Chapter 33#
Shen Zheng saw that this tactic worked, so he flickered down from the chariot shaft, kicking up a few specks of dust with his boot tips.#
He dashed ahead to stand beside Ta Bai Sha, reached into his pouch, and pulled out a bright red carrot, handing it to Wen Zhuo.
“Teacher, feed it to him first. This horse is smart—once he takes a liking to you, he’ll behave.”
This was a necessary step he’d learned from modern horseback riding lessons, euphemistically called “building rapport with the horse.”
But when Consort Liang taught him to ride, she only said, “A horse respects a strong master; you must overpower it with your presence,” and then made him grip the reins and step into the stirrups, relying on sheer strength and pride to tame the steed.
So now Shen Zheng couldn’t help but suspect that the feeding routine was just a gimmick from the stables to sell fifty-yuan packs of carrots.
Wen Zhuo took the carrot, his movements hesitant.
He had always buried himself in books and rarely interacted with animals, so he had no idea how to handle their temperaments.
Ta Bai Sha tilted his head, sizing him up with round, black eyes. After a long moment, he opened his mouth and gently took the carrot, chewing obediently. Only when he was satisfied did he snort softly.
Wen Zhuo thought to himself, See!
That beast Xie Langyang had never told him to feed the horse a carrot before learning to ride!
“Alright, Teacher, step onto the stirrup, grip the saddle tight. Let me help you up first.” Shen Zheng patted the horse’s neck lightly to soothe it, then stepped aside to reveal the stirrup. His fingertips brushed Wen Zhuo’s wrist as he guided him to grip the saddle.
Wen Zhuo, a scholar who could barely lift a shoulder or carry a load, felt his palms already slick with sweat.
But he had already made his bold claim and refused to admit defeat now.
After gripping the saddle, he hesitated and asked, “What about you?”
“Teacher gets on first, then leave me one stirrup.”
Shen Zheng’s gaze swept over Wen Zhuo’s slender waist, and he reached out, resting his hand lightly on the jade belt at Wen Zhuo’s side.
It wasn’t an overstep—he was genuinely afraid Wen Zhuo might fall and get hurt.
Fortunately, Wen Zhuo was unexpectedly light. With a gentle lift, Shen Zheng’s palm felt like it was supporting a soft cloud as Wen Zhuo settled steadily onto the saddle.
Once mounted, Wen Zhuo looked down at the ground. The sky seemed vast, the earth wide, and he felt suspended in midair, neither touching heaven nor earth. The howling wind carried the sharp scent of wild grass, startling a sheen of sweat from him even in the deep spring countryside.
He instinctively called out, “Shen Zheng!”
The words slipped out before he realized it, and he immediately felt improper. No matter what, he shouldn’t address the prince by his given name.
He was about to turn around and apologize when he felt Ta Bai Sha’s hooves stumble, jolting his body violently.
Wen Zhuo’s heart tightened. Just as he was about to cry out, he felt a gust of wind at his side, and his back slammed into a firm, solid chest.
That chest was hot—even through two layers of clothing, where no heat should pass—yet he still felt a wave of warmth radiating through him, leaving him at a loss.
He had forgotten. This was what riding double meant—being this close. If he had known, he would never have agreed!
“Never mind, maybe I should just—” Wen Zhuo tried to back out of this transgressive, uncontrollable lesson.
“Don’t be afraid.” Shen Zheng’s voice sounded in his ear. “If the teacher is nervous, the horse can sense it. It will bully you.”
As he spoke, Shen Zheng’s arms reached around Wen Zhuo’s body, the backs of his hands facing up as he deftly pulled off two short finger gloves.
The motion of pulling them off caused Shen Zheng’s arms to brush unavoidably against Wen Zhuo’s, making Wen Zhuo feel as if he was being firmly protected.
As if, just as Shen Zheng said, this broad chest would keep him safe, no matter how much he swayed, ensuring he would never fall.
