Chapter 122

Chapter 122

The palace examination concluded, followed immediately by the Proclamation Ceremony.

Officials from the Ministry of Rites called out the names from the announcement platform, and Shen Zheng, in his capacity as Crown Prince, met with the newly selected *jinshi*.

When top-ranked scholar Lu Zhang looked up and met Shen Zheng's familiar eyes and brows, his pupils constricted sharply.

He scrutinized the straight-backed figure and slightly curled hair ends more carefully, finally confirming that the person he had encountered outside the examination hall before the results were announced was none other than His Highness the Crown Prince.

A eunuch shrilly guided the new *jinshi* to bow to Shen Zheng. Only then did Lu Zhang snap back to reality, hurriedly bowing and kowtowing, his heart in turmoil.

No wonder this person carried himself with such extraordinary bearing. No wonder he seemed acquainted with Lord Wen.

Lu Zhang replayed their previous encounter in his mind, worrying if any of his words had been inappropriate or offensive to this dignitary.

Shen Zheng didn't pay him much mind, merely offering a few words of encouragement before waving for everyone to rise.

That evening, Emperor Shunyuan hosted the Qionglin Feast for the new *jinshi*.

Outside the hall, rows of palace lanterns came on in rows along the corridors. Red silk was wound around the white marble railings, and bronze bells at the eaves chimed softly in the wind, weaving together with the ceremonial music and string melodies from within the hall.

Inside the Fengtian Hall, red candles cast a bright glow, and embroidered tablecloths were spread neatly. Emperor Shunyuan, dressed in bright yellow dragon robes, sat in the center, flanked by two imperial consorts.

Shen Zheng and a group of imperial relatives stood to the left, while Wen Zuo and other senior court officials stood opposite. Their gazes met briefly in the air before shifting away by unspoken agreement, both looking towards the elated and proud *jinshi* in the center of the hall.

The top three *jinshi* could barely contain their excitement. They walked into the center of the hall one by one, their hands trembling, voices shaking as they bowed to the Emperor. For ordinary commoners, this day marked the most glorious moment of their lives so far.

Liu Chenming boomed, "Let the feast begin!" Dishes like fresh bamboo shoot chicken soup, *zhuangyuan* dumplings, peach blossom pastries, stir-fried yellow croaker, and steamed eggs with morel mushrooms were served steaming hot, their aromas filling the air.

With the Emperor present, everyone was on their best behavior. Though cups were raised repeatedly, no one dared show the slightest lapse in decorum.

Once the Emperor departed, the atmosphere in the hall immediately relaxed. Some composed poems or exchanged couplets, others clinked cups and drank freely. Music washed over the young faces, and laughter and cheerful chatter broke through the hall, spilling into the deep night.

As the number one scholar of the current examination, Lu Zhang was toasted by everyone in turn and was soon a little drunk.

But he pushed through, his drunken eyes following Wen Zuo's figure.

He was from Bozhou and had heard of Wen Zuo's reputation since childhood. Elders often said that regardless of how Lord Wen was judged elsewhere, as people of Bozhou, they should be grateful for his lifelong contributions.

Lu Zhang had initially heard that during Wen Zuo's four years in the Hanlin Academy, he achieved nothing, instead frequenting entertainment quarters. He once thought Wen Zuo had been led astray by the capital's allure. Though he never voiced it, he felt disappointed.

But when he heard that Wen Zuo had sacrificed his own kin for the sake of the common people, his heart swelled with admiration, confirming that the guiding light in his heart had never been extinguished.

During his previous visit, amidst the chatter of the crowd, he hadn't had the chance to speak much with Wen Zuo. Today, as the top scholar, he finally had the standing to stand before this revered figure and sincerely express his gratitude.

With this thought, Lu Zhang hurriedly filled his cup, checked it, added a little more, then carefully cradling the cup, walked towards Wen Zuo.

Shen Chen, who was conversing quietly with Luo Mingpu, noticed Lu Zhang approaching with unsteady steps and a look of satisfaction crossed his face.

In the previous life, Lu Zhang had been a sharp blade. When Xie Langyang vehemently accused Wen Zuo of crimes to him, Lu Zhang immediately became furious, promising to stand with Xie Langyang in court to topple that scheming villain who stirred up trouble.

