After Wen Xu’s death, Lin Yingniang was utterly distraught. It was as though she still could not accept the reality of what had happened. When she saw the enormous Wen residence suddenly left empty, she merely turned her head and stared at it blankly.
When the constables checked the household registers while arresting the criminals, they discovered that Lin Yingniang had long since received a divorce letter from Wen Yingjing. In name, she was already a free woman and could no longer be considered part of the Wen family.
Moreover, she bore an imperial patent personally bestowed by the emperor. The local authorities had no right to interrogate her at will; the matter had to be deliberated upon by the Three Judicial Offices before any procedures for interrogation and imprisonment could begin.
And so, how to deal with Lin Yingniang became a difficult problem.
Naturally, that problem fell to Wen Zhuo.
Wen Zhuo had never imagined that Wen Yingjing would come up with the underhanded scheme of writing a divorce letter and dividing up the family property, thereby openly avoiding the official assessments.
Fortunately, Lin Yingniang did not shield the Wen family or make things difficult for Wen Zhuo. She confessed everything she knew. Unfortunately, she did not know much. Wen Yingjing had treated her like a vase, keeping her in fine clothes and feeding her well, but never allowing her to meddle in the family business.
The sun slanted westward. The afterglow filtered through the old window lattice, illuminating the dust motes drifting in the air.
The constables pushed open the tottering wooden door and carried out the wooden chests hidden in the courtyard one by one, loading them onto carts to be transported to the prefectural storehouse.
It was not until the sky had grown dark that the silent courtyard, abandoned for so many years, was completely emptied. Just as before, it seemed almost as though it had merely received a brief visit from someone from the past.
Shen Zheng stood in the middle of the courtyard, gazing at the crumbling earthen walls and the eaves with their missing corners. In a soft voice, he asked, “Is this where you were born?”
Wen Zhuo was silent for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “I have no memory of it at all.”
According to what the teacher had said, Lin Yingniang’s family had once been carpenters. She had a brother and had originally lived in Pingchang County, not far from the sea.
In the early years, when Japanese pirates caused turmoil in Mianzhou and the people were thrown into panic, Lin Yingniang’s parents fled toward the mountains without knowing where to turn. They grabbed their young son and ran, completely forgetting her on the field ridge.
Later, it turned out to have been a false alarm. The pirates never entered the village, and the villagers who had fled returned one after another. But Lin Yingniang’s parents never came back. No one knew where they had gone.
She should have starved to death in the fields. Fortunately, the family of Wen Qimin happened to pass through the area. Taking pity on her, they kindly took her in and raised her in their household as a servant girl.
Later, Wen Qimin’s parents died one after another. He passed the examination and became a licentiate, while Lin Yingniang gradually grew into a beautiful young woman.
At that point, they faced a difficult choice. If Wen Qimin intended to continue pursuing an official career through the examinations, he would have to marry Lin Yingniang off as soon as possible. In those times, a beautiful woman without parents to rely on or brothers to protect her would have had almost no hope of surviving on her own.
But Lin Yingniang had been a servant girl, and it would have been difficult for her to marry into a respectable household as its principal wife. If she married a poor man, who would treat her as well as she was treated then?
Wen Qimin was gentle by nature and could not bear to see her suffer even the slightest hardship. Thus, he gave up his prospects in the civil examinations and officialdom, married her, and settled here with her.
It was only after Wen Zhuo was born and Wen Qimin died unexpectedly that Lin Yingniang was taken into Wen Yingjing’s household. After that, the place was completely abandoned.
“But my parents must have lived here for a very long time.” As Wen Zhuo spoke, he slowly paced through the courtyard. Suddenly, his gaze fell upon the windowsill of the main room.
A small wooden horse sat there. It was no bigger than a palm, its paint long since worn away, its corners chipped and cracked. Yet someone had carefully wiped it clean and placed it right in the center of the windowsill.
Wen Zhuo walked over and gingerly picked it up, turning it over and over in his hands.
The carving was not particularly fine, but it had clearly been polished many times. Not a single splinter remained.
