Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The last rays of the setting sun faded, and dusk settled, clear and deep, as the eaves of the palace walls shed their splendid attire.

Shen Zheng carried a paper-wrapped Jujube Cold Cake and arrived at the Wen residence in the gathering darkness.

To avoid suspicion, Wen Zuo had gone on ahead by sedan chair. The servant had already been instructed, and the gate was left slightly ajar, leaving a crack for Shen Zheng.

Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannv were not at the residence, having reportedly received Wen Zuo’s orders to serve as tour guides and companions outside, and had yet to return.

Shen Zheng had only been to the Wen residence twice before—once to the flower hall and once to the study. He wasn’t very familiar with the place, so his curiosity was piqued, and he even wanted to examine the patterns on the cobblestones along the path.

“What are you looking around for?”

Under the eaves of the main hall, a tall figure was silhouetted. Wen Zuo stood with his hands behind his back, his official robe shimmering with a quiet luster in the night. His brows were slightly furrowed, already growing impatient.

Shen Zheng: “I was in a hurry last time and didn’t have the chance to appreciate your residence. Now that I see it, the taste is truly superb. Was it designed by a renowned master?”

Wen Zuo slightly raised his chin: “I designed it myself.”

“Really?” Shen Zheng was surprised.

Even landscape design? Were all officials in ancient times polymaths?

Wen Zuo was puzzled by his surprise—this was merely an ordinary matter.

“When I first arrived in the capital, I was short on funds, so I naturally handled everything myself.”

Shen Zheng quite liked watching him tilt his neck slightly, revealing that stretch of fair skin. His Adam’s apple protruded slightly, and if one were to stroke from his chin down to his chest, feeling the movement of that cartilage, the sensation would surely be exquisite.

Perhaps his gaze was too brazen, for Wen Zuo pursed his lips: “Why are you standing there motionless?”

Shen Zheng withdrew his gaze and chuckled: “You’re truly remarkable, Teacher. If I were to write your biography, I would certainly describe you as ‘mastering all schools of thought and having the world at your fingertips.’”

Rather than the line in the *Qian History* that reads, “His pen is venomous, his words festering sores.”

During his three years in Bozhou, Wen Zuo introduced Songluo Tea, transforming the lives of the common people, yet he took no personal gain for himself. This was utterly at odds with the infamy of a treacherous official.

Shen Zheng still couldn’t understand what had happened in the three years before Emperor Shunyuan’s death that had caused such a drastic change in his temperament.

Wen Zuo remained unmoved, giving him a faint glance before turning to enter the hall.

“Using flattery meant for Ban Gu and Zhang Hua to brush me off—you certainly know how to cut corners. Hurry up and bring the Jujube Cold Cake in!”

Shen Zheng had thought his own memorization skills were impressive, but now he truly felt inadequate. He quickly presented the esteemed Jujube Cold Cake to Master Wen.

With Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannv absent, Wen Zuo had no need for attendants. He hadn’t eaten for nearly a day and was genuinely hungry.

Yet, even with an empty stomach, his eating remained elegant and restrained. Each bite was chewed slowly and deliberately, with no sign of haste or voracity.

Shen Zheng rested his chin on his hand, watching him, occasionally refilling his cup with warm water.

“Ask whatever you want to ask.” Wen Zuo lowered his eyes and finished a cup of water, having long seen through the curiosity in his gaze.

Shen Zheng didn’t beat around the bush and went straight to the point: “Were Xie Qian, Shi Qingjiu, and Helian Qiao truly bribed by Nanping? Why didn’t they just feign defeat during the game by deliberately making mistakes, instead of pre-arranging the match and leaving such a glaring vulnerability?”

This was something Shen Zheng couldn’t comprehend.

Not only did they leave such a significant vulnerability, but Wu Kan even brazenly brought the paper copy of the game to the guesthouse, where it was promptly seized by Gu Weizhi?

Wen Zuo paused slightly, his fingertips tightening around the cup, but his tone remained calm: “The viewing platform was filled with National Masters. Any last-minute flaws would have been easily detected. Only by designing a game of comparable skill in advance could they avoid drawing suspicion.”

Shen Zheng frowned: “Then why were you the only one who received the information? Was the entire court kept in the dark? Did you also plant informants in Nanping?”

Wen Zuo set down his cup and stared back at him: “I happened to know a merchant from Nanping when I was in Bozhou. This matter was merely learned of by chance. Otherwise, how could I have memorized the game in advance?”

“That’s true.” Shen Zheng murmured to himself and didn’t press the issue further.

