At the hour of Chen, when the Mao bells rang, the two vermilion city gates slowly swung open to the harsh creaking of the winch.
A long line had already formed beneath the gates. The last merchants to arrive were covered in dust, their shoulder bags bulging with silver, while armed escorts stood vigilant at their sides.
There were also quite a few refugees. Tucked inside their ragged clothes were chunks of incense resin, and their eyes were filled with anxiety and hope.
Just as the crowd began inching forward to enter the city, a cloud of yellow dust suddenly rose along the official road. Hooves clattered and wheels crushed over the packed earth as a yellow-canopied carriage came racing toward them. Made from century-old camphorwood and exuding a pure, cool fragrance, the carriage bore red-and-gold carvings on its shafts.
Eight burly men followed before and behind it, each standing eight chi tall. They cleared the road and guarded the carriage, making an imposing spectacle.
Only when the carriage drew near could one clearly see the exquisite character “Wen” embroidered in gold thread upon its curtains.
The refugees could not help craning their necks and stretching out their feet to stare. Two of the burly men frowned and shouted harshly, “What are you looking at? Are you blind, you curs? Make way for Master Wen!”
The refugees shrank back in fright and hurriedly retreated, instinctively clearing a space. Their eyes were timid, and both hands clutched tightly at the incense resin hidden against their chests, terrified that they might offend the nobleman inside.
Suddenly, a hand gently lifted the carriage curtain, revealing a kind-looking face.
The man’s hair was half black and half white, neatly bound atop his head beneath an ebony crown. He wore a clean gray Daoist robe and had nothing at his waist but a white incense sachet. His adornments were simple.
Two finger-widths below the left side of his nose, just beneath his lower eyelid, was a black mole the size of a bean.
It was said that such a mole was called “the Bodhisattva’s Falling Tear,” and could appear only on those who were kindhearted and had accumulated great merit through good deeds. Thus, everyone called him the Great Benefactor Wen.
Wen Yingjing put on a stern expression and lightly scolded the two burly men. “Enough of your rudeness. They are merely fellow travelers on the road. Why be so fierce?”
The men immediately lowered their heads and stood with their hands at their sides, murmuring, “This servant knows his mistake.”
Wen Yingjing turned to the refugees in line and said with a smile, “There is no need for you all to be afraid. Everyone who has come to attend the Mianzhou Incense Fair is a friend of mine.”
Seeing how approachable Wen Yingjing was, and that he had even scolded his servants on their behalf, the refugees felt a sudden warmth in their hearts. Their eyes grew hot, and they bent their knees slightly, clasping their hands and bowing again and again.
Their voices choked with emotion. “Great Benefactor Wen! Great Benefactor Wen truly is a living Bodhisattva!”
The archers stationed at the city gate had also spotted the carriage. Their leader was quick to react and came running over as fast as his short legs could carry him. He bowed and smiled obsequiously.
“Oh, Master Wen, you’ve finally arrived! The incense merchants and common folk throughout the city have all been waiting for you!”
Wen Yingjing no longer spared the refugees a glance. He nodded at the archer. “Enter the city.”
The carriage curtains closed, and it proceeded straight through the refugees with their gaunt, sallow faces and the somewhat better-dressed merchants, entering the city.
The refugees watched that dignified yellow carriage disappear into the distance and murmured among themselves, “A good man… Master Wen truly is a good man.”
They could not help touching the small piece of dragon’s-saliva incense they had won at the cost of their lives. Once they exchanged it for money and brought their children home, they would certainly go to the gates of the Wen residence and kowtow several times in gratitude for this kindness.
The Mianzhou Incense Fair was being held at the city’s largest entertainment house, the Suhe House.
Located east of the prefectural seat, the Suhe House occupied an enormous area and rose four stories high. As soon as morning began, streams of people were already flooding toward it.
The interior was arranged in successive courtyards. The front courtyard was a broad, open-air square large enough to hold more than a thousand people. In the blink of an eye, it had become packed so tightly that not even a drop of water could pass through.
Beyond the front courtyard, a temporary stage stood in the center, ten chi high. A Persian carpet covered its surface, and more than ten chairs made of golden-thread nanmu wood had been arranged upon it. In front of each chair stood a small square table, on which fine pre-rain tea had already been prepared.
Around the stage were more than a hundred chairs made of pear wood, reserved specifically for gentry and distinguished guests from various regions. Carved screens stood between each table and chair, separating them from the dense crowd of ordinary merchants and commoners behind them, creating a stark divide.
According to the rules of the incense fair, all incense presented on the stage had to be selected first by the people seated in the pear-wood chairs. Only what remained would be available to the merchants and commoners behind them.
