Chapter 4#

Chapter 4#

In the current imperial court structure, the Crown Prince and the Wise Prince reigned supreme.

The Crown Prince had as his supporters Grand Tutor Liu Changbai, Chief Grand Secretary Gong Zhiyuan, Vice Minister of the Ministry of Justice Luo Mingpu, and Minister of Rites Liu Chenming. Backing the Wise Prince were Hubu Bu Zhangyi, who controlled the nation’s purse strings; Tang Guangzhi of the Ministry of Personnel, who oversaw official appointments and removals; and Minister of Works Qin.

The Crown Prince had a Vice Commissioner-in-Chief at his beck and call, while the Wise Prince held the Liangzhou Regional Military Commissioner. The two were evenly matched.

In theory, choosing one of these two would be most convenient for Wen Zhuo—he could install them in power with almost no effort.

Unfortunately, as Xie Langyang had rightly said, the current Crown Prince was incompetent, and the Wise Prince was hypocritical.

Crown Prince Shen Zhen was too much like Emperor Shunyuan—he avoided seeking merit in all things but sought to avoid blame. If he ascended the throne, the court would remain stagnant as a pool of dead water.

As for the Wise Prince, Shen Bi, he typically put on an air of modesty, eager to receive instruction and treat worthy men with courtesy. In reality, he was paranoid and petty-minded. Anyone who offended him, even if they spoke out for justice, would come to no good end.

As for the other princes…

Third Prince Shen Ting was born with a disability—one leg longer than the other. Those who met him for the first time could hardly help snickering, and this had made him extremely sensitive and violent in temperament, often venting his anger on innocent people.

Fourth Prince Shen He had no ambition for the throne. Ever since he married the woman he loved, he only wanted to eat, drink, and have fun with his beloved wife. He had been forced onto this path purely by his foster mother, the Precious Consort.

Seventh Prince Shen Bing, only ten years old, was obedient, quiet, and didn’t cause trouble. He would be suitable to hold as a puppet, but Wen Zhuo had no interest in holding the emperor hostage to command the nobles—after all, even if he seized the throne, it would be troublesome, and he had no heirs.

As for Fifth Prince Shen Zheng… Wen Zhuo’s eyelashes fluttered; he paused noticeably.

Shen Zheng’s maternal family was powerful. His maternal grandfather was the Marquis of Yongning. His mother was made Consort Liang immediately upon entering the palace. His own maternal uncle was the General Who Pacifies the Distant, who had recently defeated Nanping. Logically, he should have had the ability to contend for the heir’s position, or at least be granted a princedom.

Unfortunately, he was born dull-witted. He couldn’t speak at three, only learned to run and jump at four, recited his first poem at six, and was sent as a hostage at eight. The imperial physicians and the Directorate of Astronomy had all examined him and said he suffered from congenital deficiencies and had not yet opened his spiritual apertures. In short, this child was a lost cause.

Shen Zheng lived up to expectations—when others said he was a lost cause, he really became one.

After ten years as a hostage, he was thoroughly terrified. When he was brought back, his eyes were vacant, his speech was slurred, and he seemed utterly hopeless.

If only Shen Zheng could have been a little smarter… perhaps… but never mind.

There were still three years left. He would sift through the dross to find gold, slowly picking and choosing.

For now, the most critical matter was the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament. He needed to think about how to make Shen Chen lose this round disgracefully.

Wen Zhuo leaned lightly against the cushion inside the palanquin, his eyes gazing through the curtain gauze out the window, a hatred gradually welling up in them as deep and cold as rain in the night.

Perhaps the weather was too damp, the moisture too abundant, or perhaps he was too weak—Wen Zhuo habitually placed both palms on his knees, gripping them tightly.

Shen Chen, oh Shen Chen. What “astrological alignment, destined for the imperial treasure”? I, your humble servant, choose who becomes the emperor!

When the palanquin stopped at the gates of Wen Mansion, Liu Qiying skillfully came out to welcome him, wrapped a fur robe around him, and sent him straight into the bedroom, quickly tucking him into warm bedding.

Jiang Man even carried three braziers into the room all at once, raising the indoor temperature very high.

Only this could ensure that Wen Zhuo wouldn’t fall ill from the dampness and feel miserable.

Wen Zhuo, warmed by the fire, burrowed his head out from under the covers, his eyes moving with the two women bustling about.

Only two hours ago, he had heard from Shen Chen the news of their deaths.

To them, it was an utterly ordinary day; to him, it felt like a long-lost reunion.

Wen Zhuo shifted forward slightly, his cheeks as if dusted with a layer of sunset color. “No need. I don’t hurt much today.”