Wen Zuo’s expression betrayed no flaws, and he ate the Jujube Cold Cake with calm composure.

In this game, both Shen Zheng and Gu Weizhi were participants, but Shen Zheng was on the first layer, Gu Weizhi on the second, while he himself remained hidden the deepest.

Shen Zheng didn’t know that the paper game record Gu Weizhi had wasn’t actually found in Wu Kan’s room.

And Gu Weizhi didn’t know that Xie Qian, Shi Qingjiu, and Helian Qiao hadn’t actually thrown the games, much less that these three matches were memories from Wen Zuo’s previous life.

Shen Zheng said: “Why didn’t you stop me today? Does this mean I can come to your residence openly from now on?”

Wen Zuo had overlooked this point. Now that Shen Zheng had averted disaster, Shen Chen and Xie Langyang would surely guess that he had intervened, realizing that he had chosen Shen Zheng. There was no use hiding it anymore.

But he couldn’t say this to Shen Zheng.

“The Emperor has eyes and ears around him. Your actions in the Hall of Mental Cultivation will eventually spread, and Gu Weizhi’s behavior in the East Tower was even more conspicuous. Sooner or later, others will associate us. However—”

“However what?”

“For now, most people still think it’s a coincidence. The later they realize your ambitions to contend for the throne, the better—especially the Emperor. He hopes the princes will remain obedient and expects me to remain a minister with no faction. So, you still can’t come often. I plan to secretly have a tunnel dug. Where do you think it should lead?”

Wen Zuo skillfully covered the flaw and diverted Shen Zheng’s thoughts with a more pressing question.

Sure enough, Shen Zheng began pondering the tunnel.

“I don’t have a title yet, nor have I established a residence. For now, I still live in the palace. We can’t exactly tunnel into the palace, so how about… the Marquis of Yongning’s residence? I noticed your home is quite close to my grandfather’s. Visiting my grandfather would also give me a legitimate reason to leave the palace.”

Wen Zuo had already planned this out. He had even dug out the small treasury under his bed and was ready to hire craftsmen to start the work.

It seemed Shen Zheng had indeed become much sharper after his rebirth, thinking along the same lines as him.

“That works. But we’ll need to find an opportunity to inform the Marquis of Yongning. In the future, unrelated people in the residence, such as adopted daughters or grandsons, should no longer interact with them to avoid stumbling upon secrets.”

The Jujube Cold Cake was finished, and the main hall fell into a brief silence.

Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannv had yet to return, leaving only the two of them sitting opposite each other in the vast Wen residence.

Wen Zuo’s eyelashes fluttered slightly: “I’ve finished eating.”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you still here?”

“…”

“I’ll be very busy these next few days. I still have to go to the Dali Temple tonight. If you have nothing else to do, return to the palace first. I need to rest for a while.”

Shen Zheng couldn’t help but laugh.

Urging him to come quickly before eating, then shooing him away afterward—what a cruel heart.

“I won’t disturb your rest, Teacher. Since I went to the trouble of coming here, let me wander around a bit and admire the place.”

Wen Zuo pondered for a moment, feeling there were no secrets in the residence, so he nodded in agreement. "Then feel free to look around, but don't mess up my things."

Wen Zuo indeed needed to seize the time to rest. His nerves had been tightly wound this past month, and he still had to muster his energy later to crush Xie Langyang's spirit.

By the time Wen Zuo returned to his room, the capital had entered the blue hour, that twilight time. The sky was a deep, rich sea, like flung oil paint, with rolling white waves. Everything was veiled in a profound beauty.

Shen Zheng inspected meticulously, examining the leaves of every pear tree, much like an architecture graduate conducting a field study of an ancient official's residence.

When he reached the second courtyard, he suddenly noticed a pair of ink-black couplets inscribed on a pillar, the brushstrokes vigorous and powerful.

"When there's a moon, ascend the terrace; where there's a breeze, take a seat."

It was such a free and unrestrained phrase.

Shen Zheng could almost imagine how carefree and spirited Wen Zuo, a young official just twenty years old, must have been upon returning to the capital from Bozhou.

Back then, he was already a fifth-rank prefect, his demeanor likely dignified and proper, yet his youth inevitably betrayed a boyish air.

Shen Zheng bent down, dipped his fingers in some water from the pond's edge, and began tracing the couplets.

Although he had learned penmanship, compared to Wen Zuo's calligraphy, his own felt mass-produced and utterly lacking in spirit.

