Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The small red-lacquered sedan chair fell into a brief silence.

Shen Zheng suddenly realized that for the people of Da Qian, who frowned upon male romantic relationships, Wen Zuo's earlier words were correct, while his own views were considered unorthodox.

Even his current unhappiness would seem baffling to Wen Zuo.

Any attempt to challenge the prevailing norms of an era was arrogant, presumptuous, and disrespectful.

It was only because he had always viewed the actions of ancient people with a modern mindset that he felt a kind of irreverent, almost playful detachment.

But now that he had genuinely begun to admire Wen Zuo, he needed to respect his beliefs.

Now that he had genuinely begun to cherish Wen Zuo, he needed to check his own presumptuousness.

And now that he realized he was starting to like Wen Zuo, it also meant he had to maintain a certain distance.

Wen Zuo's mind was wholly focused on helping him contend for the throne, sparing no effort, dedicating his heart and soul. If Shen Zheng harbored improper intentions at such a time, contemplating how to change someone's orientation, or planning to use imperial power to coerce compliance once in authority, he would truly resemble a despot who would be reviled for ages.

Ah, humans really are contradictory creatures.

With this thought, Shen Zheng stood up. Without touching the hem of Wen Zuo's robe, he stepped out of the sedan chair.

Holding the curtain with two fingers, he bowed slightly and left a parting remark: "I'll head back first. Teacher, please rest well. Once the letter is written, I'll have someone bring it for your review."

Wen Zuo sensed he was troubled but couldn't fathom the source of his worries.

Shen Zheng had always been cheerful and easygoing in front of him. Although occasionally impolite, he was still Wen Zuo's most worry-free student.

The only time Shen Zheng's expression had darkened was when he mistakenly believed Wen Zuo had taken Nanping's sinister medicine—ultimately born of concern, even specially bringing him Jujube Cold Cake.

So why now?

Was there something improper about his words?

But Wen Zuo had no experience in handling conflicts with students. In his previous life, Shen Chen had always obeyed him, flattered him, and been meticulously careful, almost like his puppet, only revealing his wolfish ambition and discarding the bow after the birds were gone at the very last moment.

In this life, Shen Zheng didn't give him free rein, but Wen Zuo was still unaccustomed to bowing his head or softening his stance toward someone who was both a prince and his student.

Moreover, he had no idea where the problem lay.

Wen Zuo paused. Five pale, slender fingers emerged from his official robe, seemingly inadvertently brushing against the sedan chair seat that had just been crowded moments before.

He tilted his chin up slightly, feigning nonchalance: "...I'll switch to a larger sedan chair another day. This one is rather cramped."

Then you can ride with me as much as you like in the future.

Did you understand?

Shen Zheng glanced again at the not-so-wide sedan seat and lifted the corner of his mouth: "No need. My mother said she'll teach me to ride horses. I probably won't be crowding Teacher anymore in the future."

Wen Zuo watched as he hopped down from the small sedan, lightly patted the carriage shaft, then retreated several steps away, standing there very politely, watching the sedan depart.

"..."

A sudden feeling of oppression settled in Wen Zuo's chest, making it hard to breathe.

Shen Zheng was actually observing proper decorum and didn't want to share a ride with him anymore?!

The small sedan returned all the way to the Wen residence. As usual, Wen Zuo jumped out. A servant hurriedly asked, "My lord, when shall we switch to a larger sedan chair?"

Preferably one with a wider shaft for more comfortable driving, more splendid in appearance—he'd look more impressive driving it too.

Wen Zuo stopped and said stiffly, "We're poor. Not changing."

The servant: "..."

As soon as he entered, Jiang Mannv happily handed him a cup of warm tea: "My lord, the meal is ready. Made according to the recipe His Highness provided. He said it's rich in iron and something... vitamins, good for your health."

Jiang Mannv didn't really understand the specifics. Iron was for making weapons, so why did His Highness say people needed iron? And that 'vitamin' thing was unheard of.

But His Highness said the lord's past poor health was due to nutritional imbalance, leading to poor immunity and insufficient qi and blood. Eating this way would slowly restore him.

Hearing this, Wen Zuo felt even more stifled.

Since he'll be riding horses from now on anyway, who cares what he eats!

"Bring me a bowl of golden thread honey date soup."

"Don't have it."

"...Then bring snowflake crisp squares."

"Don't have those either."

"Then bring Jujube Cold Cake."

"My lord, we really don't have that."

Wen Zuo turned, puzzled: "Why do you listen to him so much?"

Jiang Mannv scratched her head, thinking, isn't His Highness also doing this for your good?

