Chapter 118

Chapter 118

Wen Zuo was suddenly struck by a sense of urgent alarm.

The hot spring pool was deep, the water reaching past his waist, his toes unable to touch the bottom. His entire body was reliant on Shen Zheng.

He was used to wielding a brush, writing with fluid, effortless strokes, but his arms lacked brute strength and sustained power.

Suddenly feeling himself being breached, Wen Zuo panicked and tightened his arms around Shen Zheng, instinctively trying to raise himself up.

His legs kicked wildly, splashing water everywhere, like a drowning man making a final desperate struggle.

He could only plead urgently, "Your Highness... slower!"

But Shen Zheng was unyielding, letting him slide down completely before suddenly tightening his grip, locking around his waist.

Pressing him flush against his own body.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time."

Shen Zheng brushed aside the wet hair clinging to Wen Zuo's cheek, his thumb stroking lips pressed into a tight line. His gaze locked onto him, intently appreciating the panic, curiosity, astonishment, and the deep-seated desire hidden in his eyes.

"Wanshan is truly beautiful."

"Especially when trapped by the propriety between ruler and subject, forced to submit against his will, enduring the pain, yet unable to escape."

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against Wen Zuo's crimson ear tip.

"Clearly so intelligent, with exceptional wisdom and strategy, capable of planning and maneuvering in court, yet unable to find a way to free yourself."

"Because the one punishing you is the student you personally chose, the Heir Apparent you personally supported."

His fingertip traced over the site of his torment.

"Here, warmed by the spanking, evenly stained with rouge, plump, glossy, and round like a ripe peach, trembling lightly under a palm."

Shen Zheng's voice grew even huskier, his hand gripping and kneading forcefully.

"I am utterly captivated, wanting to bind you to the bed, imprison you in the Eastern Palace, so you can never escape, not for a lifetime."

But then his tone changed, his fingers pulling open the last tie on his own garment.

"But the previous punishment isn't finished yet. How can there be a reward?"

With every word, Shen Zheng pushed him down.

Once, again... over a hundred times.

Where is the reward?!

Wen Zuo looked up indignantly, his eyes misty and red with grievance. But that spark of anger had just ignited before being dissolved and shattered by the rising steam.

His last shred of stubbornness vanished completely. He broke down sobbing, tears as if to soak his already soaked underwear all over again.

This sensation was too unfamiliar, too intense.

Although he was willing to submit before Shen Zheng, it was the first time he had been treated like this.

Shen Zheng was truly gifted, making it feel as if his internal organs had shifted places.

In his haze, he actually recalled that day when Shen Zheng took him galloping on Qingping Mountain.

The horse's back jolted violently, the saddle harshly chafing his legs. As dusk fell, the sound of hooves was deafening. He squinted and saw a sliver of rainbow, only to plummet the next second into the all-encompassing darkness of night.

He closed his eyes and endured it. The horse's back rose and fell violently, tearing his clothes into disarray. The howling evening wind scraped against his chest until he was spent, lying across the wilderness, his mind and spirit trembling.

He sank into boundless mire, could no longer maintain his composure, and wantonly let out sounds.

After the long gallop, his lower limbs went numb. Finally, he attempted to free his arms, frantically grabbing at the green stones by the poolside, pleading with the water he feared most to part a path for survival, to help him catch his breath.

But he was no swimmer. The waves pushed back against him unreasonably. The spring water, carrying heat, burned his entire body, making his reddened, swollen skin even hotter.

His feet slipped. His fingertips barely managed to grasp the green stone bricks at the pool's edge. A sliver of hope had just arisen when Shen Zheng seized his waist and dragged him back fiercely.

No matter how he kicked and struggled, he was no match for Shen Zheng's rigorously trained physique.

That bit of resistance was laughably insignificant.

Wen Zuo finally broke down, burying his face in Shen Zheng's shoulder and sobbing, deceiving himself, not daring to think about his impending fate.

Shen Zheng, however, grew quiet now, no longer uttering those provocative words.