Since his imprisonment, this was the first time he didn’t feel pain, surrounded by the warm fire and people.

Liu Qiying hung up the fur robe, pulled an abacus from her waist, and rattled it with a series of clicks. Her phoenix eyes glanced at his flushed face.

“Your annual salary is 155 silver taels. The mansion’s monthly wages are 8 taels. Year-end surplus is 59 taels. Given your fine habit of having a major illness every seven days and a minor one every three, I sincerely hope you will be as obedient as tonight from now on—no wind, no rain. Otherwise, to save expenses, I earnestly suggest you dump Vice Minister Xie and find an old imperial physician to settle down with.”

Wen Zhuo stared fixedly at the sharp-tongued Liu Qiying and couldn’t help asking, “Are you human?”

Liu Qiying: “…”

Jiang Man, while feeling Wen Zhuo’s forehead, complained, “How can you mock Master like that? Don’t you know about his seven-year bond with Vice Minister Xie?”

Wen Zhuo silently dodged her soot-black sleeve.

Just as the slow-reacting Jiang Man suspected she was being rejected, Wen Zhuo said softly, “Since I’m paying you so much in wages, are you willing to go through fire and water for me?”

Jiang Man puffed out her chest chivalrously: “I’m willing!”

Liu Qiying immediately rolled her eyes: “Dream on. If there’s trouble, Master, I’ll turn tail and run.”

Wen Zhuo immediately laughed. Laughing, his eyes suddenly became very wet, as if stained with the dampness outside.

Fool, then why didn’t you run?

Liu Qiying was slightly startled. She was perceptive and quickly sensed that Wen Zhuo’s mood was off.

Normally, Wen Zhuo would have bantered back with sharp wit, but today, from the moment he entered, he had been overly mild and silent.

“Did something happen at court?” Liu Qiying frowned.

“Nothing. Just tired.” Wen Zhuo collapsed onto the bed, shrinking further into the covers. Now only his eyes were visible, looking as if he was about to sleep.

Explaining such a mysterious thing as rebirth was unnecessary; otherwise, it would be endless. Besides… their fates in the previous life had truly been unfortunate.

Wen Zhuo lay with his eyes closed for a while, then opened them again. “Tomorrow, go to Vice Minister Xie’s residence. Tell him there’s a piece called ‘Ode to Evening Mountains’ that he should return to me.”

Hearing this, Liu Qiying’s pupils shook—clearly shocked.

Her earlier remark about Wen Zhuo dumping Xie Langyang to find a doctor was just a joke. Who would have thought Wen Zhuo seemed to have taken it seriously?

That ‘Ode to Evening Mountains’ could be said to be a token of their bond.

Back then, the sixteen-year-old Wen Zhuo was traveling to the capital for the imperial examination. When he ran out of provisions and was starving, he happened to meet Xie Langyang, a noble scion five years his senior.

The two became friends, discussing ancient and modern times, sharing the same ideals, and cherishing each other.

Wen Zhuo was frail and often ill, so Xie Langyang fetched medicine for him. Wen Zhuo’s pockets were empty, so Xie Langyang gave him silver. Wen Zhuo’s clothes were shabby, so Xie Langyang removed his own garment to give to him.

The day before entering the capital, the two stayed in a small town. It happened to rain snow, and all the shops were closed. That day also happened to be Wen Zhuo’s birthday. Xie Langyang searched through the green hills and finally found a branch of camellia as white as jade and said to him, “Wen Wanshan. Wanshan. I cannot help myself.”

‘Wanshan’ was an elegant name for the camellia flower—truly a perfect match.

For Wen Zhuo, who had little experience with familial affection, the care and friendship Xie Langyang gave were like rain in a long drought, which he treasured as precious.

Thus, Wen Zhuo composed this ode with ‘Evening Mountains’ as the theme and gave it to Xie Langyang. Only Jiang and Liu knew about this.

What had happened now?

Seeing that Wen Zhuo didn’t seem inclined to share, Liu Qiying tactfully didn’t ask further. Jiang Man, whose concern made her impulsive, was about to bluster, but Liu Qiying quickly grabbed her collar and dragged her away.

That night at Wen Mansion was relatively peaceful, but the Sixth Prince’s Kang’an Palace was in chaos.

Although Shen Chen had fainted early, by the time Emperor Shunyuan found out and allowed the imperial physician to treat him, nearly three hours had passed.

The small kitchen decocted cold-herb medicine according to the prescription, while the physician pried open Shen Chen’s teeth and fed him a pill to keep him going, waiting only for the medicine to be ready to pour it down his throat, then pressing down the blankets to make him sweat.

After all that fuss, it wasn’t until dawn was breaking that Shen Chen finally woke up.