It was precisely because of Hanlin officials like Lu Zhang—newly emerged yet filled with righteous fervor—that the impeachment that day proceeded so smoothly, ultimately creating a situation where all hearts turned against Wen Zuo.

Shen Chen had long planned to nurture Lu Zhang in the future, using him to counter the aristocratic families led by Xie Langyang. Unfortunately, before this plan could be implemented, he found himself back in the 23rd year of Shunyuan.

Seeing Lu Zhang again, Shen Chen still carried the sentiments from his previous life. He temporarily set aside his conversation with Luo Mingpu, thinking that based on his understanding of Lu Zhang, this person might be won over.

He was just raising his cup, preparing to greet Lu Zhang, when he saw Lu Zhang pass by him with a burning gaze, heading straight for Wen Zuo.

Shen Chen's arm, raised halfway, froze in mid-air. Before he could withdraw it, he heard Lu Zhang's excited voice: "Lu Zhang pays respects to my mentor! Today, I specially come to toast my mentor, to express my admiration! I am from Bozhou. Years ago, it was my mentor who introduced the cultivation of Songluo Tea, allowing my family to have rice to cook. Only then could I attend school, pursue knowledge, overcome hardships, and stand before my mentor today. To say my mentor changed my destiny is no exaggeration!"

Shen Chen whipped his head around. Seeing Lu Zhang's tearful eyes and slightly twitching dimples, his face instantly darkened.

Wen Zuo had already been toasted by many. At this moment, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes somewhat glazed over.

He examined Lu Zhang, the corners of his lips curling slightly as he lazily clinked cups with him: "It's you."

Lu Zhang was so excited he nearly burst into song, hurriedly saying, "My mentor remembers me?"

Wen Zuo suddenly withdrew his gaze, saying calmly, "...I remember."

Lu Zhang felt as if he had received the greatest recognition. He downed the wine in his cup in one gulp and bowed deeply: "This student truly... truly does not know how to express my gratitude!"

Shen Chen's hand gripping the cup turned white-knuckled. Gnashing his teeth, he said darkly to Luo Mingpu, "Tomorrow, you go and inform His Majesty."

Even now, Luo Mingpu still hesitated somewhat: "Your Highness, if this move carries risks..."

Shen Chen reminded him coldly, "Don't forget how you treated him during the trial at the Three Judicial Offices. If Shen Zheng ascends the throne one day and remembers you harmed his beloved, what end do you think you'll meet?"

Luo Mingpu shuddered, inwardly lamenting his misfortune. He hated himself for a momentary misjudgment, for taking the wrong stance. If only he had known, he should have followed Liu Chenming's example and waited to see which way the wind was blowing.

But now it was too late for regrets.

Shen Zheng was well aware of his low alcohol tolerance. Fearing he might get drunk and make a fool of himself at the Qionglin Feast, he had instructed the young eunuch Chen Ping early on to secretly switch out the wine in his cup with water.

Chen Ping was the one who had supported him with his shoulder before the ancestral tablets in the Fengxian Hall years ago. After Shen Zheng was made Crown Prince, he specifically transferred Chen Ping to serve by his side.

So all evening, Shen Zheng appeared to drink continuously, but in reality, he felt not the slightest bit intoxicated.

By the second watch of the *xu* period (around 8 PM), the Qionglin Feast was gradually drawing to a close.

Wen Zuo, supporting himself on the table edge, stood up. His body swayed slightly, his cheeks flushed red from the bamboo leaf wine, yet his eyes held a rare sense of contentment.

He instinctively searched the crowd for Shen Zheng's figure. When their eyes met, his arms almost instinctively lifted, as if awaiting a familiar embrace.

But he quickly came to his senses. This was a palace banquet, with many eyes and ears. How could he act so recklessly?

He swiftly lowered his hands, composed his expression, and turned to walk out alone.

Just as he stepped outside the hall, the night wind, carrying a chill, hit his face, causing Wen Zuo to shiver involuntarily.

Before he could pull his robes tighter, a warm robe was draped over his shoulders. Chen Ping, holding a palace lantern, said softly, "Hanlin Academy Director, His Highness instructed this servant to escort you out."

Wen Zuo steadied himself, recognized the person from the Eastern Palace, and nodded: "Alright."

