Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The current power structure of the court is led by the Crown Prince and Prince Xian.

Aligned with the Crown Prince are Grand Tutor Liu Zhangbai, Chief Grand Secretary Gong Zhiyuan, Vice Minister of the Ministry of Justice Luo Mingpu, and Minister of Rites Liu Chenming. Supporting Prince Xian are Bo Zhangyi, who controls the nation’s treasury as head of the Ministry of Revenue; Tang Guangzhi, responsible for official appointments and transfers in the Ministry of Personnel; and Shang Zhiqin from the Ministry of Works.

The Crown Prince has a Deputy Military Commissioner at his disposal, while Prince Xian holds the Regional Military Commissioner of Liangzhou. The two are at a stalemate.

Logically, choosing between these two would be most convenient for Wen Zuo. With minimal effort, he could elevate one to the throne.

Unfortunately, Xie Langyang was right—the current Crown Prince is incompetent, and Prince Xian is hypocritical.

Crown Prince Shen Zhen is too much like Emperor Shunyuan, avoiding risks and seeking only to avoid blame. If he ascends the throne, the court would remain a stagnant pond.

As for Prince Xian, Shen Bi puts on a show of humility, welcoming advice and honoring the worthy, but in truth, he is deeply suspicious and petty. Anyone who offends him, even if speaking out of principle, meets a grim fate.

As for the other princes…

Third Prince Shen Ting was born disabled, with one leg shorter than the other. Those meeting him for the first time can hardly suppress a smirk, and he has grown intensely sensitive and cruel because of it, often unleashing violence on the innocent.

Fourth Prince Shen He has no ambition for the throne. Since marrying the woman he loves, his days are devoted to enjoying life with his beloved wife. He walks this path purely under pressure from his adoptive mother, Consort Zhen.

Seventh Prince Shen Bing is only ten years old, obedient and quiet, keeping to himself and not causing trouble. He would be suitable as a puppet, but Wen Zuo has no interest in ruling as a puppet master. After all, seizing the throne is a headache in itself, and he won’t have heirs anyway.

And Fifth Prince Shen Zheng… Wen Zuo’s eyelashes fluttered, pausing noticeably.

Shen Zheng’s maternal clan is powerful. His maternal grandfather is the Marquis of Yongning, his mother was named Consort Liang upon entering the palace, and his uncle is the General of Dingyuan, who recently defeated Nanping. Logically, he should have the capability to contend for the Heir Apparent position, or at least be enfeoffed as a prince.

Unfortunately, he is innately dull. He couldn’t speak until age three, barely walked and jumped by four, could recite his first poem at six, and was sent as a hostage at eight. Imperial physicians and the Directorate of Astronomy have examined him, diagnosing congenital deficiencies and an unenlightened mind—in short, this child is ruined.

Shen Zheng proved them right; when others said he was ruined, he truly became ruined.

After ten years as a hostage, his spirit was utterly broken, returning with a vacant stare and slurred speech, appearing hopeless.

If Shen Zheng were slightly smarter, perhaps… never mind.

There are still three years. Sifting through the muck for gold, he’ll take his time choosing.

For now, the most crucial matter is the Spring Terrace Chess Association. He needs to think about how to make Shen Chen lose this round in disgrace.

Wen Zuo leaned lightly against the soft cushion in his sedan chair, gazing through the gauze curtain at the window outside, his eyes gradually filling with a hatred as deep and cold as night rain.

Perhaps the weather was too damp, the moisture too heavy, or his body too weak, Wen Zuo habitually placed both palms on his knees, clenching tightly.

Shen Chen, ah Shen Chen, what celestial alignment, what destiny to inherit the throne? Whomever I choose will be the emperor!

Arriving at the Wen residence, the sedan stopped. Liu Qiying skillfully stepped forward, wrapped a fur robe around him, and escorted him straight to the bedroom, efficiently tucking him into a warm, cozy quilt.

Jiang Mannv even carried three braziers into the room in one go, raising the indoor temperature significantly.

Only this way could they ensure Wen Zuo wouldn’t fall ill from the dampness or suffer discomfort.

Warmed by the braziers, Wen Zuo wriggled and poked his head out from under the quilt, his eyes following the two busy women.

Two hours earlier, he had heard of their deaths from Shen Chen’s lips.

What was an utterly ordinary day in their eyes felt like a long-awaited reunion to him.

Wen Zuo leaned forward slightly, his cheeks tinged with the color of sunset. “No need, I’m not in much pain today.”

Since entering prison, this was the first time he felt no pain, surrounded by warmth and people.

