Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Alright, I’m worn out. As for the Spring Terrace Chess Association, let Wanshan handle it—he looks eager for something to do. Your sedan chairs should have arrived by now; return home and rest.”

Emperor Shunyuan was indeed exhausted; his eyelids could barely remain open. Liu Quan hurried over to support him, allowing the emperor to lean his full weight upon him.

Just as the Grand Secretariat ministers were preparing to rise, a sharp, piercing woman’s voice sliced through the curtain of rain outside the hall—frantic, almost hysterical.

“Your Majesty! I beg you to receive your humble consort! I must speak with you!”

A eunuch attendant relayed the message carefully from beyond the glazed windows: “It is Concubine Yi, braving the rain, requesting an audience with Your Majesty.”

Wen Zuo remained expressionless, lifting his teacup. He rotated it slowly, studying the crackled glaze of the plum-green porcelain.

At first glance, the glaze resembled a large tabby cat. That such a pattern was supposedly worth one hundred taels of silver only proved that blind and foolish officials were not limited to him.

Outside, Concubine Yi continued wailing and sobbing: “Your Majesty, Chen’er didn’t mean it! He’s only seventeen this year—he must have been led astray! I beg you to show him mercy. If he continues kneeling like this, his body won’t withstand it!”

Wen Zuo listened with quiet satisfaction. Indeed, once he made changes, the course of events shifted.

Before Shen Chen employed his self-injury tactic, he must have informed Concubine Yi. Most likely, she had waited and waited—but Shen Chen was not sent back. Finally, she could no longer sit still and came pleading for leniency.

In his previous life, this mother and son had colluded, compiling lists of enemies and rivals both inside and outside the palace, begging Wen Zuo to eliminate them one by one.

When they needed him, Shen Chen was humble and respectful; Concubine Yi was even more attentive. Learning that Wen Zuo suffered from a chronic cold, she personally sewed and gifted him sleeve warmers, using her family’s traditional *nasha* embroidery technique.

Later, when Shen Chen ascended the throne as he wished, Concubine Yi suddenly demanded the sleeve warmers back. Though puzzled, Wen Zuo returned them.

The very next day, Xie Langyang suddenly impeached him in court. Immediately, the assembled ministers echoed the accusation, listing his numerous crimes. He stood rigidly, abruptly becoming the target of all attacks.

Seeing the faces of his former lover and student, his ears rang and his vision darkened. But Shen Chen gave him no time to react—immediately ordering his arrest and imprisonment, instructing the Three Judicial Offices to conduct a rigorous interrogation…

It had all been premeditated. Concubine Yi retrieved the sleeve warmers for fear the unique embroidery would implicate her and arouse suspicion.

Recalling Concubine Yi’s kind, gentle demeanor the day she reclaimed the sleeves now made Wen Zuo feel nauseous.

Hearing Concubine Yi’s voice, Xie Langyang’s heart finally eased.

Since the Emperor developed his cough, Concubine Yi had served diligently—not only often preparing soups herself but also reciting sutras and praying for blessings every night. If not merit, then at least toil.

Emperor Shunyuan had witnessed it all. Even if he cared little for Shen Chen, he would grant Concubine Yi some face for her efforts these past days.

With Concubine Yi braving the rain to plead, Shen Chen was likely saved.

Sure enough, Emperor Shunyuan paused and looked out the window, his brow flickering with compassion.

He was weighing, comparing—whether to shrug off the flattery Wen Zuo had laid upon him and retract that “well-intentioned care.”

Two and a half hours were probably enough. After this ordeal, Shen Chen would dare not utter nonsense again.

Just as Emperor Shunyuan was about to relent, he saw Wen Zuo gently place his cup on the table, cross his legs, and sigh with emotion: “The northern wind is cold; the rain darkens the imperial palace. Concubine Yi’s maternal devotion is truly moving.”

At first hearing, this seemed to say that despite the harsh north wind, cold rain, and gloomy palace, Concubine Yi still came—demonstrating profound motherly love.

Coupled with his tone of worry and sympathy, it even sounded like an indirect plea for leniency.

Only Eunuch Liu Qian turned his face, giving Wen Zuo an inscrutable look.

Suddenly realizing, Xie Langyang sprang up, attempting to interrupt the Emperor’s train of thought: “Your Majesty!”

But it was too late.

The crux lay in the character *Chen* (宸).

The early demise of Imperial Consort Chen had always been a heartache for Emperor Shunyuan—unforgotten for over twenty years. He even viewed other consorts as imaginary rivals who had stolen Imperial Consort Chen’s favor. It was absolutely impossible for him to feel pity for other consorts while thinking of her.