Palace lanterns dotted the stone-paved path like clusters of light. Chen Ping carefully supported him all the way until they exited the Forbidden City.

As soon as Wen Zuo stepped onto the small red-lacquered sedan chair, someone else immediately took hold of him.

He jolted, looked up, saw it was Shen Zheng, and relaxed, asking in confusion, "Why is Your Highness not in the palace?"

Shen Zheng reached out, gently touching his hot cheek with the back of his hand, and frowned: "Why did you drink so much?"

Wen Zuo closed his eyes, leaning closer to him, his voice slurred: "They all came to toast me."

Shen Zheng lowered his head, planting a light kiss on his eyelids, and said helplessly, "Since when has Teacher been so compliant? Must you drink whenever others toast you?"

Wen Zuo murmured, "They didn't toast me in the previous life."

"It's my bad," Wen Zuo insisted stubbornly, yet with a hint of barely perceptible hurt.

Shen Zheng sighed softly, pressing his lips against Wen Zuo's to cut off those self-deprecating words, then gently licked the bamboo-leaf scent from his lips.

Those who have suffered severe trauma are prone to self-loathing, which is why Wen Zuo, when devising his plans, invariably put his own safety last.

Sure enough, Wen Zuo grew quiet.

This was the first time Shen Zheng had seen Wen Zuo drunk. The belated recognition, the respect he never received in his previous life—all of it transformed into an overestimation of his alcohol tolerance, allowing him this rare moment of intoxication.

The red-lacquered sedan chair came to a steady stop in front of the Wen residence. Shen Zheng swept Wen Zuo up into his arms and carried him all the way to the bedroom in the inner courtyard.

Jiang Mannv brought hot water. Shen Zheng took a cotton towel and carefully wiped Wen Zuo's face, then loosened and removed his official robe and tucked him into the quilt.

Having his face rubbed with the towel seemed to sober Wen Zuo up a little. Lying on his side, his eyes wide and round, he gazed intently at Shen Zheng.

After briefly wiping his own hands and face, Shen Zheng turned and saw him like this. He couldn't help but cover Wen Zuo's eyes.

"Teacher, go to sleep."

Wen Zuo's eyelashes brushed against his palm, his warm breath puffing against it. Then he tilted his neck up, pressing his lips to Shen Zheng's palm. "Don't pity me."

Shen Zheng quickly squeezed onto the bed, pulling Wen Zuo closer. "Love and pity are one and the same, just as respect and admiration are. Teacher, don't be too harsh on me."

Wen Zuo fell silent for a moment, then suddenly grabbed Shen Zheng's hand and pressed it against his own warm chest. "Whenever Your Highness speaks, it beats very fast here."

Shen Zheng's palm rested over Wen Zuo's heart, feeling the quicker-than-usual beat. He slowly intertwined his fingers with Wen Zuo's, their fingers laced together. "But my heart beats fast whenever I see you, Teacher."

In the past, Wen Zuo always loved to curl up and hide under the covers. Today, however, he went against his usual habit, actively burrowing into Shen Zheng's embrace, resting his head on Shen Zheng's shoulder like a small animal, seemingly seeking a little of his coolness to counter the heat.

Shen Zheng naturally wrapped an arm around his waist, his fingertips soothingly stroking along Wen Zuo's spine.

Wen Zuo pressed closer and closer, sniffing at Shen Zheng's neck, even trying to part his collar to sneak a peek at the lines of his muscles.

After watching for a while, that bit of coolness vanished entirely, and Shen Zheng grew increasingly warm as well.

Wen Zuo seemed to sense something was amiss and tried to slip away, but as soon as he pushed himself up with his arms, they suddenly went weak, and he fell back with a soft *thump* into Shen Zheng's embrace.

"Mmph!"

His chin bumped against Shen Zheng's collarbone. He seemed about to cry out in pain, but a wave of drowsiness washed over him. He simply let his head loll to the side, his eyelids drooping heavily.

Shen Zheng held him like that, one hand fanning him gently, the other softly patting his back, until Wen Zuo gradually relaxed in his arms and fell into a deep, pliant sleep.

When daylight streamed through the window, Wen Zuo, still groggy, fumbled his hand across the bed. Touching something cool, his eyes snapped open.

