Chapter 106

Chapter 106

The snow finally ceased, and night deepened—yet many remained sleepless.

News of Wen Zuo’s imprisonment spread swiftly, prompting Jun Dingyuan to immediately don his armor and raise his command tent. He secretly ordered the Three Great Battalions to seal off all official roads linking the capital to Jinhai. Merchants and travelers passing through underwent triple inspections.

Maozijie—the capital’s famed street lined with bookshops—teemed with vendors. Many shops operated legitimate businesses on the surface but secretly peddled scandal sheets: slim booklets specializing in palace secrets and official misconduct, distributed by hawkers who roamed the streets after dark. Within three to five days, their contents could permeate the entire city—a practice repeatedly banned yet never eradicated.

Many absurd rumors, repeated often enough, eventually hardened into accepted truth—even emperors were not immune to their corrosive influence.

Under cover of deepest night, Liu Qiying slipped quietly into the ghost market. She sold two manuscript copies of classified intelligence for one tael of silver each, stating plainly: “This secret is not exclusive. Whoever carves the blocks and prints first reaps the greatest profit; those who lag behind will only scavenge scraps.”

Her asking price was far below market rate, and print-shop workers, sensing opportunity, grew instantly eager. They rushed back to their workshops and labored through the night by lamplight—carving blocks, setting type, running presses.

Duke Liu summoned the commander of the Five City Military Command to his residence under cover of darkness. After drinking their fill, he made a quiet request of this former subordinate: “Regarding the unofficial booklets circulating in the capital lately—turn a blind eye. No need for thorough inspections.”

The subordinate nodded in silent agreement.

Inside the Wen residence, Jiang Mannv reached beneath Wen Zuo’s pillow and retrieved a pre-prepared scroll. She carefully sealed it inside a message cylinder and dispatched the first reply letter.

This reply—written by Wen Zuo after reading Shen Zheng’s letter—was flawless.

The Ministry of Justice blazed with light. Luo Mingpu mobilized his finest men overnight, who descended upon the capital’s pleasure quarters like wolves and tigers. Every songstress and courtesan who had ever met Wen Zuo was arrested and brought in for questioning.

Yet he could not fathom why Xie Langyang was so certain these women had never been intimate with Wen Zuo. After all, in this world, many were drawn to both men and women.

Xie Langyang returned home in a sedan chair—spirit absent, body like withered wood. As the curtain lifted and he stepped inside, Gong Yuwen flew into his arms like a young swallow returning to its nest. Her eyes shimmered with pity: “Xie Lang, I know your heart aches. You suffered terribly at court today.”

Xie Langyang looked down at her, feeling the warmth of her body against his own—and only then realized how bitterly cold he had been all day, his hands long numbed by frost.

He raised his arms and held her tightly, as if clutching a lifeline. The desolation within his heart finally found solace.

Burying his face in Gong Yuwen’s hair, burning tears spilled uncontrollably. His voice cracked: “I had no choice…”

These words were meant for Gong Yuwen—and for himself—in a futile attempt to lighten the crushing weight of guilt.

Gong Yuwen rolled her eyes inwardly—but her expression softened further: “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t gone to the Wen residence to argue that day, Xie Lang wouldn’t have been placed in such an impossible position, enduring such torment.”

Xie Langyang wept bitterly, releasing all pent-up anguish in one torrent. Only when his tears ran dry did he lift his tear-streaked, disheveled face—his gaze vacant, yet edged with resolve: “I wronged him once. But now—I owe him nothing.”

Meanwhile, taking a calculated risk, Gong Jinjin once again bribed a Ceremonial Directorate eunuch to deliver a message to Shen Chen in the rear annex.

Shen Chen had already been imprisoned here for a month. Tortured by Shen Ting, he had wasted away—cheekbones sharp, eye sockets sunken—like a plague-ridden, emaciated pigeon.

His sole sustenance was the thought of seizing the throne. Today, hearing Gong Jinjin’s news, wild joy flared in his eyes, and his dimples regained their spirited luster: “Excellent! Without Wen Zuo, Shen Zheng is like a man who’s lost his right arm. Send someone to Jinhai immediately—deliver this ‘great gift’ to him!”

