Chapter 115

Chapter 115

"Where am I at fault?" Shen Zheng's manner was casual, but his breath was already fanning Wen Zuo's nose.

Wen Zuo hurriedly raised his hand, intending to push against Shen Zheng's chest to create some distance, but his hand stopped mid-air. He restrained himself, letting it fall back before clenching the hem of his own robe again. "...Your Highness," he murmured softly.

"I have already formally notified my grandfather, warned my uncles and my mother, and reprimanded Gu Weizhi and Huang Ting. Only you, Teacher, were ill, so I never brought it up." Shen Zheng's voice struck right at Wen Zuo's heart, each word serious. "Now, everyone outside has been sent away. No one can hear us. Teacher, you'd better explain yourself clearly. Otherwise, I will gather everyone together to listen to your confession."

"..."

Just imagining that scene—being watched by all those eyes, everyone listening to him bare his heart—filled Wen Zuo with shame and indignation.

A nearly inaudible sound escaped his throat. "This Teacher..."

"This Teacher should not have attempted to deceive Your Highness. Taking advantage of Your Highness's absence in Jinhai, I placed myself on the board to lure Xie Langyang into the trap. Firstly, I did not wish to involve Your Highness and arouse His Majesty's suspicion. Secondly, I did not wish for Your Highness to learn about the 'Evening Mountain Rhapsody' and ask me about bygone days..."

Truthfully, even now, he couldn't figure out how Shen Zheng had discovered it.

He trusted the deployments of the Three Great Battalions and the Five City Military Command; Xie Langyang's scouts absolutely could not have reached Jinhai.

If it was rumors spread by Xie Langyang, passed on by ordinary people to Jinhai, it shouldn't have been that fast.

He had deliberated repeatedly. This plan of his clearly had no loopholes!

"By the look on your face, Teacher, it seems you're reflecting on where you slipped up, so you can improve next time?" Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow, his fingertips teasingly pinching Wen Zuo's earlobe, his tone mocking.

Shen Zheng accepted this embrace with a clear conscience, inwardly amused. *He really knows how to find shortcuts, figuring out so quickly that acting coquettishly can help him avoid trouble.*

He raised his hand to stroke Wen Zuo's back. The vermilion official robe was made of exquisite fabric, smooth and slightly cool. After a couple of strokes, his tone finally turned serious. "Wanshan, as the Director of the Hanlin Academy, you have perused the classics and histories extensively and are intimately acquainted with the historical admonitions about the relationship between rulers and ministers. Since ancient times, all ministers who assist their lords must report matters first, with the Heir Apparent taking precedence. This time, you roped everyone in, plotting a major scheme in secret, yet you shut me out completely. Tell me yourself, was this the right thing to do?"

Shen Zheng paused briefly, his fingertip rubbing against the back of Wen Zuo's neck. "If you harbor ambitions of regency, you could share them with me. I might just agree."

These words exploded in Wen Zuo's ears. His body stiffened abruptly, and the arm encircling Shen Zheng's waist suddenly loosened.

Shen Zheng was right. This action violated the proper conduct of a minister. When he was planning, his personal motives were indeed too strong, and he had relied on Shen Zheng's favoritism to dare be so bold.

He had originally thought himself exceptionally clever, viewing all matters with clarity, but there were times when even he, caught in the midst of things, lost his sense of proportion.

Wen Zuo struggled out of Shen Zheng's embrace, lowered his eyes, and gently lifted the hem of his robe before kneeling down. "Your Highness, this teacher... knows he was wrong."

His fine, downy eyelashes drooped like a bird folding its wings upon returning to its nest. His red lips were pressed together lightly, a picture of pitiable grace. Even in this bowing posture, he still resembled jade emerging from the mountain, a finely carved gem, his elegance impossible to conceal.

Shen Zheng did not immediately tell him to rise, as he had during the court interrogation that day. Instead, he studied him intently, his fingers sliding from the back of his neck to his chin, then lifting it bit by bit, making him look up. With a smile, he said, "Don't be in such a hurry to admit your mistake. There's more."

Wen Zuo lifted his neck, the line from his chin to the hollow of his throat taut like a graceful string. His spine and knees formed a straight, upright line. His refined brows and eyes were filled with confusion.

What more?

"Did I... frame Your Highness in my past life?" he tentatively asked.

"I've already said, I don't care about matters from past lives."

"Did I write the 'Evening Mountain Rhapsody' for Xie Langyang?"

Shen Zheng thought for a moment. "Hmm, that is worth caring about, but it's not the main point today."

Wen Zuo concentrated for another moment. Shen Zheng's fingers were already lightly brushing against the corner of his lips.

His eyelashes fluttered. He tilted his head slightly, actually taking the initiative to meet Shen Zheng's fingers, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against his Cupid's bow. His voice softened. "Please, Your Highness, enlighten me."

Wen Zuo's lips were soft and moist. The warm sensation made Shen Zheng's heart flutter.

Shen Zheng was quite pleased, so he stopped giving him a hard time. "I once said that if Teacher intentionally injured himself, I would settle the account properly. That was not a joke. I'll let it pass for now that you cut your own hand to trick Mo Shu. But do you know what I felt when I received the news that you had been imprisoned for several days?"

