Chapter 2#

Chapter 2#

A bolt of purple lightning split the sky, casting a ghastly shadow on the glazed tiles of the Qingliang Hall. Outside the window, it was already pitch black and terrifyingly dark.

Hailstone-sized raindrops pounded against the steps and eaves, roaring like ten thousand horses galloping.

All the cabinet ministers in the hall drew in a sharp breath, turning to look out the window one after another.

Just before the morning court session ended, the Sixth Prince, Shen Chen, had suddenly drawn a parallel between the customs of the Han Dynasty and those of the current dynasty, claiming that homosexuality was nothing shameful. He urged Emperor Shunyuan to emulate the virtuous example of Han Wendi, to open up discourse and set the record straight.

Naturally, Emperor Shunyuan flew into a rage.

Since the founding emperor of the Great Qian dynasty, male–male relationships had been strictly forbidden. The real reason was the years of continuous warfare, which had led to a scarcity of able-bodied young men. The state needed men and women to unite and produce more offspring.

Later, male same-sex relationships became taboo. The authorities raided countless gay brothels every year. Anyone daring to sell male sex would be punished with thirty strokes of the rod at the least, or exile at the worst.

Considering that the Sixth Prince was young and headstrong, and had been misled by others, Emperor Shunyuan gave him a minor punishment as a warning, ordering him to kneel in front of the Qingliang Hall for three full hours. But then the weather suddenly took a turn for the worse, and rain began to fall.

However, the emperor was still in a foul mood, and no one dared to plead for mercy.

Emperor Shunyuan was notoriously strict as a father, and his moods were unpredictable; he changed his temper faster than one could flip through a book. At that moment, he paid no attention to Shen Chen, who was drenched in the rain. Instead, he kept all the cabinet ministers in the Qingliang Hall to discuss the preparations for the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering.

The so-called Spring Terrace Chess Gathering was a grand national event. Chess masters from all prefectures and counties would voluntarily come to the capital to hold matches outside the Huiyang Gate. The top three would be invited into the palace to receive personal commendation from the emperor, who would bestow upon them the title of “National Master.”

But this year, the situation was different.

Nanping had heard of this grand event and also planned to send three prodigies to participate, to compete against the Great Qian chess masters.

“Obviously, Nanping is trying to make us uncomfortable!” said Liu Chenming, Minister of Rites, with indignation.

“Nanping just lost a battle on the border and was forced to return the Fifth Prince of our dynasty. They speak pleasantly, but in their hearts, they are naturally dissatisfied.” Gong Zhiyuan, the Senior Grand Secretary, was more composed. He took a sip of tea and said unhurriedly, “Why panic? Our Great Qian abounds in talent; we may not necessarily lose.”

Bu Zhangyi, Minister of Revenue, said, “We must not underestimate the enemy. Nanping must have come well-prepared. If you ask me, we should simply summon all the former National Masters, disguise them as commoners, and have them play outside the Huiyang Gate, to ensure everything goes smoothly.”

“Then that would go against the original purpose of the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering,” said Luo Mingpu, Vice Minister of Justice. “It’s supposed to be a competition shared with the people. What fun would it be if the National Masters just played among themselves?”

Bu Zhangyi: “Isn’t defeating Nanping more important than your idea of fun?”

Luo Mingpu sneered: “Minister Bu, if Nanping sends people every year, will we have to exclude commoners every year?”

Bu Zhangyi was furious: “We’ll worry about next year when it comes!”

The ministers argued back and forth, growing more heated, until they nearly grabbed each other by the collar and accused each other of causing harm to the country.

Emperor Shunyuan found them annoying, so he waved his hand for them to stop. Then his gaze fell on Wen Zhuo, who was sitting farthest away.

“Wanshan, what do you think?”

Wen Zhuo had been sitting stiffly for an hour, utterly unable to believe what was happening.

He had suddenly come here from the execution ground on the Imperial Avenue. No more sharp pain of arrows piercing his heart. No more roaring voices of the courtiers. No more cold, sarcastic gaze of the new emperor.

Before him was the aging Emperor Shunyuan. Beside him sat the cabinet ministers at odds with each other. Outside the Qingliang Hall, still on his knees, was Shen Chen, still a prince.

He had truly returned to the twenty-third year of Shunyuan’s reign!

Perhaps this was all related to that eerie ray of light he had seen at the moment of death. But he didn’t know if there was anyone else besides him who had returned to this time.

Wen Zhuo couldn’t spare the time to digest the shock in his heart. He gently shook the folding fan in his hand while struggling to recall the scene of his previous life. After a moment’s thought, he put on an innocent look: “All the ministers have their own opinions and are quarreling endlessly. I am not a cabinet minister, Your Majesty. It’s not fair to ask me to speak now; I might offend people.”