Gong Jinjin lowered her voice: “Minister Xie instructed me to inform Your Highness that Wen Zuo likely anticipated Shen Zheng would produce the *Evening Mountain Rhapsody*. That’s precisely why no one interceded for him in court. He must have made arrangements for Jinhai long ago. Our plan may not unfold as intended.”

Shen Chen frowned deeply, lost in thought: “Are you suggesting Wen Zuo already warned Shen Zheng—not to return to the capital under any circumstances for his sake?”

Shen Chen leaned against the corner wall and slid down to sit. After a long silence, he conceded: “That was my oversight.”

In his previous life, he had valued Wen Zuo above all else. Not only had he feigned the role of a pitiful victim to win Wen Zuo’s sympathy, but he’d even had his mother personally embroider sleeve warmers as gifts. Before ascending the throne, he would abandon anyone—except Wen Zuo.

But Shen Zheng was different. His alliance with Wen Zuo was forged for revenge. Though their goals aligned, their personal bond might not run deep.

Shen Zheng enjoyed the backing of the Marquis of Yongning’s estate—giving him a far higher starting point from the outset. Wen Zuo might not hold such paramount importance in his heart.

After pondering a while, a flash of malice lit Shen Chen’s eyes: “Wen Zuo is cunning and resourceful—it’s no surprise he foresaw this. But as long as we drive him out of the capital, the *Evening Mountain Rhapsody* will have served its purpose. The message to Jinhai must still be sent. I want to see Shen Zheng’s reaction.”

He paused, then added: “Also, have people spread the reason for Wen Zuo’s imprisonment throughout the capital—exaggerating it to ruin his reputation. Let public sentiment pressure His Majesty as well.”

The tactic of wielding public opinion as pressure was one he’d learned from Wen Zuo. Back then, Wen Zuo had used precisely this method to force the deaths of numerous talented scholars from the Eight Schools—severely weakening the Crown Prince and Prince Xian, and costing Xie Langyang his uncles, cousins, and nephews.

“This concubine understands.” Gong Jinjin bowed low—and seized the moment when no one was near to slip away hurriedly.

Dawn broke. A sliver of morning light pierced the gaps in the prison window, falling upon the charred stone wall.

Wen Zuo drifted in a daze—when suddenly firelight flickered before his eyes. A light sleeper, he opened his eyes instantly, still heavy with sleep.

Thanks to Xue Chongnian’s care, the prison guards dared not neglect him. One merely bowed his head and said respectfully: “Minister Wen, you are summoned to appear in court.”

Wen Zuo’s eyelashes fluttered as he slowly pushed himself up from the straw mat. One shoulder had gone numb from pressing against it.

No matter how well-treated he was in prison, it could never compare to the comfort of a soft bed at home. His bound hair had come loose somewhere along the way, cascading in soft curls over his shoulders—making his pale face appear even more refined and striking.

“Understood.” His voice was hoarse.

The guard stole a glance at Wen Zuo and couldn’t help but marvel inwardly. He had escorted countless imperial prisoners—but never seen anyone, even in such dire straits, possess such breathtaking beauty. The slightest movement of his brows or eyes seemed to ripple with flowing light—brightening the dim cell.

No wonder he’d become entangled in such a scandal. With looks like that, even ordinary men might find their hearts stirred, their souls captivated.

“This is warm water and hot porridge. Minister Xue instructed us to prepare it for you. Eat your fill—it will help when you give your account in court.” The guard handed over the food tray.

“Mmm.” Wen Zuo took the wooden bowl, rinsed his mouth with the warm water—but left the porridge untouched. He still felt resistance toward the joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices—and truly had little appetite.

The two heat packs tucked against his chest had long gone cold. Seizing the guard’s momentary turn away, he quickly slipped them back beneath the straw mat.

Upon entering the main hall of the Dali Temple, Wen Zuo saw the four characters *Ming Xing Bi Jiao* (“Clarify Punishments, Assist Teaching”) hanging high above. Xue Chongnian, presiding as chief judge, sat upright in the central rosewood judge’s seat. Luo Mingpu occupied the left seat; He Mingzhen, censor of the Censorate, the right.

