Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The first year of the Shengde era, on New Year's Eve.

The warden of the Dali Temple prison hunched over, scooping up some steaming liquor and gulping it down.

Normally, drinking was strictly forbidden in the prison, but now the cold was so bitter it hung icicles from people's noses, and even the daily inspections had been suspended.

Since the new emperor's ascension and the general amnesty, only one person remained serving a sentence here.

"Serves him right!" A large bowl was slammed heavily onto the low table, splashing liquor everywhere. "Once that treacherous official is shot full of arrows, the common folk will finally have good days ahead!"

"Speaking of all the evil deeds he's done, even skinning him alive and executing his entire family wouldn't be enough."

"Ah, but he wasn't a blood relative. His original family had already severed ties with him. Now they've even righteously turned against him and donated grain to aid the poor. That's why His Majesty showed mercy."

"True. I heard the people of Bozhou were implicated because of him, with tens of thousands now turned into refugees. Thankfully, his original family provided relief."

"They say he himself accepted bribes worth millions of taels, yet wouldn't even spare a bowl of rice soup for the beggars at his gate."

"Our current Emperor is wise, and the Chief Grand Secretary is upright. They won't let this scoundrel live past the winter!"

...

The drunken shouts echoed through the narrow, gloomy cells, reaching one person's ears.

The snow-soaked straw mat was especially bone-chilling. The oil lamp in the wall niche couldn't illuminate this cramped, low-ceilinged cell.

Leaning against the deep shadows, the figure wore coarse reddish-brown hemp prison garb, with loose dark hair, making no sound.

A sliver of silver light slanted in through a window the size of a plate, settling on his pale cheek. Only the occasional slight tremble of his eyelashes indicated he was still alive.

Since his legs were broken under torture, he had remained in this position, unmoving for two days. Now the wounds had darkened to a hue deeper than the stone walls, numb and painless.

Yet, even in such a ruined state, he still held his head high with pride, his back straight, making the gaunt silhouette in the shadows all the more pitiable.

"A noble visitor has arrived!"

A servant's shout at the entrance startled the warden and his men, causing them to topple backward, spilling wine and overturning jars.

Scrambling to their feet, they shook their dizzy, drunken heads, grabbed bamboo-and-paper lanterns, and stumbled toward the prison entrance.

The servant ushered forward a noble visitor in a python robe and jade belt. The tinkling of fragrant pendants fanned a scent of medicinal agarwood into the foul cell.

"The noble visitor wishes to see the condemned prisoner. Lead the way quickly, and keep your mouths shut!"

"Yes, yes..." The warden wiped his drink-reddened face and hurriedly complied.

On New Year's Eve, a noble visitor coming to see someone deemed irredeemably guilty?

The visitor frowned deeply at the warden's drunken, unsightly state but, due to his own high status, disdained to say more.

Soon, the door bolt was drawn. The servant entered the cell, lit a hemp oil lamp, and slapped down a stack of yellow hemp paper covered in writing.

The lamplight was as faint as a bean, its cold glow pure and stark.

This was the first time Wen Zuo had felt any warmth since entering prison a month ago.

But the fact that it was expensive hemp oil being lit, not pungent rapeseed oil, told him his time had come.

"You vile wretch, you've only yourself to blame for ending up like this today!" the warden spat, his face full of disgust. But he turned and offered an obsequious smile to the noble visitor outside the cell. "Minister Xie, this place is filthy, and the criminal is cunning. Please be careful."

Xie Langyang stood solemn and dignified, tall and straight as a pine tree. The black toes of his boots stepped onto the damp straw protruding from the cell door, his gaze fixed intently on Wen Zuo's left leg, where bone showed through torn flesh.

Wen Zuo finally lifted his bruised and stiffened hand to cup it around the flickering flame, seeking a little warmth.

He glanced at the yellow hemp paper—a stack of confessions written in his own voice. Judging by the familiar brushstrokes, the writer was none other than Minister Xie outside the cell.

Rigid and formulaic, each sentence struck the heart, full of remorse and anguish—hardly his style.

He sneered, leaning back against the stone wall, remaining silent.

The warden, infuriated, raised a whip stained with old blood, ready to strike.

"You eunuch spawn, you won't even see tomorrow's sun, yet you still refuse to pay respects to the Chief Grand Secretary!"

This time, Wen Zuo simply closed his eyes. The firelight illuminated his face. Even after such suffering and in such a wretched state, that face remained exquisitely delicate and beautiful, aloof and unattainable.

"Is he worthy?"