At that moment, all the court officials were trapped by the heavy rain in the waiting rooms, which were damp and cold. Only Wen Zhuo had been specially favored, allowed to follow the cabinet ministers to drink tea and take shelter from the rain in the Qingliang Hall—a clear testament to his extraordinary trust with the emperor.

“You’re always the one with so many tricks up your sleeve!” Emperor Shunyuan coughed angrily, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. He pointed at Wen Zhuo with two fingers: “If you hadn’t been so outrageous and dissolute, tarnishing my reputation, with your position as the head of the Hanlin Academy, you should have already entered the cabinet. Not good, you must speak today!”

Wen Zhuo hastily lowered his eyes, hiding the gloom beneath his lashes, and let out a resigned sigh, as if he had no energy left to wave his fan.

“Your servant—obeys.”

But he knew very well that it was precisely his apparent lack of interest in power that made Emperor Shunyuan rely on him so heavily.

The emperor was old, so he began to fear being replaced, feared losing his power. Anyone who set their sights on his throne would be a thorn in his side, even his own sons.

Gong Zhiyuan stopped drinking his tea. He lifted his aged eyelids and quietly watched Wen Zhuo.

If Wen Zhuo entered the cabinet, the first person to be threatened would be Gong Zhiyuan himself. The head of the Hanlin Academy held a rank of Senior First Grade; at the very least, the emperor would give Wen Zhuo the position of Junior Grand Secretary. Wen Zhuo was only twenty-four years old; his rise through the ranks was as steep as a ladder to heaven, truly a cause for wariness.

“Don’t look so reluctant. I remember you are also skilled at Go,” Emperor Shunyuan said, glancing at him sideways.

Wen Zhuo had no choice but to say, “Yes, Your Majesty. I believe the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering should proceed as usual, with commoners participating as normal. If Nanping sends people, we simply respond to their challenge. If we panic over this, we’ll become a laughingstock. Our Great Qian has revered the art of Go for a hundred years, and we have many talents. Nanping is just bluffing.”

He dared to say this because he knew that in this match, Great Qian was bound to lose.

It was not a simple contest of Go skills, but a carefully orchestrated conspiracy.

He continued, “But we can’t be completely unprepared. It may not be convenient for the famous old National Masters to show themselves, but they could select a few outstanding disciples to participate. As long as we ensure that the Nanping players don’t enter the top three, Great Qian won’t be accused of bullying.”

Emperor Shunyuan nodded after listening: “That makes some sense. Let Nanping come if they like. It will be a good chance for our Great Qian subjects to cut down their arrogance!”

Gong Zhiyuan had said something similar, but Emperor Shunyuan gave no response—yet he praised Wen Zhuo’s words. This made Gong Zhiyuan, as the Senior Grand Secretary, feel somewhat embarrassed.

Before his old face could fall further, he noticed his son-in-law, Xie Langyang, the Deputy Minister of Personnel, sitting not far away with an even more worried expression.

Gong Zhiyuan was utterly confused.

In today’s cabinet discussions, the Crown Prince’s faction and the Prince Xian’s faction had quarreled fiercely, but Xie Langyang had been silent as if his soul had left him. He kept glancing in Wen Zhuo’s direction, barely paying attention even to the emperor’s words.

Xie Langyang was still staring, and Gong Zhiyuan felt extremely uncomfortable.

Wen Zhuo’s face was truly captivating. His eyes were like peach pits, his brows like distant mountains. It was like a white camellia in the evening mist, or a fairy in a glass wine cup. Every smile and frown could easily make one lose their focus.

With such good looks, thank heaven he was a man; otherwise, he would have been a seductive demon bringing chaos to the court.

“Hengze, do you have anything to say?” Gong Zhiyuan deliberately called him out.

Xie Langyang, summoned by his father-in-law, shifted his gaze. He moved his lips and said absently, “I have nothing to say.”

After replying to Gong Zhiyuan, Xie Langyang couldn’t help but look at Wen Zhuo again.

By now, the torrential rain had lasted a full two hours. Shen Chen had been kneeling in the rain for the same amount of time.

In his previous life, Wen Zhuo had interceded for Shen Chen halfway through the discussion of the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering. Emperor Shunyuan had been displeased, but Wen Zhuo’s eloquent words, quoting the classics and citing historical precedents, had managed to stir the emperor’s sparse paternal love, sparing Shen Chen a serious illness from the cold.

Of course, Wen Zhuo was the only one who dared to interrupt the emperor’s council. If it had been anyone else, they would have been shouted down before they could even appeal to the emperor’s emotions, because Emperor Shunyuan truly didn’t care much about Shen Chen.

Shen Chen had been born on the anniversary of Consort Chen’s death. Emperor Shunyuan was so immersed in his grief that he didn’t even come to see the newborn. When he heard that the child was jaundiced and might have a birth defect, the emperor merely ordered a physician to be called.

