The last time Wen Zhuo had seen Wen Xu was ten years ago.
Back then, Wen Xu had not yet become so arrogant, tyrannical, and utterly deranged. At most, he had been a cowardly little hanger-on, adept at reading people’s expressions.
Now, this detestable bastard—hated by man and beast alike—had certainly grown more “accomplished” with age.
Wen Zhuo sneered inwardly.
Perfect.
To put on such a “splendid performance” at their very first meeting—then later, no matter how ruthlessly Wen Zhuo dealt with the Wen family, Shen Zheng would see it as understandable. He would not look too closely into the true nature Wen Zhuo had kept so carefully buried.
Hearing the servant’s words, Shen Zheng was indeed slightly shaken. He turned his head to look at Wen Zhuo on his back.
Wen Zhuo’s eyes were narrowed, his dark pupils drawn into thin slits. His lashes, like the wings of a wild goose, remained utterly still. Deep within his gaze churned countless dark and murky emotions.
So he was Wen Zhuo’s younger brother. No wonder there was some resemblance in their features.
But only some.
The refined, lofty air Wen Zhuo possessed—nurtured by classical learning and books—along with his extraordinary wisdom and insight into the ways of the world, was unmatched under heaven.
Compared to him, this younger brother was nothing more than a gaudy vase gilded in gold and silver, with barely half a bottle of seawater sloshing inside it, making nothing but an irritating hollow racket.
Shen Zheng pondered silently. Had Wen Zhuo lived with this younger brother when he was eight years old?
Could the two hideous burn scars on his legs have something to do with him?
Whether they did or not, the brothers’ relationship could not possibly be a good one.
“What are you staring at?!” The servant’s coarse voice exploded like a broken gong. His vicious eyes glared furiously at the tall, broad-shouldered Shen Zheng and the consumptive on his back, who showed not the slightest awareness of propriety. “Where did you foreign trash come from, daring to offend our young master with those eyes?”
In his view, even looking at that young master was a crime. Such pomp was grander than an emperor’s.
The shop assistant finally came back to his senses. Quickly stepping between them with a rag in hand, he pasted on an obsequious smile. “Please forgive them, Young Master. These two have come from out of town for the incense festival and do not understand the local customs. You are magnanimous—please do not lower yourself to their level.”
Secretly, he tugged hard at Shen Zheng’s sleeve, wanting only to pull these two strangers, who had no idea of the height of heaven or the depth of earth, away before they brought disaster upon themselves.
But Shen Zheng stood firm as a mountain, utterly unmoved.
Seeing this, the young master in the sedan chair suddenly straightened. From his sleeve, he drew a gold-painted folding fan and snapped it against the head of the maidservant gritting her teeth beneath the sedan.
She let out a pained cry, and the sedan was slowly lowered to the ground.
“What peddler is this now? Made a fortune through some crooked backdoor scheme, and now he dares come swaggering into Mianzhou like some grand lord?” Wen Xu waved his folding fan with frivolous arrogance. Even the peonies painted upon it seemed steeped in incomparable insolence. He lifted a hand and pointed at Shen Zheng and Wen Zhuo. “Remember these two faces well. The Wen family will not sell them so much as half a stick of incense. Let them make this trip for nothing and leave empty-handed!”
The servant examined them closely. Shen Zheng’s lower face was covered by a black cloth mask, leaving only a pair of keen, hawk-like eyes exposed. As for the frail consumptive on his back, his complexion was waxen-yellow and an ugly mole marked his face—making him particularly easy to recognize.
The inn attendant was sweating profusely. It was not the two guests he feared for, but the possibility that Young Master Wen might take his anger out on the inn.
He hurriedly tried to persuade them in all earnestness. “Honored guests, please heed this humble one’s advice. Do not provoke that young master. If you cannot buy the Wen family’s incense, then wouldn’t your arduous journey here have been for nothing? Why invite trouble for yourselves?”
Shen Zheng was weighing the matter as well.
They had come to Mianzhou to secretly investigate the disaster relief situation. He had not expected to run into this spoiled young master the moment they entered the city. If their identities were exposed, the Prefect of Mianzhou would surely keep them surrounded and attended to, never allowing them near even a shred of the truth.
Just then, Wen Zhuo, still on his back, tilted his head slightly. His breath was fragrant as an orchid when he leaned close to Shen Zheng’s ear and softly asked, “Does Your Highness wish to save that old man?”
Shen Zheng lowered his gaze and saw that the old man had already been trampled until he was barely clinging to life. Bloody froth spilled from his mouth and nose; it was impossible to tell whether his internal organs had been injured.
