourished, the bundle she carried was stuffed full. Two sturdy men accompanied her as well.
A closer look revealed that both men wore grim expressions. Their hands were covered in calluses, and their fingernails were caked with black grime. Several suspicious dark stains spattered their hemp-cloth garments.
Shen Zheng suspected they were blood.
Ever since he had spoken to the woman, the two men had been staring fixedly at him. Their thick, blade-like nails curled slightly, and their entire bodies exuded the vicious menace of hardened bandits—as if they would attack the moment he showed the slightest interest in the bundle.
The woman was carrying a considerable amount of money, and there must have been plenty of people who had coveted it along the way. Those people had probably become ghosts by now.
Shen Zheng quietly took two steps back, avoiding their edge.
He looked up once more. Unlike Geyang Prefecture, which had been ravaged by disaster, this city was filled with people carrying well-stocked bags and bundles. An eerie air of prosperity hung over the place.
Truly, when the capital was far away, some people could live more freely than the emperor himself. No wonder Prince Xian had been able to siphon away so much wealth from here.
Wen Zhuo leaned on Liu Qiying’s arm and had just reached the gate when a burly archer rudely blocked his path.
The soldier wore a gray cloth uniform and carried a wind knife at his waist. He cast a sidelong glance at Wen Zhuo with narrow, triangular eyes, his tone as foul as manure.
“Stop! You sickly wretch, don’t you know the rules? The city gate isn’t somewhere a worthless bastard who won’t live past tomorrow can enter whenever he pleases!”
Wen Zhuo concealed the chill in his eyes, revealing only a trace of bewilderment. “What do you mean?”
The soldier let out a mocking laugh. His gaze traveled over Wen Zhuo’s blue robe before flicking sideways toward Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannü beside him. Drawing out his words, he said, “See this chessboard? If you want to enter the city, you have to place a piece first. If you can’t even play chess, then clearly you’re not qualified to attend the incense gathering. Best turn around now and go home to drink the northwest wind!”
“How dare you be so insolent!” Jiang Mannü’s thick brows shot upward in fury, and her clenched fists crackled.
Wen Zhuo was already in poor health and had suffered from a chronic chill for years. Words like “short-lived” were the unspoken fears in their hearts and a taboo on their tongues. Jiang Mannü had never seen anyone so eager to die as this filthy wretch.
Wen Zhuo raised a hand and gently pressed it against her wrist. His expression remained calm as he fixed his eyes on the hastily erected chessboard.
This was a game of Hundred-Person Chess.
In Hundred-Person Chess, every passerby placed one piece, making a single move before moving on, until the game was complete.
To an expert, a person’s level of chess and depth of study could be judged from a single move. Some literati in the capital enjoyed playing this way. Whenever the side one played for lost, one had to drink three cups of wine as punishment.
The game before them had reached a critical juncture. The white stones were being tightly hemmed in by the black, and the large group in the center was on the verge of annihilation. The piece handed to Wen Zhuo was, coincidentally, a white one.
To others, this predicament might have seemed hopeless. But in Wen Zhuo’s eyes, it was nothing worth mentioning. With one move, he could turn the entire game around.
He held the white stone between his fingers and was about to place it at the key point that would break the deadlock when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed an old man dressed like a secretary sitting beside a tea stall not far away.
The old man wore a gray shirt and cloth shoes. He held a bowl of tea in his hands, but his eyes were not on the tea. Instead, they swept, seemingly casually, over everyone entering the city.
Wen Zhuo studied the thin calluses between the old man’s index and middle fingers and immediately knew that he was someone who handled chess pieces frequently.
As his thoughts turned, Wen Zhuo paused.
If the chess game had been set up to screen out impoverished people who could not afford to attend the incense gathering, that would have been understandable.
But why was the old man spying from the shadows?
If he had stood openly beside the board and conducted the examination as a guard, Wen Zhuo would not have thought much of it.
But the man was skulking about, and everything about him was strange.
Could it be that the chess game at the city gate was not meant to screen out poor vagrants at all, but to identify those with exceptional chess skills?
People such as… Wen Zhuo, who had been granted the title of national chess master at a young age, and Shen Zheng, the founder of the Ninth Branch of the Meng School.
Thinking back, when Gong Zhiyuan and Xie Langyang had brought up Mianzhou at court, the two of them had been completely unprepared. If Prince Xian had sent word to Mianzhou at that time, the messenger would certainly have arrived ahead of them.
Afterward, Shen Zheng had single-handedly plotted Du Yanyue’s incursion into the palace, forcing the disaster-relief convoy to detour through Liangzhou. Only then had they escaped the predictions of Prince Xian’s faction.
At this thought, Wen Zhuo gave a cold laugh. His fingertip shifted slightly, and he placed the white stone in a corner of the board, splitting two stones apart.
The move was neither good nor bad. It barely avoided the black stones’ edge without escaping the deadlock, presenting the perfect image of someone with mediocre chess skills who had no choice but to make a feeble move.
The old man by the tea stall lifted his body slightly and glanced toward the chessboard. Seeing such a pedestrian move, he shook his head gently and sat back down.