Wen Zhuo had risen early that day and had already changed into a fine satin robe of deep blue-green. He held a white jade folding fan in one hand. The fan bore no writing or decoration. A jade belt encircled his waist, from which hung a black stone tassel that chimed crisply whenever he moved. With his fluttering sleeves and refined bearing, he looked every inch the pampered young master of an eminent family.
Shen Zheng emerged from the inner room a moment later, having taken care to groom himself as well.
He was naturally tall and straight, and today he wore a fitted ink-and-wash-colored martial outfit. His waist was tightly belted. After raising a hand to smooth the wrinkles from his robe, he slightly bent his back, and the ends of his hair brushed down along the back of his neck.
Wen Zhuo’s eyes brightened at once.
Strange. In his previous life, how could he have preferred elegant young gentlemen and frail scholars?
A broad, iron-hard chest, a narrow and powerful waist, and long, straight legs were clearly much more pleasing to the eye.
A man ought to be tall. His hair ought to have a slight curl at the ends. His brows and eyes ought to be deep and captivating. His palms ought to be broad enough to shield someone from harm.
“Wanshan, shall we go?” Shen Zheng said with a smile at the corner of his lips as he walked over steadily. He raised a hand and naturally smoothed the strands of hair the morning breeze had blown out of place on Wen Zhuo’s forehead. His gesture was intimate yet entirely open.
Wen Zhuo did not shy away. He allowed Shen Zheng to touch him, then turned to Liu Kangren and said coolly, “You should remain concealed at the Liu residence for now. I have already ordered ten guards to protect the place in secret. Once I reveal my identity and take control of Mianzhou Prefecture, I will investigate the matter you described and determine whether it is true.”
Liu Kangren had already removed the filthy, bloodstained prison uniform and changed into a guard’s clothing.
Yet after enduring two months of torment in prison, he had been reduced to skin and bones. The loose garments hung empty from his frame, though at least he looked far more presentable than before.
He bowed deeply to the two of them, his voice slightly hoarse. “Thank you, Governor Wen. Thank you, Fifth Prince.”
As for Shen Zheng, Liu Kangren’s feelings were complicated.
Yesterday, he had been ashamed of himself for spending ten years in Mianzhou doing nothing of consequence. Yet he had clearly seen undisguised surprise and appreciation in Shen Zheng’s eyes.
The Fifth Prince did not seem to blame him for his incompetence. Instead, he appeared to regard him with new respect.
How could that be? How could it possibly be?
Wen Zhuo then said to the people beside him, “Liu Qiying, Jiang Mannü, you two come with me as well.”
As they were about to leave, Shen Zheng’s gaze inadvertently swept over the two long spears standing against the wall of the front courtyard. The dust on their red tassels had been carefully brushed away.
He secretly shook his head.
Liu Kangren truly had been born with the ambition to pacify the realm, yet had been forced to lament that he had never been granted the chance to mount the altar of a general.
Liu Qiying pinched the seal affixed to the Liu residence with two fingers and pressed it back onto the door exactly as it had been. Unless someone examined it closely, they would never notice anything amiss.
Wen Zhuo and the others slipped into a narrow alley, avoiding the watchful gazes along the way as they hurried toward the Suhe House.
They could not risk taking a carriage, so half an hour passed before they arrived.
The Mianzhou Incense Fair was scheduled to begin at the end of the Chen hour. By the time they reached the venue, all they could see were bobbing heads and surging crowds.
The attendants, dressed in short jackets, were sweating profusely as they struggled to maintain order. Outside the grounds, constables with swords at their waists patrolled back and forth with stern expressions.
The air was thick with a mixture of sweat, incense, and tea. The various scents mingled together, making it somewhat pungent.
The spice merchants with their precious goods hadn't taken the stage yet. On the colorful platform, only a few servants were walking around, holding spice boxes for display. However, the common folks standing further away could only catch a vague glimpse.
As a result, complaints began to spread among the crowd.
"Stop dawdling! We've been standing here for an hour, and it still hasn't started!" a man shouted at the top of his voice.
"Hey, those spice merchants have top - notch goods, so they're bound to put on airs," someone replied with a sigh.
"I heard that the bone - penetrating spice, which is usually sold overseas, will be available to people of the Great Qian today. I'll sell all I have to buy a box and see if it's really as magical as they say, capable of making one look younger!"
"Just look at the second wife of Master Wen. You'll know how amazing this spice is. She has such fair and delicate skin, like a... a..."
Before the man could finish his sentence, he suddenly choked.