He only gently stroked Wen Zuo's dark hair, which was spread in the water, letting the black strands scatter like vines with the waves, only to be disrupted again by the fierce currents.

A layer of confusion gradually clouded Wen Zuo's gaze. Amidst the frenzy, he actually sensed an indescribable thread of pleasure.

Intense delight grew, like spring water overflowing a dam.

He stopped his loud crying, only whimpering softly, his entire body trembling.

After a long while, he uttered words he himself could hardly believe—

"Your Highness... more."

Shen Zheng chuckled softly and granted his wish, stirring him up without any wind.

"Comfortable?"

Shen Zheng's eyes were deep and intense, looking down at him from above.

Wen Zuo hurriedly used the remaining shreds of his underwear to cover his face. After a long pause, he unwillingly let out a soft hum, "Mmm..."

"Is it a reward?" Shen Zheng asked again.

"Mmm..." He gasped several times, unable to resist peeking through the thin cloth to ask in return, "Is it for Your Highness?"

Shen Zheng pulled him by the neck, lowered his head, and kissed him deeply, saying hoarsely, "Like obtaining a treasure."

The sun gradually sank in the west, the warmth in the hot spring pool fading somewhat.

Wen Zuo curled up on the wooden couch beside the pool, his body limp and devoid of strength, allowing Shen Zheng to ladle warm water and carefully wipe him clean, washing away the lingering scent of calamus bit by bit.

His eyelashes were half-lowered, his gaze lazy and weary.

Only the place behind still contracted unconsciously.

The afterglow lingered for a long time, refusing to subside.

Shen Zheng traced the scattered fingerprints on his body, which were almost everywhere, looking utterly pitiful.

Finally, his gaze settled on the two old burn scars, and a pang of heartache struck him. Unable to resist, he leaned down, gently cradled them, and covered them with his lips.

Wen Zuo suddenly felt a soft, cool touch on his old scars, startling him into opening his eyes.

He was still ashamed and unable to speak of it.

"Your Highness, you mustn't!" Wen Zuo mumbled a protest, but he lacked even the strength to lift his hand; it merely brushed Shen Zheng's lapel before going limp.

"Your Highness can." Shen Zheng paid no heed, using countless feather-light kisses to slowly cover the years-old scars, attempting to mend the wounds in his heart.

A tingling sensation shot from the scars up his spine. Wen Zuo could only grip the edge of the couch tightly, closing his eyes and lowering his lashes.

He laid bare all his wretchedness before Shen Zheng, completely and utterly exposed.

Suddenly, his finger was gently lifted, and a cool object was slipped onto his knuckle. Before he could gather his thoughts, the embrace behind him loosened. Shen Zheng moved to face him and, to his shock, slowly knelt down before the wooden couch.

Wen Zuo's heart jolted violently. He propped himself up abruptly, staring at him in stunned disbelief.

Seeing Shen Zheng kneel with one knee on the ground, Wen Zuo felt the weight of ruler-subject propriety crash down upon him, almost suffocating him.

As a subject, how dare he let the Heir Apparent kneel? It was an act of utmost defiance against all under heaven!

He frantically reached to grab Shen Zheng's arm but couldn't pull him up. He then tried to slide off the couch in his own weakened state to kneel alongside him.

But Shen Zheng steadied him firmly, speaking solemnly, "Tomorrow is your birthday. I must pay respects at my father's chambers at Chen hour, and cannot meet you briefly until Si hour during court assembly. But with all the officials there, I cannot show any affection. Only here is there no one, and only now is it quiet. So, I can only seize this chance."

Shen Zheng knelt straight-backed, yet without a trace of subservience. Instead, his gaze was devout and tender, filled with intense affection. "In times to come, this is the essential ritual for proposing to one's beloved. I kneel on one knee, offering this ring, begging Wanshan to love me."

Only then did Wen Zuo focus his gaze on his own finger. A delicate ring encircled his knuckle perfectly, meticulously crafted and polished, adorned with a touch of southern red agate, its vibrant color warm and gentle.

