Chapter 10

Chapter 10

After returning from the teahouse that day, Shen Chen remained bedridden for two days before gradually regaining consciousness.

This illness had struck suddenly and severely; he truly suffered immensely. Recalling his past life, he was overwhelmed with emotion.

He propped himself up on the pillow—but his fingers inadvertently brushed against the corner of a book page. After a moment’s daze, he pulled out a copy of *The Book of Lord Shang* from beneath his pillow.

The pages were immaculate, the characters crisp and clear, the volume meticulously preserved. Opening it, he found annotations precisely beside the passage from the “Opening the Barriers” chapter: “The sage does not model himself on antiquity, nor does he rigidly adhere to the present. Modeling on antiquity lags behind the times; rigid adherence to the present obstructs progress.”

The meaning is clear: one must neither blindly imitate ancient methods nor be shackled by current institutions. Imitating the past prevents keeping pace with development; clinging stubbornly to the present forfeits opportunity. Only through reform can a nation grow prosperous and strong.

This was Shang Yang’s core philosophy—and a maxim Shen Chen held sacred.

Because Da Qian revered Confucianism and deemed this text “harsh and devoid of benevolence, pitting ruler against people,” it was banned from circulation among commoners and even the imperial clan. Only the Crown Prince was permitted to study it—under the supervision of virtuous mentors—and even then, he was required to discard its dross, extract its essence, and constantly critique its extreme measures.

Shen Chen, however, had read it in secret. He saw no bias in its stern laws or its strategy of weakening the populace to strengthen the state. He believed only such methods could enable Da Qian to pacify the Nine Provinces and unify Huaxia.

Tragically, he was merely an ailing, powerless prince—ambitious yet neither the legitimate heir nor the eldest son.

Yet he refused to believe in fate. No matter how cruel heaven treated him, no matter how many times he must retrace this blood-soaked path, he was determined to ascend the throne!

Concubine Yi had stayed by his side these past few days, silently shedding tears—a sight that grated on Shen Chen’s nerves.

His mother had originally been the daughter of an embroiderer from Nan Zhou. Inheriting exceptional embroidery skills, she nearly fell victim to a passing merchant who sought to abduct her as a concubine after her mother’s death.

The Marquis of Yongning—returning to court from Mobei—learned of her plight and, moved by her “crime of possessing a treasure,” rescued her from the merchant, adopted her as his own daughter, and arranged for her to accompany his biological daughter.

Thus, Concubine Yi did not enter the marquis’s household until age seventeen. She received no formal education befitting a lady of noble birth, nor had she, like Consort Liang, trained in martial arts since childhood.

There were no miraculous tales of sudden enlightenment or total transformation. Concubine Yi had read few books and understood nothing of cultivating influence or forging alliances. All she possessed was petty cunning—the ability to seize fleeting opportunities to serve the Emperor in bed. She was utterly incapable of assisting Shen Chen in the struggle for succession. She could not even plead her son’s case before her husband.

Shen Chen had initially sympathized with his mother, believing she survived in the cracks of power, tasting bitterness, and thus needed protection and kindness.

But over time, he grew weary.

For so many years, she had never sought self-improvement or advancement.

For instance, now—after weeping in the palace for two days—she had not thought to monitor developments concerning Wen Zuo or shifts at court.

By the time Shen Chen learned his father had summoned Shen Zheng—and that this matter implicated the Cao family, the Crown Prince, Liu Qiying, and Wen Zuo—two days had already passed.

Such a pivotal development, and he had failed to learn of it immediately—filling Shen Chen with acute anxiety.

Now isolated and unsupported, he feared a single misstep would cost him the initiative, triggering a cascade of errors until he was irrevocably severed from the throne.

“Mother—stop crying!” Shen Chen snapped, impatiently.

Concubine Yi froze, startled into silence by his shout.

For some reason, this son—who had always been impeccably courteous, intelligent, and considerate—had suddenly grown irritable and sullen, his demeanor unsettling.

Just then, a eunuch announced that Vice Minister Xie requested an audience.

Shen Chen’s eyes lit up instantly. He hastily threw on his clothes, slipped into his shoes, and ordered, “Quickly—invite him in! Prepare tea—the finest tea!”