"You—" The warden's eyes widened in disbelief, wishing he could beat Wen Zuo to death on the spot to vent Xie Langyang's anger. "Noble sir, this scoundrel is insolent. Let me teach him a lesson. I'll make him kneel and answer properly, he won't dare act recklessly!"

"Sir, please step aside. I'll flay his skin!" someone chimed in.

"Let me!"

"All of you, get out!" Xie Langyang's features contorted with rage, layers of resentment and gloom pressing down from his imposing presence, utterly devoid of his usual noble dignity.

The warden instantly fell silent, unsure of Xie Langyang's meaning, and could only shrink back fearfully.

Once the jailers had scurried away, the dignified and imposing Chief Grand Secretary of the court suddenly went weak at the knees, thudding to the ground before Wen Zuo. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with bitter sorrow—

"Wanshan, I'm sorry. My wife is with child. I truly... had no choice."

If the whole world saw this scene, they'd either think Xie Langyang had gone mad, or believe they themselves had gone mad.

Since ancient times, honest officials and corrupt ones, loyal ministers and treacherous ones, have been irreconcilable opposites.

How could a loyal minister kneel before a treacherous one, weeping in remorse?

Wen Zuo looked at Xie Langyang with a cold laugh.

In the blink of an eye, Xie Langyang had become utterly wretched. His official robe was soaked through with snowmelt, his black-patterned boots caked with mud, two lines of hot tears streaking his jade-like face, his fingernails packed with wood shavings.

So utterly broken, as if he weren't the one who had impeached Wen Zuo for framing the loyal and harming the prince.

Had he not experienced it himself, Wen Zuo would have found it hard to believe that the radiant, noble Langyang, the one who crossed mountains to pluck a camellia branch for him, would plunge him into eternal damnation.

"Your. Wife. Is. Pregnant." Wen Zuo spat the words out one by one, as if trying to crush the scalding flame in his palm. "Minister Xie has indeed been having a fine time this past month."

During the month Wen Zuo was being tried, during the month he endured torture, Xie Langyang's official career flourished, and warm fragrance filled his embrace.

"I... was worn out, body and soul, drank too much, have no memory of it." These words seemed to cut precisely to Xie Langyang's pain. His expression instantly fell into desolation, as he said, distraught, "My death would be of little consequence, but the bloodline of my Xie family is innocent. The Emperor used this to pressure me... In this life, I am destined to fail you."

"Xie Langyang." Wen Zuo laughed lazily. He picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and signed the confession. Sadly, his strokes were weak and floating, his injured fingers lacking strength, devoid of their former elegance.

Then he flung the wolf-hair brush before Xie Langyang's face, as if even a glance was too much: "If I could live another life, I'd make sure you die without a burial place."

Seeing such deep-seated hatred, one might think Wen Zuo was actually wronged, that there was more to the story.

That would be a mistake.

He truly was a detestable and abhorrent treacherous official who manipulated power through deceit. It was only fitting that Xie Langyang, an upright minister of pure character, was the one to bring him down.

It's just that this irreversible path of cut-sleeve love was one Xie Langyang led him onto, yet in the end, it was he who was left to keep a desolate vigil until death.

Upon hearing these words, Xie Langyang staggered, his profound sorrow transforming into a vague, elusive hope: "I once thought, perhaps there truly exists the mythical Penglai illusion, a version of you and me where neither of us entered officialdom after the imperial examination. I would take you far away, never to fail you."

Such words should be taken with a grain of salt; anyone who truly believed them would be the greatest fool under heaven.

Of course, he had many justifications: family duty, the weight of a teacher's kindness, the continuation of the bloodline, the lack of any marital affection.

Once, Wen Zuo had actually believed them.

Everyone said Master Wen was dissolute and promiscuous, flirting everywhere, yet ironically, he had never been intimate with anyone.

Wen Zuo was attracted to men—a taboo in Da Qian and his personal checkmate.

Three years ago, the old emperor fell gravely ill, and the struggle for the throne among the seven princes commenced in earnest.

Among the old emperor's many sons, the Sixth Prince, Shen Chen, was not the most talented.

The reason Wen Zuo chose Shen Chen was because Shen Chen had stated in the old emperor's presence that there was no shame in preferring the same sex, hoping His Majesty would foster open discussion to guide public opinion rightly.

At that time, the old emperor flew into a rage, landed a hard kick on him, and considering his youth, punished him by making him kneel for six full hours in front of the Qingliang Hall.