“Teacher, put these on. It’ll keep your grip on the reins from slipping.” Shen Zheng’s gaze fell from Wen Zhuo’s shoulder, his breath shallow, mingling with the fragrance of wildflowers and thick grass in the countryside.
“And you?”
Since Shen Zheng kept the backs of his hands facing up, Wen Zhuo didn’t see the marks on his palms. Nor did he know how necessary those gloves were for Shen Zheng at that moment.
Shen Zheng smiled. “I’m used to it. Of course, my grip won’t slip.”
Wen Zhuo put the gloves on as instructed. They were a bit too large, so he had to tug them back firmly until they just barely caught on his fingers.
Thinking back to how Shen Zheng had looked wearing them, the gloves made his fingers appear long, full of strength and beauty.
Shen Zheng said no more. He grasped the reins with his bare hands and gave a slight squeeze with his legs. Ta Bai Sha trotted forward, bouncing along.
The wind moved with the horse, whistling past their ears as if competing to tear apart their whispered words.
Wen Zhuo didn’t catch it, so he asked, “What did Your Highness say?”
Shen Zheng leaned closer, his lips almost touching Wen Zhuo’s shoulder, his voice finally breaking through the wind and striking Wen Zhuo’s ear: “Is this slow enough?”
“…Fine.”
Wen Zhuo felt as though the left side of his ear and neck were being constantly scorched by a low flame—unavoidable, inescapable. He could only shrink away from time to time to ease the uncontrollable flutter.
It was a physiological flaw he had, and he tried his best to hide it.
But Shen Zheng unexpectedly noticed that Wen Zhuo seemed extraordinarily sensitive. Even when he spoke close by, his breath brushing against Wen Zhuo’s ear, Wen Zhuo would stiffen and turn his head, shrinking away.
Shen Zheng quickly looked away, avoiding the sight of that earlobe—whether flushed from the wind or something else, it was plump and red.
“Teacher, try squeezing your legs a little. It will speed up. If it’s too fast, pull back on the reins.” Shen Zheng gave him the stirrups, relying on gripping the horse’s sides with his own legs to keep balance.
This was a dangerous move, according to modern instructors, but fortunately, the pace was slow, and with the two days of intensive training from Consort Liang, he managed well enough.
“It’s not that I’m afraid of speed,” Wen Zhuo said, feigning calmness. Then he gave a very light squeeze to the horse’s belly. But Ta Bai Sha completely ignored the pressure and continued at the same pace, trotting into the shade of the trees.
Wen Zhuo turned his head to say, “See?”
Shen Zheng did hold back a laugh, but the tremor in his chest was transmitted to Wen Zhuo through their close contact.
We’re practically galloping—what’s so funny!
Wen Zhuo’s cheeks burned, and he quickly shifted the topic to his own area of expertise.
“This time, when Gu Weizhi goes to Qianzhou to investigate the ant infestation in the dam, there may be danger. I don’t have anyone available, so I hope the Yongning Marquis’s household can send some people to protect him in secret.”
In his previous life, Gu Weizhi’s investigation had never happened, but Wen Zhuo had to prepare for the worst.
He knew full well that Cao Fangzheng couldn’t resist embezzling from that five-million-tael relief fund for dam construction. It wasn’t just Cao Fangzheng’s insatiable greed or madness—it was that the Crown Prince needed money to bribe and win over court officials in the capital.
Where did that money come from?
Naturally, it came from draining the Dagan Empire’s land through the roots of the Eastern Palace’s network.
Hearing this, Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow. “I understand. If there really are deep-seated problems on that end… Teacher, did you already know?”
He often felt that Wen Zhuo was a bit too prescient.
He wasn’t doubting Wen Zhuo’s intelligence—it was just that in the Spring Terrace Chess Gathering case and this matter with Jun Dingyuan, when it came to scheming against others, Wen Zhuo was precise, ruthless, and deadly. But when explaining the reasons to him, Wen Zhuo was somewhat evasive.