When Shen Chen grew up, he had neither maternal relatives to support him nor courtiers to back him. Even Gong Zhiyuan, who had married his daughter to him, never believed Shen Chen could become emperor.

Xie Langyang was shocked at having returned to the past, but even more alarmed that events were taking a different turn.

Wen Zhuo had not yet intervened to plead for mercy!

Could it be…

Another continuous roll of thunder shook the earth, the heavens roaring in anger with no intention of stopping.

“Oh dear, this rain is getting heavier and heavier,” said Liu Quan, the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, peeking out through the glazed tiles. His tone carried just the right amount of concern.

In front of the stone steps knelt a pitiful figure, soaking wet, his robes muddy, swaying as if on the verge of collapsing under the rain. It was the Sixth Prince, Shen Chen.

Several young eunuchs stood at a distance, hesitating to approach, forced to watch the prince endure the storm.

Such heavy rain was like stones pelting the body, chilling the bones to the core and causing a sharp pain in the back.

Shen Chen was on the verge of collapse!

He had gone through countless trials, removed every obstacle, and ascended to the most honored position. But he had only been on the throne for a month when suddenly a flash of white light appeared, and before he could react, he was back at the most miserable and humiliating moment of his life.

Those three years seemed like a breathtaking dream. When he woke up, he had nothing left.

He hadn’t even had time to cultivate the majesty and spirit befitting an emperor!

Shen Chen’s anger and confusion had no one to share with. The rain-soaked open space was empty of people. Even the eunuchs hid under the eaves, sneering at him with pity.

He had no idea how long he had been kneeling. His legs had long since gone numb. His body couldn’t stop shivering. In an absent-minded moment, he bit his tongue, and a sharp pain hit him, filling his mouth with blood.

He vaguely remembered that in the previous life it hadn’t been so hard to endure. Because as soon as his knees had grown numb, Wen Zhuo had come out with an umbrella to fetch him.

Where was Wen Zhuo?

Shen Chen suddenly looked up, staring at the warmly lit Qingliang Hall. He saw figures moving in the lamplight, the flames flickering. A glimmer of hope rose in his heart. It should be soon.

According to his memory, Wen Zhuo should be coming to protect him any moment now.

But only when the figures no longer moved, and the eunuchs had all dispersed, did no one come out.

Why hadn’t Wen Zhuo pleaded for him? Why hadn’t he come to help him up? Was all the carefully crafted lies he had told in vain?

Or… had someone else other than him also returned from the execution ground?

Shen Chen shuddered violently.

After waiting a moment and seeing that Emperor Shunyuan didn’t respond to his prompt, Liu Quan looked out again.

Then, without any further sentiment, he withdrew his gaze and ordered someone to refill the teacup of Wen Zhuo, which had been emptied.

Though he intended to speak for Shen Chen, he knew clearly that Emperor Shunyuan had not yet calmed down. So he had to be measured in his appeal, making sure not to implicate himself.

“Thank you, Eunuch Liu.” Wen Zhuo extended five flawless, fair fingers to lift the teacup. He lowered his eyes and gave a gentle blow, dispersing the hot steam. Then, unhurriedly, he took a sip, then another.

Liu Quan laughed: “Master Wen seems to enjoy this tea very much.”

Wen Zhuo drank until his lips were rosy and his whole body felt comfortable. He put down the teacup and smiled lightly: “This must be the Songluo tea from Huizhou Prefecture, right? The color resembles a white pear, and drinking it feels like chewing snow. Truly, it’s only available at His Majesty’s table. I’d be delighted to take some back if possible.”

In the past, because he was worried about Shen Chen, he had never properly enjoyed the Songluo tea. He had an old ailment; in rainy weather, his joints would ache and he couldn’t sleep all night unless he kept his whole body warm.

Because he had helped Shen Chen up from the rain, he fell ill for seven full days, unable even to attend court without suffering.

Sitting here drinking hot tea was indeed much more pleasant.

Emperor Shunyuan glared at him, knowing his tricks: “Don’t drop hints for me. You’ve taken enough from me already.”

Seeing Wen Zhuo’s face fall with shame, the emperor quickly waved his hand, looking like a man faced with an annoying little brat: “…Fine, fine, fine, take it! If it’s not enough, ask for more!”

Wen Zhuo broke into a smile instantly: “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Xie Langyang was frantic.

Shen Chen was still suffering outside, yet Wen Zhuo was leisurely enjoying his tea.

He knew that Shen Chen had wronged Wen Zhuo. But from ancient times, the state was the foundation of the people, and the ruler was the foundation of the ministers. Kneeling outside was the future Emperor Shengde. The open ground before the Qingliang Hall was without shelter. What if some lightning had no eyes?

He thought that since they could start over, it meant that there were still many opportunities for change. He was willing to work together with Wen Zhuo to convince Shen Chen to revoke his orders.