It happened to be pouring rain, sharp as needles and arrows. Wen Zuo walked under an umbrella to the front of the hall and took Shen Chen's icy hand.

Shen Chen's eyes reddened, and he stumbled into Wen Zuo's embrace, choking out, "Teacher Wen."

Remembering Xie Langyang, Wen Zuo, who usually avoided factional strife and was reluctant to take on disciples, responded, "Hmm."

Shen Chen's principal consort and Xie Langyang's principal wife were sisters, so Xie Langyang naturally aligned himself with Shen Chen as well.

This led Wen Zuo to mistakenly believe they were striving for the same goal.

Xie Langyang was upright and incorruptible, adhering strictly to principles. Wen Zuo couldn't bear to see him mired in the conspiracies and schemes of the succession struggle.

So, those Shen Chen feared, he eliminated.

The wealth Shen Chen coveted, he seized.

The power Shen Chen desired, he usurped.

After all, being a pure, loyal minister was Xie Langyang's lifelong wish.

"Get out," Wen Zuo said to Xie Langyang.

Xie Langyang knelt and crawled closer to the cell door, tears tracing the bridge of his nose, his trembling hand reaching out as if to touch Wen Zuo's broken left leg: "Whether you believe it or not, I only wish to keep looking at you like this..."

Yet he clearly knew that once the confession was submitted, Wen Zuo would die.

This death warrant was written and delivered by his own hand.

On the day of execution, the snow had just melted. The round sun hung high in the sky. A line of imperial archers in silver armor, faces covered with red scarves, took their positions at the front of the hall, arrows in hand.

Wen Zuo's limbs were bound to a stake, a large red circle drawn over his heart.

Shen Chen strode before him. The once cautious, easily frightened youth had finally shed his disguise: "I forgot to tell you, Teacher. The guard from your residence, Jiang Mannv, attempted a prison break. She was cut down by the Left Battalion Guards and fed to wild dogs. Your housekeeper, Liu Qiying, presented a petition bearing ten thousand signatures for your mercy. Her throat was slit, she was left to bleed out, and her head was displayed at the South Gate."

The person before him was never the shivering youth in the rainstorm, nor the weeping good student who cried, "I only have Teacher Wen left."

A tear traced his frozen cheek, searing like a red-hot iron gouging flesh.

Wen Zuo laughed until he coughed.

How strange. He, who could discern the great from the trivial, a veritable Zhuge Liang come to life, how could he have been blinded by this pack of beasts?

Having laughed his fill, he stifled his disgust and said, "Shen Chen, if I could return to Shunyuan 23, the one ascending to this position today would certainly not be you."

"Teacher can regret it in your next life," Shen Chen said, his wolf-like eyes cold and utterly heartless. He then lifted his robe, turned, and ascended the supreme throne Wen Zuo had seized for him.

A eunuch shrieked, "The hour has come! Imperial archers!"

The ministers prostrated themselves, shouting in unison, "Eliminate the treacherous officials! Secure the state!"

The cries came from all directions, converging into a vicious, roaring tidal wave that violently assaulted Wen Zuo's eardrums. Then, an even sharper, more piercing sound tore through the shouts, cleaving the air—

*Thwack!*

An arrow pierced through Wen Zuo's skin, sinews, and bones, bursting out from his shoulder blade and clattering to the ground.

He only felt a warm, wet sensation on his shoulder, followed by an explosion of intense pain from deep within, spreading to every nerve.

The second, the third...

Blood soaked through his prisoner's garb. The cold wind had just begun to congeal the throbbing wounds when hotter blood washed it away. He lost even the strength to groan in pain.

In the end, it was just like this.

In his final moments, Shen Chen walked over through the sea of blood, wearing an expression of disgust that was both unfamiliar and eerily familiar, ruthlessly crushing his last shred of pride.

"As a man, willingly submitting like a woman—it truly disgusts me."

Wen Zuo was already growing numb, his vision gradually blotched with scattered black spots.

But just then, the celestial phenomena changed abruptly!

The round sun hanging high in the sky was suddenly devoured by a shadow, plunging the earth into sudden darkness.

The ministers looked up in fear at the solar eclipse, only to see a sliver of light burst from the center of the shadow, cleaving straight down, splitting the palace's central axis.

Dazedly, Wen Zuo saw the vermilion walls and high tiles before him, the lofty platform and long steps, rent asunder. From the fissure came the sound of a waterfall-like downpour.

And standing on the central axis with him were Xie Langyang, whose face was ashen, and Shen Chen, whose brow was tightly furrowed.