“Your annual salary is 155 taels of silver. The monthly wages in the residence total 8 taels, leaving an annual surplus of 59 taels. Given your excellent habit of falling seriously ill every seven days and mildly ill every three, I sincerely hope you’ll be as obedient as tonight from now on—avoiding wind and rain. Otherwise, to cut expenses, I earnestly suggest you dump Vice Minister Xie and find an old imperial physician to settle down with.”

Wen Zuo stared fixedly at the sharp-tongued Liu Qiying, unable to resist asking, “Are you human?”

Liu Qiying: “…”

Jiang Mannv, while checking Wen Zuo’s forehead, complained, “Why are you mocking the master like that? You know full well his seven-year bond with Vice Minister Xie!”

Wen Zuo silently avoided her pitch-black sleeve.

Just as the slow-to-react Jiang Mannv suspected she was being looked down on, Wen Zuo said softly, “Since I pay such high wages, would you be willing to go through fire and water for me?”

Jiang Mannv slapped her chest righteously. “Willing!”

Liu Qiying immediately rolled her eyes. “Dream on. If something happens to you, master, I’ll turn and run.”

Wen Zuo laughed at once, but as he laughed, his eyes suddenly grew moist, as if stained by the dampness outside.

Fool, then why didn’t you run?

Liu Qiying was slightly startled. Sensitive and observant, she quickly noticed Wen Zuo’s unusual mood.

Normally, Wen Zuo would have engaged in a sharp-tongued exchange with her, but today, from the moment he entered, he had been overly gentle and silent.

“Did something happen at court?” Liu Qiying frowned slightly.

“Nothing, just tired.” Wen Zuo slumped onto the bed, shrinking further into the quilt until only his eyes were visible, seemingly ready to sleep.

The mystical matter of rebirth was best left unexplained—it would lead to endless talk, and besides… their previous life’s outcome was truly tragic.

Wen Zuo lay with his eyes closed for a while, then opened them and said, “Go to Vice Minister Xie’s residence tomorrow and tell him there’s a piece called ‘Evening Mountain Rhapsody’ that I want him to return to me.”

Upon hearing this, Liu Qiying’s pupils trembled, clearly shocked.

Her earlier suggestion that Wen Zuo dump Xie Langyang and find a physician was just a joke, but Wen Zuo seemed to have taken it seriously.

That “Evening Mountain Rhapsody” could be considered their token of affection.

Back then, sixteen-year-old Wen Zuo traveled to the capital for the imperial exams. Running out of money and food on the way, he happened to meet Xie Langyang, a nobleman five years his senior.

The two became companions, discussing history and philosophy, sharing ideals, and admiring each other.

Wen Zuo was frail and sickly; Xie Langyang fetched medicine for him. Wen Zuo was penniless; Xie Langyang gave him silver. Wen Zuo’s clothes were shabby; Xie Langyang offered his own.

The day before entering the capital, they stopped in a small town. A heavy snow fell, and all shops were closed. Coincidentally, it was Wen Zuo’s birthday. Xie Langyang searched the green hills and finally found a camellia as white as jade, telling him, “Wen Wanshan, Wanshan, I cannot restrain my feelings.”

Wanshan is an elegant name for camellia, perfectly fitting.

For Wen Zuo, who had experienced little familial warmth, the care and affection Xie Langyang offered were like rain after a long drought, treasures he cherished deeply.

Thus, Wen Zuo composed this rhapsody titled “Wanshan” and gifted it to Xie Langyang. Only Jiang and Liu knew of this.

What had happened now?

Seeing Wen Zuo wasn’t inclined to share, Liu Qiying tactfully didn’t press. Jiang Mannv, concerned and flustered, was about to make a fuss when Liu Qiying quickly grabbed her collar, dragging and pulling her away.

The Wen residence was relatively peaceful that night, but Sixth Prince’s Kang’an Palace was in utter chaos.

Although Shen Chen had fainted earlier, by the time Emperor Shunyuan learned of it and permitted the imperial physician to treat him, nearly three *shi chen* had passed.

The small kitchen prepared the cold medicine according to the prescription, while the physician pried open his teeth and fed him a medicinal pellet to sustain him, waiting only for the decoction to be ready so it could be administered to him before he was swaddled in blankets to sweat out the fever.

After all this commotion, it was nearly dawn when Shen Chen finally regained consciousness.

Fortunately, he was young and robust, not yet overwhelmed by the acute illness.

Xie Langyang had stayed in the palace all night, remaining by Shen Chen’s side in the chamber. As soon as Shen Chen awoke, he hurried to the bedside.

The sovereign and his minister exchanged a glance, each reading complex worry in the other’s eyes.

