Chapter 102

Chapter 102

Over the next half-month, memorials from Songzhou and Jinhai poured into the Grand Secretariat for the drafting of proposed responses before being presented to the Emperor for final approval.

Emperor Shunyuan was in such high spirits that he even rescinded the punishment imposed on Jun Mulan.

The initial severe reprimand had been because the anniversary of Imperial Consort Chen's passing had just passed, and the Emperor's heart was heavy. Now that his mood had gradually improved, he felt his earlier venting of anger was somewhat excessive and harbored a sense of guilt, thus quietly offering some compensation.

Unfortunately, Jun Mulan paid no heed to his punishment, and naturally, she paid no heed to his rewards either.

But this series of bad news gradually sapped Luo Mingpu's drive.

When he shut himself in for another secret discussion with Gong Zhiyuan and Xie Langyang, his face no longer bore his former fighting spirit; instead, it was clouded with worry.

"His Majesty has confined the Sixth Prince to the rear chamber for over a month now. Even Consort Liang has been shown imperial favor, yet he shows no concern for the Sixth Prince. Have we lost all hope?"

Gong Zhiyuan immediately retorted in a deep voice, "How can you lump everything together like that!"

Seeing that Gong Zhiyuan only knew how to argue without providing any convincing reasons, Luo Mingpu's lips curled into a self-mocking smile. "Chief Grand Secretary, we have weathered the storms of officialdom for over twenty years. What in the ever-changing court haven't we seen through? His Majesty's current preference for the Fifth Prince is already painfully obvious. Previously, granting him authority to discuss state affairs could still be seen as a reward for his meritorious disaster relief efforts. But this time, with the promotion of maritime transport, His Majesty is clearly paving the way for him."

He let out a long sigh and continued, "His Majesty is growing old after all. No matter how ten thousand-fold reluctant he is to part with power, he must still choose an Heir Apparent for Da Qian. The Deposed Crown Prince was truly born at the wrong time, and so are we. If the Deposed Crown Prince were ten years younger and hadn't shown his brilliance too conspicuously when His Majesty was still in robust health, perhaps today we wouldn't be trapped in a desperate situation with no way out."

His words were overly blunt. Phrases like 'born at the wrong time' and 'trapped in a desperate situation' clearly stated that Shen Chen was merely a choice forced upon him by circumstance, and he still harbored regret for the Deposed Crown Prince.

Upon hearing this, Xie Langyang's sensitive nerves were pricked. It seemed that throughout the entire court, apart from himself, no one saw any promise in Shen Chen.

Gong Zhiyuan, having married his daughter to Shen Chen, had no other choice. Luo Mingpu, though recruited, always spoke with a tone of regret, as if he would switch sides the moment Shen Zhen was pardoned.

As for others, aside from those treacherous parasites and the canal shipping interests at odds with Shen Zheng, no one was willing to pledge genuine allegiance to Shen Chen. The scene of universal support from his previous life was gone forever.

He even began to reflect: Could it be that he was truly shortsighted, rather than others being myopic? Without Wen Zuo, was Shen Chen just average?

"How can we speak of giving up before the dust has settled?" Gong Zhiyuan said sternly.

Having worked together for several years, although he and Luo Mingpu occasionally had disagreements, they had always shared a common cause. Hearing Luo Mingpu's heartfelt words today, Gong Zhiyuan felt a tightness in his chest, his face turning alternately pale and flushed, extremely uncomfortable.

He knew they were both intelligent men. No matter how eloquently he argued, with the situation laid bare before them, Luo Mingpu would not believe him.

Luo Mingpu raised his hand and patted the dust off his knees. Under the sunlight, a fine cloud of dust puffed up. "Liu Chenming has been getting quite close to Gu Weizhi lately. He knows full well that Gu Weizhi opposes us fiercely in court, yet he insists on drawing near. I'm afraid he too has sensed the shifting winds. Sometimes it's better to stay out of things. Once you choose a side, trying to extricate yourself and change course becomes exceedingly difficult."

These words were about Liu Chenming, but also about himself.

If he hadn't been in such a hurry to place his bet on Shen Chen back then, why would he be stuck on a tiger's back today, forced to see this through to the bitter end?

Seeing Luo Mingpu grow increasingly despondent, Xie Langyang felt agitated and uneasy.

Rather than firmly believing that Shen Chen was destined by heaven, it was more accurate to say he firmly believed that *he himself* was destined by heaven.

He was supposed to be the youngest Chief Grand Secretary since the founding of Da Qian, serving the state with his talent and ambition, becoming a renowned minister of his generation, leaving his name in history.

