Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Wen Zuo slept surprisingly soundly that night, so deeply he didn't even dream. Perhaps he was truly exhausted—having just endured the agony of ten thousand arrows piercing his heart, he now had to continue scheming against Shen Chen and Xie Langyang.

He slept in until late morning. Wen Zuo opened his eyes and threw off the covers.

The charcoal in the brazier had already burned out. His sweat had soaked through his inner garments and the bedding.

A bird sang crisply and brightly from the eaves. A drop or two of last night's rain dripped from the lotus-patterned roof tiles.

The mid-sized three-courtyard residence remained lush with grass and trees, full of charm and vitality. On the courtyard gate hung a pair of black-ink couplets that read: "Where there is moonlight, ascend the terrace; where there is breeze, take a seat."

Liu Qiying brought over some cooling tea. Wen Zuo leaned forward, rinsed his mouth with the tea, spat out the leaves, and asked, "Did you retrieve it?"

Today was a court holiday. Liu Qiying had rushed over before noon, only to return empty-handed. She shrugged. "No. They said Vice Minister Xie stayed at the Sixth Prince's residence all night and hasn't returned."

Wen Zuo was not surprised in the least.

Since Xie Langyang was convinced that Shen Chen was the enlightened ruler of the next generation, he would inevitably stick to that path and protect Shen Chen to the death.

Because he had gained too many benefits from Shen Chen's ascension.

He had inherited Gong Zhiyuan's position as Chief Grand Secretary, completely freeing himself from his father-in-law's control.

He had effortlessly obtained the reputation for integrity and incorruptibility that scholars throughout the land coveted.

Shen Chen suppressed maternal relatives but left the aristocratic families untouched. For Xie Langyang, this meant promoting court reforms without harming his family's interests—a win-win situation.

He was granted status in the Xie clan for nothing, and his relationship with the Gong family deepened naturally over time, flowing like water to its channel.

And all he had to sacrifice was one Wen Zuo.

"How is Shen Chen?"

"The imperial physician went to see him. Prescribed some decoction to dispel the cold. They forced it down him, piled on the quilts, and changed the cloth on his forehead every half-hour. They say it's nothing serious; he can even respond when called."

It seemed Liu Qiying had anticipated Wen Zuo's question, as she had gathered comprehensive information.

Of course, it also helped that the Xie residence steward was completely unguarded around her, even giving her a bag of fresh fruit newly transported from the southern provinces.

Hearing this, Wen Zuo smiled nonchalantly.

How could Shen Chen have truly fainted? Such a cunning man was naturally feigning illness.

Xie Langyang probably stayed at his residence, and the two had already begun exchanging information.

But Wen Zuo wasn't worried. With Xie Langyang's pedantic and stubborn mind, he would only hold Shen Chen back.

As for Shen Chen, now he could only rely on Xie Langyang. He was probably inwardly vexed but forced to put on a smiling face.

A private room was opened at the Shuyin Pavilion.

Opening the window, it directly faced the main gate of the Wen residence. Even Liu Qiying's return to the residence was clearly observed by Shen Chen and Xie Langyang.

In his previous life, Shen Chen had brought high-quality tonics, looking full of guilt and concern, waiting in Wen Zuo's study for guidance.

But now, he no longer had a reason to enter.

Shen Chen hugged a hand-warmer, his body trembling weakly from the chill. Chattering his teeth, he asked the despondent Xie Langyang beside him, "What did that maid go to do?"

Xie Langyang slowly shook his head. He truly had no clue. In fact, he wanted more to enter the residence to see Wen Zuo—even if it meant being insulted or beaten, at least his heart would be at ease.

But he couldn't disrupt Shen Chen's plans.

Shen Chen mocked, "The Crown Prince sent calligraphy by ancient sages. Prince Xian is vulgar, sending money. Third Brother knows how to cater to tastes, sending a beautiful songstress. It's just a pity he doesn't know Wen Zuo is attracted to men."

Several veins bulged on the back of Xie Langyang's hand, taking a long while to subside.

Shen Chen added, "Let's wait and see if the Crown Prince's, Prince Xian's, and Third Brother's people get shown the door."

Calculating the time, it should be about right. Only after seeing it would he feel reassured enough to return.

Inside the bedroom, Wen Zuo had simply wiped himself down and was tying the sash of his underwear. As if having anticipated it, he asked, "Have there been any visitors?"

Jiang Mannv was surprised, blinking her large, bell-like eyes. "How did you know, my lord?"

Wen Zuo was in a slightly better mood and deliberately teased her. "Because I'm smarter than you."

