Chapter 44#

Emperor Shunyuan departed, and the victory celebration was hastily concluded.#

As he left, Wen Zhuo carried the small silver pot he had stolen, adding another item to his private treasury.

Passing by the rows of low tables, he saw Shen Chen forcing himself to stay calm, though his brows were knotted in a deathly frown, while Xie Langyang was utterly bewildered, staring blankly at him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he involuntarily called out, “…Wanshan!”

Wen Zhuo turned his head away, cutting off the rest of his words.

Xie Langyang’s emotions were stuck in his throat, choking him with chest pain.

He wanted to ask Wen Zhuo when he had laid out such an inescapable net, but Wen Zhuo only left him with a solitary, cold, and detached back, turning instead to Xue Chongnian with a smile in his eyes and brows.

After the feast dispersed, Shen Chen strode up to Xie Langyang. Both of their faces were ashen, like two defeated roosters.

“Why?” Shen Chen spoke first, his voice hoarse.

“Why?” Xie Langyang repeated in a murmur, his eyes vacant.

Their eyes met, both struck speechless—there was no answer in the other’s eyes either.

Thus, they racked their brains and pondered bitterly for seven days.

Finally, Xie Langyang arrived before Shen Chen, full of vigor. For a moment, he even forgot to bow, speaking urgently: “Your Highness! Perhaps we were wrong from the start. Wanshan didn’t start scheming only after seeing you; he must have been making secret arrangements all along.”

Shen Chen’s body trembled, his brow furrowing deeply: “Are you saying that he and Shen Zheng were acting in front of me the entire time?”

Xie Langyang sighed: “I know Wanshan’s character well. He always has to make everything foolproof before he feels at ease. In the previous life, Mo Shu’s ending was tragic. How could he let his guard down just because we might not have the heart to go through with it?”

“But a rebel is still a rebel. What waves can he stir up? If he truly had such ability, why didn’t he do so in the past life?” Shen Chen still refused to admit that he had been played by Wen Zhuo.

“In the past life, events unfolded too hastily; he had no time to prepare!” Xie Langyang said urgently. “To find the reason, we must start with details that didn’t appear in the past life.”

“Details?”

The two fell into deep thought again. Only when the setting sun cast a wash of red across the windowsill did Shen Chen suddenly stand up, a flash of insight striking him: “The return of the remains!”

Xie Langyang’s eyes snapped up: “Right! In the past life, Lord Dingyuan never did such a thing.”

Shen Chen gradually began to understand. He rose from behind the desk and paced back and forth in the room: “It must have been Wen Zhuo who made him do it. He made the return of the remains a grand spectacle, prompting all the prefectures to submit memorials praising him. Even if Father is furious, he absolutely cannot kill him at this moment—it would cause unrest among the people!”

Xie Langyang: “It’s just like the Hechuntai chess match case—using public sentiment to build momentum. That’s why Wanshan wasn’t worried about letting Mo Shu enter the city. He knew the Emperor would eventually show leniency.”

Shen Chen stopped in his tracks, a look of doubt appearing: “This move might protect the Jun family, but it won’t necessarily protect Mo Shu. Besides, Father’s expression that day seemed as if he knew Cao Youwei had ulterior motives, yet intentionally favored the Jun family.”

Xie Langyang clapped his hands and analyzed: “It must be that Gu Weizhi, while investigating in Qianzhou, unearthed numerous pieces of evidence against the Cao faction. News of the Mo family’s assistance in repairing the dikes must have also reached His Majesty’s ears. Weighing the two sides, compared to the isolated Mo Shu, the threat from the Cao faction is clearly greater. Coupled with the aggressive stance of the Crown Prince’s faction and the too-obvious coordination between Gong Zhiyuan and Luo Mingpu, the Emperor ultimately sided completely with the Jun family.”

Shen Chen nodded in agreement: “Well said, Xie Qing. That explains everything.”