At the center of the hall stood a dark, gleaming case table. Upon it rested a heavy sounding block and a three-colored tube holding bamboo slips for sentencing. Before the table, warning boards stood on either side: *Su Jing* (“Silence”) on the left, *Hui Bi* (“Avoid”) on the right.

Eight bailiffs stood in two rows on either side, their water-and-fire staffs planted firmly on the ground—creating an atmosphere of solemn dignity.

The Dali Temple normally did not conduct interrogations involving torture. Yet for today’s joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices, Luo Mingpu had specifically ordered thumb screws, finger presses, and interrogation rods brought in and arranged in two rows outside the hall entrance—clearly intending to intimidate and exert pressure.

Facing this familiar scene again, Wen Zuo thought he could remain composed—but fear, buried deep in his bones, surged up uncontrollably.

His consciousness and dignity had been shattered and scattered time and again. His cries and screams still echoed between walls and tiles.

But he could not retreat.

He clenched his palms tightly, forcing himself to suppress the trembling. Meeting the gazes filling the hall, he stepped forward.

Seeing his demeanor—neither humble nor arrogant—Luo Mingpu sneered immediately: “Wen Zuo, you certainly put on airs. We’ve been waiting for you quite some time.”

Wen Zuo retorted mockingly: “Given your official rank—haven’t you grown accustomed to waiting for me in the past?”

Luo Mingpu choked, fury flaring in his chest: “How dare you! So insolent—even in the court hall! You truly won’t shed tears until you see the coffin. Guards—”

He was just about to slam the sounding block—when Xue Chongnian swiftly reached out and snatched it into his own embrace, saying with deliberate nonchalance: “Minister Luo, this is *my* Dali Temple—not your Ministry of Justice. Today, *I* am the chief judge.”

“You—!” Luo Mingpu was so enraged he could only puff out his beard and glare—powerless to act.

Xue Chongnian pinched the bridge of his nose, deliberately dragging out his words in a lazy, slow manner: “Master Wen—did you rest well in prison yesterday?”

“Passably.” Wen Zuo replied.

Xue Chongnian smiled: “I see your complexion is rather good today. Rest assured—the torture instruments outside are for show only. Since His Majesty has permitted you to remain unshackled and unclothed, I shall naturally obey the imperial decree—and ensure you suffer not the slightest grievance.”

He said this deliberately for Luo Mingpu's benefit. Given the Emperor's continued leniency, his actions were not excessive.

A faint smile played at Wen Zuo's lips.

Seeing the two of them holding a conversation in the courtroom, Luo Mingpu immediately shouted sternly, "Wait! This is a court of law. Why is Wen Zuo, a prisoner, not kneeling?"

Before Wen Zuo could speak, Xue Chongnian quickly interjected, "Minister Luo may not be aware of the rules of my Dali Temple. Before a suspect is convicted, they may stand without kneeling."

"Xue Chongnian!" Luo Mingpu slammed the table and stood up. "Are you so blatantly biased as to deliberately shield a traitor?"

Seeing things were about to get out of hand, He Mingzhen finally spoke with a frown, "Minister Xue, you are the chief judge, but we also have the right to assist in the trial. This stalemate is of no benefit to the case. I urge we proceed with the trial promptly so we may conclude and report back to His Majesty."

Seeing that He Mingzhen had also spoken, Xue Chongnian knew he could no longer offer unconditional protection. He collected himself, lightly tapped the gavel in his hand, and tossed down a white tally. "Summon the witnesses."

Several Music Bureau courtesans were led in by the bailiffs. Their hair was disheveled, their skirts dusty. Upon entering the imposing hall, they were utterly terrified. Without waiting for an order, they all dropped to their knees in a rustle of skirts.

Xue Chongnian frowned slightly, his gaze turning to Wen Zuo with a trace of compassion.

Questioning such private matters in public was truly an affront to a scholar's dignity. But the die was cast; he had to ask.