Sure enough, upon hearing the character *Chen*, Emperor Shunyuan withdrew his words of pardon. His pupils dilated slightly; his cheekbones twitched unconsciously; his chest heaved; his breathing deepened.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty?” Liu Quan patted the Emperor’s back, calling softly.

Emperor Shunyuan fell into a despondent trance. No matter how Concubine Yi cried and shouted outside the hall, he paid no further heed—directly retreating to his bedchamber via the rear door.

Only then did the Grand Secretariat ministers grasp the implication, their gazes toward Wen Zuo growing complex.

Fortunately, Wen Zuo had no interest in the succession struggle. Otherwise, whichever prince gained this man would truly be like a tiger growing wings—a major headache.

Gong Zhiyuan offered a thin, insincere smile: “Master Wen, what skillful maneuvering.”

Though he didn’t know why Wen Zuo disliked Shen Chen, as long as it didn’t involve the Crown Prince, it was none of his concern.

With the Emperor gone, the Grand Secretariat ministers naturally had to return home.

Gong Zhiyuan left with Luo Mingpu and Liu Chenming—both members of the Crown Prince Faction. Eunuchs held umbrellas, escorting them to their sedans outside the Imperial Palace Long Street.

Walking along the corridor, he didn’t spare another glance at Shen Chen or Concubine Yi.

Back in the day, Gong Zhiyuan had actually wanted to marry his eldest daughter to the Crown Prince—even as a secondary consort. Later, she could be promoted to Imperial Consort, bear a prince, and their Gong family bloodline could contend for the throne.

Unexpectedly, Shen Chen got there first—secretly pledging himself to his daughter.

Though Shen Chen claimed they couldn’t control their passion and promised to make his daughter the principal consort, there was always a whiff of calculation in it—leaving Gong Zhiyuan with a bone in his throat.

Moreover, as a staunch Crown Prince Faction member, Gong Zhiyuan always maintained distance from other princes. He didn’t want to lose the Crown Prince’s trust for no reason.

Gong Zhiyuan departed. The Virtuous Prince Faction, led by Bo Zhangyi, also departed. The charcoal fire in the hall was nearly spent. Outside, Concubine Yi nearly cried herself into a faint.

Without the Emperor’s verbal decree, no one dared help Shen Chen rise—unless that person had a death wish.

Having watched enough of the drama, Wen Zuo picked up the Songluo Tea bestowed by the Emperor, preparing to leave. The folding fan was tucked at his waist; the already tightly fastened black belt cinched his slender waist even more.

Just as he was about to step out the door, his wrist was suddenly seized with force, yanking him back inside.

“Wanshan, you’ve returned too, haven’t you?”

Both were intelligent men. Their earlier performances had revealed each other’s anomalies—so there was no need for pretense.

Xie Langyang gazed deeply at him, his eyes holding guilt, attachment, and a trace of disappointment difficult to conceal.

The person before him was neatly dressed, with jet-black hair, bright eyes, and rosy cheeks—bearing no resemblance to the dying figure in the prison of the Court of Judicial Review.

At this time, he hadn’t yet stained his hands with the blood of the innocent, nor resorted to any means for power.

This should have been when Xie Langyang loved him most.

He remembered Wen Zuo always liked counting his meager official salary, then locking away his private savings in a small compartment under the bed—calculating retirement expenses. Often finding it insufficient, he would even pilfer items from the Emperor to fill his little treasury.

Xie Langyang would occasionally tell him not to worry so much about money—the Xie family had plenty and could support him no matter how extravagant he was. But Wen Zuo would retort that Xie Langyang was older and might pass away first—what then? Leaving Xie Langyang speechless.

At this time, Wen Zuo lived a carefree and easy life. In his leisure time, he loved going to the pleasure quarters to listen to songs—always choosing the most cost-effective establishment.

He would gently sway his cloud-patterned folding fan, have two exceptionally talented courtesans keep him company, and stay out all night. No matter how the outside world spread rumors of his debauchery and disregard for official decorum, even if Emperor Shunyuan reprimanded him, he didn't care in the slightest.

He would turn to Xie Langyang with eyes alight and smile: "It's the perfect way to fool them, so no one bothers."

Xie Langyang loved his shrewdness, loved his cunning yet affectionate eyes, loved his touch of literary sensibility, loved his perfectly balanced mix of dependence and willfulness.

Just recalling it now, a surge of warmth flooded his chest.

Unfortunately, not a trace of that dependence remained in Wen Zuo's eyes anymore, replaced instead by subtly concealed sinister schemes.