A clear and refreshing medicinal fragrance wafted through the polluted air. Taking a deep breath, one could feel it refreshing the lungs.
He looked up and saw what seemed to be the Goddess of the Luo River stepping out of a poem. The person in front of him had eyebrows like jade peaks, misty eyes, a complexion as fair as jade, and a posture as elegant as pine trees. Just one glance made him feel as if a gentle breeze was caressing his face, and he was floating in the clouds.
If the second wife of Wen Yingjing was a fairy, what should this person be called?
It seemed that no words in the world could describe this stunning beauty.
Wherever Wen Zhuo went, the noise died down. Everyone held their breath and secretly sized him up, afraid of disturbing him and yet afraid of not leaving an impression on him.
Wen Zhuo was completely oblivious to these looks. He approached a busy servant from the Suhe Spice Shop and said, "We'd like to sit on the pear - wood chairs."
The servant was already on edge from all the rushing. He turned around, ready to scold, but when he saw Wen Zhuo's face, all his anger vanished instantly.
He immediately changed his tone and said politely, "I'm sorry, sir. The pear - wood chairs have all been reserved in advance by local gentry and landlords. There's one for each person, and they're all occupied. There really isn't any extra space."
Wen Zhuo tilted his head, and Liu Qiying immediately took out a heavy silver ingot from her bosom and stuffed it into the servant's hand.
The servant felt the weight of the silver in his palm, and his eyes immediately lit up.
Wen Zhuo simply stated his request: "Please add four more chairs for us."
The servant couldn't say no. He quickly put the silver in his teeth to check if it was real. Then, with a beaming smile on his face, he respectfully led Wen Zhuo and the others in through the side door as if he were greeting his own father.
"Please come in, sir! A person of your caliber shouldn't have to endure the discomfort outside. I'll make room for you even if I have to squeeze!"
Wen Zhuo's robes fluttered gently as his figure quickly disappeared behind the door.
"Hey! Hey!" Not far away, an anxious voice called out. Unfortunately, the person was short and his voice was weak, so it didn't reach Wen Zhuo and Shen Zheng's ears at all.
Six Monkeys was extremely worried. He pushed through the crowd and tried to get to the side door.
He had sneaked into the spice fair today, hoping to find his lost mother among the refugees. He hoped that she had also found the ambergris and come here to exchange it for money and grain to redeem him.
Instead of seeing his mother, he had bumped into those "kind - hearted swindlers" and found himself in a dangerous situation.
Although he had cruelly left them behind that day, he couldn't bear to see them in trouble. He had just seen Wen Xu arrive early and was sitting in a private room on the second floor, sipping tea. Even though the sickly young man had removed his makeup and the young master had taken off his veil, Wen Xu would definitely recognize their voices. Moreover, the two women hadn't covered their faces at all!
"Make way! Let me through!"
"Damn it! Who's pushing me?" A big hand suddenly grabbed Six Monkeys by the collar and lifted him up like a little chick. "You little brat, get out of here! This isn't a place for you to beg."
With that, the man threw Six Monkeys out like a useless stone.
He let out an "Ouch!" as he bumped into someone else, and a chorus of curses rang out around him.
After finally crawling out of the crowd, rubbing his aching back and face, he gathered his strength and jumped up, but he could no longer see Wen Zhuo and the others.
The side door was closed tightly. They were about to run into Wen Xu.
"It's over. Really over," Six Monkeys hung his head, looking dejected.
During these days of hiding in Mianzhou City, everyone had treated him like a beggar, driving him away and looking down on him. Only those swindlers had treated him differently. They had bought him hot food and dug out the true nature of Wen Yingjing with him.
But now, before they could expose Wen Yingjing's true face, they were going to die.
Inside the inner courtyard, the seats were already filled. There was a burner of fine spices beside each chair, with scents ranging from elegant to mellow, slowly spreading into the air. These spices, which were precious even in the imperial palace, were being burned here as if they were worthless.
"Sir, please make do with this place. It's a bit out of the way, but it's close to the platform and quiet," the servant said.
Wen Zhuo and Shen Zheng's seats were behind a thick red - painted column. It was obvious that they were the extra seats added by the servant. They were quite secluded, hidden in the shadows.
Thankfully, it was only about ten feet away from the platform, so they could see the objects on the platform clearly.
"Thank you. You can go back to your work," Wen Zhuo waved his folding fan vigorously, frowning at the pungent smell of the spices.
Just as they sat down, a loud gong sounded on the platform, echoing throughout the Suhe Spice Shop and drowning out all the noise below.