Fortunately, he was young and strong, so he wasn’t brought down by the acute illness.

Xie Langyang had not left the palace all night, staying by Shen Chen’s side. As soon as Shen Chen woke, he immediately rushed to the bedside.

The lord and his subject exchanged a glance, both reading complex and anxious expressions in each other’s eyes.

After a moment, Shen Chen dismissed the others and kept Xie Langyang.

“Xie Qing remembers too, doesn’t he?” Shen Chen cut straight to the point.

Xie Langyang thought to himself, “Indeed, Shen Chen has also returned. Now there are three of us who know the future. I wonder if there will be more. But judging by the reactions of the cabinet ministers yesterday, they don’t seem to have memories.”

Seeing Xie Langyang’s silence, Shen Chen understood. He leaned against the bed and gritted his teeth: “Absurd! Truly absurd! I had finally ascended the throne, only to encounter such a strange thing. In the end, all my efforts came to nothing!”

Xie Langyang hurriedly knelt: “Your Highness, last night was my fault. I failed to dissuade His Majesty.”

“What about Wen Zhuo? Why didn’t he plead for mercy? Does he remember too?” Though sick, Shen Chen’s mind was clear. He hadn’t really fainted last night—he had pretended to faint when things looked bad. Little did he expect those cowardly eunuchs to be so slow in relaying messages, making him endure three hours in vain.

To protect Wen Zhuo, Xie Langyang should have said Wen Zhuo knew nothing, reducing Shen Chen’s wariness and hostility. But his upbringing made it impossible for him to lie to his sovereign. After a long struggle, Xie Langyang finally lowered his head.

“…He does know.” Xie Langyang crawled forward two steps on his knees. That spine that usually held up heaven and earth seemed to have bent again and again lately. “But Your Highness, Wen Zhuo’s resentment is understandable. If you would only rescind the order and grant him a way out, I will surely counsel him more, teach him to understand righteousness, and serve Your Highness’ concerns.”

After speaking, Xie Langyang bowed deeply.

Shen Chen looked at Xie Langyang’s devout kneeling but was not moved.

Sometimes he felt that although Xie Langyang was deeply devoted, he simply didn’t understand Wen Zhuo.

After this incident, no matter what he did—even if he showed Wen Zhuo his heart—Wen Zhuo would no longer trust or support him.

Only Xie Langyang could still indulge in such wishful thinking.

Shen Chen was now in an awkward position. Although he knew clearly how he had defeated his elder brothers to ascend, now there was the added variable of Wen Zhuo.

If Wen Zhuo didn’t cause trouble, it would be fine. But what if he did?

Shen Chen came from a humble background and had little support. When he had approached Gong Jinjin, he had hoped to gain Gong Zhiyuan’s backing, but that old fox was cunning. Knowing the risks of switching allegiance, he ignored Shen Chen entirely and even abandoned his daughter.

Later, Shen Chen learned from Gong Jinjin that her sister Gong Yuwen had married a man who liked both men and women. When he discovered that Xie Langyang’s ‘peach-sharing’ partner was Wen Zhuo, his scheme of self-harm was formed.

Could it really be divine punishment, sending him back to this point in time?

“Your Highness, I beg you!” Xie Langyang had not slept all night, and the whites of his eyes were covered with bloodshot veins. In fact, he hadn’t had a good rest for over a month.

He felt as if he was being squeezed between two stone walls—one inscribed with ’loyalty’ and the other with ‘righteousness.’ Both walls pressed relentlessly toward him, making it hard to breathe.

He could try with all his might to push one wall away, but when he exerted force, he found blood dripping down the cracks. He hurriedly let go, realizing that no matter which direction he pushed, he was doomed to stain his hands with blood and become a heartless and unjust person.

Shen Chen suddenly looked at Xie Langyang strangely: “Do you truly think it was me who wanted to kill Wen Zhuo?”

Xie Langyang was stunned.

Shen Chen smiled enigmatically, then reached out to help Xie Langyang up. It was as if lord and subject had exchanged hearts in this chaotic and ruined night.

“Alright, I promise my beloved minister that if Master Wen does not oppose me, this time I will allow him to resign and return to his hometown.”

Xie Langyang’s feelings toward Shen Chen were complicated.

Although Shen Chen had forced him to impeach Wen Zhuo, making him personally send his beloved to hell, Shen Chen also relied heavily on and trusted him, even saying before all the courtiers: “What I expect of you, Qing, is to illuminate the mountains and rivers.”

For any scholar with ideals and ambitions, this sentence was something they would die for.

To live up to the sovereign’s grace and the world, Xie Langyang struggled immensely and finally, in pain, abandoned Wen Zhuo.