Others might marvel at Wen Zuo's handwriting, but Shen Zheng, who also happened to be attracted to men, found this daily discovery of little surprises about the treacherous minister absolutely lethal.

If this continued, he might really start hatching some improper scheme.

As he wandered, he unconsciously found himself outside Wen Zuo's bedroom.

In ancient times, even for a top-ranking official in the capital, private quarters were not spacious or bright. Crammed with wooden furniture, they left little open space, and the bed pressed against the wall barely allowed one person to sleep soundly—far less warm and comfortable than modern villas.

The window lattice and translucent tiles let in poor light, giving the room a chilly gloom. Shen Zheng quietly pulled open the door and stepped inside.

He knew it wasn't very polite, but he couldn't suppress his curiosity.

Wen Zuo was indeed already asleep.

He was curled up in a ball under the quilt, his legs bent to his chest, half his face buried in the bedding, his back pressed tightly against the wall.

Only his loose black hair spread across the pillow, like a stream flowing down his arresting nape.

Having taken some mental health courses, Shen Zheng knew ways to cope with trauma. He noticed Wen Zuo's sleeping posture was clearly a defensive stance, indicating he had endured immense pressure or trauma.

Only Wen Zuo's right hand extended outside the quilt, its slender, pale wrist dangling over the edge of the bed, fingers slightly bent, already icy cold.

There were too many contradictions about this kitten-like treacherous minister, Shen Zheng thought.

He slowly crouched down, gently cradled that cold hand, lifted a corner of the quilt, and tucked the delicate hand inside, sharing his own warmth.

Shen Zheng stood by the bed for a moment longer before quietly retreating and returning to the palace.

Once he was gone, Wen Zuo's eyelashes fluttered slightly.

He drew that hand to his chest, clutching the quilt corner tightly.

Late into the night, Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannv finally returned. Just as they lit the lamps, Wen Zuo woke up.

Liu Qiying gulped down several large cups of water, then, ignoring her exhaustion, pulled out an abacus and began clacking away. "My lord is truly prescient, knowing my purse is full. Let me calculate Lord Gu's expenses today—one candied hawthorn from Guanqi Street, 5 wen; a cup of sugarcane juice from West Lane, 5 wen; one roast duck from Four Seasons Workshop, 40 wen; watching a cricket fight performance outside the gate, 5 wen; taking pity on a fake beggar on the road, alms 5 wen..."

Wen Zuo suddenly interrupted her. "I'm going to the Dali Temple prison. Both of you, accompany me."

Jiang Mannv was already yawning from exhaustion but still insisted, "My lord, A Liu spent money and ran errands all day today, she's worn out. Perhaps I should accompany you instead."

Liu Qiying stopped Jiang Mannv, gazing at Wen Zuo, puzzled.

What was my lord afraid of? Why?

But Liu Qiying didn't ask further. She immediately tossed aside the abacus and threw her robe back on. "I'll accompany my lord too."

Wen Zuo dressed neatly, picked up a hand warmer, and led Jiang and Liu, taking a sedan chair to the Dali Temple prison.

The Dali Temple prison was located west of Taipingmen Street, alongside the Ministry of Justice and the Censorate.

To emphasize the authority of the Three Judicial Offices, the prison walls were several *zhang* high, built from thick blue bricks, exuding a chilling coldness.

Most cells had hard gable roofs covered in dark gray tiles. Under the eaves, there were occasionally small, broken windows offering a sliver of sky, but most cells were pitch black, indistinguishable between day and night.

The usually silent Dali Temple prison was exceptionally noisy tonight.

Over eighty court officials were detained here, including eloquent Censors, now clamoring incessantly—

"What kind of place is this? So cold and damp, utterly unbearable!"

"The straw mats are foul and damp, who knows what's stained on them, and no one cleans them?"

"Jailer, jailer! Where are you? This old man needs to relieve himself, could you accommodate?"

"How dare you treat me like this? I am a third-rank official!"

"Lord Shi, why are you crying again? Shouldn't you know the Dali Temple prison best? What conditions do you usually keep prisoners in?"

"Fellow ministers, stop making a fuss. Do any of you really understand what's going on? I believe who is right and who is wrong, who is clean and who is guilty—His Majesty has long since discerned it in his heart."

"His Majesty is indeed dissatisfied with the noble families, but they have deep roots over many years and are no pushovers. This time is merely a minor reprimand for some; the foundations of the noble families cannot be shaken."

"Are you so certain?"

"Just wait and see. Tomorrow, the noble families will unite with various factions to submit memorials to the court. His Majesty must weigh the pros and cons in his actions."