Whether it was a casual mention from a Nanping merchant he met in Bozhou, or an elaborate plot involving Liu Quan, the emperor, Wukan, and Nanping—all just to catch spies and recover an old friend’s remains.
He felt Wen Zhuo was hiding something from him.
Wen Zhuo was busy adjusting his posture to avoid bumping his hips against Shen Zheng’s thighs with every jolt, so he didn’t notice Shen Zheng’s strange demeanor.
“Over the years, Cao Fangzheng has been desperate to be transferred back to the capital. He’s sent gifts and flattery to the Cabinet, the Eastern Palace, and the Directorate of Ceremonial constantly. If we don’t investigate, nothing happens. But if we do, every page will be full of loopholes.”
So when a single move affects the whole situation, the Cao faction will do everything in their power to obstruct it.
The simplest approach, of course, would be bribery—dragging Gu Weizhi into the Crown Prince’s faction with promises of promotions and riches.
But Gu Weizhi was upright and honest, full of patriotic zeal. He would never agree.
Wen Zhuo would have to remind him to be more tactful as an official, even if only for his own safety. For example, in his previous life, when Shen Chen wanted to purge him and Xie Langyang led the impeachment, Gu Weizhi had no room to turn back. He shouldn’t have openly opposed Shen Chen.
The long road to exile had also implicated his family. Wen Zhuo didn’t even know if Gu Weizhi had survived safely afterward.
“I’ll talk to Mother as soon as I get back.”
“Also, if we succeed in toppling the Cao faction and exposing the Eastern Palace’s corruption chain, the Crown Prince might be deposed. That would remove one opponent for you. But with General Jun returning to court, you’ll become the target of everyone’s hostility. From now on, there will only be more eyes on you.” Wen Zhuo paused, looking down at the green grass beneath the horse’s hooves. “Things like today… like today, must not happen again.”
Even the outskirts of the city carried risks. The path to the throne left no room for even a moment’s laxity.
In the future, Shen Zheng would never be able to ride with him again. And once he seized the throne, even less so.
Thinking about it, today might be the only chance in this lifetime.
A pang of preciousness rose in Wen Zhuo’s heart. He couldn’t help but gently stroke the horse’s mane. Nomadic horses from the northern deserts were coarse, and the mane bristles hurt his fingers.
He’d barely felt the sting for a moment when Shen Zheng muttered to himself, “Then we’d better build the secret passage quickly. Otherwise, if Teacher wants to eat date cakes in the future, it’ll be hard to deliver them.”
Wen Zhuo’s heart stirred, a mix of amusement and exasperation.
He’s only eighteen, after all. He still thinks too simply—imagining a secret passage is for such trivial matters?
In the future, the two of them would only be dealing with things that must never leak out. That secret passage would ultimately carry far heavier burdens.
The horse followed the path deeper into the shade of the forest, crunching fallen leaves under its hooves. The midday light was sliced into fragments like the crumbled tofu sold in the western market.
Wen Zhuo leaned forward again, his hip bone pressing against the iron pommel, unable to move any further.
Shen Zheng noticed. He suddenly reached out and wrapped an arm around Wen Zhuo’s waist, pulling him back with a strong tug, ruining Wen Zhuo’s effort.
“Teacher, lean back a bit. I’m not using the stirrups, so I need you to help me keep balance.”
Wen Zhuo collided fully into the space between Shen Zheng’s legs.
“…Mm!”
He let out a low grunt, both embarrassed and annoyed—not just because of the physical reaction, but because he had developed such an improper awareness of his student.
Why was this happening? In Bozhou, he had always been at ease with Gu Weizhi and his subordinates.
Could it be that this life, he was even worse off?
“What’s wrong, Teacher?” Shen Zheng asked with concern.
Wen Zhuo turned his head away, staring at a muddy puddle nearby.
In the puddle lay a green fruit. Ta Bai Sha stopped to look at it, and Shen Zheng didn’t urge the horse forward.
They halted there, surrounded only by the rustling of wind through the leaves and the deafening sound of Wen Zhuo’s heartbeat.