Liu Qiying came out of the kitchen carrying a tray, raising an eyebrow to glance at Wen Zuo: "Did something happen today to upset you, my lord?"

Wen Zuo turned his head away: "Nothing upset me."

Liu Qiying placed her hands on her hips, teasing: "Impossible."

"Just nothing." Wen Zuo stepped into his bedroom with an air of haughty pride and slammed the door shut with a "bang."

Inside the Eastern Palace's Wenhua Hall.

"Look at how he fawns over the Eldest Brother, it's disgraceful!" Shen Zhen paced frantically in the Wenhua Hall, then strode swiftly up to Gong Zhiyuan, both aggrieved and furious. "Chief Grand Secretary, I am the Crown Prince! He actually said the Eldest Brother resembles a Crown Prince!"

Gong Zhiyuan closed his eyes, exhorting patiently: "Your Highness, please calm down. I actually think the Fifth Prince was deliberately showing goodwill to Prince Xian today. Although the specific purpose is unclear, provoking you was likely also part of the act for Prince Xian's benefit."

"Don't I know he did it on purpose? This Fifth Brother, ever since his return, has brought nothing but trouble. That Spring Terrace Chess Association cost me dearly. Now all the vacancies in various ministries are filled with newcomers, and no one in court echoes anything I say anymore!"

Gong Zhiyuan was much calmer than Shen Zhen. After a moment's thought, he murmured to himself: "Now that His Majesty has ordered Jun Dingyuan to return to court, he must be given a position. Due to his connection to the Eight Schools case, after the Spring Terrace Chess Association, Song Chiwei, the Governor of the Three Great Battalions, was demoted. His Majesty has delayed filling that position. I suspect it's being reserved for Jun Dingyuan. Prince Xian has a Chief Commander, but he's stationed in Liangzhou, and His Majesty hardly ever thinks of him. However, the Assistant Commander-in-Chief on Your Highness's side is fully capable of taking that position. Thus, we and Jun Dingyuan would be in competition. That is likely the real reason the Fifth Prince showed goodwill to Prince Xian."

Shen Zhen's eyes instantly widened, as if waking from a dream: "You mean Fifth Brother wants to ally with Eldest Brother against me?"

A shadow crossed Gong Zhiyuan's brow, his cheeks slightly sunken: "What I fear is that the Fifth Prince also harbors disloyal ambitions."

Hearing this, Shen Zhen burst into loud laughter, pointing outside the Wenhua Hall: "Him? He dares covet my Crown Prince position?"

Gong Zhiyuan looked at the Crown Prince but did not join in the mockery. His tone grew even graver.

"As for military influence, our dynasty has long had the saying 'Liu in the south, Jun in the north.' Twelve years ago, Liu Kangren suffered a defeat, and Duke Liu's prestige in the army has since waned. Now, with Jun Dingyuan's sudden rise, his momentum has already surpassed that of Duke Liu. The Fifth Prince has the support of the Jun family, and this time, with his masterstroke in the chess game, his reputation has soared. Even if the court officials don't say it openly, they already hold him in higher regard in their hearts."

"Last year, His Majesty was still in good health and would worry about a prince overshadowing the emperor, so he allowed you and Prince Xian to check and balance each other, depleting each other's influence. But this year, his health has declined significantly, and he must consider the future of Da Qian. Even if unwilling, he has to choose a capable successor to entrust the throne to."

"Isn't that capable successor me? Chief Grand Secretary, when His Majesty appointed me as the crown prince, wasn't it because he wanted to pass the throne to me?" Shen Zhen reacted strongly, though deep down, he knew very well that the position of crown prince was merely subject to Emperor Shunyuan's whim.

Without military power in his hands, he was ultimately a lamb to be slaughtered.

Gong Zhiyuan had been Shen Zhen's tutor in the Classics Colloquium even before he became crown prince. So, when Empress Cao died during Emperor Shunyuan's illness, taking advantage of the emperor's guilt, Gong Zhiyuan joined forces with Grand Secretaries of the Inner Cabinet Luo Mingpu and Liu Chenming to recommend establishing Shen Zhen as crown prince.

After all, Liu Chenming was the Minister of Rites. Citing precedents established since Emperor Taizu, he persuaded Emperor Shunyuan until he was convinced.

But Gong Zhiyuan knew well that without Empress Cao's death, Shen Zhen would never have been made crown prince.

"In previous dynasties, after a new crown prince was established, the emperor would grant his adult sons princely titles, build them mansions, and have them move out of the palace, strictly forbidding them from involving themselves in governance. But the current emperor, aside from granting the eldest prince his title, has kept all other adult princes in the palace. They have no titles, no mansions, and still reside in the palace quarters reserved for princes."