He was a man from a later time, having seen the final outcome. The prison of the Dali Temple, the joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices—these were also persistent demons for him.

From Jinhai to the capital, he had raced the whole way, not stopping his horse, day and night without rest. Exhausted, he had fallen from his horse twice, his body covered in bruises, the pain sharp and unbearable...

But these physical sufferings were nothing compared to the torment those two lines of words inflicted on him, nothing compared to the fear born from worrying that Wen Zuo might be tortured.

At fault, at fault... utterly at fault!

Wen Zuo frowned, stealing another glance at Shen Zheng's expression, a sliver of hope still lingering in his heart. "How does Your Highness wish to settle the account?"

Shen Zheng was broad-minded. Shen Zheng had an excellent temper. Shen Zheng would definitely go easy on him.

Just as he was comforting himself with these thoughts, he heard Shen Zheng speak calmly. "Our dynasty has the 'Regulations for Eastern Palace Officials,' which permits the Three Masters of the Crown Prince to use a disciplinary ruler 'to admonish the Heir Apparent and correct his words and deeds.' Upholding the principles of fairness and justice, since Teacher has made a mistake, he should also be disciplined accordingly. However, considering Teacher's busy schedule with matters in the Grand Secretariat and the Hanlin Academy, we won't punish the hands. We'll choose another place."

Wen Zuo stared blankly at Shen Zheng, his thoughts momentarily cut off. He didn't even react when Shen Zheng picked him up.

Not the hands? Then what would be punished?

Shen Zheng carried him to the desk, reached out, and picked up that Amber Long Spoon. He swung it through the air a couple of times. The spoon cut through the air, producing soft *swishing* sounds.

After buying this spoon, fearing he couldn't control the strength, he had tested it on his own palm many times.

Actually, Wen Zuo didn't fully understand the subtleties of this spoon. Back then, the shopkeeper had told him that the wonder of this item lay not in chastising the buttocks, but in its ability to chastise the plump, alluring area between the thighs, which was most provocative.

This item should be used, but not today.

Hearing the sounds, Wen Zuo's entire body tensed.

Shen Zheng held him very high. He was almost lying entirely over Shen Zheng's shoulder. With the slightest movement, the Black Hat holding up his dark hair fell off, and half of his hair bun came loose.

He hurriedly reached out to steady himself against Shen Zheng's back, already sensing the impending crisis. Yet, his mind seemed to have snapped, and he blurted out, "Where does Your Highness intend to punish?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he heard Shen Zheng give a light chuckle. Immediately after, a warm palm covered the most prominent and most shameful part of him.

Wen Zuo tightly shut his eyes. The roots of his ears flushed crimson. His fingertips clutched at the back of Shen Zheng's robe—not daring to grip too hard, yet not daring to be too light—tugging gently again and again, as if grasping a lifeline. His voice carried a hint of panic.

"This teacher knows he was wrong! Your Highness, please don't strike!"

Shen Zheng let him tug at his clothes, hoisting him a bit higher, carefully avoiding the dark jade and floral gold belt at his waist. His tone remained gentle yet merciless. "Not striking is not an option."

With that, he carried Wen Zuo towards the soft couch in the inner chamber.

Wen Zuo's dark hair hung down against his cheek. He was so embarrassed he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into. He pushed against Shen Zheng's shoulder with his wrist, struggling a couple of times, but couldn't break free, so he had no choice but to resign himself to it.

If only he had known!

If only he had known, he should have returned directly to his residence after court!

Taking advantage of Wen Zuo's inability to resist, Shen Zheng slid one hand inside the vermilion official robe, parting the numerous cumbersome layers, pulling down the court trousers and small undergarments, firmly grasping that plump mound.

Wen Zuo was naturally prone to feeling cold, but the moment Shen Zheng's scorching palm covered him, even his tailbone went numb for an instant.

"Does Teacher remember the first note you wrote?"

Wen Zuo's mind was a complete muddle, his ear tips burning alarmingly. What came out was a pleading murmur. "Your Highness, don't strike..."

"You wrote, 'I long to rest my head upon your knee, stirring the heavens above and the passions below.'" Shen Zheng repeated the words from the note, lightly patting his waist. "So, as you wished, you'll be spanked over my knee."

Wen Zuo couldn't believe his ears. His eyes snapped open, his scholar's sense of propriety suffering a heavy blow, teetering on the brink. All the poetry and ancient texts he had ever read became a small boat capsizing in the middle of the lake.

In a dizzying whirl, Shen Zheng was already seated upright on the bright yellow daybed (the imperial color), while he was firmly pressed face-down over the knee, his waist bent, his view filled only with the dragon-and-phoenix embroidered bedding.

Just moments ago, he had been standing in court in his official robes. Before entering this room, he was still the Director of the Hanlin Academy, one of the Three Masters of the Crown Prince, to whom all officials showed respect. Yet in a mere instant, he had become a penitent, a man being punished, lying prostrate over another's lap.