From the day he began his studies, this had been his conviction, and in his previous life, he had indeed achieved his wish.

But now, heaven showed no mercy whatsoever. It coldly watched as Shen Chen suffered setback after setback, coldly watched as the fate of Da Qian changed its course.

Xie Langyang couldn't help but wonder: Could it truly be that my fate lies in my own hands, not in heaven's? To turn the tide, must that "Evening Mountain Rhapsody" be brought into the world?

After bidding farewell to his mentor, Xie Langyang walked absentmindedly all the way. The pattering raindrops dampened his hat and robes, yet he remained completely unaware.

Only when an oil-paper umbrella quietly appeared over his head, raindrops tapping lightly on its surface, did he suddenly snap back to reality.

Turning his head, he saw Gong Yuwen standing behind him, her fair wrist lightly holding up that plain oil-paper umbrella, while half of her shoulder was already soaked by the rain, leaving a dark stain.

Xie Langyang hurriedly took the umbrella handle, drawing Gong Yuwen under the shelter, his tone full of self-reproach. "I couldn't let you hold the umbrella for me?"

But Gong Yuwen kept pushing the umbrella toward his side, completely disregarding half of her body being exposed to the rain. "Xie Lang bears the heavy responsibility of family and state; you must not catch a chill from the rain. I am merely a woman of the inner chambers; a little wind and rain are nothing."

"Nonsense! I am a man of seven feet; what do I fear from wind and rain?"

As they were politely pushing the umbrella back and forth, Gong Yuwen stumbled slightly and fell right into Xie Langyang's arms.

She lowered her eyes gently, shy and silent, while Xie Langyang stiffened, not pushing her away.

With such close proximity, there was no need for further politeness; both were now sheltered under the small space of the umbrella.

Returning to the Xie residence, worried about catching a chill, Gong Yuwen promptly instructed the small kitchen to prepare two bowls of ginger tea to drive out the cold.

After drinking the ginger tea, Xie Langyang went alone to his study. He once again retrieved the "Evening Mountain Rhapsody" from between the pages in his cabinet, slowly unfurling it, and studied it intently by the faint light from the window—

"...I journeyed from Mianzhou to Qingping Mountain, a distant road of a thousand li, through nine turns of clouded paths, alone, with no branch to rely on. Though my heart held a solitary, steadfast resolve, I encountered bandits on the way, my bags and cases emptied, and further suffered the contempt and deception of local villagers."

"Even gazing up at the vast expanse of stars, looking down upon the grand breadth of heaven and earth, I felt the mountain winds bleak, the stream waters mournful, stranded at a dead end, pacing in hesitation, the cold scene hastening sorrow, my lonely heart hard to dispel, my innermost feelings turned to ashes, all things lacking any hue of joy."

"Fortunately, I met a gentleman, who received me with a warm countenance, comforted me with kind words, showed the friendship of unharnessing his carriage horse, the benevolence of gifting his robe, rescuing me from hardship, aiding me in my destitution. Never in my life had I felt such warmth; my solitary journey suddenly gave rise to thoughts of a place to belong."

"Then, cold blossoms danced wildly, pure snow sealed the borders, a thousand peaks lost their verdure, ten thousand trees froze with frost. Yet I alone sensed the jade towers and palaces, clad in silver and white, the starry river hanging over the wilds, vitality hidden within. Though the stove held scant charcoal, cold invaded flesh and bone, occasionally hearing the light chirp of an ash-colored bird, I also felt the promise of spring could be anticipated."

"Heaven and earth nurture spirit, gathering the beauty of mountains and rivers; the human heart harbors sentiment, condensing the firmness of metal and stone. The bond of sworn brotherhood grows deeper with time; the integrity of pine and bamboo does not wither in winter's cold. With reverence, I pledge this shared heart through brush and ink..."

The ink characters were like iron strokes and silver hooks, elegant and upright, each sentence recalling scenes of the past. As Xie Langyang read, a sudden weariness washed over him, and he unconsciously laid his head on the desk and fell into a deep sleep.

The moment he slumped over, the wooden door of the study silently cracked open a sliver. A pair of cold, dark eyes peered from the shadows.

Only when Gong Yuwen saw his breathing gradually even out, truly asleep, did she gently latch the door and turn to her maid. "Come with me to the Wen residence."

During this period, Wen Zuo always found moments of leisure amidst his busy schedule to carefully draft replies to Shen Zheng.

Although the handwriting grew smaller and more cramped, the words between the lines remained reserved and restrained, elegant in diction.

Only when he inadvertently received Shen Zheng's overly explicit, utterly shameless sweet nothings would he become flustered and angry, picking up his brush to write hastily—

"Your Highness must not mention the matters of the crimson tassel, snowy mounds, or the dewdrops clinging to the tall bamboo again!"

