Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The words spoken in the suburban woods had kindled a faint hope in Wen Zuo regarding Shen Zheng—yet he dared not allow himself to hope too much.

Over the years, he had learned well the bitter lesson: “The greater the expectation, the deeper the pain of loss.” Should Shen Zheng one day ascend the throne—and, bound by ancestral statutes and unyielding regulations, pressured by censure from the entire court—forget those very words, Wen Zuo could accept it calmly.

This summer felt sweltering beyond precedent. It was barely past mid-morning, yet the sun blazed like a furnace.

Wen Zuo, clad in a light-blue summer robe, sat beneath the lushest pear tree in his residence, sweat dampening his temples.

He had rolled up his sleeves high, exposing half of his slender forearms, and used a paperweight to hold down the sheet of white paper on his desk so he could write.

This letter was destined for Gu Weizhi, who was returning from Qianzhou.

He had previously warned Gu Weizhi that the journey back to the capital bristled with peril. The stack of corruption evidence gathered in Qianzhou needed to be entrusted to a Nanping merchant dealing in Songluo tea—using the tea trade as cover to transport the documents via commercial routes directly to the Ministry of Revenue.

The Cao Faction had long been arrogant, dismissing Nanping merchants as mere ants, and remained vigilant only against natives of Da Qian.

Now, he instructed Gu Weizhi to let it be widely known that the evidence had already arrived in the capital—to avoid further confrontation with the Cao Faction.

Over these past three months, Gu Weizhi had endured countless hardships and narrowly escaped death several times in Qianzhou. Fortunately, thanks to covert protection from the Yongning Marquis’s household and former subordinates from Bozhou, he had emerged unscathed.

Nonetheless, forces affiliated with the Yongning Marquis’s household had inevitably drawn faint attention from the Crown Prince Faction. Though Gong Zhiyuan was slow to react, his intellect was sharp enough to deduce that the Yongning Marquis had already entered the struggle for the throne—yet he remained uncertain whom the Marquis supported.

Was it Shen Zheng? Shen Chen? Or Prince Xian—renowned for his virtue, who had repeatedly courted scholars, sending annual gifts and greetings?

One thing, however, was certain: the Yongning Marquis’s household had become a prime target the Crown Prince Faction was determined to eliminate.

Gong Zhiyuan had two sons. Though neither possessed exceptional talent, both bore the heavy burden of advancing the Gong family.

The elder had pursued the civil service path and now served as a compiler in the Hanlin Academy—under Wen Zuo’s supervision.

The younger had chosen the military route, holding the seventh-rank post of company commander in the Three Great Battalions.

The dynasty upheld a long-standing practice of hereditary appointments: the Chief Grand Secretary could secure official posts for two sons without requiring them to sit the examinations. Both Gong sons owed their positions to this rule.

Yet Gong Zhiyuan remained unsatisfied. He wished his elder son to inherit his own post as Chief Grand Secretary, while his younger son aimed for the position of Supreme Commander of the Three Great Battalions.

Jun Dingyuan’s rise, however, disrupted his plans.

At just twenty-eight, Jun Dingyuan boasted illustrious military achievements. If he assumed the post of Supreme Commander, no one could predict how long he might hold it.

Should the borders remain quiet for the next decade, the younger Gong son would likely never match Jun Dingyuan’s accomplishments in his lifetime.

For this reason alone, Gong Zhiyuan could not abide Jun Dingyuan.

After finishing the letter, Wen Zuo set down his brush and waited for the ink to dry.

Liu Qiying approached, bearing a bowl of shaved ice drizzled with fruit syrup. Water droplets beaded on the outside of the white bowl, radiating a chill.

Every winter, households in the capital stored ice in cellars for summer use—to combat the heat.

Wen Zuo took the bowl and drank it down in one go. The coolness slid down his throat, finally dispelling some of the oppressive heat within him.

Liu Qiying fanned herself vigorously, unable to resist teasing, “How marvelous! My lord can drink ten bowls in a single afternoon. The old physician won’t have to worry about losing business from the Hanlin Academy Director’s residence this summer!”

Wen Zuo said nothing.

He set the empty bowl aside with dignified composure, deliberately ignoring Liu Qiying’s sarcasm, and asked, “How is the excavation of the secret tunnel progressing?”

Summer held one advantage: nighttime work aroused less suspicion.

Da Qian followed the Song-dynasty system—no curfew existed, so nighttime commerce in the capital flourished. It was common for ordinary craftsmen to seek night work.

Yet those digging the tunnel were, in fact, trusted men from the Yongning Marquis’s household. Working every night without fear of surveillance, they had made considerable progress.