Xie Langyang shook his head with a bitter smile: “I am unworthy of my title as Zhuangyuan and as a counselor. To be able to fathom His Majesty’s thoughts to such a degree—Wanshan makes me feel deeply inferior.”

“There’s no need for Xie Qing to belittle himself.” A hint of a smile appeared on Shen Chen’s face. Without any airs, he actually poured tea for both of them, speaking kindly, “You and I have now seen through his strategy. Next time, we’ll surely seize the initiative.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Xie Langyang received the tea with both hands and took a low sip.

“But it’s also that Nanping’s fault—they couldn’t give up their treacherous schemes and sent spies into Jun Dingyuan’s camp, only to be caught red-handed. In exchange, they got a pile of broken bones to boost their reputation.” Shen Chen’s words carried a trace of resentment.

Xie Langyang moistened his throat with the tea, deliberately ignoring Shen Chen’s disrespect toward the soldiers, and asked, “Your Highness, how did General Jun handle those spies in the past life? Did he bring them back to offer as captives at the ancestral temple?”

After all, it was a matter from three years ago; Xie Langyang’s memory was fuzzy.

Shen Chen paused slightly.

In his recollection, there was no such thing as offering captives. Jun Dingyuan hadn’t brought any prisoners back at all.

Xie Langyang also realized something and speculated: “Then it must be that General Jun executed them in the southern border. It can’t be that Nanping didn’t send spies in the past life, can it?”

Shen Chen was amused by his words: “No matter how formidable Teacher Wen is, he can’t manipulate Nanping. If he were really that divine, why not make Nanping submit to the Great Qian?”

The two fell into another silence.

After a moment, Shen Chen said, “Later, the Grand Secretary will likely probe you with some questions. Don’t be nervous. Just counter by asking him how he knew about your casual mutterings, and the matter will pass.”

Xie Langyang: “My mentor is already at his wits’ end. As his student, scheming against him like this—I feel deeply ashamed.”

Shen Chen couldn’t be bothered with his endless sense of propriety and shame: “Though this time we were played by Teacher Wen, having the Crown Prince locked up in Fengyang Tower removes one obstacle. Once in Fengyang Tower, there’s no coming out. I’m afraid it won’t be long before the Xian Prince quietly takes the Crown Prince’s life.”

Xie Langyang’s hand holding the cup trembled violently, splashing some tea onto his fingertips.

He suddenly lifted his head to look at Shen Chen.

Shen Chen had his back to him, his tone carrying a hint of certainty: “By then, the Grand Secretary will have no choice but to support me. As for the Xian Prince—well, we both know his ‘great gift’ is almost here.”

“What does Your Highness mean?”

“You forgot.” Shen Chen turned around, a flicker of malice in his eyes. “After I ascended the throne in the past life, I discovered his sordid dealings in Mianzhou!”

Xie Langyang suddenly recalled: “Does Your Highness intend to expose this matter directly?”

“Naturally. By then, Wen Zhuo will be caught in a dilemma. If he covers for Shen Bi, he’ll create a rift with Shen Zheng, and their teacher-student relationship will crumble on its own.” Shen Chen said with conviction.

At this moment, Wen Zhuo was recuperating at his residence. He hadn’t expected that Shen Chen and Xie Langyang, after seven days of deliberation, still hadn’t figured things out.

This time, the Crown Prince was imprisoned in Fengyang Tower, and he couldn’t even see Liu Changbai one last time.

Liu Changbai’s injuries were too severe, compounded by fear and worry, and he ultimately didn’t survive that night.

Emperor Shunyuan, remembering his years of service as a counselor, granted him a burial with the rites of an imperial tutor. However, the officials were wary of the Emperor’s lingering authority, and on the day of the burial, very few came to pay their respects.

Wen Zhuo, however, did go. He lit three sticks of incense, bowed once, and left quietly.

Thinking back to those days, Liu Changbai had gained fame young, with an outstanding character. In the reign of Emperor Kangzhen, he was a sharp sword in the court.