His heart was instantly moved, his eyes growing warm. He reached out to encircle Shen Zheng's neck, drawing himself closer.

But his mind was sharp, his memory exceptional. He suddenly recalled something, tilting his head to scrutinize the ring, a trace of doubt surfacing between his brows. "But Your Highness once said, the Nanping apprenticeship ceremony..."

Shen Zheng finally couldn't hold back a laugh, tenderness overflowing in his eyes. "That's why I said I had already fallen for my teacher long ago."

"Your Highness?!"

Shen Zheng rose to kiss him, silencing him, not allowing this sharp-tongued, cunning little minister to settle that old score.

After kissing him until he was dazed and pliant again on the couch, Shen Zheng tenderly stroked the hair at his temple and whispered, "Happy birthday, Wanshan. May Wanshan be happy on every birthday."

"Mmm..."

That day, as dusk approached, Wen Zuo was finally able to leave the Eastern Palace.

It was said that he had suddenly taken ill with a chill, feeling weak and drowsy. The Crown Prince, valuing his teacher and upholding propriety, showed utmost concern. He even had him share his palanquin, personally seeing him out of the Forbidden City and helping him into that small red-lacquered sedan chair.

Wen Zuo leaned against Shen Zheng's chest, his body too soft to sit upright, his neck covered tightly.

His constitution had always been frail; every winter, he would suffer from colds and take sick leave. Thus, no one inside or outside the palace doubted it, and no one knew the extent of his disheveled state beneath that bright red official robe.

Upon reaching the Hanlin Academy Director's residence, Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannv both came to receive him.

Liu Qiying still had flour on her hands from making dumplings. Hearing the servant's anxious report, she was instantly alarmed. "My lord is ill?!"

Wen Zuo, too embarrassed to deny it, pretended not to hear, walking with unsteady steps toward the rear courtyard.

Jiang Mannv hurriedly supported him into the bedroom, lit the charcoal brazier, and helped him remove his cumbersome official robes and accessories.

Liu Qiying immediately noticed the undergarment that was clearly a size too large.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, pondering secretly. Seeing Wen Zuo burrow under the covers, yawning repeatedly and about to fall asleep, she suddenly teased, "My lord was full of energy going to court this morning. How did he fall ill by afternoon? It's New Year's Eve; the old physician won't be easy to summon. Perhaps I should have him come now to administer acupuncture for my lord."

Wen Zuo peeked out from under the quilt, his voice hoarse. "No need."

Jiang Mannv, guileless and unsuspecting, anxiously said, "How can that be? Getting sick on your birthday is so inauspicious! My lord needn't worry about the cost. The old physician said he'd give our regular household a discount!"

Wen Zuo's watery eyes narrowed slightly, flustered and angry, calling out weakly, "...Liu Qiying!"

Liu Qiying chuckled, ushering Jiang Mannv toward the door. "Alright, alright, my lord is fine. Hurry up and make your famous scallion pancakes."

As New Year's Eve arrived, the sky was just beginning to lighten, morning mist still lingering, when firecrackers exploded incessantly, red shreds flying everywhere.

The Forbidden City was freshly swept clean, the vermilion steps and jade staircases spotless, red silk ribbons tied even to the withered branches in the Imperial Garden.

Most surprisingly, Emperor Shunyuan, who had been bedridden for many days, miraculously broke his high fever and seemed much clearer in spirit.

Seeing Shen Zheng standing respectfully below the steps at Chen hour to pay respects, the Emperor's stern expression softened slightly. He raised his hand to pat Shen Zheng's shoulder, displaying a rare paternal gentleness.

Among his sons, he now viewed Shen Zheng with increasing favor—steady and measured, clear and wise in governance, far superior to Prince Xian, who was obsessed with power schemes, and the Deposed Crown Prince, who was mediocre and ineffective.

With the Emperor's health slightly improved and his mind clearer, Emperor Shunyuan suddenly remembered a crucial matter.