“It’s already been dug through. Where camellias once grew in our inner courtyard now gapes a hole. Craftsmen are plastering the tunnel walls with white lime mortar. With Prince Xian’s approval, the Ministry of Works is smoothing every obstacle—completion is imminent. The only issue is the old Marquis cannot sleep due to the nighttime noise and now dozes during the peak heat of the day.”

Wen Zuo was startled—then immediately expressed concern: “Quickly introduce the old physician to the Marquis. If his health cannot withstand it, ensure timely treatment. We must not delay construction.”

Liu Qiying said nothing.

Nearby, Jiang Mannv rolled the letter into a tight scroll, inserted it into the copper tube strapped to a carrier pigeon’s leg, and spoke honestly: “My lord has corrupted the Liu family’s mouth.”

As the three conversed, a sudden commotion erupted at the main gate.

Moments later, a figure strode through the entrance.

Shen Zheng wore a thin, ivory-white robe, his sleeves and trousers rolled up. His slightly curled hair was gathered entirely atop his head and secured with a blue cloth band. Under the blazing sun, he walked with long, confident strides—exuding an air of unrestrained, untamed spirit.

In such attire, no one would believe this was the Fifth Prince—the capital’s famed “Go Sage.”

“Your Highness?” Liu Qiying froze, her fan stilled in surprise.

Over the past few months, Shen Zheng had frequently left the palace—sometimes even missing Emperor Shunyuan’s summons. To avoid displeasing the Emperor, Wen Zuo had specifically advised him to venture out less often recently.

Thus, Shen Zheng had not visited in quite some time.

Wen Zuo hurriedly lowered his robe sleeves, straightened his attire, and frowned with proper decorum: “Your Highness—why are you dressed like this? Your hair is disheveled.”

Shen Zheng truly could not stand ancient attire. Fanning himself rapidly with a folding fan, he retorted, “On such a scorching day, I wish I could cut off my clothes and trousers—and shave my head.”

Wen Zuo replied bluntly, “Then Your Highness would likely no longer need to contend for the throne. All civil and military officials would assume you’d lost your mind.”

“Teacher, why did you lower your sleeves? Isn’t it hot?” Ignoring the繁琐 formalities, Shen Zheng raised the folding fan to shield himself from the sun and quickly stepped beneath the pear tree.

Wen Zuo shook his head. “It’s improper.”

Shen Zheng arched an eyebrow, leaned in close, and peered at Wen Zuo’s face with a mischievous glint in his eyes: “Really? When I first met you, Teacher, weren’t you wearing only undergarments? When the wind blew, I could even—”

Wen Zuo clapped his hands over his ears, tilted his head back, and shut his eyes—pretending to be an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

Back then, he’d thought Shen Zheng half-witted, his mind consumed solely by revenge—single-minded and undistracted. Now… now it was different. Even this man’s nonsense could throw his thoughts into disarray.

“I haven’t finished,” Shen Zheng said, taking Wen Zuo’s wrist and gently prying his reddened ear free from his palm, his tone laced with amusement. “When the wind blew, I was instantly awed by Teacher’s imposing presence. My face turned as white as paper, my legs trembled, and my heart still races with fear. To this day, I remain quite terrified.”

Wen Zuo knew he was speaking nonsense—but truly did not wish to continue this topic. He averted his gaze, avoiding Shen Zheng’s increasingly muscular forearms and sturdy, long legs, and asked seriously, “The secret tunnel is nearly complete. Does Your Highness have urgent business today?”

“My mother received a letter. My uncle has reached Liangzhou and will likely arrive in the capital in a few days. He listens to you—and has been publicly declaring his intention to retire and return home all along the way. Responses from various prefectures have been overwhelming. I estimate that memorials reporting and praising this matter to Father Emperor could pile up into a small hill this month.”

Hearing this, Wen Zuo secretly exhaled in relief. Good. With public sentiment as foundation, even if Emperor Shunyuan later raged and lost all reason, he would still exercise restraint.

This was the first layer of protective armor he had prepared for Jun Dingyuan.

The second layer depended on betting that Shen Chen and Xie Langyang would inevitably act.

“The corruption evidence from Qianzhou has already reached the Ministry of Revenue’s desk. Bo Zhangyi is urgently organizing it and will likely present it before His Majesty soon. Once Wei Zhi arrives in the capital, it will be time to impeach the Cao Faction. We need only watch calmly as the Crown Prince and Prince Xian contend.” Wen Zuo spoke slowly.