The Qian Records recorded how he frequently offered excellent strategies, vigorously criticized current malpractices, impeached corrupt nobles directly, and passionately submitted memorials when encountering the people’s hardships.

Later, when Emperor Kangzhen fell gravely ill, the Emperor’s brothers coveted the throne and sought to eliminate his two sons. It was Liu Changbai who stepped forward and protected the then-Crown Prince (later Emperor Shunyuan), navigating the treacherous court full of swords and shadows until he supported the Crown Prince’s ascension.

He had his moments of brilliance and glory, but he couldn’t avoid being drawn into the partisan struggles at the end of his life, tarnishing his lifelong reputation.

But throughout history, who can truly remain incorruptible and impartial?

Even if one does, others may not believe it. In this world, no one can be accepted by everyone.

Liu Changbai was buried with the rites of an imperial tutor; the Cao faction was not so fortunate.

Overnight, this corrupt giant that had plagued the Great Qian for decades became a victim of the executioner’s blade. The government announced the crimes of the Cao faction to the public, earning praise from the common people, who said the Great Qian was showing signs of a rising sun.

Shen Zhen’s tutors, though demoted and fined, were kept in their posts. Emperor Shunyuan couldn’t find enough experienced replacements on short notice, and moreover, the Xian Prince’s faction needed them to continue as a counterbalance.

Mo Shu was quietly released as well. Emperor Shunyuan even gave him a position at the Divine Wood Workshop, allowing him to openly work with timber and quickly craft the device to aid his leg.

The green crown pears in the Wen residence had finally ripened.

Wen Zhuo was lounging on a recliner under the pear tree, enjoying the shade while directing Jiang Man-nü and Liu Qiying to pick the pears.

“Liu, later make a third of the pears we pick into dried fruit. Last year’s weren’t very sweet, so add more sugar this time.” His voice was lazy and languid, with a hint of contentment.

Standing on a ladder with scissors in hand, Liu Qiying trimmed branches and reminded him, “Master, His Highness said you should moderate your sweets.”

Wen Zhuo selectively deafened himself and continued, “Another third into autumn pear jam. Mash it finely. The ones sold outside are too expensive; it’s more practical to make our own.”

Jiang Man-nü carried a bamboo basket to catch the pears and turned back to say, “Master, His Highness once said your dietary structure isn’t healthy and you should eat fewer… processed foods.”

Wen Zhuo simply closed his eyes and went on, “Another third into pear ice candy. When it gets cold, the street vendors decrease, and we can’t get it anymore.”

Liu Qiying: “…”

Jiang Man-nü: “…”

A figure flickered beyond the tree’s shade. Liu Qiying turned and saw Shen Zheng. Apparently, a servant had spotted him and let him straight in.

“Your Highness—” Liu Qiying started to greet him, but Shen Zheng pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet.

Wen Zhuo, still with his eyes closed, was completely unaware: “Your Highness shmighness—you’re my stewards, so you listen to me. The remaining tenth, simmer into a soup every day. I’ve always loved that.”

Shen Zheng tiptoed over to Wen Zhuo’s recliner, a smile on his lips, looking down at him from above.

His face was dappled with fragmented light through the leaves. The soft hair by his temples trembled slightly in the breeze. His jet-black hair was simply tied up with a ribbon, and his wide sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders, revealing his pale, slender arms.

Wen Zhuo rested his head on one arm, legs slightly curled. His eyelashes were like birds returning to rest, casting a light shadow beneath them.

Sometimes, Shen Zheng found it strange. Wen Zhuo was especially mindful of etiquette and propriety around him, fully dressed even in the sweltering summer heat. Yet, in front of Liu Qiying and Jiang Man-nü, he was completely at ease.

Shen Zheng could only attribute it to their familiarity—perhaps even a life-and-death bond—so that Wen Zhuo had no need for guardedness.

Liu Qiying winked at Jiang Man-nü and deliberately raised her voice: “Master, and if His Highness asks again, shall we just pay lip service and disobey?”

Jiang Man-nü frantically waved her hands, trying to stop her.