“I do,” he said in a low voice.
It was simply in his nature. Even if it conflicted with their original plans, he could not bear to watch a life perish before his eyes.
“Very well. I will help Your Highness save him.” Wen Zhuo smiled faintly, revealing a flash of white teeth utterly at odds with his sallow complexion. He raised a hand and patted Shen Zheng’s shoulder, signaling for him to set him down.
Shen Zheng crouched slightly and carefully placed him on the ground.
When Wen Zhuo’s feet touched the ground, his steps were somewhat stiff, yet he still calmly straightened his sleeves and made his way toward Wen Xu at an unhurried pace.
At the entrance to the inn were two bluestone steps, raised slightly above the street. Wen Zhuo stood atop them, looking down at Wen Xu from on high.
He had held the position of Director of the Hanlin Academy for many years. The people he dealt with and received were all high-ranking court officials, noble clans, and members of the imperial family. An air of authority had naturally grown around him, making him entirely unlike the patient, frail child he had been ten years ago.
With a sweep of his sleeve, Wen Zhuo clasped his hands behind his back. His voice was cool and indifferent. “What insignificant little household is the Wen family, to dare behave so brazenly before my Liu family of the capital?”
“The Liu family of the capital?” Wen Xu froze for a moment. He had always been uncultured and ignorant; whether it was the Liu family of the capital or the Liu family of Mianzhou, he held them all in contempt.
He snapped his folding fan shut and snorted through his nostrils. “What the hell is this Liu family? Never heard of them! In Mianzhou, the Wen family is the law!”
At that, Wen Zhuo gave a scornful laugh, his eyes full of mockery. “You may not have heard of the Liu family, but do you not even know the surname of Prince Xian’s mother—the late Empress, His Majesty’s former consort?”
At the mention of Prince Xian, Wen Xu finally showed a measure of wariness.
No matter how much of a scoundrel he was, he knew that of the money earned by incense merchants like them, more than half the profits had to be paid into Prince Xian’s coffers under the name of tribute.
Even thinking about that extorted silver made his flesh ache.
In order to curry favor with Prince Xian, his father, Wen Yingjing, had gone to no small effort to squeeze out the other incense merchants and monopolize Mianzhou’s incense trade.
Later, through the Prefect of Mianzhou’s connections, he had finally managed to invite the steward in charge of Prince Xian’s estate warehouses to a banquet.
At the feast, every possible tactic had been employed: celebrated courtesans brought in from Nanzhou, pearls salvaged from the sea—and, in the end, a direct offering of fifty thousand taels of silver.
The prefectural granary commissioner’s eyes had gone straight. He fondled the silver over and over, and drooled at the sight of the famous courtesan. Yet, despite being so greedy, he remained utterly unmoved, merely smiling as he said to Wen Yingjing’s father, “Our Prince wants lasting peace and lasting prosperity, not a one-time deal that will come back to bite us later.”
What he meant was that Prince Xian wanted to take a hefty cut from Mianzhou every year without bleeding the place dry—just like chives in a field, cut one harvest after another so they could continue supplying him without end.
As he was leaving, the granary commissioner added pointedly, “A man ought to weigh how much he’s really worth. A fat rat dreaming of clinging to a roc ought to take a good look at whether he’s worthy.”
Wen Yingjing was an immensely esteemed man in the area. His face turned green at those words, yet he still had to put on a fawning smile and send the granary commissioner off with the utmost respect.
From then on, the Wen family understood that no amount of wealth could stand against power. No matter how much money they had managed to amass, the moment power reached out its hand, they had to pay up.
Though the Wen family threw their weight around in Mianzhou, and even the county magistrate had to show them some deference, before a mere ninth-rank granary commissioner from Prince Xian’s estate, they were less than nothing.
That was when they remembered that the Wen family did, in fact, have one promising member—someone who held a high office at court and seemed to be doing quite well for himself.
That was why, over the past two years, Wen Yingjing had used Wen Zhuo’s name as a banner, swaggering without restraint before the officials of Mianzhou Prefecture and its counties.
Wen Xu sized Wen Zhuo up again. He was dressed plainly from head to toe, without any vermilion rings or jade pendants, yet the style and workmanship of his robes were clearly exquisite—far beyond anything an ordinary person could afford.
If Wen Xu had not grown up surrounded by gold and silver treasures, he might not have recognized their value.
Though Wen Zhuo carried a hint of illness in his appearance, and the black mole on his face was jarring, there was an imposing air between his brows that made people instinctively tense and tremble for no apparent reason.