But for now, the priority was to get Shen Chen out of the rain.

Decided, Xie Langyang, regardless of arousing suspicion, leaned forward and stretched his arm across the table, whispering: “Wanshan…”

“Does Minister Xie wish to say something?” Wen Zhuo sat as steady as Mount Tai, not even turning his head to look at Xie Langyang. Just then, Liu Quan brought over the Songluo tea, and Wen Zhuo turned his full attention to sniffing the aroma.

“I have a thousand thoughts I want to share with you, but two hours have already passed. The first priority is—” To avoid being overheard, Xie Langyang had to lean even closer to Wen Zhuo’s ear.

But unexpectedly, Wen Zhuo immediately moved away, puzzled: “Could you speak louder, Minister Xie? Is there something we’re afraid to let others hear?”

Xie Langyang was taken aback. He hadn’t expected Wen Zhuo to say something like that. For a moment, he was at a loss.

Now, not only did Gong Zhiyuan find it strange, but even Emperor Shunyuan frowned: “Minister Xie, you have something to say?”

Seeing that Wen Zhuo was indeed resolute in ignoring Shen Chen’s plight, Xie Langyang’s forehead beaded with sweat. But for him, who knew the future, protecting the new emperor was a minister’s duty. So, throwing caution to the wind, he forced himself to stand up, smoothed his robes, and knelt before Emperor Shunyuan.

“Your Majesty, I recall the words of the ancients, who said that when dealing with children—if they are virtuous and talented, one can naturally praise and love them; if they are stubborn and foolish, one should also show them mercy. The Sixth Prince is stubborn and foolish. Your Majesty, as his ruler, were right to punish him. But I beg you, as his father, to show him a little mercy.”

Hearing this, Wen Zhuo laughed out loud.

Xie Langyang’s words were almost exactly the same as the speech he had given in the previous life.

Back then, it had been no easy feat for him to recall that sentence from the Family Instructions of Master Yan, which he had read a decade earlier. Xie Langyang was good at picking up ready-made lines.

But right now, that laugh of his diverted Emperor Shunyuan’s attention from the deeper meaning of Xie Langyang’s words. Instead, the emperor asked curiously: “What are you laughing at, Wanshan?”

Wen Zhuo shook his fan handle and stood up. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Xie Langyang blinking and shaking his head.

Xie Langyang was sincerely panicked, because he could see that Wen Zhuo was not only refusing to help but was about to throw a wrench in the works.

Unfortunately, his eloquence had never matched Wen Zhuo’s, and Wen Zhuo paid no attention to his warning glare.

“Your Majesty is the father of all people, not the father of one man alone. The Sixth Prince uttered those rebellious words, harming the foundation of the state and defying the principles of the court. Your Majesty punished him—that is your merciful love for all your people. The ancients also said: ‘If one praises where he should admonish, and laughs where he should scold, the child will grow up knowing no right or wrong, and will believe things ought to be that way.’ This is the meaning of a strict father’s love hidden in blame. How can Minister Xie fail to appreciate Your Majesty’s good intentions?”

This meant: if you praise instead of admonish, or laugh instead of scold, the child will grow up confused about right and wrong, lacking reverence.

After saying this, Wen Zhuo settled back into his chair and muttered as if to himself: “I recall that the phrase ’the stubborn and foolish should also be shown mercy’ is followed by: ‘Those who are partial to a favored child, though they think they are enriching him, are actually harming him.’ Actually, this passage teaches that parents should treat all children fairly and not show favoritism. It’s not good for Minister Xie to read only half the text and misunderstand its meaning.”

Xie Langyang fell speechless. In an instant, cold sweat completely soaked his back.

Wen Zhuo’s smiling counterattack left his mind blank, especially the phrase “rebellious words”… Wen Zhuo had so calmly called love between men “rebellious words.”

It was exactly that affection they had so carefully hidden and treasured.

In truth, Emperor Shunyuan hadn’t had such profound intentions. He was simply angry, and when angry, he punished. As for how this normally timid and unpopular son felt, he had never given it a thought.

But no one disliked hearing flattery. Wen Zhuo’s explanation suited his fancy perfectly. So he mercilessly reprimanded Xie Langyang: “Minister Xie, your reading of the classics is not as solid as Wanshan’s. Go back to your seat!”

“I… am ashamed.” Xie Langyang bowed, his foot catching on the table leg as he stumbled back into his seat.

He understood now: only Wen Zhuo could plead for mercy; everyone else’s efforts were wasted.

At this moment, Wen Zhuo formed no factions, was not greedy for power, did not amass wealth. He idled away his days, a carefree spirit. In Emperor Shunyuan’s eyes, he was one of the few fair and loyal ministers, and in reality, a minister of immense influence.

But… was there no longer any affection left in Wen Zhuo’s heart for him either?