How could they scheme against the master like that!

Wen Zhuo said casually, “Yes, tell him I ate that thing—protein, vitamins—a lot, every day.”

Shen Zheng clasped his hands behind his back, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

No one would believe it—the infamous great traitor of history was nothing more than a cunning little cat sneaking treats behind his student’s back.

Ignoring Jiang Man-nü’s soft-hearted attempts to stop her, Liu Qiying pressed on: “What if His Highness gets angry and comes to settle the score?”

“His Highness won’t—” Wen Zhuo suddenly stopped. He recalled what Shen Zheng had said to him on horseback that day when leaving the military camp, and his heart inexplicably trembled.

Before he could think further, a low, teasing voice suddenly sounded near his ear: “Who says I won’t?”

Warm breath brushed his ear, sending a jolt of numbness straight to his waist. Wen Zhuo’s shoulders and back instinctively tensed, and his eyes snapped open.

Shen Zheng was right there, looking at him with keen interest. Those deep, intense eyes seemed even more animated—alive enough to speak, to brim with emotion, even though Wen Zhuo knew this was just a gift from heaven bestowed upon Shen Zheng, unrelated to anything else.

“Why is Your Highness here again?” Wen Zhuo’s breathing was uneven. He forced a look of displeasure and shot Liu Qiying a glare full of condemnation.

Liu Qiying turned back to continue cutting pears, utterly unrepentant.

Jiang Man-nü could only shrug helplessly.

Seeing that Wen Zhuo wasn’t reflecting on his own behavior but instead shifting the blame, Shen Zheng pressed close, giving him no space. Wen Zhuo had no choice but to awkwardly adjust his posture, straighten his clothes, and maintain his rigid decorum.

“Father sent me to thank the Chancellor,” Shen Zheng tilted his head and chuckled lightly. “So here I am, thanking you every day, and I catch you being duplicitous and deceiving your student, not setting a good example.”

Wen Zhuo’s ears flushed red, threatening to spread to the base of his neck.

He wasn’t a saint—how could he be without flaws? That pear ice candy was exceptionally delicious, hard to resist. To give in was only human.

Avoiding Shen Zheng’s gaze, Wen Zhuo pushed him away and forced himself to stay calm: “I admit I am in the wrong here.”

Shen Zheng slowly straightened up, waiting for him to continue.

Wen Zhuo tidied his clothes, loosened the ribbon holding his hair, and re-combed his topknot, changing the subject: “Has Your Highness come today because of progress on that lower limb exoskeleton?”

Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow: “That’s it?”

“What?” Wen Zhuo didn’t understand.

“What about the punishment for being in the wrong?” Shen Zheng looked slightly expectant.

Wen Zhuo looked up at the sun, which, though already westward, was still scorching hot, and sighed: “A day without reading leaves my mind adrift. Your Highness, please go back for now. I need to head to the study to review my books.”

With that, Wen Zhuo lifted his robe and prepared to make a quick escape.

Though a bit far-fetched, it was better than staying and embarrassing himself further. He really should hang a bell at the entrance one day, so that anyone tall passing through would knock it and it would ring.

Shen Zheng immediately grabbed his arm, suppressing a laugh: “Alright, Teacher. With Mo Shu’s guidance, the secret passage is mostly finished. I want to take you through it.”

Wen Zhuo stopped in his tracks, surprised: “So fast?”

“Yes. To get it usable sooner, we dug it a bit narrow, but two people can still pass each other. If you find anything wrong, we’ll have them modify it.”

“Let’s go see!” Wen Zhuo turned and headed toward the inner courtyard.

The entrance on his side was hidden under an inconspicuous wooden plank, covered with some loose dirt to conceal it.

At the entrance, Wen Zhuo rolled up his sleeves, grasped the iron ring on the stone slab, and pulled upward with force. The loose dirt fell with a rustle, revealing a dark hole. A faint, damp coolness rushed toward him.