At the city gate, the archer exchanged a look with the old man. Impatience appeared on his face as he waved his hand.
“Hurry up and go in. Don’t block the way!”
Wen Zhuo entered the city without incident. Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannü followed close behind, and the archer did not even question them before letting them pass.
It seemed women were not being checked. The examination was aimed only at the two men.
Wen Zhuo had originally intended to find an opportunity to send Shen Zheng a message, but after thinking it over, he decided it was unnecessary. Given Shen Zheng’s true level of skill, there was no need to worry about him.
Before long, the old woman who had spoken with Shen Zheng earlier arrived at the city gate, carrying a bulging bundle. The archer let her pass directly, but stopped the two sturdy men beside her.
“Stop. Play a move!”
The two men looked at each other blankly. It was obvious that neither of them knew the first thing about chess.
“You can’t play?” The archer frowned and waved them away. “If you don’t have any money, what are you doing in the city? Get lost!”
The old woman immediately began making a scene. Slapping her thighs, she shouted, “They’re my attendants! Why can’t they come in?”
“The times are unsettled,” the guard barked. “Who knows what sort of people you’re bringing into the city? What if vagrants and lowborn riffraff come here to cause trouble?”
The old woman slapped and pounded at herself, wailing as though the sky were falling. “I traveled for three days and three nights from another county just to attend the incense gathering! There was never any such rule before. You’re clearly bullying people! I don’t care—they must come in with me!”
The archer grew irritated by the noise and cursed, “Making a scene in the street and disturbing public order. Drag this madwoman away and lock her in the prefectural prison!”
The woman’s face changed drastically. The fierce, blustering attitude vanished without a trace. Her knees went weak, and she nearly collapsed to the ground.
“No… I’m not going in. I’m not going in!” she cried, her voice thick with sobs.
“Too late!” A cruel smile spread across the archer’s face. He spat on the ground. “You lowly hag, how dare you make trouble at the city gate? Do you take this grandpa for a servant in your household?”
Two soldiers stepped forward at his command. Without a word, they seized the old woman and dragged her toward the side of the city gate. As they went, one of them snatched the bundle from her arms and hefted the heavy contents, greed lighting up their faces.
The old woman wept herself hoarse and begged them repeatedly, but her pleas only drew bursts of laughter from the soldiers. Their behavior was no different from bandits stopping travelers to rob them on the road.
Shen Zheng watched the entire farce unfold, his brows drawing together slightly.
Around him, however, the common people acted as though they had long grown accustomed to such scenes. Their whispers were filled with schadenfreude.
“Serves her right. Evil people always meet their match.”
“She actually dared argue with the officials, all because she has a little money!”
“I know her. She’s nothing but a distant relative of Great Benefactor Wen. She spends all day throwing the Wen family’s name around and throwing her weight about, without ever considering her actual standing!”
“Great Benefactor Wen wouldn’t even spare her a glance!”
…
Shen Zheng was just about to ask who this Great Benefactor Wen was when it was his turn to make a move.
What a coincidence—the piece handed to him was also white.
The secretary-like old man beside the tea stall saw that Shen Zheng was tall and straight, with an imposing bearing. Half his face was covered by a veil, and the old man’s heart gave a sudden jolt.
With such stature and presence, could he be the legendary Chess Saint Fifth Prince?
The secretary abruptly rose from his seat. Leaving his tea bowl behind, he craned his neck to get a better look.
Shen Zheng was far less perceptive than Wen Zhuo when it came to the physical features of people from ancient times, so he did not notice anything unusual about the tea stall.
He held the white stone between two fingers and pondered in silence for a long while. At last, he placed it on the board with great solemnity.
The secretary stared at the move. In an instant, relief washed over him. He dropped back into his chair and shook his head repeatedly.
With the profound and mysterious techniques of the Meng School, the Fifth Prince would never place a stone there. This move had sent the white stones straight into a trap, leaving them utterly doomed.
Seeing this, the archer waved him through.
“You can go in.”
Shen Zheng let out a quiet breath of relief and ambled to the mouth of the street, where he joined Wen Zhuo, who had been watching from the shadows.
“I wonder how good the guards from the Yongning Marquis’s residence are at chess. Do you think they’ll be able to get in?” Shen Zheng looked back toward the city gate, still somewhat worried.
A sly glint flashed through Wen Zhuo’s eyes. “I knew Your Highness would pass with no trouble.”
Shen Zheng turned to look at him. Beneath his sickly pallor, Wen Zhuo wore a radiant smile, gentle and fluid as rippling water. Shen Zheng’s heart began to itch and soften all at once.
He said modestly, “That’s only because you taught me well, Teacher.”
“…”
Your Highness, please don’t flatter me like that.
Shen Zheng changed the subject, his gaze falling to Wen Zhuo’s leg. “Everything about Mianzhou is strange. Let’s find somewhere to stay first and change your bandages.”
Wen Zhuo’s wound had been covered by the leg guard all the way here, and was already soaked through with sweat. The injury, which had begun to heal, had probably been rubbed raw again.
He did not try to act tough. He merely pressed his lips together and nodded.