Apart from the longing for the one far away in Jinhai, whom he could not see, Wen Zuo appeared completely normal, as if nothing would happen.

Deep autumn had passed, and the air carried a biting chill.

He was just about to ask Liu Qiying to deliver the message tube to the Marquis's residence when Jiang Mannv knocked on the study door, poking half her head in, her expression quite displeased. "My lord, there's a painted moth at the gate. Shall I chase her away?"

Wen Zuo glanced at her sideways, set down the message tube, and asked, "Who exactly is it?"

Jiang Mannv curled her lip, extremely reluctant. "Madam Xie."

Wen Zuo raised an eyebrow slightly, then a cold smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Perfect timing. Let her in."

"My lord!" Jiang Mannv objected strongly.

Wen Zuo: "Go quickly."

Unable to prevail, Jiang Mannv had to forcefully suppress her anger, stamped her foot fiercely, and turned to open the front gate.

Before leaving the study, Wen Zuo’s gaze lingered on the letter case on the desk. He was lost in thought for a moment before turning away without a backward glance and heading toward the front hall.

As the gate of the Wen manor swung open, Liu Qiying stood by the door, arms crossed, sneering coldly at Gong Yuwen, her expression devoid of any respect.

Yet Gong Yuwen stood with her sleeves neatly folded, cutting the figure of a gentle and graceful well-bred lady. As if oblivious to Liu Qiying’s wariness, she still spoke softly and with impeccable courtesy: “May I ask, young lady, where Minister Wen is?”

Liu Qiying spoke bluntly: “There’s no need for you to put on this act of delicate timidity in front of me. No one in the Wen manor buys your act.”

Gong Yuwen lowered her eyes, her expression unchanged: “It’s only natural for you to hold a grudge against me. I won’t take it to heart.”

At that moment, Jiang Mannv jerked her chin and called out impatiently: “The Minister summons you to the front hall!”

Gong Yuwen gave a slight nod and obediently followed her into the residence.

Upon entering the front hall, she saw Wen Zuo seated in the center, dressed in a lake-blue satin robe with subtle patterns. His wide sleeves were slightly gathered, revealing a slender wrist as he idly turned a Jun porcelain teacup in his hand.

Wispy steam rose, drifting past his weary, half-closed eyes, as if weaving ethereal mists and distant verdant mountains into his countenance, conjuring an illusion of dragon-and-phoenix elegance.

Even Gong Yuwen, who prided herself on her exceptional beauty, felt like a fish eye beside a pearl—utterly eclipsed in his presence.

No wonder this man, though male, could make Xie Langyang yearn for him, heartsick and unable to forget.

The more Gong Yuwen thought about it, the more her stomach churned with sour resentment, nearly making her retch. Yet as she lowered her eyelids, tears cascaded like a waterfall, instantly drenching her face.

Her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the floor with a thud, wailing: “Minister Wen, I beg you, please cease your opposition to Xie Lang! I’ve witnessed his struggles and suffering over this past year, and it pains me deeply. Everything… everything is my fault!”

As soon as these words left her mouth, Liu Qiying, standing nearby, felt a vein throbbing at her temple, her long-suppressed coarse temper nearly boiling over.

Wen Zuo slowly lifted his gaze, looking down at the kneeling woman. Suddenly, he realized Jiang Mannv’s description was rather apt—Gong Yuwen truly resembled a delicate, fluttering moth with slender legs and gaudy wings.

Wen Zuo had long seen through her low, scheming mind. However, in his previous life, what had concerned him was always Xie Langyang’s attitude. As for this woman stirring up trouble on the sidelines, she wasn’t worth a moment of his attention.

Gong Yuwen had been crying with genuine emotion just moments before, but now, faced with his utter indifference, she was thrown into disarray.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to maintain her sorrowful demeanor and sobbed: “I know all about the past between the Hanlin Academy Director and Xie Lang. I have never breathed a word of it to my father. My marriage to Xie Lang was never by choice; all these years, we have merely lived together with formal courtesy. He… he has never been unfaithful to you!”

Wen Zuo gently set his teacup on the table, leisurely smoothing the wrinkles in his sleeves, still saying nothing.

Without his response, Gong Yuwen’s lamentations seemed increasingly hollow. Resolved, she decided to play her final card: “The affection between you and him moves me deeply. With all the recent turmoil, you two have grown apart. He has lost his appetite and grown increasingly haggard. Surely, you must not feel entirely at ease either. Why must it come to this? I am willing to—”

“Who said I’m not at ease?” Wen Zuo asked, genuinely puzzled, looking at her with confusion.