A servant in coarse linen clothes with his calves wrapped stepped forward to the edge of the platform and shouted at the top of his voice, "The auspicious time has arrived. The Mianzhou Spice Fair officially begins! Please welcome Prefect Lou and all the distinguished spice merchants to take their seats on the stage!"
Everyone below looked up and stopped what they were doing.
Shen Zheng held his teacup and said with a half - smile, "Prefect Lou Changsui really has a big heart. With Liu Kangren missing, he still has the leisure to attend the spice fair."
Wen Zhuo said casually, "I guess he's come up with some desperate measure. Most likely, he wants to insist that Liu Kangren committed suicide out of fear of punishment to stabilize the situation for now. After the fair, he'll continue to hunt him down secretly to confirm the death."
"Poor Prefect Lou, going to so much trouble. But unfortunately," Shen Zheng said as he raised his hand and poured the tea directly into the incense burner. The expensive Suhe spice instantly turned into a pool of muddy water. "You're going to take his power today."
Wen Zhuo's fanning paused slightly, and he smiled with curved eyes.
A series of steady footsteps came from the stairs on the second floor. Lou Changsui, wearing an official robe and a black gauze hat, led the way down.
He had a short and thick neck. At the moment, he deliberately puffed out his chest, tucked in his neck, and strode forward with his hands behind his back, stepping onto the platform one step at a time. There was a kind of comical air about him.
He opened his puffy, fish - like eyes, with a ring of dark circles under them. With his bulging belly, he said calmly, "Ladies and gentlemen, you've all gathered in Mianzhou today for this spice fair, adding a glorious touch to our city. I'm truly honored."
Unexpectedly, he changed the subject and then turned his head to gesture to the perfume merchants walking slowly behind him. "But as the one in charge of Mianzhou Prefecture, I must first express my gratitude to all the virtuous perfume merchants. If it weren't for their ingenious craftsmanship, how could the perfume of Mianzhou become well - known far and wide? As an old saying goes, 'Only by planting the parasol tree can you attract the phoenix'. I hope that today, all of you will take away wonderful perfumes and enjoy yourselves to the fullest. In the future, may you soar to great heights and have a steady stream of wealth!"
Immediately, there was a round of flattering applause from the audience. The merchants who came to buy perfumes gave enough face to this high - ranking official.
Lou Changsui stepped aside, revealing Wen Yingjing's somewhat solemn face behind him.
He was still wearing that gray Taoist robe, with kind eyebrows and good - natured eyes. Compared with other perfume merchants in luxurious clothes, he seemed rather out of place.
Wen Ze followed closely beside him, his thin body standing straight. However, without the tobacco rod that he always carried with him in the past to relieve his restlessness, a faint look of anxiety appeared on his face.
As for Wen Xu, who was good - for - nothing, he naturally had no qualification to appear on the stage.
Wen Yingjing lifted his robe and sat steadily on the golden nanmu chair on Lou Changsui's left. Wen Ze quickly sat down beside him.
Seeing Wen Yingjing's hypocritical face, Wen Zhuo unconsciously tightened his fingers holding the folding fan. The edges of the fan ribs pressed against his fingertips, gradually leaving several deep red marks.
He squinted slightly and stared at Wen Yingjing. Memories seeped out bit by bit like water from a leaky wooden box, dripping onto his heart and spreading a pool of dark and muddy emotions.
He could hardly hear the surrounding sounds. Hatred was like a vine that penetrated every crevice, tightly binding his thoughts. All that kept flashing through his mind were the ways to kill Wen Yingjing.
Just when he was almost about to crush the fan ribs, a warm and dry hand suddenly grabbed his wrist. Then, with an irresistible force, it slowly pried open his curled fingers, rescuing the five fingers that had turned white due to excessive pressure from the cruel grip.
Shen Zheng gently took the folding fan from his hand and said in a low and gentle voice, "I'll hold it for Teacher."
Looking at his suddenly empty palm, Wen Zhuo only then became aware of the dull pain coming from his finger bones.
The hatred loosened a little, and he realized his impropriety. He said awkwardly, "I..."
"It's crowded and full of prying eyes here. It's not suitable to hold hands." Shen Zheng interrupted him and smiled as he offered his sleeve to Wen Zhuo's palm. "Teacher, hold onto my sleeve."
Wen Zhuo hesitated for a moment but still closed his fingertips and gently grasped the cloth.
Strangely enough, even though it was just a sleeve, he felt a subtle and exciting emotion. Shen Zheng's wrist was resting on the chair, and as long as he made the slightest movement, Shen Zheng would notice immediately.
It was as if he couldn't hide any secrets.