It was obviously a child’s toy. In this household, naturally… it had belonged to him.
He stroked the rough surface of the little horse. No one knew what he was thinking. After gazing at it for a long while, he gently placed it back where he had found it and said flatly, “Your Highness, let us go.”
“Take it with you.”
“What?”
“Your little horse. Take it with you.”
“It’s only a broken—”
But Shen Zheng interrupted him before he could finish.
“Mm. If you want to take it, then take it.”
Wen Zhuo fell silent.
After a moment, he finally turned around, slipped the little horse into his sleeve, and carried away the last trace of tender remembrance from that desolate courtyard.
Returning to Mianzhou Prefecture in the middle of the night would have been too exhausting, so Wen Zhuo and Shen Zheng temporarily rested at the government office in Liangping County.
They had only just managed to catch their breath and had not yet had time to process the tumultuous emotions of the day when a runner hurriedly came to report from outside the door, “Academy Head, Your Highness, Madam Lin requests permission to collect Wen Xu’s remains.”
The bowl and chopsticks in Wen Zhuo’s hands clattered onto the table. His eyes instantly froze over. The food he had barely touched now held no appeal whatsoever.
Without saying a word, he swept out of the room, his robes whipping up the bone-chilling wind.
Seeing this, Shen Zheng hurriedly rose and followed him.
Wen Zhuo ordered them to bring Lin Yingniang to the edge of Wangtian Gully. The river below was dark and turbid as it surged forward, deeper in color than the night itself.
Lin Yingniang looked haggard, her hair disheveled. When she saw Wen Zhuo, a trace of timid tenderness finally surfaced in her hollow eyes.
Wen Zhuo pointed toward the rushing black water. His voice was harsher than usual.
“Do you truly not know how vile he was? The Wen family raised children on an isolated island, feeding them spices and resin. Once the time was right, they cut open the children’s stomachs while they were still alive and removed what was inside, then threw their bodies into the river to drift away with the current!”
His hatred grew fiercer, surging and crashing like the river before them.
“They made their filthy money with blood on their hands and dealt in goods born of unspeakable cruelty, and you still want to collect his remains? Do you really think he deserves to be buried in peace?”
Lin Yingniang recoiled in panic, stumbling backward. Firelight illuminated her frightened face as she stared at the rolling river in disbelief, as though she could see the wronged souls struggling beneath its surface.
Wen Zhuo advanced on her step by step, his cold gaze making even the torches tremble.
“Don’t beg me. Go and say it to the displaced people who lost their children. Tell them that you pity your inhuman son, that you want to collect his remains, burn incense for him, and wish him peace. Go on—say it to their faces!”
Lin Yingniang collapsed onto the ground, tears pouring from her eyes. Choking with sobs, she said, “Zhuo’er, I’m sorry… I didn’t know… I won’t ask anymore. I promise, I won’t ask again…”
“You didn’t know?” Wen Zhuo did not relent in the slightest. Instead, he let out a cold laugh and looked down at her with disappointment and scorn in his eyes. “Did he only become this way today? When he pushed me into the river all those years ago, when he wished to drown me to death, did you never think that he could become someone like this? When he tricked me into entering the ancestral hall and let Wen Ze torment me in every possible way, did you not know what he was becoming then?”
“Wen Yingjing threatened me and never allowed me to report him. But you are neither blind nor deaf. Did you truly know nothing at all?”
Lin Yingniang was in unbearable pain. Under his relentless questions, each one cutting into her like a knife, she could no longer hold herself together.
“I knew… but I didn’t dare to know! Zhuo’er, it was all my fault. I was weak. I was useless. I failed to protect you…”
Shen Zheng listened from the side, his heart feeling as though it had been weighed down by a thousand pounds of stone.
At last, he understood why Wen Zhuo had been born in Mianzhou yet claimed that he could not swim and was terrified of water.
It turned out that someone had once pushed him into a river, nearly costing him his life.