After a long pause, Shen Chen dismissed the attendants, keeping only Xie Langyang behind.

“Minister Xie remembers, doesn’t he?” Shen Chen got straight to the point.

Xie Langyang thought to himself, indeed, Shen Chen had also come back. Now three people knew of the future—he wondered if there would be more. But judging by the reactions of the court officials yesterday, it seemed no one else retained memories.

Seeing Xie Langyang’s silence, Shen Chen understood. Leaning against the bed, he gritted his teeth. “Absurd, truly absurd! After all my efforts to ascend the throne, I’ve encountered such a bizarre twist, only to end up all for nothing!”

Xie Langyang quickly knelt. “Your Highness, last night was my fault. I failed to dissuade Your Majesty.”

“What about Wen Zuo? Why didn’t Wen Zuo plead for mercy? Does he remember too?” Though ill, Shen Chen’s mind was sharp. He hadn’t truly fainted the previous night but had feigned it when he saw the situation turning sour. Who could have expected the eunuchs to be so timid and slow in relaying messages, forcing him to endure three full hours of torment.

To protect Wen Zuo, Xie Langyang should have claimed ignorance on his behalf, reducing Shen Chen’s vigilance and hostility. Unfortunately, the upbringing that had instilled in him an unwavering duty to never lie to his sovereign left him struggling for a long time before he finally bowed his head.

“…He does indeed know.” Xie Langyang crawled forward two steps on his knees, his once-unbending spine seeming to have bent repeatedly of late. “However, Your Highness, Wen Zuo’s resentment is understandable. If only you would revoke the decree and grant him a path to survival, I would surely counsel him diligently, teaching him to understand the greater good and share your burdens.”

After speaking, Xie Langyang bowed deeply.

Shen Chen observed Xie Langyang’s devout, kowtowing form but remained unmoved.

At times, he felt that despite Xie Langyang’s deep affection, he fundamentally did not understand Wen Zuo.

After this ordeal, no matter what Shen Chen did—even if he bared his heart for Wen Zuo to see—Wen Zuo would never trust or assist him again.

Only Xie Langyang could still harbor such delusional hopes.

Shen Chen’s current situation was awkward. Although he clearly remembered how he had schemed against his elder brothers to ascend the throne, Wen Zuo now introduced an unpredictable variable.

It would be fine if Wen Zuo didn’t cause trouble, but what if he did?

Shen Chen’s humble origins meant he had little support to begin with. Initially, he had approached Gong Jinjin, hoping to gain Gong Zhiyuan’s backing. Who could have foreseen that this old fox, wary of the risks of switching allegiances, would want nothing to do with him, even abandoning his own daughter?

Later, he learned from Gong Jinjin that her sister, Gong Yuwen, had married a man who was attracted to both men and women. When he discovered that the one sharing an intimate bond with Xie Langyang was Wen Zuo, the plan for a bitter flesh stratagem took shape.

Could it truly be divine retribution, forcing him back to this precise moment?

“Your Highness, I beg you!” Xie Langyang, who had not slept all night, had bloodshot eyes. In truth, he hadn’t rested properly for over a month.

He felt trapped between two stone walls—one inscribed with “loyalty,” the other with “righteousness”—both relentlessly closing in, crushing him until he could hardly breathe.

He could have mustered all his strength to push one wall aside, but when he exerted force, he saw blood seeping through the cracks. Hastily releasing his grip, he realized that no matter which direction he pushed, he was destined to stain his hands with blood and become a heartless, faithless man.

Shen Chen suddenly regarded Xie Langyang with a peculiar expression. “Do you truly believe it was I who wanted to kill Wen Zuo?”

Xie Langyang froze.

Shen Chen smiled ambiguously, then reached out to help Xie Langyang to his feet. Sovereign and minister seemed to have bared their hearts in this chaotic, tumultuous night.

“Very well, I promise you, my dear minister, that if Master Wen does not oppose me, I will allow him to resign from office and return to his hometown this time.”

Xie Langyang’s feelings toward Shen Chen were complex.

Although Shen Chen had coerced him into impeaching Wen Zuo, forcing him to personally send his beloved to hell, Shen Chen also relied heavily on him and trusted him deeply, even declaring before all the court officials, “What I hope from you is to illuminate the mountains and rivers.”

For any scholar with ideals and aspirations, such words were worth dying for ten thousand times over.

To live up to his sovereign’s grace and the world’s expectations, Xie Langyang had struggled intensely, ultimately making the agonizing choice to sacrifice Wen Zuo.