"Even Prince Xian is allowed to engage in state affairs. This serves as a reminder to the crown prince to be cautious in words and deeds, as someone could replace him at any time."

Shen Zhen panicked, grabbing Gong Zhiyuan's sleeve. "Chief Grand Secretary, what should I do then?"

Gong Zhiyuan said gravely, "We must on no account allow another Prince Xian to rise. If we can suppress Jun Dingyuan and secure the position of Commander-in-Chief of the Three Great Battalions, that would be ideal."

But this matter required careful planning, and Gong Zhiyuan had no foolproof strategy at the moment.

Before long, dusk had fallen. Wen Zuo was practicing calligraphy in his study when Jiang Mannv ran in, saying the messenger from the palace had arrived.

Wen Zuo had just finished the signature, completing the character 'Wan' in one stroke when his rhythm was abruptly interrupted—the character 'Shan' was not yet written.

Looking at the half-finished name, he didn't raise his eyes and asked, "Who is it?"

Jiang Mannv replied, "Oh, someone from Consort Liang's side."

Wen Zuo pursed his lips tightly, his hand holding the brush trembling slightly. A drop of ink fell, marring the rice paper.

"Hmph, just as I thought. Just delivering a letter, naturally no need to come in person."

Jiang Mannv: "Huh?" What's that supposed to mean?

Wen Zuo slammed the brush onto the desk, crumpled the flawed rice paper into a ball, and with a sweep of his sleeve sent it under the table.

Henceforth, no student was allowed to call him Wanshan!

"This brush is no good; it doesn't hold ink well. Change it tomorrow." Wen Zuo flicked his sleeves, clasped his hands behind his back, and strode out.

Jiang Mannv looked down. "Huh? But isn't this the purple-haired brush worth ten taels of silver?"

"... Pawn it tomorrow."

Jiang Mannv understood—he was in one of his moods again, taking it out on the brush.

But he hadn't lost his mind to the point of disregarding ten taels of silver, so the matter wasn't too serious.

Humming a tune, Jiang Mannv picked up the paper ball, rinsed the brush clean, and placed it neatly, pretending not to have heard those words.

Wen Zuo arrived at the main hall, where Consort Liang's trusted messenger was already waiting.

Consort Liang was spirited and efficient. Today, she had written a letter to Jun Dingyuan and sent it for Wen Zuo to review.

That day, Wen Zuo hadn't told her the truth. Instead, he said, "In the past, after Liu Kangren's defeat, some Da Qian soldiers were captured and forced into labor in Nanping, eventually dying far from home. Their families couldn't retrieve their remains—it's been ten years now. General Jun has returned triumphant, basking in glory. If we abandon the remains of these comrades in a foreign land, it would demoralize the veterans in the southern border."

"I deceived the Nanping envoy, claiming there is a secret treasure in the general's camp that could turn the tide of war. I earnestly hope the general will cooperate and maintain the ruse. Upon seeing this, Nanping will surely send spies to investigate and destroy the treasure. Then we can capture the spies and exchange them with Nanping for the remains of our fallen comrades, bringing them back to the capital for burial to reassure the people."

Hearing this, Consort Liang regarded Wen Zuo with deep respect and immediately saluted him with a military gesture. "Master Wen, though you reside in the court and have never set foot on the battlefield, you can appreciate the tragedy of those buried in foreign lands and consider our Da Qian veterans to such an extent. You put me to shame. I will certainly have my younger brother comply and ensure the remains of our old comrades return home!"

Wen Zuo quickly stopped her, smiling faintly. "Your Highness need not be so formal. However, please advise General Jun that this is a great act of kindness. On his way back to the capital, he must ensure that the people along the route and the officials of each prefecture know about it. We are doing good deeds with good intentions and should also reap good results. At this time, we must not appear aloof or pretend to be above it all."

Consort Liang nodded. "I understand. We must let the people know that my brother is not just a god of war but also a benevolent general who loves his soldiers as his own children and has won the people's hearts. When he supports my son, the people will naturally lean toward us."

Now, as Wen Zuo unfolded the letter, he saw that Consort Liang's wording was appropriate. The two pages showed great wisdom and were full of earnest counsel, and the handwriting was neat and elegant, worthy of a noble lady from a prestigious family.

Only the last sentence in the letter had a distinct personal style—

"If anything goes wrong with this matter, don't blame your big sister for using her fists!"

Wen Zuo closed the letter and said to the disguised palace guard, "There's no issue. Did Consort Liang prepare any token?"