Shen Zheng held his slender, resilient waist, speaking unhurriedly, "This reply consisted of sixty-six characters. So today, you'll receive sixty-six strokes. Five days from now, we'll address the second letter. Thinking of how reserved and restrained you usually are, Teacher, yet so bold and passionate when deceiving me... I can't bear to waste such agile wit."

"You told me to write more! You said it couldn't be less than yours!" In his panic, Wen Zuo even forgot to address him as 'Your Highness'.

Who was it that kept pestering for a reply? Who complained his letters were too short? And now, he was being punished based on word count? This is so unfair!

"I also said not to hide things from me. Why didn't you listen?" Shen Zheng's voice lowered a fraction. His palm fell, separated only by a thin layer of soft clothing, yet the crisp sound was still harsh to the ears.

Wen Zuo's body shuddered abruptly. It wasn't so much the pain, but the sheer humiliation that shot straight to the crown of his head, painting even the skin beneath his official robes with a layer of crimson blush.

Mortified beyond measure, he simply gathered his two wide sleeves and pressed them tightly over his face, like the fool who covers his ears to steal a bell.

But Shen Zheng refused to indulge him. His hand rested on that spot and paused, speaking with deliberate mischief, "The robes are in the way. Teacher, lift them up yourself. If I can't see that pert shape, the strokes won't count."

These words shattered the last remnants of Wen Zuo's scholarly dignity. He whipped his head around, tears welling in his eyes. Though he knew he was in the wrong, his heart was filled with plaintive sorrow and resentment. Covering his ears, he muttered lowly, "Your Highness is truly... a bastard!"

This expression was too vivid—pitiful to the extreme, yet also unbearably endearing. If it weren't a matter of principle, Shen Zheng would have long since softened, gathered him into his arms, wrapped him in the quilt, comforted him gently, and kissed away the dampness at the tips of his lashes.

Shen Zheng hardened his heart. "Feel ashamed? Good. If you do something like this again, there will be even greater shame."

Even the most prideful person, when driven into a corner, will shed some of that dignity and become unreasonable.

Wen Zuo reached back, his cool fingers tangling around Shen Zheng's wrist, his fingertips rubbing against the calluses on Shen Zheng's palm in a placating manner. "Your Highness, spare me this once."

"The undergarments are already pulled down. If Teacher doesn't lift the robes, then you'll just stay lying here." Shen Zheng remained unmoved. "Anyway, I told Huang Ting and the others to return in one hour."

Wen Zuo withdrew his hand resentfully, resorting solely to acting pitiful. Tears streamed down. The hairpin that had bound his hair had fallen out at some point, his dark tresses now completely loose, curling and cascading over his shoulders and back.

"This teacher is afraid of pain..."

"Mhm, but my heart aches just as much." Shen Zheng gently brushed aside the strands of hair clinging to his cheek, unmoved.

In the end, Wen Zuo bit his lower lip, curled his toes, and with trembling hands, felt for the hem of his robe, slowly pulling it upward.

Every inch moved felt like a flame licking across his skin, leaving a trail of scorching heat. When he pulled it up to his waist, a coolness swept over his behind, leaving it completely exposed.

He buried his face, refusing to move further, his knuckles clenched bone-white. Before he could even catch his breath, the palm descended with a *whoosh*, his flesh and bone jolting in response. The high, taut curve immediately bloomed with a rouge-like red.

Outside the window, it was silent and empty, save for a few grey sparrows chirping lightly among the winter's bare branches. They occasionally hopped onto the windowsill, fluttering their wings, pecking at the window paper, as if peeking in to witness his undignified state, finding amusement in his plight.

He suppressed his low moans into his throat, clenched his teeth, and pressed his ears tightly against the bedding, vainly trying to block out the sound of the spanks.

But Shen Zheng was unreasonable.

Shen Zheng was excessive.

Shen Zheng was incomprehensible.

Shen Zheng bullied his teacher.

Shen Zheng's crimes were unforgivable.

"I am your Crown Prince, and I am also your lover. Yet Teacher always wants to hide things from me."

"It seems Teacher isn't too afraid of pain. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been so heartless as to send yourself to prison. But looking at you now, you must be very afraid of shame."

"How does it feel? Ashamed to be spanked by your Crown Prince? Will you still disregard yourself in the future?"

Wen Zuo trembled faintly, attempting to evade, squirming within the confined space, thinking he could escape far away, unaware it was merely an ant trying to shake a tree.

Shen Zheng pressed down on the small of his back, kneading the heated skin, offering slight comfort before raising his palm again, each strike landing squarely on that humiliating place.

With a hint of teasing, he said, "Teacher's rounded mounds are so delicate. One palm, one tremble, and they turn red after trembling. A couple more smacks and they'll be scalding to the touch, glowing like a candlewick. Can you endure sixty-six of these?"

"The second letter has ninety characters. What will you do next time?"

Listening to his words, Wen Zuo's nose grew even more sour. In his heart, he cursed secretly: What a brute from a barbaric age! How utterly detestable His Highness is!

But what came out was a muffled, "No next time... I wouldn't dare."

Shen Zheng glanced at him sideways. "A gentleman keeps his word. If you said ten times, then it's ten times."