Seeing Jiang Mannv's mouth press into a thin line, Wen Zuo added, "But you are stronger than I am. We each have our strengths."

At that, the thin line clearly turned upward into a high arc.

Liu Qiying gave a short laugh. "The Eastern Palace sent a Supervisor, bearing the Crown Prince's gifts. Prince Xian's residence sent a Chief Steward, bearing gold leaves from Prince Xian. As for the Third Prince's residence, they brought a fresh-faced singer, saying she was to serve you, my lord. I've arranged them all in the front hall."

"Only them?"

There should have been Shen Zheng as well.

Now Liu Qiying was as surprised as Jiang Mannv, but she quickly continued, "And that recently returned hostage prince. But he's been left cooling his heels outside the palace for a week. Clearly, His Majesty can't be bothered to see this son who represents Da Qian's disgrace."

According to Da Qian's ceremonial regulations, a prince returning to the capital must first enter the palace to pay respects to Emperor Shunyuan before meeting his birth mother and other relatives.

As long as Emperor Shunyuan refused to see Shen Zheng for a day, neither the Marquis of Yongning's residence nor Consort Liang could see him, no matter how much they missed him.

Jiang Mannv scratched her head, puzzled. "What's he coming to see you for, my lord? Also for the Spring Terrace Chess Association?"

Liu Qiying rapped her on the head. "This Fifth Prince left the capital at eight and spent ten years as a hostage. He has neither a residence nor a title. For now, he can only stay at a guesthouse. He came today, naturally, to beg you to put in a good word for him before His Majesty, so he can enter the palace sooner."

"He's so pitiful," Jiang Mannv said, not grasping the complexities, only feeling secret sympathy. "I heard he didn't have it easy in Nanping either. The Nanping people made fun of him for their amusement, ordered him to bark like a dog, crawl through dog holes, and even do the dirty work of a servant. It's only thanks to his maternal uncle winning battles at the border that he didn't die in Nanping."

Wen Zuo sat on the bed, his gaze falling on the bedding. He gently rubbed his fingers together, contemplating this person once more.

When Shen Zheng left the capital, Wen Zuo had not yet entered court service. After Shen Zheng returned, Wen Zuo had only seen him once. Regarding this man's affairs, he, like Jiang Mannv, had only heard rumors.

But this man had one very useful quality—

He was a sharp weapon for taking revenge on Shen Chen.

Consort Liang was the legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Yongning. Concubine Yi was an adopted daughter. Shen Zheng was a biological maternal grandson. Shen Chen was an adopted maternal grandson.

Thus, in this life, Shen Chen was most jealous of, hated, and was most preoccupied with Shen Zheng. What Shen Zheng had by birth, Shen Chen had to scheme, calculate, and exhaust himself to obtain.

If Shen Zheng gained influence at the Spring Terrace Chess Association, wouldn't Shen Chen cough up three pints of blood in fury?

"Where did you arrange for him?"

Liu Qiying hadn't expected Wen Zuo to ask about the Fifth Prince. "The small flower hall next to the study."

The flower hall was used to receive distinguished guests within the residence. Even if Shen Zheng was out of favor, he was still a prince. Liu Qiying understood this basic etiquette.

“The silver fox fur.” Wen Zuo lifted a finger, pointing to the silver-furred robe hanging on the clothes rack. “I will see the Fifth Prince.”

His words left both Jiang and Liu momentarily stunned.

“What about the Crown Prince’s men, Prince Xian’s, and the Third Prince’s?”

“Just say I’ve grown accustomed to idleness and can’t recall so many instructions. If anyone wishes to shoulder my burdens, they’re welcome to recommend themselves before His Majesty.”

If he didn’t see Shen Zheng now, he might never get another chance.

Because Shen Zheng was the primary victim in the Spring Terrace Chess Association conspiracy. Afterward, he would be imprisoned at Fengyang Terrace—and one night, he would fall from the platform, his body shattered and mangled, wrapped in a straw mat and carried out of the city.

In the private booth, a pot of hot tea had been drained, while the candied fruits served remained untouched.

Shen Chen frowned, unable to conceal his anxiety. “Why hasn’t anyone emerged yet?”

It was already past noon, and the sun was sinking in the west. In his previous life, Wen Zuo had long dismissed the others and come specifically to see him by this time.

Recalling how Wen Zuo—frail and on the verge of collapse—had personally poured tea for him, Shen Chen couldn’t describe the smug satisfaction he’d felt then.