The guard nodded, comporting himself appropriately. "Naturally, there is."

Wen Zuo nodded. "The letter can be sent out now. After this, Her Highness need not do anything further. She should act as if she knows nothing and must not alert Concubine Yi."

"This humble officer will convey the message to Her Highness."

As he spoke, the guard stepped forward to take the letter. He spread his hands, but Wen Zuo held the letter aloft, not placing it in his palms.

Guard: "?"

Guard: "Does the Hanlin Academy Director have any other instructions?"

Wen Zuo averted his eyes, gazing at the patterns on the beam. "What could I possibly have? Just report to Her Highness and His Highness."

The guard quickly reached out again, but the letter still didn't fall.

Guard: "..."

Liu Qiying passed by the corridor carrying a stack of clothes and poked her head in to ask, "Huh? Why didn't His Highness come?"

The guard quickly replied, "Oh, His Highness is being forced by Her Highness to practice horseback riding. Her Highness says that members of the Jun family cannot be without equestrian and archery skills."

Plop.

The letter fell into his palm. Master Wen had already stomped off angrily into the distance.

Shen Zheng didn't know yet that the little cat-like treacherous minister had rescinded his privilege to share the red-lacquered sedan chair and his audacity to call him Wanshan. He didn't even have a chance to plead his case face-to-face.

He was experiencing the most difficult day since his transmigration.

In the royal riding ground, Consort Liang was putting him through his paces repeatedly.

Actually, his claim of getting dizzy on horseback was just a lie to tease Wen Zuo. In modern times, he had taken horseback riding lessons for a while and had some basics. But modern equestrian sports were completely different from Consort Liang's requirement of shooting arrows from horseback.

If not for Shen Zheng's young age and his diligent physical training over the past two months, he would have been shaken apart by this white horse.

It was already dusk, with a splendid red wave rising on the horizon, the fiery clouds seeming to scorch the pure white horse's back.

The white horse raised its neck and neighed, lifting its front hooves high, its mane flying like light sand in the sunset.

Shen Zheng tightened his legs around the stirrups, his body lifting, his left hand gripping the reins tightly, his right hand firmly holding the saddle. Finally, he conquered this steed known as White Sand Treader.

After dismounting, Shen Zheng collapsed directly onto the sandy ground. The sunset glow brushed against his boots as he spread his hands, panting heavily.

His palms were cut by the reins, marked by deep, bleeding welts, and his legs were so chafed he could barely move.

Ah, the ancients, truly suffering from the drawbacks of underdeveloped technology.

Why ride White Sand Treader? A Hummer would be so much better.

Consort Liang, dressed in martial attire, stroked the horse's back and said with relief, "Excellent. My son proves himself a true son of the northern frontier, riding so well even as a beginner."

Shen Zheng thought to himself, *Have I ever spent a single day in the northern frontier?*

But seeing the endless longing for the wild northern wilderness, the grasslands and deserts, in Consort Liang's eyes, he knew that the capital's silks and satins, rich food, and lively bustle could never truly contain a soul born to roam free.

Shen Zheng couldn't help but ask, "Mother, if you love riding and fighting so much, why did you marry Father back then?"

Propping himself up on one elbow, Shen Zheng pressed on, "What about you? Did you like Father?"

"Like?" Consort Liang chuckled softly, surprised her son would ask such a thing, but she answered nonetheless, "I was married into the palace at nineteen. Your father was already thirty-three. He couldn't ride, shoot, wield a sword, or throw a spear. What was there to like about him?"

Shen Zheng hadn't expected his mother to be so bold and quickly glanced around.

Consort Liang sat down on the sand, crossing her legs, her back still straight as a board. "Everyone here is loyal to me. No need to worry."

Shen Zheng sighed, "Even taking a wife involves endless scheming, weighing pros and cons, calculating gains and losses. With no genuine affection between husband and wife, being emperor seems so meaningless."

Seeing his thoughts veering off course, Consort Liang quickly corrected him, her tone stern, "For a ruler, responsibility outweighs all else. If he can govern the country well and bring peace to the people, that kind of sacrifice is understandable."

"I don't agree." Shen Zheng's leg had gone numb, and as he tried to shift it, he accidentally rubbed against a wound, hissing in pain. Still, he finished his thought seriously, "Why does governing a country well have to involve using marriage as a transaction? A man's energy is limited. If I were emperor, I would only marry one person and devote myself to that one person."

Consort Liang looked at her son in surprise, then suddenly laughed. "What a novel idea. Throughout history, I've never heard of such a thing."

Shen Zheng also smiled, his palms already turning a purplish hue.