Since Shen Chen was now willing to promise a perfect ending, Xie Langyang believed that the sovereign’s word was law.

So Xie Langyang was about to kneel again to thank him, but Shen Chen stopped him: “But Xie Qing, you must not tell Master Wen that I also have memories of the previous life. Otherwise, before you persuade him, my situation will become very difficult.”

He needed to create an information gap, to make Wen Zhuo let down his guard and misjudge, so that he could turn from passive to active.

Xie Langyang did not want to deceive Wen Zhuo.

Back when they pledged their love on Qingping Mountain, he had promised that between him and Wen Zhuo there would only be sincerity and no lies.

But he also knew that at this special time, Shen Chen’s situation was not good, and Wen Zhuo was such a ruthless and vengeful character.

A gentleman should put the world before his private interests. So he had to let Wen Zhuo down again.

“…Your subject obeys the decree.”

Having stabilized Xie Langyang, Shen Chen breathed a sigh of relief.

Wen Zhuo was destined to be unattainable. Now he needed Xie Langyang to help him with the next step.

—The Spring Terrace Chess Tournament.

The people of the Great Qian Dynasty revered chess. Literati made friends through chess; warriors fought over games. From the imperial clan to the common people, everyone had some understanding of chess.

Among the noble families, having a national chess master in residence was necessary to showcase their profound heritage.

In the current chess world, there were eight orthodox lineages competing with each other: the Shi School, Xie School, Xiao School, Song School, Cheng School, Yang School, Zhu School, and Helian School.

Each of these eight lineages had exquisite chess techniques, ever-changing. Chess players from all over had to choose a school to study under and continue improving before they could compete in the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament.

Although all eight lineages were formidable, only the top three could be titled national chess masters each year. Those who won naturally felt proud, while those who lost inevitably faced ridicule for a year.

If several consecutive years passed without a national master emerging from a particular school, that school would decline.

In the past decade or so, many disciples of the eight lineages had become officials at court, and their relationships with the princes had become complicated.

Though they would ultimately compete, the gap between masters was minuscule. By tampering slightly with the draw—making powerful enemies exhaust each other while conserving one’s own strength—the outcome could be vastly different.

This required behind-the-scenes maneuvering by those in power.

Thus, as soon as Emperor Shunyuan’s words were spoken, Wen Zhuo, as the person in charge, instantly became a hot commodity.

Shen Chen remembered very clearly that just on this one day, the threshold of Wen Mansion would be worn down by the Crown Prince and the Wise Prince’s men.

Not just those two—Third Prince Shen Ting also sent songstresses and new tunes from the Music Bureau.

Of course, Shen Chen had also gone, but under the pretext of thanking Wen Zhuo for teaching him—sounding very pure and simple.

At the time, Wen Zhuo had sent away both the Crown Prince’s and the Wise Prince’s people, refused Shen Ting’s gifts, and only bore the pain to treat Shen Chen with courtesy.

Shen Chen said faintly, “Father Emperor appointed Wen Zhuo to preside over the Spring Terrace Chess Tournament. Today, many princes will probably call on him. Last time, Wen Zhuo chose me. What does Xie Qing think will change this time?”

What he really wanted to ask was which prince Wen Zhuo wanted to elevate this time.

The Crown Prince and the Wise Prince were at the height of their power. Third Prince Shen Ting was full of ambition. All of them might be within Wen Zhuo’s consideration.

“Your subject thinks that for now, he will not choose anyone—not the Crown Prince, not the Wise Prince, not Shen Ting, and not Shen Zheng.”

Xie Langyang certainly couldn’t mention Wen Zhuo’s wild words in front of the Cooling Hall, “The throne is mine!"—otherwise Shen Chen would retract his promise. He preferred to believe it was just Wen Zhuo’s momentary angry remark.

“Shen Zheng?” Shen Chen laughed derisively. He knew of course that in the previous life, Shen Zheng had also come to pay respects, and he had even asked Wen Zhuo to humiliate him, but he just hadn’t bothered to mention it. “Even if Wen Zhuo really wanted to choose him, my fool of a fifth brother would have to be propped up first. The key is those three…”

“If he wanted to choose those three, he would have chosen them long ago. In truth, apart from Your Highness, he has no other choice.” Cold sweat trickled down Xie Langyang’s temples, but his words were sincere.

Shen Chen was silent for a while. Thinking of the hateful words Wen Zhuo had spoken before his death, he still shuddered.

So he grasped Xie Langyang’s hand and, with a pale, sickly face belonging to a youth, pleaded, “The Spring Terrace Chess Tournament is of utmost importance to me. I must trouble Xie Qing to help me win this round.”