Seeing him hesitate, Luo Mingpu sneered coldly, "Since Minister Xue is too reticent to ask, allow this crude person to ask. You women, look up!"

The musicians trembled as they raised their heads, faces full of terror, their frail bodies seeming ready to collapse at any moment.

"You entertained Wen Zuo in the Music Bureau," Luo Mingpu spat, cutting straight to the chase. "Did you engage in carnal relations with him?"

Wen Zuo turned his face away, his dark hair falling to conceal the flash of humiliation in his eyes.

"Never! This humble woman only played Go with Minister Wen all night!"

"Me too! I only accompanied Minister Wen in composing poetry and couplets. Nothing else happened!"

"I played the pipa for Minister Wen. Sometimes when I grew drowsy, Minister Wen would let me rest on the couch beside him. There was never any transgression!"

"My looks are too plain, how could I be worthy of serving Minister Wen? Minister Wen treated us only with respect, never with impropriety!"

...

The women, one after another, spoke in panic, giving clear accounts of their nights. The court scribe bent over the desk, scribbling down their statements, then reviewed them one by one, having each woman affix her fingerprint.

Luo Mingpu listened with satisfaction. Bracing his hands on the table, he leaned forward, his hawk-like gaze fixed on Wen Zuo. "Wen Zuo, what more do you have to say? What ordinary man, going to the pleasure quarters, could resist only discussing poetry and the moon? You're not going to claim you're incapable, are you? Or I'll summon a matron immediately to examine you!"

Wen Zuo was silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a low laugh. "How does Minister Luo know no one can resist? As an honest official, my stipend was meager, only enough to buy wine and listen to music. Where would I have extra money for such romantic affairs?"

Xue Chongnian slapped his thigh, feigning sudden realization. "That's true!"

*True my foot!* Luo Mingpu thought inwardly.

His sleeve swept across the table as he pointed at Wen Zuo. "You frequented the Music Bureau. The silver spent there combined would be enough for several overnight stays! You are twenty-five and still unmarried. If not because you have no taste for women and are using them as a cover, how could you feel no urge at all?"

Wen Zuo's expression remained unchanged. "Appreciating poetry and listening to music are elegant pursuits. Why must it come down to physical intimacy? I only admired their talent. Does that violate the law? Is Minister Luo planning to arrest everyone who didn't engage in relations at the Music Bureau and falsely accuse them of preferring men?"

Xue Chongnian nodded repeatedly. "Well said! If conviction is based solely on this, scholars across the land would live in fear!"

Luo Mingpu, choked with anger, his face flushed, suddenly pointed at the *Evening Mountain Rhapsody* on the table. "I've always known you had a silver tongue! This *Evening Mountain Rhapsody* is in your own handwriting, every character. It was written in the sixteenth year of Shunyuan. The evidence is ironclad! How do you explain this?"

Wen Zuo simply closed his eyes, treating Luo Mingpu as nothing more than a passing breeze. "I don't know."

Luo Mingpu felt as if his punch had landed on cotton, nearly choking him with frustration.

The day's joint trial ended hastily.

With Xue Chongnian's overt and covert protection, and Wen Zuo adopting an utterly unyielding attitude, Luo Mingpu racked his brains but couldn't extract a single useful statement. He had no choice but to remand Wen Zuo back to his cell for another session later.

Returning to the Ministry of Justice office, he received more bad news. Messages bound for Jinhai couldn't get through. The officers of the Three Great Battalions had the main roads tightly blocked, and even the side paths were impassable.

Luo Mingpu hurled his official hat onto the desk. "That Wen Zuo! That Jun Dingyuan!"

Gong Zhiyuan said, "Mizhi, calm down a little."

"How can I calm down? That Wen Wanshan played deaf and dumb in court, denying everything a hundred ways. Xue Chongnian shielded him at every turn, forbidding torture. How can we get anywhere with this case like this?"

In the midst of his roar, footsteps sounded outside. Xie Langyang walked in wearing plain clothes.

Although ordered to remain at home pending investigation, he was under no guard. Too worried to stay put, he had taken a sedan chair to the Ministry of Justice.