Xie Langyang was now his sole remaining card—and he had to hold onto it tightly.

Xie Langyang indeed lived up to expectations, delivering precisely the news Shen Chen most urgently needed.

“Your Highness lay unconscious with high fever yesterday. This humble minister came to pay respects, but finding it inconvenient to disturb, withdrew again.” The moment he entered, Xie Langyang lifted his robe and knelt, performing the grand ceremonial bow he had once reserved for Emperor Shengde in his previous life.

Shen Chen hurriedly helped him rise with both hands, his face etched with concern and warmth. “Minister Xie need not trouble yourself with such arduous journeys. This prince knows your heart.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Deeply moved by the prince’s grace, Xie Langyang bowed again.

“You’ve arrived at the perfect moment. This prince was just about to seek you out. I heard Cao Fangzheng has been imprisoned in the Imperial Prison for gross disrespect. This matter also involves Fifth Brother and Wen Zuo. How did they become entangled? And what role does Liu Qiying play?” So anxious was Shen Chen that he forgot to drink water—his throat burning with pain.

“My mentor is currently at his wits’ end over this matter. The Crown Prince, grieving his mother’s death, places great emphasis on familial bonds and is determined to save Cao Fangzheng. Yet the Virtuous Prince Faction watches closely, refusing to yield an inch. I fear he cannot be saved.”

Shen Chen leaned against the edge of the table, a flicker of worry crossing his face. “So, that day, Fifth Brother inadvertently shielded someone from the Wen residence?”

“Yes.” Xie Langyang nodded.

Suddenly, Shen Chen reached out and gripped Xie Langyang’s arm, blood vessels visibly pulsing at his temples. “Minister Xie—do you think Wen Zuo might return the favor by aiding Shen Zheng at the Spring Terrace Chess Association? That way, he repays the debt—and incidentally takes revenge on me. Two birds with one stone! It must be so. Wen Zuo will definitely help Shen Zheng!”

“Your Highness! Your Highness!” Xie Langyang swiftly halted Shen Chen’s spiraling thoughts. “Do you recall—in your previous life—the Fifth Prince did absolutely nothing?”

He did nothing. He even hid in the guesthouse the entire time, taking no part in the Spring Terrace Chess Association—yet blame was successfully pinned upon him.

It was simply because he was foolish—and connected to Nan Ping. The disciples of the Eight Veins, and even Emperor Shunyuan himself, needed a scapegoat.

As for evidence?

Once a suspect existed, evidence naturally followed.

Shen Zheng had committed no wrongdoing—the mere fact of his return to the capital was his fatal mistake. A gentle nudge was all it took, and he plummeted like a kite whose string had snapped.

Who delivered that nudge mattered little. What mattered was that, once a catalyst acted, no one—not even Wen Zuo—could save him from that dead end.

Shen Chen’s mind was sharp. With a slight shift in thought, he grasped the deeper implication behind Xie Langyang’s words—yet a knot of unease remained.

“What if Wen Zuo secretly advises Shen Zheng—to seize the imperial audience as an opportunity to expose the foul play at the Spring Terrace Chess Association, prompting His Majesty to order a thorough investigation into the Eight Schools and break this deadlock?”

Xie Langyang slowly raised his gaze, his brow furrowed with gravity. He shook his head, his voice edged with bitterness. “When Shen Zheng had his audience with the Emperor, he mentioned the Spring Terrace Chess Association not at all.”

Regarding Shen Zheng—the prince sickly from birth—Xie Langyang felt profound sympathy.

He seemed born to bear debts: the debt of Da Qian’s insufficient national strength, sent to Nan Ping to suffer humiliation for a full decade. Finally allowed to return, he encountered the Spring Terrace Chess Association—and unwittingly became the scapegoat for the Eight Veins.

How utterly innocent Shen Zheng was!

Xie Langyang still remembered his bewildered, timid appearance during interrogation—foolishly stepping into trap after trap.

The presiding judge had long been primed by the Crown Prince, Prince Xian, the Third Prince, and others. During questioning, he deliberately steered responses—each sentence venomous.