His heart leapt into his throat as he shakily rose to his feet, biting his pale lips. “Could it be that he’s truly choosing among those three?”

“Your Highness, there’s no need to worry,” Xie Langyang reassured him. “Perhaps Wen Zuo is deliberately doing this. In truth, he looks down on those three.”

This wasn’t mere speculation—it was something Wen Zuo had told him personally.

In his early years entering officialdom, Wen Zuo had once harbored grand ambitions. During his three years in Bozhou, he truly lived with a clear conscience—unashamed before heaven and earth.

But upon returning to court, he realized that glorifying Da Qian was nothing more than wishful thinking.

He believed in the doctrine of the mean, hoping only that future history books would record not a single fault of his. Whenever someone urged him to implement new policies or rectify court discipline, he grew anxious, restless, and irritable—even suspending court audiences to avoid them.

Wen Zuo was a man who knew how to adapt. Once he grasped the reality, he set aside those lofty aspirations, immersed himself in the classics, and drifted through life.

Emperor Shunyuan, in turn, trusted him more and more, promoting him four ranks in four years until he reached the position of Chancellor of the Hanlin Academy—two ranks higher than Xie Langyang, who had been meticulously groomed by Gong Zhiyuan from the outset.

He held no hope for Emperor Shunyuan’s reign—but still harbored some expectations for the next. Otherwise, a mere phrase like “broaden the avenues of speech to correct public perception” wouldn’t have been enough to make him forsake the near for the distant and choose Shen Chen.

That was also why Xie Langyang believed Wen Zuo had no other choice. Though Shen Chen was cold-hearted, he differed from Emperor Shunyuan and the other princes. Moreover, for a ruler—what fault was cold-heartedness?

To reach the flower hall, one had to pass the study.

Gravel crunched underfoot before the steps, with shallow ponds on either side where koi darted eagerly. A fresh breeze carried the faint, refreshing scent of pear blossoms.

The main door stood open, and the thin paper windows allowed light to filter through—so Wen Zuo glanced inside.

Recalling his previous life, in this very study, Shen Chen had told him how difficult survival was in the rear palace. His birth mother, Concubine Yi, was the adopted sister of Consort Liang and came from an extremely humble background.

Consort Liang had a volatile temper and often mistreated them. To survive, Shen Chen had no choice but to endure humiliation—addressing Consort Liang as “Mother” and his own birth mother as “Lady Yi.”

He visited Consort Liang’s quarters every few days, asking after her health, massaging her shoulders, and pounding her legs, doing his utmost. Yet, upon learning of Shen Zheng’s return to the capital, Consort Liang immediately reverted to her old ways, tormenting them once more.

Such relentless suffering was truly unbearable to speak of.

As he spoke, a few sorrowful tears fell—and combined with the stubborn, sincere face of a seventeen-year-old youth, it moved Wen Zuo deeply.

That was why Wen Zuo had complied with his words and retaliated against Shen Zheng, who had come to him.

But now, Wen Zuo only wanted to praise Consort Liang’s volatility—the more explosive, the better, like a powder keg.

Passing the study, Wen Zuo headed toward the flower hall.

As he walked, he asked, “Did the Fifth Prince enter the residence timidly, not daring to lift his head?”

Jiang Mannv exclaimed, “Your Excellency guessed so accurately!”

“Was he also startled by birdsong and hid under the table?”

“Exactly!”

Just as in his previous life.

Wen Zuo gathered the fox-fur robe around him. The thin, soft silk, stirred by the wind, clung to his inner garments, faintly revealing his fair skin.

He should have dressed properly to meet Shen Zheng—but given his reputation for debauchery, such formality was unnecessary when meeting that unfortunate fellow born with five deficiencies.

The flower hall of the Wen residence wasn’t as imposing as the study, but it was quiet and elegant.

Lush flowers and trees surrounded it, with a curved small pond planted with a few water lilies. At its center stood a four-cornered pavilion containing four soft cushions and a low table. Before the arched door, a screen depicted steep mountains on both banks and jagged rocks.

Just as he rounded the screen, he saw a person kneeling with his back to him on a cushion in the pavilion. Though his spine was slender, his shoulders were broad and his back straight—a posture pleasing to the eye.

Wen Zuo: “?”

Liu Qiying: “?”

Jiang Mannv grew anxious. “I didn’t lie! He really did hide under the table just now!”

Wen Zuo naturally knew Jiang Mannv wasn’t lying. He observed silently for a moment.