Not far from the city gate stood a lavish inn. The three-story building had upturned eaves, ornate tiled roofs, and bright vermilion railings. A gilt sign reading “Qixian Residence” hung above the entrance, swaying gently in the breeze.
Shen Zheng turned around and patted his back. “Come on. I’ll carry you over.”
“Your Highness, there’s no need—”
“Would you rather be carried in my arms?” Shen Zheng cut him off, amusement glinting in his eyes. He had mastered the art of putting on a show to perfection. “But carrying you that way would attract too much attention. We should keep a low profile. Which do you choose?”
Wen Zhuo was silent for a moment before conceding. “…Carry me on your back.”
Shen Zheng crouched down slightly. Feeling awkward, Wen Zhuo wrapped his arms around his neck and gently climbed onto his back.
Shen Zheng lifted him with ease and gave him a slight boost. “Hold on tight.”
Wen Zhuo tightened his arms around him. His wrist pressed against Shen Zheng’s collarbone, warm and solid beneath his skin.
Satisfied, Shen Zheng strode toward the inn as though he were flying.
Behind them, Jiang Mannü pointed at her own nose, her face full of confusion.
Did he not see me?
Did he not see that I was the strongest, fittest, and most skilled person in the entire group?
Why trouble His Highness when I could have carried him myself?
Liu Qiying watched their retreating figures thoughtfully. “Why do I feel like…”
Jiang Mannü looked troubled. “You think I’ve been getting ignored lately too, don’t you? They won’t even let me do the heavy work anymore. Could it be that they want me to learn embroidery?”
“…His Highness and Sir Wen make quite a good match,” Liu Qiying finished, then rapped Jiang Mannü sharply on the head and turned to run.
“Huh?”
“Hey!”
“You hit me on the head again!”
Jiang Mannü took off after her.
At last, they reached the inn. Shen Zheng said to the attendant waiting by the door, “Get us several superior rooms. Money is no concern.”
“Right away, sir!” Seeing Wen Zhuo’s sallow face as he was carried on Shen Zheng’s back, the attendant hurriedly led them inside. “Is your friend ill?”
The moment they entered the main hall, they were met by a cacophony of voices. More than a hundred people sat gathered around the tables, surrounded by an array of sumptuous dishes. The aroma of food and wine filled the air, while the clatter of bowls and chopsticks rose and fell without pause.
This hardly looked like an area ravaged by locusts. If anything, it resembled Chess Street in the capital.
Could it be that the situation here truly was not as severe as they had heard?
Lying on Shen Zheng’s back, Wen Zhuo spoke in a low voice. “The noisier a place is, the easier it is to gather information.”
Shen Zheng agreed. He was just about to carry Wen Zhuo upstairs when a sudden commotion erupted behind them.
A heavy object came rolling along the imperial road, its body scraping against the blue-gray bricks with a shrill screech and kicking up a cloud of dust.
The dull thuds of fists and feet immediately tore through the calm outside the inn. Four vicious-looking laborers surrounded the “heavy object,” raining blows upon it while cursing.
“You old bastard! How the hell did you sneak into the city?”
“You dared to offend our young master? You must be tired of living!”
“You filthy cur! You’ve dirtied our young master’s eyes!”
Not far away, a low sedan with a gilt hairpin ornament stood by the roadside. A man sat inside it.
He had a lazy air about him and handsome, refined features. He wore a robe of embroidered nasha silk worth a fortune, and the hem was stained with an ominous bloody handprint. At that moment, he was smiling as he watched the blood splatter across the ground.
“Keep hitting him. Beat this insolent bastard to death. A lowlife like him is so filthy that simply being alive is already defiling the road.” His voice was clear and pleasant, yet the words he spoke were vicious beyond measure.
Another heavy thud rang out. An elderly man was kicked into the air and landed directly on the inn’s steps.
He struggled to crawl upward, blood pouring continuously from his nose and mouth. Tears streamed down his battered face as he whimpered hoarsely, “I… I want my daughter back. My daughter… Please, please… help me!”
With eyes so swollen he could barely open them, he looked pleadingly toward the people inside the inn, hoping that some powerful figure might step forward and speak up for justice.
Yet the moment the patrons caught sight of the young master in the sedan, the entire hall fell silent. Everyone lowered their heads, and not a single person dared to say a word.
One of the laborers walked forward with a sinister grin and planted his foot on the old man’s back. “You filthy bastard, look around and tell me who’d dare help you! Our young master is the son of Great Benefactor Wen—the younger brother of Wen Zhuo, the chief of the Hanlin Academy, a first-rank official and one of the emperor’s most trusted men!”
“Wen…” The old man could barely breathe beneath the foot crushing him, and blood bubbled from his throat as he choked. When he heard those words, the pupils of his contracted eyes lost their last glimmer of hope.
He could not afford to provoke Great Benefactor Wen, a power that ruled over all of Mianzhou—let alone Wen Zhuo, whose authority towered over the capital.
His emaciated fingers clawed helplessly at the threshold. In despair, he closed his eyes.
On Shen Zheng’s back, Wen Zhuo’s feigned sickly expression vanished in an instant. Only a bone-deep, icy chill remained in his eyes.