No one warned Shen Zheng, because everyone wanted him dead.

Yet he knew nothing—still stubbornly asking as he was dragged into Fengyang Terrace: “Fa… Father Emperor doesn’t believe me either?”

“He didn’t mention it?” Shen Chen suddenly felt relief flood through him. With his mind eased, his thoughts grew sharper—and he recalled a crucial detail.

“I was overthinking. Why would Wen Zuo help Shen Zheng? In our previous life, it was *he* who proposed the scheme to frame Shen Zheng. You and I both know this. He must harbor reservations. If he were to side with Shen Zheng, we could simply inform him of this matter. Even if the concept of rebirth seems far-fetched, it would inevitably sow discord between Shen Zheng and him.”

Xie Langyang lowered his eyes. “This humble minister thinks so too.”

In truth, he did not believe harming Shen Zheng was necessary to win the support of the Marquis of Yongning’s household—but both Wen Zuo and Shen Chen thought otherwise.

He even hoped that this time Wen Zuo might actually give Shen Zheng some pointers, at least to save his life.

But Wen Zuo did not.

Wen Zuo's heart was colder than a block of winter ice; he no longer expected him to show any compassion.

"Although Wen Zuo didn't give a push this time, Shen Zheng has offended the Crown Prince. He's just destined to have a short life. To ensure nothing goes wrong, Minister Xie still needs to suggest to the Crown Prince through Chief Minister Gong that Shen Zheng can be framed," Shen Chen instructed.

It wasn't that he didn't want to get involved, but Gong Zhiyuan kept him at a respectful distance and wouldn't believe his words anyway.

On the other hand, Xie Langyang had earned Gong Zhiyuan's trust. If Xie Langyang recommended someone to be the scapegoat, Gong Zhiyuan wouldn't suspect a thing.

Xie Langyang's head snapped up.

What was going on?!

Why was he being saddled with the task Wen Zuo handled in his previous life?

He was a man of principle, having studied the teachings of Confucius and Mencius since childhood, aspiring to be a clean official. How could he engage in such sinister and despicable schemes!

"Your subject—"

"Minister Xie, don't forget that in the final match lost to Nanping, there was also your Xie School's involvement."

Xie Langyang was instantly rendered speechless.

Shen Chen softened his tone, adopting the gracious manner he would use after ascending the throne, and said, "It's settled then. Minister Xie hasn't eaten yet, have you? Stay and have a meal with me."

Xie Langyang's mind was in turmoil and he had no appetite. He could only suppress his panic, lower his head, and mumble, "Your subject… Your subject dares not disturb Your Highness's rest. I shall take my leave now."

Xie Langyang still maintained proper etiquette, bowing with his hands at his sides as he beat a hasty retreat from Shen Chen's quarters.

Shen Chen watched him leave with a faint smile on his lips.

For the past two days, Wen Zuo had specifically taken sick leave.

-

In his previous life, he had endured the pain all over his body after getting drenched in the rain and still forced himself to attend court. This time, although he was perfectly fine, he had no intention of going.

First, he didn't want to be dragged into the Cao Fangzheng case by the Crown Prince Faction and forced to take a stance. Second, he needed to race against time to recreate the chess game so he could negotiate terms with Shen Zheng.

Emperor Shunyuan might be ill, but he was not blind. He knew there was something fishy about Liu Qiying, who was involved in this case. Although Cao Fangzheng was somewhat overbearing, he hadn't caused trouble without reason.

However, Wen Zuo's image as a playboy was deeply ingrained. Even if he had hidden a rouge bandit in Bozhou and brought her back to his residence, it wasn't a big deal. Emperor Shunyuan preferred to indulge him.

So, if the rouge bandit wasn't mentioned, the case would likely be concluded as insulting a prince and showing great disrespect to the emperor.

It was said that in court, Gong Zhiyuan was so furious that his beard bristled, his chest heaved, and he almost got into a physical altercation with Bo Zhangyi, grabbing each other by the collar.

Luo Mingpu racked his brains to find an angle, hoping Emperor Shunyuan would thoroughly investigate Liu Qiying. If she really was a rouge bandit, then at least Cao Fangzheng would have a chance to redeem himself.