Wen Xu could not put it into words, but this was the bearing of a man in a lofty position—a presence no amount of silver could buy.
Unfortunately, Wen Xu had spent years ruling Mianzhou with an iron hand. When had he ever bowed his head to anyone? His upper and lower eyelids lifted sharply as he put on a show of bravado. “You toss out the name of the Liu family in the capital, and we’re supposed to believe you really belong to them? I say it’s nothing more than the trickery of some wandering swindler!”
The diners in the inn, who had originally kept their heads down to avoid trouble, now raised them one after another. Under the pretense of sipping tea or straightening their clothes, they stole glances in this direction.
It was a rare sight to see anyone dare talk back to the Wen family in Mianzhou. Whoever this person was, he clearly was no ordinary man, and quite a few people had already been convinced halfway.
As the saying went, every level oppressed the one below it. When the gods fought in the heavens, the common people loved nothing more than watching.
“You just claimed to be Director Wen’s younger brother. I happen to have some connections with the Hanlin Academy, yet I have never heard Director Wen mention that he had any family still living. You’re spouting lies here—could it be that you intend to tarnish the good name of an imperial official while taking the opportunity to swindle people?”
Wen Zhuo had been speaking in an unhurried manner, but by the end, his tone suddenly turned cold and heavy. Wen Xu shuddered.
Wen Xu felt guilty. Of course he knew that when Wen Zhuo had left home years ago to sit for the imperial examinations, he had already severed all ties with the Wen family. If not for the Great Qian law requiring anyone who learned of a parent’s death to return at once to attend the funeral and observe three years of mourning, Wen Zhuo would have found an excuse long ago to slaughter the entire family.
What this man was saying really did sound true!
“You’re talking nonsense! The Director of the Hanlin Academy is my own flesh-and-blood brother. You’re the one spreading lies and stirring up trouble!” Wen Xu had even forgotten to wave his folding fan. His voice rose sharply. The more vehemently he protested, the more his lack of confidence showed.
Wen Zhuo, however, remained perfectly composed. The corner of his lips lifted into a cold smile. “In the fourteenth year of Shunyuan, Director Wen placed second in the imperial examinations. According to ancestral law and clan custom, he was required to return home to pay his respects to the ancestors, sweep the family graves, offer sacrifices, and visit his relatives. Tell me, then, my ‘biological brother’—did he ever return to Mianzhou that year?”
“This—”
Wen Xu’s voice caught in his throat, and he stared at Wen Zhuo in utter astonishment.
Aside from the Wen family clansmen in Liangping County and those in the capital who were familiar with Wen Zhuo, who else could have known that he had never returned home?
He now believed Wen Zhuo’s identity seven or eight parts out of ten. The arrogance he had displayed moments ago instantly withered by half.
Wen Zhuo descended the steps as though bestowing a favor, then leaned in half a step closer. His voice was lowered to a near whisper, yet every word was perfectly clear.
“You said you wouldn’t give me any incense. Have you forgotten where your little ‘treasures’ are carried every year—on your knees, no less—and delivered to the gates of which government office? If you won’t give them to the Liu family, are you planning to rebel?”
All of Prince Xian’s business fencing illicit tribute goods had been conducted under the names of various collateral branches of the Liu family. That way, these people would not be directly connected to him, while remaining trustworthy.
Wen Xu’s heart gave a violent thump, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.
Where the “substandard” tribute goods from Mianzhou went every year was something even Heaven’s own ruler might not know. Unless this man was a link in the chain of profit, there was no way he could know the details so clearly!
If he was part of that chain, then he could only be a trusted agent of the Liu family!
Wen Xu was consumed by bitter regret.
He simply could not understand why anyone from the Liu family would travel all the way to this remote little corner of Mianzhou to attend an incense fair.
It was true that the Wen family had held back some rare treasures for this year’s fair instead of sending them as tribute to the capital. But the information was extraordinarily secret—how had the Liu family learned of it?
And these treasures… they had only been developed within the past year. Originally, the family had dared sell them only overseas. It was merely because production had recently surged while overseas shipping capacity had proved insufficient that they had begun looking for channels within Great Qian.
Who would have thought the Liu family would arrive so quickly?
Could it be that Prince Xian had planted informants in Mianzhou long ago?
Seeing the fool’s face shift from green to white, Wen Zhuo knew he had more or less accomplished his aim.
He took a step back and stood on the bluestone stairs. “What was it you said to me just now?”
“I… I…” Wen Xu opened his mouth, his neck stiff as he still tried to argue. But with his stomach empty and his mind in complete disarray, he could not force out even a single coherent sentence.