“I understand.” Shen Zheng nodded—then suddenly his eyes lit up. “Oh—right. Let me show you something.”

"What?" Wen Zuo asked, puzzled.

"Turn your head and look," Shen Zheng urged.

Wen Zuo quickly glanced over, then immediately turned back, fixated on staring at a green pear on the tree. "...Your Highness should put your clothes on."

Shen Zheng looked down at himself. He wasn't showing anything important—just his sleeves pulled up to his elbows and his robe lifted to his knees. Even so, sweat beads rolled down the lines of his muscles, gleaming in the light.

He can't even handle this and still has the nerve to call himself free-spirited and unconventional?

Such a feudal prude.

Only after Shen Zheng lowered the hem of his robe and straightened his sleeves did Wen Zuo turn his face back, noticing the small object in his palm.

In Shen Zheng's hand lay a small wooden box, embedded with several diamond-shaped mirrors, their edges secured with thin wooden strips.

"This is called a waist-level viewfinder. I made it using diamond mirrors and leftover wooden pieces from the secret tunnel," Shen Zheng said, placing the object into Wen Zuo's hand with enthusiasm. "Peek down into it. You can see the clouds in the sky. Isn't it interesting?"

To Shen Zheng, it was merely a simple principle of a single-lens reflex camera, hardly practical in an era without photography.

Shen Zheng was simply struck by a whim, wanting to create a little toy to amuse Wen Zuo and hoping to see that curious, tentative, and richly expressive look on his face—like any modern young person in their twenties—rather than a strategist forever burdened by the struggle for the throne and traumatic fear.

The summer scorched, but thick clouds hung like cotton in a sky washed clear and brilliantly blue.

Wen Zuo lowered his head to look and indeed saw rolling white clouds and a bright, clear sky reflected on the polished diamond-shaped mirrors. Though only a small patch, it seemed as if the scenery had been condensed and framed within the mirror.

He examined it carefully for a while, then looked up at the sky to compare before calmly asking Shen Zheng, "Then why don't I just look directly at the sky?"

Shen Zheng was speechless.

Seeing Wen Zuo wasn't particularly curious, Shen Zheng wasn't discouraged. "Then wait a few days. I'll think of something else and make you something to beat the heat, so you won't have to fear the summer."

Wen Zuo secretly closed his hand around the waist-level viewfinder and moved it behind his back. "I'm not a child. Why does Your Highness always want to make toys for me?"

Shen Zheng rested his chin on his hand, sitting on a stone stool under the tree, gazing at him intently. "I like to."

Wen Zuo stiffened abruptly, nearly dropping the object in his hand.

"...I like making little things to make my teacher happy," Shen Zheng added with a smile, then stood up again, wiping the sweat from his neck. "I have to go back and study. I've fallen behind on too much over the past ten years. I'll find time to visit another day."

Wen Zuo's heart slowly settled back into place. He tightened his fingers inside his sleeve and offered insincere advice, "Your Highness shouldn't come often. Let's wait until the secret tunnel is finished. There's no rush. If there's anything urgent, I'll signal you in court."

"Alright."

Shen Zheng remained silent for a moment, taking in Wen Zuo's expression before slowly pulling out his folding fan to shield himself from the blazing sun as he left.

Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannv escorted him out of the mansion, leaving the inner courtyard empty for a while.

Wen Zuo secretly pulled up his sleeve, pinched two fingers, and lightly flicked the wooden board, producing a crisp "ping" sound.

Shen Zheng had a habit of giving things complex and peculiar names—Monte Carlo tree search, waist-level viewfinder.

He peeked inside once, then again.

White clouds still drifted across the mirror, white and beautiful.

He then lifted the object toward the sky and looked up into it, only to see the gravel path beneath his feet.

Quite fascinating.

So strange—what was the reason?

He turned it over and over in his hands, searching through all the ancient texts he had read, only to find not a single one mentioned such a thing.

Unable to help himself, Wen Zuo lifted the corners of his mouth, holding the object up to look around. Indeed, everything was inverted.

"Master!" Liu Qiying's voice grew closer.

Startled, Wen Zuo's hand loosened, and the little toy bounced three times between his palms before barely avoiding falling to the ground.

He hurriedly placed it on the stone table, not daring to play with it in his hands anymore, and immediately grabbed a book, pretending to be engrossed in reading.

Wen Zuo turned a page, his voice calm. "What is it?"

Liu Qiying circled the stone table, examining the object. "But it's really quite magical, don't you think, Master?"

Wen Zuo's eyes shifted toward the mirror, but he said, "It's alright."