Regarding his rebirth, many things remained unclear to him. Shen Zheng’s posture had changed—perhaps he’d arrived at a different time this round, or perhaps the changes Wen Zuo made last night had triggered some chain reaction.

But it was also possible he was overthinking it. In a moment, when Shen Zheng saw his frosty expression, his imposing aura of authority—calm yet formidable—and his arrogance born of immense power, he would likely shrink back in fear, his face flushing red, unable to utter a word.

Wen Zuo slightly opened his fur robe and finally stepped onto the platform, looking down from above as he regarded Shen Zheng from the side.

Truly the son of a tiger-like general’s daughter—even while kneeling, he reached the height of Wen Zuo’s ribs.

They stood remarkably close. Coincidentally, a draft swept through, lifting the hem of Wen Zuo’s underrobe and brushing precisely against Shen Zheng’s neck—carrying the warmth of his body and the unique medicinal scent clinging to him.

Shen Zheng’s throat tightened, slowly moving.

Wen Zuo thought to himself, *Ah—so he’s already frightened?*

Thus, he moved directly in front of Shen Zheng, closing the distance even further. At that moment, his loose black hair slipped over his shoulders, swaying before Shen Zheng’s eyes, with a few strands inadvertently touching Shen Zheng’s lips.

He saw Shen Zheng lightly lick the spot where the hair had touched, his eyelids fluttering beneath his deep brow bone.

Wen Zuo understood—amused inwardly.

*He’s actually this nervous.*

He remembered, in his previous life, when facing Shen Zheng, he’d assumed this very posture—returning to the son the treatment Consort Liang had inflicted upon Concubine Yi and Shen Chen.

At that time, Shen Zheng had trembled all over, his face as pale as paper—filled with hatred and shock, wishing he could find a crack in the ground to vanish into.

Now, being scrutinized by the foremost powerful minister of the court, Shen Zheng must already be inwardly unsettled, his legs trembling.

But Wen Zuo hadn’t come this time to humiliate him.

Wen Zuo bent down a little, his eyes, full of affection, crinkled with a smile. His white teeth parted gently as he asked clearly, "Do you want to become the emperor?"

This question, playful yet carrying a hint of seriousness, was typical of his style. If Shen Chen had witnessed this scene, every hair on his body would have stood on end.

"Huh?"

Shen Zheng seemed caught off guard by his words. The single syllable was uttered deeply and pleasantly, yet without a trace of fear.

Wen Zuo frowned. Could it be that this statement was too shocking for Shen Zheng, leaving him stunned?

Wen Zuo extended his index finger, pressing it against Shen Zheng's defined chin. With a slight exertion of force, he slowly tilted Shen Zheng's chin up. "Look at me."

Shen Zheng's gaze followed the pressure of his finger, moving from the fluttering hem of the undergarment, to the sash tied around the waist, and then to the collar, which was inevitably somewhat loose due to its wearer's casual demeanor.

From this low angle, when the wind stirred the undergarment, one could catch a fleeting glimpse of two small, peach-pink points beneath the soft silk.

Looking further up, there was that face, radiant and dazzling—the ultimate weapon for any connoisseur of beauty, practically dominating human aesthetics.

After all, this body had just turned eighteen. Shen Zheng couldn't help but feel a rush of blood, his nose growing warm.

Wen Zuo, seeing the blood trickling down, was utterly caught off guard. "?"

Shen Zheng's eyes, dark and intense as thick ink, were fixed on him like grappling hooks. His penetrating gaze was sharp as a blade, as if to slice through the thin fabric, leaving him exposed and nowhere to hide beneath the clear daylight.

Perhaps it had been too long since he had faced such a gaze. For a moment, Wen Zuo felt somewhat bewildered.

Shen Zheng remained kneeling, still bleeding, yet the aura around him was distinctly different from the previous life.

What exactly was off?

Shen Zheng, however, was quite composed. He raised a finger to wipe away the warm blood, staring at his fingertip with a wry, amused expression.

Even though I'm wearing undergarments, it can still provoke me like this.

Wen Zuo withdrew his finger, took a step back, and gathered his robe thoughtfully.

Why was Shen Zheng bleeding? What exactly had stimulated him?

Could it be the phrase, "Do you want to become the emperor?"

Indeed, for any prince, those words were far too shocking, enough to stir emotions and cause reckless surges of blood.

Wen Zuo successfully convinced himself and thus set his mind at ease. He mocked, "It's just the words 'emperor'—"

But Shen Zheng waved his hand. "Let's discuss the emperor matter later. The urgent priority right now is to please, right now, humiliate me thoroughly."

Wen Zuo: "..."