“To give him… to give…” Gong Yuwen choked, staring wide-eyed at Wen Zuo.

Could it be that Wen Zuo held no lingering affection for Xie Langyang, having cast him aside like worn-out shoes?!

“Aside from losing his appetite, what other miseries has he suffered? Describe them in detail—This Academy could use some amusement.” Wen Zuo leaned back comfortably against the soft cushion, then beckoned. Liu Qiying quick-wittedly handed him a handful of dried fruit.

Wen Zuo picked up a piece of dried fruit and brought it to his lips, waiting for Gong Yuwen to continue her performance.

Gong Yuwen ground her teeth, inwardly roaring, *I’m not here to entertain you with stories!*

She had been putting on this act for so long, yet she hadn’t gotten the reaction she expected. Feeling utterly humiliated, she was forced to deploy her ultimate weapon: “Do you know that Xie Lang holds the *Evening Mountain Rhapsody*—a document powerful enough to seal your fate! Yet he struggles inwardly, ultimately unable to bear harming you. You should understand his feelings!”

At the mention of the *Evening Mountain Rhapsody*, a flicker finally stirred in Wen Zuo’s eyes. He let out a low chuckle, his gaze shimmering with a cold light that sent chills down one’s spine.

“Seal my fate? If he truly had that capability, he wouldn’t have held his nose and married into the Gong family in the first place.”

Gong Yuwen’s weeping ceased abruptly.

Wen Zuo leaned forward slightly, as if making a reluctant effort to draw closer, his tone dismissive: “Go back and tell Xie Langyang that he is not worthy of being my equal. If I wished to take his life, it would be as easy as reaching into a bag. So tell him to keep his head down and stay out of sight, lest I be in a foul mood one day and casually crush him like a bug.”

Gong Yuwen’s face turned ashen with extreme humiliation. The man she had worked so hard to please with all her gentleness and effort was being belittled as worthless, and she had no retort.

“Master Wen, even if you refuse to acknowledge his goodwill, how can you insult him like this!”

Wen Zuo replied leisurely: “There’s one more thing. Remember it well.”

He lifted his gaze, his eyes suddenly sharp as arrows: “You’d better keep such filthy, vile things properly contained. Don’t you dare dirty the threshold of my Wen manor. The two of you—a pheasant paired with a weasel—are a perfect match.”

These words were like a slap across Gong Yuwen’s face. She could no longer maintain her fragile, pitiful facade. She sprang to her feet, her eyes filled with sharp, venomous resentment: “Master Wen, what a sharp and vicious tongue you have!”

The smile on Wen Zuo’s lips deepened, but his eyes remained cold and somber: “I have been merciful enough toward you in the past, allowing you to prance about at my doorstep with your pendant, preening yourself. Did you really think you were someone of importance? Not just you—even your father, Gong Zhiyuan, is like an ant trying to shake a mountain before me, utterly insignificant.”

Gong Yuwen felt all the blood rush to her head, nearly fainting from rage.

For years, she had painstakingly schemed, believing her methods were exquisite, that she could subtly drive a wedge between the two men and keep Xie Langyang firmly under her control.

She never imagined that Wen Zuo had seen through her tricks all along, merely watching coldly from the sidelines as she danced alone like a clown.

So it wasn’t that she had won—it was that Wen Zuo, inherently bored with the familiar, had casually tossed this ‘burden’ to her.

Years of plotting, all her smug self-satisfaction, had turned into nothing but a laughable joke!

She glared venomously at Wen Zuo. Before leaving, she hurled a final threat: “Fine! Very well! Since the Director is so confident, showing contempt even for the laws of Da Qian, then we shall settle this before the Emperor!”

With that, she deliberately stumbled, falling heavily onto the bluestone pavement. Her palms were scraped, drawing small beads of blood, and her silk skirt was stained with patches of mud.

She rose with deliberate significance, holding up her bleeding palm toward Wen Zuo, her lips moving silently—*Just you wait.*

Wen Zuo, as if he had anticipated this, rested his chin on one hand, appearing utterly nonchalant: “I’m afraid these minor scratches aren’t enough, are they? Jiang Mannv, go help Lady Xie.”

“Yes!”

“?” Before Gong Yuwen could react, she saw Jiang Mannv stride forward briskly and, without a word, swing her hand—*slap!*

Gong Yuwen didn’t even have time to cry out before her body was sent flying a good twenty feet away, plunging headfirst into the wet mud by the wall. Instantly, her hair came loose, hairpins scattered, her face covered in black mud—she looked like a clay figurine.