Hearing that things were not going smoothly on all fronts, Xie Langyang's expression remained calm as he spoke slowly. "Wen Zuo will certainly not sit idly by. Now with Xue Chongnian obstructing things, this trial is doomed to be an uphill battle."

Upon hearing this, Xie Langyang suddenly looked up, his gaze fixed intently on Gong Zhiyuan, his eyes swirling with indescribable, complex emotions.

Gong Zhiyuan, taken aback by his stare, frowned. "What is it?"

Xie Langyang stiffly averted his gaze, his fingers clutching his robe tightly, his voice also somewhat strained. "I... it's nothing."

In his previous life, Gong Zhiyuan had been Wen Zuo's chief judge. He remembered clearly, standing outside the courtroom, listening to the screams coming from within.

How ruthless Gong Zhiyuan's methods had been, forcing Wen Zuo to confess to many fabricated charges, settling numerous long-hidden cases of the Shunyuan Dynasty. In the end, with all crimes combined, the punishment of death by ten thousand arrows was decided.

Luo Mingpu suddenly had an idea. "Could I join with He Mingzhen to memorialize the Emperor, stating directly that Xue Chongnian is biased towards the suspect, hindering the trial, and beseech His Majesty to replace the chief judge, having the Chief Minister preside instead?"

Gong Zhiyuan felt a flicker of anticipation. "Is it possible? The Emperor assigned Xue Chongnian as chief judge precisely because he intended to show leniency."

Xie Langyang took a deep breath, struggling to break free from the heart-piercing pain of his past life, and said softly, "Replacing Xue Chongnian requires careful planning. However, His Highness mentioned before about spreading rumors in the capital. That is something we can act on immediately. The Emperor detests such scandals most. Once rumors run rampant, he will surely press for a swift conclusion to the case. Then those 'favors' of 'no stripping of clothes, no cangue, no torture' will be revoked."

Luo Mingpu pondered carefully. "That makes sense. Then I shall endure a few more days."

A dull gray carrier pigeon skimmed over the treetops, riding the sea breeze, and quietly alighted on the perch of the bamboo house.

Shen Zheng returned from the docks, his thick cloak on his shoulders stiff with frost. He reached up to undo the ties, tossing it back casually as he strode purposefully into the house.

The guard behind him quickly followed, catching the flying cloak, and said with a laugh, "Your Highness is smiling today. What has made you so happy?"

Shen Zheng exhaled a puff of white breath, tinged with the salty sweetness of the sea air. Without looking back, he headed straight for the perch. "Of course, it's because I received a letter from my teacher."

The guard draped the thick cloak over a horizontal pole on the veranda, teasing, "Your Highness just reprimanded someone at the docks. Only Master Wen can make your expression change so instantly."

"You talk too much." Shen Zheng hurriedly untied the message tube from the pigeon's leg.

Freed from its burden, the pigeon flapped its wings and hopped to a nearby food bowl, pecking at the grains with soft coos.

Shen Zheng unscrewed the cap, carefully extracted the tightly rolled paper scroll, and held it up to the sunlight to unfurl it.

The small characters on the paper were elegant and upright, flowing like clouds and water, tender and affectionate—

"Received your letter and learned all is well. The sea wind bites to the bone; you must take good care of yourself. Light snow falls in the capital, fluttering and swirling. It reminds me of our journey to Mianzhou, when I once slept soundly upon your lap. My heart grows soft with warmth, longing entwines my thoughts, difficult to restrain. I long again to rest my head upon your knee, stirring first the celestial patterns, then the passions below."

These past days of wind and sun had roughened Shen Zheng's face, and his hands-on work had worn thin calluses on his body. It had been truly arduous.

But now, holding this letter, he felt all his bitterness vanish, leaving only a warm glow in his heart.

He read it word by word three times. Suddenly, unable to help himself, he pressed the letter against his face, taking a deep breath as if inhaling the scent of Wen Zuo's dark hair.

A smile lingered on Shen Zheng's lips as he murmured to himself, "The letters are getting longer. What an obedient little cat."