During his illness, he had only kept Liu Quan in attendance. Only Consort Zhen and Consort Liang were permitted to visit closely; miscellaneous personnel were simply not granted audience.

Thus, he had actually forgotten that Shen Chen and Shen Ting were still confined in the rear annex.

Even an emperor yearns for family reunion on a day of universal celebration. So, he hastily issued an oral decree, urging the release of Shen Chen and Shen Ting.

Shen Chen had been confined in the rear annex for over four months, emaciated to the point where his bones seemed barely covered by flesh. His dimples no longer shone brightly, leaving only haggard gauntness.

For more than a month now, he had received no news from outside. Gong Jinjin hadn't come to see him. He didn't know if Xie Langyang's scheme had succeeded, if Wen Zuo had been convicted, or if Shen Zheng had been implicated and lost imperial favor.

Though unwilling to admit it, he had a bad premonition.

Escorted by guards out of the rear annex, he was met head-on with the festive cheer of the New Year. Red silk reflected the daylight, stinging his eyes.

Along the way, lanterns and decorations were hung everywhere. Palace servants walked with light steps, uttering auspicious phrases.

The accompanying eunuch whispered instructions, "Your Highness, His Majesty's health has just improved. Today he will personally preside over the New Year's Eve court ceremony. At Si hour sharp, the imperial relatives and all court officials must attend court before the Hall of Heavenly Favor. Your Highness should hurry back to the princes' quarters to wash up and change, so as not to miss the time."

Shen Chen looked up at the sky. There was still one hour left.

But he was puzzled. With neither a Crown Prince nor Prince Xian currently in the palace, besides his father, who else could preside? What was there to emphasize?

Upon returning to the princes' quarters, as soon as he entered, he wanted to sternly question Gong Jinjin why she hadn't sent him any news all these days. But lifting his eyes, he saw Concubine Yi sitting in the main hall, her eyes swollen from crying.

Shen Chen's heart sank heavily, a sense of foreboding washing over him.

Seeing him, Concubine Yi finally found an outlet for her pent-up grievances. She rushed forward, clutching him tightly, and burst into loud sobs. "Chen'er, we're finished! Completely finished!"

Shen Chen supported the swaying Concubine Yi, his fingers trembling. "What's finished?!"

"Bo Zhangyi accused Chief Minister Gong of framing the Fifth Prince. The Emperor was furious and has thrown the entire Gong family into the imperial prison." Concubine Yi choked back sobs, barely able to speak. "Jinjin, because she is a prince's principal consort, was mercifully spared the death penalty by His Majesty's grace. But she has also been stripped of her consort rank, sent away to shave her head and become a nun, never to return to the palace!"

"What?!" Shen Chen's pupils contracted sharply as if struck by lightning. He pushed Concubine Yi away, staring at her in disbelief.

Concubine Yi, as if that weren't enough, continued weeping. "Minister Xie fared even worse. The Emperor said he framed Wen Zuo, fabricated rumors, and tarnished His Majesty's reputation. He has issued an edict to exterminate his three clans..."

"Crash!" Shen Chen collapsed to the floor, the back of his head slamming hard against the doorframe, making him see stars.

"Impossible!" he roared, his face flushing crimson. "The *Evening Mountain Rhapsody* was real—how can they call it a frame-up?"

In his past life, he had rightfully ascended the throne as Emperor Shengde, chosen by destiny. Why had he fallen to such a state in this life?

Concubine Yi wept bitterly, "We’ve all fallen into Wen Zuo’s trap—his imprisonment was carefully planned from the start!"

Blood pounded in Shen Chen's head, his face flushed deep red, his teeth grinding until they ached.

But he forced himself to calm down, slamming a heavy fist onto the table. The impact sent cups and plates flying, shattering them into a chaotic mess, his knuckles bruising purple.

"What scheme?!"

Concubine Yi stammered, "N-no… I don’t know."

Shen Chen’s eyes rolled back, and he passed out completely.