Now that Shen Chen was willing to promise a satisfactory resolution, Xie Langyang believed that a sovereign’s word was his bond.

As Xie Langyang prepared to kneel again in gratitude, Shen Chen stopped him. “But Minister Xie, you must never let Master Wen know that I also possess memories of the previous life. Otherwise, before you can persuade him, my position will become exceedingly difficult.”

He needed to create an information gap, lulling Wen Zuo into lowering his guard and miscalculating, thereby turning passivity into initiative.

Xie Langyang did not wish to deceive Wen Zuo.

Back when they pledged their love at Qingping Mountain, he had promised that between him and Wen Zuo, there would only be sincerity, never falsehoods.

Yet he also knew the circumstances were extraordinary now. Shen Chen’s position was precarious, and Wen Zuo possessed such a ruthless, vindictive nature.

A nobleman should prioritize the world before personal affairs, so he could only let Wen Zuo down.

“…I obey your decree.”

Having steadied Xie Langyang, Shen Chen breathed a sigh of relief.

Wen Zuo was irretrievably lost to him now; what he needed was for Xie Langyang to help him with the next step.

—The Spring Terrace Chess Association.

The people of Da Qian revered chess. Scholars befriended one another through the game, warriors dueled over the board, and from the imperial clan down to commoners, nearly everyone had some understanding of chess.

Among great clans, it was essential to have a National Master in residence to demonstrate profound heritage.

In the current chess world, eight legitimate schools of inheritance were locked in rivalry: the Shi School, Xie School, Xiao School, Song School, Cheng School, Yang School, Zhu School, and Helian School.

Each of these eight schools possessed exquisite and ever-changing chess techniques. Aspiring players across the land had to choose one school to study under, continuously refining their skills to compete at the Spring Terrace Chess Association.

Although all eight schools were formidable, only the top three contenders each year could be conferred the title of National Master. Winners naturally held their heads high, while losers inevitably faced ridicule for a year.

If a school failed to produce a National Master for several consecutive years, even the entire lineage would decline.

Over the past decade or so, many disciples of the Eight Veins had entered court service, their relationships with the princes becoming increasingly intricate.

Although a showdown was inevitable sooner or later, the differences among top masters were minimal. With just a slight manipulation during the draw—pitting formidable rivals against each other to exhaust them while conserving one’s own energy—the outcome could be vastly different.

This required subtle maneuvering by those in power.

Shen Chen remembered clearly that on this very day, the gates of the Wen residence would be worn down by envoys from the Crown Prince and Prince Xian.

And not just these two—the Third Prince, Shen Ting, also sent a singer and new tunes from the music academy.

Of course, Shen Chen had gone too, but under the guise of paying respects and expressing gratitude as a disciple, which sounded pure and simple.

At the time, Wen Zuo had turned away the Crown Prince’s and Prince Xian’s people, declined Shen Ting’s gifts, and alone endured his pain to receive Shen Chen with courtesy.

Shen Chen mused quietly, “His Majesty has appointed Wen Zuo to oversee the Spring Terrace Chess Association. I’m afraid many princes will visit him today. Last time, Wen Zuo chose me. Minister Xie, what changes do you think will occur this time?”

What he really wanted to know was: who was Wen Zuo trying to put in power this time?

Both the Crown Prince and Prince Xian were riding high, and the Third Prince Shen Ting was brimming with ambition—all likely within Wen Zuo’s considerations.

“I believe he will not choose anyone for now—neither the Crown Prince, Prince Xian, Shen Ting, nor Shen Zheng.”

Xie Langyang naturally could not mention Wen Zuo’s arrogant remark before the Qingliang Hall—“I decide the throne”—or Shen Chen would surely retract his promise. He preferred to believe it was merely a moment of heated words from Wen Zuo.

“Shen Zheng?” Shen Chen chuckled. Of course he remembered that in the previous life, Shen Zheng had also paid a visit—he had even asked Wen Zuo to help humiliate him—but he hadn’t bothered to mention it earlier. “Even if Wen Zuo truly wanted to choose him, my dim-witted fifth brother would hardly be someone he could prop up. It really comes down to those three…”

“If he had wanted to choose any of those three, he would have done so long ago. In truth, apart from Your Highness, he has no other choice.” A cold sweat trickled down Xie Langyang’s temples, though his words were sincere.

Shen Chen fell silent for a moment, recalling Wen Zuo’s bitter words before his death, and a lingering fear still gripped his heart.

So he grasped Xie Langyang’s hand, his youthful, pale, and sickly face pleading, “The Spring Terrace chess tournament is of utmost importance to me. I’m counting on you, Minister Xie, to help me win this match.”