But Emperor Shunyuan coughed and pretended to be deaf, refusing to address the issue of Liu Qiying.

The Crown Prince Faction could see that Emperor Shunyuan was afraid Liu Qiying would implicate Wen Zuo. His favoritism had reached such an extent that they were truly at a loss.

Although Wen Zuo wasn't in court, he had his own means of gathering information.

There were countless people inside and outside the palace eager to curry favor with him.

"His Majesty sent me to deliver some nourishing supplements for your recovery and conveyed a verbal order for you to rest and recuperate with peace of mind," said Ge Wei, a young eunuch under Liu Quan of the Directorate of Ceremonial, eagerly.

"Ahem, this humble subject thanks His Majesty for his grace," Wen Zuo pretended to be weak and sickly, leaning back in his armchair and slightly raising his neck.

Liu Qiying cleverly slipped Ge Wei two taels of silver and then quietly stepped aside.

Without even needing Wen Zuo to ask, Ge Wei chattered on: "Your Excellency, rest assured and focus on recovering. The court session at Wuying Hall was in complete chaos, but His Majesty didn't mention Miss Liu at all, nor did he say a single word about you. In my humble opinion, this matter is over."

Wen Zuo suddenly let out a soft laugh. He propped his head up with one hand, lazily leaning half his body against the back of the chair. His exposed arm resembled soft mutton-fat jade, resting within the flowing sleeves of his robe.

"I wasn't asking about that."

Even a eunuch felt half his body go weak at Wen Zuo's smile. Ge Wei hurriedly averted his eyes: "Your Excellency is asking about…"

"What did His Majesty discuss when he summoned the Fifth Prince?"

Nothing could escape the notice of the Directorate of Ceremonial, especially since Emperor Shunyuan hadn't intended to hide it in the first place.

"Yes, nothing particularly important was discussed. It's just that the Fifth Prince was especially amusing and talkative. He even sang a short tune about father-son affection, which made His Majesty laugh."

Wen Zuo lifted his eyelids and sat up straight. This was truly strange—Shen Zheng had managed to make Emperor Shunyuan laugh without any guidance?

He asked curiously, "What kind of tune?"

He no longer concerned himself with how well "amusing and talkative" suited Shen Zheng, simply assuming that Shen Zheng had unlocked some hidden potential after being reborn.

"Um… it's called 'Listen to Father Emperor's Words.'"

Upon hearing this, Wen Zuo's brows gradually furrowed. After years in office, he had heard countless refined and vulgar tunes but had never encountered one with such blatantly flattering lyrics.

"Was it composed by the Nanping Music Bureau?"

"It should be. The Fifth Prince hasn't been anywhere else all these years."

"What did he sing?"

"The… the beginning was… 'Little prince, do you have many questions? Why do others fulfill their filial duties in the palace…' Then there was something like… 'Listen to Father Emperor's words, don't let him get hurt. Grow up quickly so you can protect him…' The rest, this humble servant really can't remember. The Fifth Prince sang quickly, and his enunciation was unclear." Ge Wei broke into a sweat.

Wen Zuo fell silent for a long time.

The courtyard was so quiet that only the rustling of wind through the leaves could be heard.

Wen Zuo maintained a calm and composed expression on the surface while inwardly shaking off a shiver. "I see. Did the Fifth Prince mention anything else?"

If Shen Zheng had brought up the Spring Terrace Chess Association, it would mean he didn't trust him, and there would be nothing more to discuss. He could then consider other options.

"He only chatted about everyday matters, nothing else."

"He didn't mention the Spring Terrace Chess Association?"

"Not a single word about the Spring Terrace Chess Association."

Wen Zuo's chin lifted slightly, a flicker of satisfaction mixed with surprise in his eyes.

Did Shen Zheng truly trust him so much?

But upon second thought, it was only natural. After all, he possessed a captivating appearance that could deceive people. How could Shen Zheng know the darkness that lay beneath his charming exterior?

Wen Zuo straightened his robe sleeves and instructed, "Go tell the Fifth Prince to come to my residence tomorrow at noon. I won't wait if he's late."