With just a few words, he could manipulate Emperor Shunyuan like a puppet, leaving Shen Chen with no means to seek help and sending a chill down Xie Langyang's spine.

Xie Langyang tightened his grip on Wen Zuo's wrist, suddenly realizing that Wen Zuo hadn't put on much weight since prison. He never seemed to gain weight, despite his clear love for sweet treats like *jujube cold cake*—he just never grew any fuller.

No wonder only ten strokes of the cane had broken his leg bone.

The pain of a broken bone. How unbearable it must have been.

So, Xie Langyang's heart softened again. The strength in his palm gradually loosened, his thumb stroking Wen Zuo's pulse with restrained tenderness: "I'm so happy to see you. I've missed you, Wanshan. I had almost forgotten what you look like now."

Wen Zuo did not turn his head fully. He glanced down at his own wrist, asking almost amiably: "How dare Minister Xie get close to me in the palace now?"

Just beyond the door stood two young eunuchs waiting to put out the lamps, while Shen Chen and his mother were kneeling in misery outside.

In his previous life, Xie Langyang would never have dared to overstep any boundaries within the palace.

The shackles he bore were too heavy; a single misstep would lead to irreversible ruin. He felt especially guilty toward Wen Zuo, even deliberately maintaining distance.

Wen Zuo had always endured his two-faced demeanor—cold in public, warm in private—and had grown accustomed to it, never finding it all that painful.

Wen Zuo's sarcasm pricked at Xie Langyang, but he had explained this matter long ago.

"You know, my teacher has always had people watching me."

Marrying his eldest daughter to Shen Chen was unexpected for Gong Zhiyuan, but marrying his youngest daughter to Xie Langyang was a calculated move on Gong Zhiyuan's part.

The eldest son of the Xie family of Nanzhou, the Number One Scholar in the imperial examinations of the sixteenth year of Shunyuan's reign, Xie Langyang was a successor whom Gong Zhiyuan held in the highest regard.

Thus, during the four years after Wen Zuo was transferred back from Bozhou and served in the same court as Xie Langyang, they saw each other daily, yet Xie Langyang dared not cross the line.

"That's simple. Since you fear Gong Zhiyuan, I'll think of a way to have him killed." Wen Zuo replied as if it were nothing, returning Xie Langyang's grip, his thumb rubbing between his fingers and palm, as intimate as always.

Lost in a moment of nostalgic longing, Xie Langyang suddenly snapped back to reality. He knew Wen Zuo was certainly capable of such ruthless methods: "How could you! Gong Zhiyuan is our mentor! To harm him would be an unforgivable sin against heaven!"

The year Wen Zuo and Xie Langyang took the imperial examinations, Gong Zhiyuan was the chief examiner. According to etiquette, scholars who passed as *jinshi* were to visit the chief examiner's home, respectfully addressing him as "teacher."

Thereafter, the *jinshi* of that year's examination would automatically be considered under the examiner's patronage, becoming his protégés.

However, after the palace examination, Wen Zuo was assigned to a distant post in Bozhou, while only Xie Langyang received Gong Zhiyuan's meticulous grooming.

Thus, Xie Langyang calling him "teacher" was only fitting, but Wen Zuo utterly disdained acknowledging him.

"So it seems you also know that killing one's teacher is an unforgivable sin against heaven." Wen Zuo suddenly withdrew his hand, his still-smiling eyes instantly turning cold.

Xie Langyang's palm felt empty. Feeling lost, he hurriedly defended himself: "Shen Chen is different! A true ruler considers the whole world his household; how can he be partial to any single thing? The new emperor has just ascended the throne—this is precisely the time for reform, to discard the old and bring in the new, to eliminate the corrupt and promote the virtuous. Moreover, the remnants of Prince Xian and the Crown Prince's factions are still lying in wait. You... the evil deeds you committed are an open secret. Shen Chen must give an explanation to the court and the public."

The sesame oil lamp crackled as it burned, emitting the same scent as on New Year's Eve. Wen Zuo asked: "You all had no other choice, so only I am guilty beyond pardon, deserving of ten thousand deaths?"

Xie Langyang's gaze darkened: "Wanshan, the tragic case of Duke Liu's family and the deaths of the Third and Fifth Princes—you are indeed not without blame."

Hearing this, Wen Zuo almost laughed out loud.

"Yes, I was born with a grudge against Duke Liu and the princes. Killing one wasn't enough to vent my anger; I had to eradicate them root and branch. I pinned all the crimes on the Crown Prince and Prince Xian, letting them fight like dogs until both were exhausted, conveniently paving the way for Shen Chen!"