"Aren't you afraid the Qingliu faction will cling on and pressure the court as well?"

"Then it depends on who has greater skill. It's not as if they can really punish over eighty court officials. Moreover, I suspect each of you has backing beyond just the noble families—aren't there also your respective Highnesses?"

...

While others argued noisily, Xie Langyang remained silent throughout.

The straw mat was damp and piercingly cold, the early spring chill still numbing his limbs. He suddenly remembered: Wen Zuo had endured a full month in prison back then, in the harsh winter. How did Wen Zuo survive it?

He had thought he already understood Wen Zuo's suffering, but now he realized it was merely a drop in the ocean.

No wonder he hated him so much.

Xie Langyang traced the old bloodstains on the rough wall, then looked toward the faded cell door. His heart jolted—this was actually the Celestial Cell Number One where Wen Zuo had been imprisoned in his previous life!

Heaven truly had a sense of humor.

Under such harsh conditions, Xie Langyang had little energy for reflection. He had to curl up his knees, constantly rubbing his hands, trying to warm himself a little.

His official robe had been stripped away, leaving the inner layer thin and inadequate. Fortunately, he hadn't yet been forced into coarse hemp prisoner garb, preserving some semblance of dignity.

At that moment, he suddenly heard a servant shout loudly—

"A distinguished guest has arrived!"

The voice pierced through the narrow prison corridor, carrying far and disturbing Xie Langyang in the distant corner.

He couldn't help but look up and peer outside.

A chaotic, panicked stampede of footsteps followed as prison guards scrambled about, accompanied by the clatter of swords and jangle of keys.

Someone sternly warned: "Minister Wen is the imperial investigator specially appointed by His Majesty, here on imperial orders to conduct an inquiry. Make way! Anyone who dares speak out of turn will not be spared!"

"Yes, yes..."

Xie Langyang listened as the footsteps drew closer and closer, heading directly toward his direction.

His heart clenched tighter and tighter, sour and bitter, drowning in endless helplessness.

In the lantern light, a figure in crimson slowly materialized. The flickering shadows of lamps danced on both walls as a gentle breeze rose. Wen Zuo, holding a hand warmer, walked up to the cell door, the hem of his robe sweeping the ground.

Xie Langyang looked up to see Wen Zuo gazing down at him with a faint, inscrutable smile.

Their situations were now reversed; the setting was familiar, but everything else had changed.

"Wanshan..." Xie Langyang murmured, wanting to straighten his clothes and tidy his hair to appear more presentable.

But as soon as he stood up, the prison warden barked: "You there! Minister Wen is asking questions! Kneel down to reply!"

The warden then turned and bowed, flashing an obsequious smile at Wen Zuo: "Master, this place is filth itself—don't let it soil your boots. Whatever you need from this humble servant, just give the order."

Wen Zuo smiled back at him, his eyes like rippling water reflecting the flickering flames.

"Scram, before this Master's mood sours and I have your hide."

The warden trembled all over upon hearing this, no longer entranced by Wen Zuo's smile. He scurried away in terror.

Only when the surroundings were empty did Wen Zuo speak with detached calm: "I specifically asked Minister Xue to arrange this cell for you alone. So, how does it feel to revisit an old haunt? Not bad, right?"

Xie Langyang tightly gripped the prison bars, his knuckles turning white, anguish gripping his heart: "Wanshan, is this what you wanted?"

"How strange—how did this become what I wanted? Clearly, you brought it upon yourself." Wen Zuo sneered, feeling not a ripple of emotion inside. "If Minister Xie had returned this time and done nothing, I would have had no hold over you."

"Since we've returned once more, can we truly not go back to the past? All those moments on Qingping Mountain—have you forgotten them, or am I the only one still reminiscing?" Xie Langyang's eyes darkened as he released his hands in dejection.

"You remember everything about Qingping Mountain, yet you married, had children, impeached and betrayed me, watched as I was pierced by ten thousand arrows and my name was blackened for eternity. This kind of reminiscence from you—I truly cannot bear it."

"Whatever I do is wrong." Xie Langyang's voice was hoarse. "Since you cannot forgive me, then consider this my just deserts. But I have been in love with you from our first meeting until now, and that has never changed. Believe it or not, there are many things in this world that ultimately cannot follow one's true heart. If I were just an ordinary scholar, not from a powerful family, perhaps everything would have been different."

"Just deserts—well said." Wen Zuo smiled faintly, tucking his robes around him as he crouched before Xie Langyang. "I'll make a point of telling Shen Chen the same thing."