In the afternoon light, he could see a simple wooden ladder propped against the edge of the hole, reaching down into the depths, but at the very bottom, his vision was obstructed.

“We haven’t had time to build steps yet. I’ll go down first.” With that, Shen Zheng bent down and stepped onto the ladder. After only two or three steps, he jumped down.

The creaking of the wooden ladder ceased abruptly, and Shen Zheng’s voice came from the darkness: “Come down, Teacher.”

Wen Zhuo looked at the ladder with some trepidation. It had been too long since he’d climbed up or down anything. Things that were routine as a child now gave him pause.

He gripped the sides of the ladder tightly, lowered his head, and stretched his leg down.

The wooden ladder was thick and sturdy. Perhaps because Shen Zheng’s training had made him so solid, but when Wen Zhuo stepped on it, the ladder made no sound at all.

His childhood skills were still there, after all. Wen Zhuo’s nervousness quickly dissipated. He even thought there was no need to build steps; climbing down the ladder was convenient enough.

Just then, Shen Zheng said, “If you’re scared, I can carry you down, Teacher?”

Wen Zhuo’s heart stirred. In the dim light filtering through the opening, his eyes took on a dark hue.

Driven by some unknown psychology, the sole of his boot, which had been firmly planted on the ladder, quietly shifted backward by an inch. The toe of his shoe scraped against the rung, producing a quick, clattering sound.

Sure enough, the next second, he was caught by a solid chest pressing against him. One arm wrapped across his torso, and the other supported his buttocks, lifting him off the ladder.

The damp air rushed over them. Wen Zhuo closed his eyes in embarrassment.

He really was wicked. The moment a thought crossed his mind, he started scheming—not just against enemies, but even his own people.

His illness was growing worse. He seemed to like Shen Zheng’s embrace more and more, yet instead of curbing the progression of this affliction, he was drinking poison to quench his thirst, constantly indulging his dark desires.

Once is enough.

“Put me down.” Wen Zhuo said in a low voice.

But Shen Zheng didn’t seem in a hurry to let go. He held Wen Zhuo and gave him a gentle bounce, muttering to himself, “Now I can lift Teacher effortlessly. But it’s still because Teacher is too light.”

No lamps had been lit in the secret passage yet; it was extremely dark. Wen Zhuo couldn’t see Shen Zheng’s expression, only able to sense his presence through hearing and touch.

The air here was thick with the scent of earth, mixed with the underground chill, causing his skin to tighten.

The passage was narrow; stretching out his arms could touch both walls. The ceiling, however, was quite high, obviously designed to accommodate Shen Zheng’s height.

Shen Zheng’s chest was warm, blocking out the damp, cold air through the thin fabric.

His arms were strong and solid, pressing tightly enough to make Wen Zhuo’s chest slightly tight. And the hand supporting his rear made him extremely uncomfortable, his cheeks burning hot.

His Highness hasn’t yet discovered that he harbors such disgraceful thoughts toward a man.

Wen Zhuo swore to himself that he only wanted a simple embrace, not to be so wanton.

“Teacher loves sweet soups, candies, and jujube cold cakes,” Shen Zheng’s voice sounded in the darkness, tinged with seriousness. “But these always make you linger for a long time when you fall ill.”

Perhaps the narrow, dark environment gave a sense of security, or maybe Wen Zhuo was very quiet at this moment, docilely nestled in his arms—so Shen Zheng wanted to say things he didn’t quite understand.

Shen Zheng’s breath brushed past Wen Zhuo’s ear, echoing between the narrow walls: “In this era, medical care is crude, hygiene is lacking. A small illness could be fatal. I’m terrified that one day I’ll be helpless against germs I never used to care about.”

“Teacher, live a long life, okay? Promise me, and I’ll put you down.” His tone carried a smile, but it was a blatant threat.

Wen Zhuo’s heartbeat suddenly quickened, pounding louder than the echoes in the passage. For a moment, he even felt that Shen Zheng had given him a dilemma with no good choice.

“…Alright.” He forced the word out from between his teeth.