As a modern man, Shen Zheng had been raised with the dignity and principles of a modern legal system. Yet at that moment, he felt that Wen Xu had died far too easily. He wished he could force Wen Xu to experience every form of torture known in ancient times before finally letting him die in the most agonizing way possible.
“If you couldn’t protect me, why did you bring me into the Wen family? Why didn’t you simply abandon me?” He had never intended to have this conversation with Lin Yingniang. So many years had passed, and what had happened back then should have long since become insignificant. There was no need to dig into rights and wrongs, grudges and grievances. But the emotions had remained lodged in his heart, and he could not rest until he let them out.
Why should she be allowed to drift through life in a daze? As long as she pretended not to know, she could act as though nothing had ever happened?
Why should she be allowed to retreat into her shell with a clear conscience, cover her eyes, and deceive herself into muddling through her days?
He would tear away that layer of false pretense. He would lay the bloody wounds and old hatred bare before her, leaving her nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape. He would make her understand that Wen Xu’s fate today was inseparable from her cowardice and indulgence in the past!
Lin Yingniang had nearly cried herself dry. In broken sobs, she said, “Because… Mother has been abandoned too. I know what it feels like to be utterly alone. I couldn’t bear to see you…”
“Who asked for your pity?”
Wen Zhuo flung out his hand. The little wooden horse hidden in his sleeve flew free, tracing an arc through the air before plunging straight into the river. It struck the water with a tiny, insignificant splash, then vanished in an instant.
Lin Yingniang saw what it was. Her entire body stiffened as she stared blankly at the river. She had never expected Wen Zhuo to retrieve the little horse.
The bond between them had long since been severed, but at that moment, it seemed to be tugged ever so lightly. Lin Yingniang could not think of anything else. She sprang to her feet and threw herself toward the waters of Wangtian Gully.
She wanted—desperately—to seize this final chance.
Somehow, Lin Yingniang found the strength to move. She was too fast, too frantic. Wen Zhuo was caught off guard and instinctively reached out to grab her, but his fingertips only brushed the hem of her clothing, closing around nothing.
“Mother—!”
A whirlpool of darkness split open between heaven and earth. Her figure was swallowed in the blink of an eye, without even a sound of struggle.
Physically exhausted, Wen Zhuo fell to his knees by the riverbank. He braced both hands against the cold, muddy ground and stared blankly ahead.
His thoughts seemed trapped in the instant before Lin Yingniang entered the water. He could no longer hear the rushing current or the crackle of the torches. His heart was filled with nothing but surging anger and hatred.
But all at once, even those emotions had nowhere to go. Only endless emptiness remained.
It was not until Shen Zheng pulled him tightly into his arms that Wen Zhuo slowly came back to himself.
His lips moved. It took all the strength he had to force out two words.
“How laughable…”
But the moment he finished speaking, tears rolled silently down his cheeks.
“I know.” Shen Zheng tightened his arms around him.
“I never wanted her to die…” Wen Zhuo’s body seemed to have lost every supporting pillar. He could only cling desperately to Shen Zheng to remain upright. “Did she die because of me? Because I threw away that little horse?”
“No.” Shen Zheng lowered his head, resting it against Wen Zhuo’s hair. His voice was soft. “She was in too much pain.”
“Who isn’t in pain? Why was she the only one who could think of nothing but running away?” Wen Zhuo’s voice suddenly rose, but there was a wounded accusation in it.
Shen Zheng did not argue. He merely patted Wen Zhuo’s back, slowly soothing away his trembling. “Because she wasn’t strong enough. Can your teacher allow her not to be strong this time?”
Wen Zhuo closed his eyes. The front of Shen Zheng’s robe slowly grew damp.
The search continued for an entire day and night, but they found nothing. It was as though she had merged with the boundless sea along with those children, becoming one with heaven and earth.
Even though he knew there was no hope left, Wen Zhuo continued to keep watch by Wangtian Gully for several days.
Shen Zheng did not try to persuade him otherwise. He simply stayed by his side in silence. During the day, they sat shoulder to shoulder, watching the river flow. At night, they leaned against each other beside the campfire, warding off the damp, chilly wind.