Xie Langyang suddenly looked up, a vague guess forming in his heart, yet still clinging to an unrealistic delusion: "You... you chose Shen Zheng this time, didn't you? That's why he escaped disaster. No one but you could have helped him."

Wen Zuo regarded him with amusement: "Isn't that wrong? You all should have guessed that I couldn't help Shen Zheng. Otherwise, how would you dare to copy my plan exactly, without changing a single detail?"

Xie Langyang choked, left with nowhere to hide, overwhelmed with shame.

He had betrayed his original intentions, stained his hands with sin, yet was outmaneuvered, utterly defeated.

And even now, he didn't understand how Wen Zuo had managed it.

"You and Shen Chen must be very curious about how I did it." Wen Zuo leisurely posed the question for him. "The emperor has no affection for Shen Zheng and urgently needs someone to take the blame. At that moment, all court officials united in hatred, adding fuel to the fire—so why did Shen Zheng remain unharmed? Why did the emperor, contrary to his usual behavior, suddenly start protecting this son he hadn't seen in ten years? And I, who observed the games at Huiyang Gate every day, never met the emperor privately during this time—so when exactly did I make my move?"

With each sentence, Xie Langyang's face grew paler.

They were both scholars who passed the imperial examination in the same year, and he was even the Number One Scholar. How could he be so far behind Wen Zuo in scheming and strategy? No wonder Shen Chen was willing to stage a 'bitter flesh' scheme just to draw Wen Zuo into the game.

"I advise Vice Minister Xie not to waste your energy. Instead, think about how you will answer when the Three Judicial Offices interrogate you and ask who proposed framing the Fifth Prince. Otherwise, after experiencing the court rod and finger-press torture, you might confess things you shouldn't."

Having said this, Wen Zuo had no desire to remain any longer in this disgusting, hateful place and turned to leave.

Xie Langyang hurriedly stood up, staring at that overly bright, clean red figure, and urgently called out: "Wanshan! Must you push me to this extent?"

Wen Zuo paused in his steps: "It seems Vice Minister Xie's so-called reminiscence is merely nostalgia for my youthful helplessness, my constant setbacks, my need for your charity, pity, and compassion. When it comes to truly experiencing my hardships yourself, you absolutely refuse."

"I... I didn't—"

"Didn't you?" Wen Zuo turned back, casting him a contemptuous glance. "The things Shen Chen needed—can't you handle them now? Why did all the sins, all the evil deeds have to be borne by me before? In the end, you could still stand high and mighty, accusing me of being cold-hearted and bearing unshirkable responsibility. You never once thought to share my circumstances, to understand my difficulties. You only offer a few painless words of comfort afterward, commenting here and there—are you worthy?"

With these words, Wen Zuo left without looking back.

Emerging from the Dali Temple prison, the damp, rotten smell still seemed to linger at his nostrils. The familiar candlelight, the icy walls, the pain that penetrated to the bone—everything was vivid and etched deeply.

He finally couldn't control his trembling, breathing rapidly, pressing his palm tightly against his chest, his face instantly drained of color.

"Sir!" Jiang Mannv and Liu Qiying's expressions changed drastically as they hurried forward to support him.

Jiang Mannv held Wen Zuo's shoulders, urgently patting his back, while Liu Qiying immediately took off her outer robe and wrapped it tightly around Wen Zuo.

Jiang Mannv: "Is your chill ailment acting up again! But it's not raining!"

Seeing Wen Zuo's eyes wet with uncontrollable tears, Liu Qiying gritted her teeth: "No, take him to the medical clinic quickly!"

In his daze, Wen Zuo thought of Shen Zheng, recalling what Shen Zheng had said to him in the Eastern Tower's elegant chamber.

He clenched his teeth, his gaze fixed intently on one point, struggling to utter words: "In front... is a carriage, painted red. In my hand... a hand warmer... the hand warmer is warm. The scent... the scent is Liu Qiying's rouge."

He adjusted his breathing over and over, and after a long while, the trembling gradually subsided.

The method Shen Zheng taught him had once again helped him break free.

Wen Zuo wiped away the remaining tears, only then realizing he was wrapped in a quilt with one hand. He looked at it for a moment before saying: "It's nothing. Let's return to the residence."

Just as the small red-lacquered sedan chair left the Dali Temple prison, a figure emerged from under the old locust tree at the alley's entrance. Also dressed in official robes, his expression was as still as water, having watched Wen Zuo for a long time.