Gazing at the fading sunset glow on the horizon, at the eternal sun, forever rising and setting, he said softly, "Perhaps in the future, marrying only one person will be the norm."

Darkness had fully settled. Shen Zheng held a spoon, sipping his porridge. Medicine had been applied to his palms and legs, which had eased the pain a little. But the thought of having to practice riding for the next few days made him want to pass out then and there.

Just before the palace gates were sealed for the night, the guard finally returned to report.

He said the letter and token had been sent to the southern border by a dedicated courier, and carrier pigeons were used in Kanzhou, making the journey faster than the palace's regular messengers.

Consort Liang let out a slight sigh of relief. "You've worked hard. Go and rest now."

Shen Zheng, head down, downed the last spoonful of porridge and asked casually, "What did Master Wen do today?"

The guard replied truthfully, "Oh, Master Wen was practicing his calligraphy all day. He was probably tired; his back started hurting at dusk, and he was in a poor mood too. But he insisted on personally seeing the Nanping envoy off the day after tomorrow. When I left, Miss Liu had to go fetch a physician for acupuncture."

The spoon clattered against the bottom of the bowl with a loud *clang*.

Shen Zheng looked up sharply. "You said he's getting acupuncture again?"

Remembering Wen Zuo's fear, Shen Zheng immediately reached for his outer robe, but a sharp pain in his palm made him drop it.

Steeling himself, he grabbed the robe and flung it over his shoulders. "I'm going to see him!"

Consort Liang said helplessly, "Rushing won't help. The gates are locked now; you can't get out."

The night was late, and the whole city was silent. Only the bedroom in the Wen residence still glowed with the flickering light of candles.

Wen Zuo lay on his side on the brocade couch, covered by a thin quilt of cloud-patterned silk. His plain white inner robe was loosely pulled down past his shoulders, revealing a thin, bony back.

The old physician stroked his goatee. After taking the pulse, he said, "Master, you have pent-up heart-fire and strained muscles and bones. I'll insert over a dozen needles to your shoulders, back, and arms to unblock the meridians. It should ease in an hour or two."

As he spoke, he took out extremely fine silver needles from a hemp roll. Pinching the needle's tail between his fingers, he lightly passed it over the candle flame and, still carrying a hint of heat, aimed it at Wen Zuo's pale hand.

The needle entered the skin with the lightest touch, then suddenly, with a measured force, twisted and slowly screwed into the flesh.

Wen Zuo's entire body stiffened abruptly, his spine went rigid, his head forcefully turned toward the wall, his jet-black hair disheveled on the pillow.

His legs instinctively drew up toward his abdomen. Every nerve felt like a bowstring drawn taut, even his breathing becoming ragged.

His skin was naturally thin, the blood vessels beneath fine as hair. Where the silver needle entered, a small bead of crimson blood welled up beside the tip, like a drop of red ink falling from a brush.

"Master!" Liu Qiying, standing vigil by the couch, her eyes filled with anxiety, turned urgently to the old physician. "Can't we use massage instead? Like on the Jianjing or Taiyang acupoints?"

"Massage is gentler, but it works slower and isn't as precise as acupuncture. These needles go straight to the acupoints, saving a lot of time."

Wen Zuo's faint voice came from under the thin quilt. "Don't trouble yourselves. You don't know where the acupoints are. Do as he says. I'm used to it."

Liu Qiying bit her lip and reached out to adjust the collar of his garment over his shoulder. "Then please be gentle. Our master is sensitive to pain."

Hearing this, the old physician smiled slightly, already picking up the second needle. "Ah, it's fine. Just bear with it. It's not the first time Master has had acupuncture."

As soon as he finished speaking, the silver needles swiftly pierced the Hegu, Quchi, and Neiguan acupoints on Wen Zuo.

Even with his eyes averted, Wen Zuo could clearly feel the needles twisting and delving beneath his skin. At first, there was the slight warmth from the candle flame, but in an instant, it transformed into a penetrating cold. The chill spread along his meridians. He dared not move an inch, afraid of disturbing the needle tips and making it even more unbearable.

But this was only the beginning. Several needles on his shoulders and back were yet to be placed.

The red candle by the bedside flickered. Occasionally, a silver needle would pass over its flame, casting a trembling shadow on the back wall. This allowed him to anticipate the precise moment each needle would fall.

Perhaps the blockage was worse today, or maybe the physician's hand was unsteady. The pain seemed especially sharp.

Wen Zuo bit down on a corner of the brocade quilt, not making a sound. His eyelashes were lowered very low, their tips catching tiny, fragmented glimmers of light.