“That day… did you have something on your mind?” In this confined space, under such bright skies, sitting on Shen Zheng’s horse, Wen Zhuo finally asked the question that had been weighing on his heart for days.
“Which day?”
“That day, after the morning court, when I was talking with the Sixth Prince and Secretary Xie. Later, you chased after me into my sedan chair. You suddenly got angry—why?”
“Oh…” Shen Zheng paused, thought for a long moment, then first smiled and explained, “I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t angry with Teacher. But yes, I did have something on my mind.”
Wen Zhuo’s ears twitched slightly as he listened intently.
Shen Zheng began patching up the traditional little cat again: “But if I say it, Teacher can just listen casually. I respect Teacher’s disagreement and won’t force you to understand, alright?”
Wen Zhuo took a deep breath, feeling that with all this buildup, it must be something important.
“Go ahead.”
Shen Zheng held him even tighter, afraid of startling the little cat off the horse. The gap between their eras wasn’t just a chasm—it was a Mariana Trench.
“Teacher said that when men love each other, it’s often insincere and not worth trusting.” Shen Zheng watched his chest fill with the strands of Wen Zhuo’s hair, gently stroking them with his numbed hands, careful not to disturb.
“I just think that people’s hearts are as different as their faces. Without knowing the details, one shouldn’t make hasty judgments. What’s untrustworthy is always a specific person, not men or women.”
Wen Zhuo’s head shot up, disbelief written all over his face at what he had just heard.
“There can also be lifelong devotion between men,” Shen Zheng probed. “Would it offend Teacher if I said this?”
He waited for Wen Zhuo to launch into a classical rebuttal. When it came to mastering ancient texts, he knew he was no match. He was sure he’d be refuted into silence soon.
But Wen Zhuo didn’t.
Wen Zhuo simply turned his face, staring at him in astonishment, his breathing very light.
His eyes were like jade freshly cut from a mountain, rolled in the still waters of a pond, shimmering with breathtaking brilliance.
Shen Zheng wished he could pick a flower to capture the light of that moment.
So this is what happens when ancient people are confronted with such ideas?
Or is it just that this little cat treacherous minister is particularly adorable?
“Alright, I’ll stop. I was just talking nonsense.” Shen Zheng chuckled softly, lifting the reins to make Ta Bai Sha raise his head. “Let me take Teacher for a ride, shall we? The countryside scenery is nice. This is my first time taking someone along.”
Riding a horse, he meant. A spirited horse. A bicycle, too.
Wen Zhuo’s mind was a blank, utterly incapable of thought.
The thought he had suppressed from the very beginning—the most humble, the most disgraceful, the most devoutly longed-for—after he had crawled through a thorny path, was now so unexpectedly and effortlessly descending upon the silent forest shade.
The words Shen Chen had used to deceive him for three years were now spoken so frankly by Shen Zheng.
Shen Zheng actually didn’t abhor love between men?
Suddenly, Ta Bai Sha broke into a gallop, and Wen Zhuo only then remembered he had forgotten to tell Shen Zheng to slow down.
The horse ran wildly, trampling over unreachable places, while the scenery flashed past in a blur, the wild grass sprawling across the hills.
“Ah!” Wen Zhuo instinctively closed his eyes, curling tightly into Shen Zheng’s chest, pressing his cheek against his warm neck.
The horse jolted too violently. His heart felt like it would leap out of his chest, every muscle in his body tense and stiff. The only thing he could feel was the steady rhythm of Shen Zheng’s breathing.
When the horse finally slowed and stopped near the small red sedan, Wen Zhuo’s hair was disheveled, his robes slightly askew, and he was nearly bursting with rage.
He was about to quote classical texts to rebuke Shen Zheng for breaking his promise, but when he opened his eyes, he caught sight of faint traces of blood staining the reins in Shen Zheng’s hands.
All his words got stuck in his throat.
Shen Zheng dismounted, reached out, carefully hiding his palms, and smiled, “Teacher, do you want me to carry you down?”