Wen Zhuo lowered his eyes and leisurely rolled his sleeve up two inches, revealing a section of fair, bony wrist.
Before Wen Xu could react, his wrist suddenly snapped upward, and a resounding slap struck Wen Xu squarely across the face.
Smack!
The slap was delivered with such force that Wen Xu’s ears rang. It startled several diners so badly that their hands trembled, sending chopsticks and wine cups clattering to the floor in a chaotic mess.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded by the unbelievable scene before them.
The blow sent Wen Xu spinning on the spot. He staggered, barely managing to keep his footing.
His head swam, his cheek burned fiercely, and then a heat surged through his nose. Two bright streams of blood immediately spilled out, dripping past his mouth onto the front of his robes.
“You! You! You!” Wen Xu glared furiously at Wen Zhuo, pointing at him with a trembling hand. He was shaking with rage, yet did not dare curse aloud.
“What about me?” Wen Zhuo rubbed his palm indifferently, as though he had merely swatted an annoying fly. “Even if Lou Changsui, the prefect of Mianzhou, or your father, Wen Yingjing, were standing here, I’d slap them whenever I pleased. Get over here!”
Wen Xu’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. He tipped his chin up to glare at Wen Zhuo, who stood on the bluestone steps, drawing breath like an enraged old ox.
Wen Zhuo spoke calmly to the two servants at the side, who had long since been struck speechless. “You two, go help him.”
The two broad-shouldered men jolted, exchanged uncertain looks, and only then edged cautiously toward Wen Xu.
Though they had not understood Wen Zhuo’s earlier revelations about Director Wen’s secrets, the constantly changing expression on Wen Xu’s face was enough. How could they still doubt Wen Zhuo’s identity?
If even their young master could not afford to offend him, how could lowly servants such as themselves dare to do so?
They hurried forward and seized Wen Xu by the shoulders, one on each side.
“How dare you!” Wen Xu roared, struggling to shake them off. “I’m the young master of the Wen family! Treat me like this again, and I’ll have you skinned alive!”
The two servants wore bitter expressions, but did not dare release him. They could only stammer, “Young Master, we don’t want to, but... but this lord from the capital...”
“You can still curse? Then I must not have hit you hard enough before.” Wen Zhuo gave a cold laugh. His hand rose again, and he smacked Wen Xu across the other cheek.
“Ow! It hurts! It hurts like hell!” Wen Xu shrieked miserably. His once fair, delicate face instantly swelled, marked by two vivid red welts.
Still unsatisfied, Wen Zhuo raised his hand to strike again. “Shut up!”
In the vast street, before what had moments ago been a bustling inn, only the crisp cracks of slaps remained, mingled with Wen Xu’s pig-like squeals.
Wen Xu was beaten until his vision went dark. More and more blood streamed from his nose, running down his chin and into his collar. Before long, his cheeks had swollen numb, and his entire face looked like a steamed bun.
Shen Zheng took in the entire scene and raised an eyebrow. It was the first time he had ever seen this frail little cat strike someone—and he was doing it with remarkable ferocity, utterly absorbed in it.
Catching Shen Zheng’s look, Liu Qiying hurriedly gave a light cough and explained with a solemn expression, “Your Highness, our lord is standing up for the common people. His heart is truly exceptionally soft, and he has never been one to hit anyone.”
Shen Zheng smiled and waved a hand. “Go help that old man up and see whether he is badly hurt. I still have a few questions to ask him.”
He didn’t mind the Little Cat Traitor’s ruthless side in the slightest. After all, anyone who had made such a resounding name for himself over a thousand years of history—whether that name was noble or infamous—could hardly be softhearted.
Meanwhile, Wen Zhuo kept beating him until his own hand went numb before finally stopping.
By then, Wen Xu had long since lost consciousness. Drool trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he was dragged along like a pile of sludge.
Wen Zhuo shot him a disgusted look, then wiped his hand on the exquisite embroidered brocade robe Wen Xu was wearing. He turned to the two servants, whose foreheads were slick with sweat, and said coldly, “Use his clothes to wipe up the blood on the floor. Then take him and get out of my sight.”
“Yes! Yes!”
The two men were so flustered that they forgot to strip off Wen Xu’s robe. Instead, they simply laid him flat on the ground and rolled him back and forth, using his body to wipe up the blood.
Wen Xu’s head bumped and rolled across the floor, filling his mouth with yellow mud. By the time the blood had been cleaned up, he was disheveled and covered in colorful smears, looking utterly ridiculous.
The two servants hurriedly hauled him up and ran off without looking back.