In the dead of night, Wen Zhuo would finally let down his guard and ramble about the old days of his childhood.
He spoke of how the Wen family had treated him as a burden, of how Wen Ze and Wen Xu had bullied him, and of the complicated tangle of gratitude, resentment, and affection he felt toward Lin Yingniang.
He also spoke of the two burn scars.
“They took so long to heal…”
He gazed into the distance, a trace of bewilderment hidden in his voice. “I should have been relieved when she died… Yet here I am, keeping watch by this river. His Highness must find it difficult to understand.”
“I do.”
Wen Zhuo gave a self-mocking laugh. “Even I don’t understand myself.”
“Because you know in your heart that life was difficult for her too.” Shen Zheng reached out and tucked Wen Zhuo’s fur cloak more tightly around him, then gently pressed his head against his own shoulder. “She had no power to resist Wen Yingjing, and she couldn’t protect you. All she could do was run away. It wasn’t that she didn’t love you at all—but she only gave you a little of that love. It left you unwilling to resent her, yet unwilling to accept her love either.”
Wen Zhuo fell silent.
Shen Zheng continued, “The last time we were at my uncle’s military camp, you went out to… run into Mo Shu. We ended up discussing something.”
“What?”
“We talked about Consort Yi. If we had known she would turn out this way, should we have saved her in the first place?” Shen Zheng’s fingers gently combed through Wen Zhuo’s hair, his voice warm and tender. “I once learned a way of thinking that says a person only needs to concern himself with his own responsibilities. Saving someone is a good thing, so you save them—that is the completion of your responsibility. If Consort Yi harbored ulterior motives and chose to take the wrong path, that was her responsibility, and it had nothing to do with me. There was no need to dwell on it.”
“It’s the same with your teacher. You feel conflicted and miserable now because you keep thinking about her reasons and hardships. But those hardships were ultimately her responsibility. They don’t have to become your burden. You can thank her for giving you life without forgiving her for the harm she caused.”
“That way of thinking is strange.” Yet somehow, hearing it made him feel much lighter.
“It is a little strange, but it makes a lot of sense.” Shen Zheng smiled.
The nights in Mianzhou had already taken on the chill of winter, but beside the campfire, warmth enveloped them. The wilderness was utterly silent, without even the chirping of insects, and Wangtian Gully seemed to have grown much gentler.
“By the way, I still haven’t asked, Highness—why did you suddenly come all the way to Liangping County?” Wen Zhuo lifted his head from Shen Zheng’s shoulder and turned to look at him.
“Jiang Mannü came to report that there are more than a dozen young children in Dongyazi with no one to claim them, and no way of knowing where their homes are. I wanted to ask you how they should be properly settled.”
“About that—” Wen Zhuo had just begun to speak.
“That was only an excuse.” Shen Zheng suddenly leaned closer. His direct gaze made Wen Zhuo’s heart flutter. “The truth is, I missed you.”
Wen Zhuo froze. His eyes, which had been dull and silent for days, now seemed steeped in a river of stars, glittering with rippling light.
“I missed you terribly, and I was worried about you.” Shen Zheng gazed at him, frank and fervent, without the slightest attempt to hide his feelings. “I know that you’re exceptionally clever and wield great power, and that dealing with the Wen family would be effortless for you. But I still couldn’t stop myself from coming to find you. I wanted to be by your side.”
Wen Zhuo’s heartbeat gradually fell out of rhythm. His fingers curled nervously.
“Wanshan, what kind of people kiss each other on the lips?” Shen Zheng suddenly asked in a quiet voice, a hint of hesitation woven through it.
Wen Zhuo’s heart gave a violent jolt. Instinctively, he tried to hide his ears, which were forever betraying him.
Before he could answer, Shen Zheng had already leaned down, their breaths mingling. His voice was low and solemn.
“I love you so much. Not just a little.”
The campfire snapped. Two sparks flew from the coals, flaring brightly in the air before quietly fading away. In their eyes, however, flames had kindled in both of them.