He saw Shen Zheng casually draped in an outer robe, its sash hanging loosely in front, leaning over to undo his underclothes.

The effects of the wine vanished instantly. Wen Zuo hurriedly grabbed Shen Zheng's wrist, his ears burning. "Your Highness, not in the morning."

Shen Zheng glanced at him, patted the back of his hand, and chuckled softly. "What is Teacher thinking? Your underclothes are soaked through with sweat. Let's change them."

Wen Zuo's face flushed fiery red again. He released Shen Zheng's hand, allowing him to remove the sweat-dampened garments. As soon as he was free, he hastily pulled the brocade quilt over himself, wrapping up tightly.

Shen Zheng fetched clean underclothes and carefully helped him put them on. Only then did he speak with gravity. "Wanshan, do you remember the matter of the Tatars sending envoys to Da Qian to request a princess in marriage?"

Wen Zuo's brow furrowed slightly, a bit puzzled. "Why bring this up so suddenly?"

He naturally remembered this.

Emperor Shunyuan had always favored Princess Zhaoyue, but considering that the Tatars might then settle down and cease harassing the interior, he ultimately gave his nod.

The emperor's attitude was one thing; the court was also full of agreement. Marriage alliances were an ancient practice; even the glorious Tang Dynasty had produced many princesses whose names were recorded in history for such alliances.

Zhao Yue was likely the youngest princess to marry since the founding of Da Qian, not yet fourteen when she left the capital. Wen Zuo still remembered her tearful face as she boarded the sedan chair.

The Tatar chieftain, Aruch, had promised to hold the grand wedding ceremony only after the princess came of age.

But after that, he heard no more news of Zhaoyue until the early years of Shengde, when he returned to that rainy night.

"I am from a later time. I remember this history very clearly," Shen Zheng's voice grew somber. "The *Qian History* records that on the very day Zhaoyue arrived beyond the frontier, Aruch forcibly held the wedding ceremony. Because she was too young, the fetus in her womb was lost after three months. The Tatars never treated her as a princess. They practiced levirate marriage there. Aruch's son, Wanye, had long harbored improper intentions towards Zhaoyue, often treating her with disrespect and liberties, which Aruch turned a blind eye to."

Hearing this, Wen Zuo's brow knitted tightly.

He recalled that Emperor Shunyuan's health had already deteriorated by then. Most court affairs were handled by the Directorate of Ceremonial. With the emperor likely to pass away at any moment, who had the energy to care for a princess thousands of miles away?

He had never imagined those barbarians would dare to be so insolent, to treat a princess of Da Qian with such contempt.

"The Tatars were never sincere in their submission. That winter, countless of their livestock froze to death. Their people were hungry, their horses lean. They urgently needed to recuperate, so they used the marriage alliance as a delaying tactic to lull the border guards in the north into complacency. At the end of the third month in the early years of Shengde, they suddenly broke the treaty, raising troops to invade the northern border, burning, killing, plundering, committing every atrocity. By then, Father had just passed away. Shen Chen hastily ascended the throne. Da Qian was in a precarious state and was nearly breached at three passes by them; they almost reached Yezhou."

Wen Zuo's expression turned completely serious, his fingers unconsciously gripping the quilt tighter. "Such a thing happened?"

Shen Zheng sighed, his brow furrowing further, but he steeled himself to recount that brutal history—

"Wanye proposed a strategy before the tent, saying, 'To ignite the fighting spirit of our tribe, we should take Da Qian's Princess Zhaoyue, hang her from a tall sorghum stalk, slit her throat to let her blood consecrate our tribal soil, paving our way to unify the Central Plains.' Aruch heard this, nodded in approval, and immediately followed his plan. The princess, her plain clothes stained with dust, showed little fear. The sharp blade pierced her neck, her blood flowing like a crimson ribbon. At the end, she gazed towards the Central Plains, her soul tethered to her homeland. Thus she met her tragic end, her corpse trampled by horses' hooves."

"Later generations, moved by her courage and resolve, erected a princess shrine there. It's said only an old garment she wore in life is buried inside." Shen Zheng grasped Wen Zuo's slightly cool hand, speaking with utmost seriousness. "Wanshan, Zhaoyue absolutely must not marry into the Tatars."