Xie Langyang lowered his gaze, wanting to embrace Wen Zuo's body, trembling with agitation: "I know you have grievances, so this time I want to bear them with you, to carve out a new path—one that leaves us with no shame before heaven and earth, and a clear conscience—so you can cleanse your sins and start anew with a clean slate."

Cleanse his sins? Start anew with a clean slate?

So he thought he was dirty.

Since ancient times, struggles for imperial power have been stained with blood, a fight to the death. To protect Xie Langyang's original innocence, he had become Shen Chen's most vicious blade. So, all along, while enjoying his pristine reputation, Xie Langyang had considered him dirty.

What nonsense!

Wen Zuo no longer felt sorrow over this person; instead, his thoughts became crystal clear: "While in the prison of the Dali Temple, I wondered how Shen Chen knew I liked men, how he used a self-injury scheme to lure me into a trap. Now I see, it was all your handiwork."

"How could I!" Xie Langyang truly had never revealed their relationship to Shen Chen. "Wanshan, I would never help anyone scheme against you, especially not with matters of our feelings."

"If not you, then it was your wife. What's the difference? Xie Langyang, I'm not playing your games anymore. If you have the ability, go ahead and personally prop Shen Chen up yourself."

Xie Langyang wasn't naive enough to expect Wen Zuo to assist Shen Chen without any resentment at this moment. He merely said: "For now, can you at least not oppose Shen Chen?"

"No."

Xie Langyang sighed wearily: "You don't know, while you were in prison, that month Shen Chen promoted honest officials, suppressed maternal relatives, and issued ten reform decrees in succession. Both inside and outside the court, there was an atmosphere of thriving renewal and revitalization. He may not have been a good student, but he will surely be a good emperor. For the foundation of Da Qian, for the common people, I beg you—let go of this enmity."

Wen Zuo picked up that plum-green teacup, looked at it again and again, then suddenly raised his hand and splashed the cold tea fiercely onto Xie Langyang's face: "Why don't you go say that to your dear father-in-law, and let the Crown Prince he wholeheartedly supports hear it too."

Caught off guard, Xie Langyang was drenched, his forehead and hair wet, with two tea leaves stuck to his face.

But he showed no anger, merely wiping the tea from his eyelids, still gazing at Wen Zuo with persistent, deep affection: "I will find a way with my mentor, but you are mine, and I have a responsibility—"

Just then, they suddenly heard Concubine Yi shouting loudly outside the hall: "Physician! Physician! The Sixth Prince has fainted! Someone, come quickly!"

Outside, chaos erupted—footsteps and the sound of rain crisscrossed, dense as drumbeats.

A eunuch of some standing urgently called through the hall door: "The Sixth Prince has fainted, Master! Please speak to His Majesty for us! We dare not move him!"

The eunuchs were perceptive; they knew how indulgent the Emperor was toward Minister Wen's willfulness.

Yet Wen Zuo deliberately refused to save a life in distress. He walked leisurely toward the hall door, yawning: "The Emperor has already returned to his bedchamber to rest. Isn't this asking me to get scolded? Better ask the Sixth Prince to endure a bit longer."

"This... alas!" The eunuch had no choice but to steel himself and relay the message.

The surroundings instantly fell into silence. In his anxiety, Xie Langyang hurried after him a few steps, his voice low and trembling.

"Wanshan, Shen Chen is, after all, the future Emperor Shengde, ordained by heaven. Even if he has countless faults, this position must be occupied by him!"

"Ordained by heaven?"

Wen Zuo first looked at Xie Langyang with some surprise, then burst into laughter.

"Then just wait and see—whether this throne is determined by heaven or by me!" With that, he raised his palm, pushed open the hall door, and walked out without looking back.

Instantly, rain and mist rushed against his face, the sound thunderous, as if ten thousand war drums were beating in unison on a battlefield, plunging all things in the world into a hazy blur.

Disregarding courtly decorum, Xie Langyang stumbled after that blurry patch of red: "Wen Wanshan! The current Crown Prince is incompetent, Prince Xian is hypocritical, the Third Prince is disabled, the Fourth Prince lacks ambition, the Fifth Prince is naturally dull, the Seventh Prince is still too young—for the sake of Da Qian's rivers and mountains, its altars of state, who else can you choose?"

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning slashed diagonally across the sky. For an instant, the world was as bright as day. Wen Zuo stood on the steps before the Qingliang Hall, looking down from above. His official robe, bright red as blood, fluttered in the wind, truly resembling the Wenchang Emperor in paintings—the deity in vermilion robes who oversees the celestial officials, marking their foreheads.

Raindrops pelted down on him. Xie Langyang gazed at his retreating figure, inexplicably filled with unease: "You... who will you choose?"