Those words left Wen Zhuo breathing hard, his body trembling faintly. Yet the defenses and disguises he had maintained for years rose up in an instant, and he even asked in a somewhat sharp tone, “Does Your Highness know what you’re saying?”
“I do.”
“I am Your Highness’s teacher,” Wen Zhuo insisted against his better judgment.
Shen Zheng merely leaned closer, his gaze sweeping over Wen Zhuo’s lips. “I would never kiss my teacher. I would only kiss my beloved.”
“Your Highness is of the Shen imperial clan and bears the fate of the nation on his shoulders. How could you possibly fall in love with a man?” Wen Zhuo resisted to the bitter end.
“So your stolen kiss was merely a gift limited to the journey outside the capital? Once we return to the capital, will you take it back?” Shen Zheng’s tone suddenly grew grave.
“If not, then after Your Highness ascends the throne, are you still planning to marry a man?” Wen Zhuo had clearly been the one questioning Shen Zheng all along, and he sounded harsh and heartless. Yet inside, an unbearable sense of grievance surged through him. He placed before Shen Zheng the delusion from his previous life that had once been mocked as sickening, leaving it for Shen Zheng to judge.
“I am.”
Shen Zheng reached out and caressed his face, his fingertip brushing lightly across Wen Zhuo’s pale lips. “I want to marry a man. I want you, Teacher, to marry me.”
“But the laws laid down by our ancestors forbid it, and the statutes of Da Qian do not allow it.”
“Then overturn those ancestral laws and abolish those statutes!”
Wen Zhuo was utterly stunned.
This was exactly what he had longed for in his heart, the hope he had waited so long to hear.
Those words filled him with joy and hope, yet years of restraint and caution kept him from revealing his feelings freely.
Though he continued to retreat step by step, he remained guarded at every inch, unwilling to remove the final layer of his armor.
“I’m actually a very bad person. I deliberately gave Wen Yingjing a chance to hide his family’s wealth. In truth, even if there were enough funds and grain for disaster relief, I would still claim that they were insufficient. Because I simply want to torment them bit by bit—to make them send one person to his death every day, so they can repay the suffering I endured back then.” Wen Zhuo tested him carefully.
“They deserve it. They have committed countless evils and deserve nothing less than death.”
“You have no idea how bad I really am. This is only one small part of it.” Moisture rose in Wen Zhuo’s eyes. He clenched his teeth, but the tears still spilled over.
“What if I did know?” Shen Zheng asked with a soft laugh. He kissed away Wen Zhuo’s tears, then caught the tear on his lips and slowly pressed it against Wen Zhuo’s mouth, not allowing him to belittle himself any further. “Even if you were a wicked man guilty of the most heinous crimes, I would still love you.”
The kiss came deep and fierce, carrying an irresistible possessiveness. When Wen Zhuo tried to say something else, Shen Zheng took the opportunity to slip his tongue between his lips, sweeping through every corner of his mouth and silencing all his words.
His entire body went weak, and he could no longer support himself. All he could do was cling tightly to Shen Zheng’s neck and let Shen Zheng drag him into oblivion.
The flames flickered like rippling water, casting wavering light across their faces. A splendid river of stars poured down its tender favor, sending a dazzling silver-white star blazing into the night.
After an unknown length of time, Shen Zheng finally released him and wrapped him tightly in his fur cloak, letting him rest against his warm chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart.
As he affectionately stroked Wen Zhuo’s back, he said seriously, “I’ll take it that Teacher has agreed. But there is one matter I must make clear.”
Buried in his embrace, Wen Zhuo’s cheeks burned. Only his two watery eyes remained visible as he listened to Shen Zheng continue.
“I know that you once favored women, and I’ve also heard that you have many female confidantes at the entertainment quarter.” Shen Zheng was overflowing with jealousy, though he pretended to be magnanimous. “From now on, you may have only me. You are not allowed to see them again. This is a serious matter, and I hope you will treat it accordingly.”
“...”
That was all it was? He really had no idea how bad I was!
