Chapter 52#

It seemed as though the capital had been shrouded by the gloomy pall of the locust plague. For the past two days, the sky had been exceedingly overcast, and the temperature had plummeted like a falling weight, crashing down with a single dull thud.

The street vendors crying out their wares had gradually thinned. The once bustling lanes and alleys now held only a few passersby, hunched over and hurrying along with their heads tucked in.

Every household had shut their vermilion gates early, lighting only a small brazier of charcoal beneath the stove. That faint wisp of warmth seeped through the cracks in the bricks, crawling toward the bed frames—better than nothing, but barely enough.

Families of all ages huddled together under thick quilts for warmth, daring to burn the charcoal brazier for no more than half an hour. Deep winter had not yet arrived, and this meager store of charcoal would have to last until spring.

On this seemingly gloomy yet peaceful day, the Hanlin Academy still hummed with a bit of bustle.

Wen Zhuo leaned lazily beside the stove, spreading his hands to warm them in the glow of the fire. The flames cast a bright shimmer over his crimson official robe.

A compiler approached, reporting that the draft of the imperial decree for disaster relief had been completed.

Wen Zhuo didn’t even lift his eyelids; his gaze remained fixed on the dancing flames. He said flatly, “Read it.”

The compiler dared not be careless and recited it earnestly. Occasionally, Wen Zhuo interrupted, ordering him to swap out a few words.

The compiler quickly complied and was about to continue reading when a sudden flurry of startled cries erupted from within the Forbidden City, shattering the calm.

“Look up in the sky!”

“What… so many birds? This is an omen! Report to His Majesty at once!”

The compiler frowned, a hint of displeasure on his face. “Who’s making such a racket in the Forbidden City? No sense of propriety.”

But Wen Zhuo’s interest was piqued. He fastened his outer robe, rose, and went outside to look.

The two of them stepped out of the Hanlin Academy’s main gate and looked up, only to freeze in place.

A vast, black tide of birds blotted out the sun, a dense, oppressive swarm sweeping over the golden tiles and red walls of the Forbidden City.

The shadows cast by the flock shifted among the halls, darkening the marble steps and glazed rooftops.

The compiler’s face turned pale as he muttered, “It’s almost winter—how could there be such a huge flock of birds?”

Wen Zhuo, on the contrary, curled his lips into a faint smile. “Is this really worth making such a fuss over?”

The compiler said cautiously, “The locust plague is raging fiercely right now. We’re just drafting the decree, and then we see this… I fear it’s an ill omen.”

“An ill omen?” Wen Zhuo tilted his head back to look at the sky, crossing his arms. With a meaningful tone, he said, “I think it’s fine.”

The news of the black birds passing over the palace spread like wildfire, racing through the entire Forbidden City.

With such an omen, it was impossible not to link it to the only pressing matter in the Great Qian Empire right now—the locust plague.

At the Crown Prince’s residence, Shen Chen had just summoned Gong Zhiyuan and Xie Langyang for a meeting when Consort Yi pushed aside the curtain and burst in.

Her face was lit with barely concealed delight, completely ignoring the sudden darkening of Shen Chen’s expression as she blurted out, “Chen’er, great news! That shaman from my hometown said long ago that celestial anomalies foretell a great calamity for someone of noble birth! That flock of black birds over the palace just now—it must be aimed at Shen Cheng! This time, with his disaster relief mission, he’s bound to mess up big time!”

Xie Langyang and Gong Zhiyuan immediately fell silent, watching Shen Chen.

Shen Chen wanted to get angry, but her words hooked his interest. He frowned. “What black birds?”

“The ones that just flew over the palace walls—they looked like crows. Everyone in the city saw them. It’s probably already been reported to the Hall of Mental Cultivation by now!” Consort Yi was practically spitting with excitement, her eyes full of schadenfreude.

Shen Chen’s heart stirred.

Could it really be a heavenly omen, foreshadowing Shen Cheng’s fall?

Just as he was destined, like in his past life, to ascend the throne, those who defied heaven’s will—like Wen Zhuo and Shen Cheng—were bound to face retribution sooner or later.

He strode to the palace gate and looked up at the sky. The black birds had already flown far away, but quite a few palace attendants were whispering among themselves.

Shen Chen let out a cold laugh, inwardly smug. “No need for him to say it—this is obviously a bad omen.”

Xie Langyang, worn down by successive setbacks, lowered his voice in warning. “Your Highness, Wanshan is deeply calculating. We must not underestimate him.”

Shen Chen swept his sleeve across the table, knocking over the increasingly meager lunch spread. “Even if he had heaven-reaching abilities—even if he sacrificed the entire Wen family as an offering—Mianzhou still can’t lend him any grain!”

Gong Zhiyuan had remained silent until now. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes, his gaze burning as it swept over the two of them. “As Chief Grand Secretary, I handle all reports from across the empire, and I haven’t yet learned of Mianzhou’s disaster. Yet you two seem remarkably well-informed. At the last victory banquet, you knew about Mo Shu’s identity before His Majesty did. And now you already know about Mianzhou’s plight. Quite peculiar, I must say.”

This struck a nerve. Shen Chen and Xie Langyang exchanged a glance, their expressions turning somewhat unnatural.

But Shen Chen wasn’t about to explain himself to him, much less let him know that they had also had a hand in the Crown Prince’s downfall.

Shen Chen shoved aside the eunuch who came forward with a warm robe, forcing calm as he said dismissively, “What’s so strange about that? The Father Emperor is kept in the dark about plenty of things.”

In the Hall of Mental Cultivation, a small bronze incense burner was kept year-round, its carved dragon-and-phoenix patterns emitting a wispy trail of aloeswood smoke.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Ge Wei rushed in, his face full of panic, clutching a black bird tightly in his hands. He stumbled over the threshold and nearly tripped.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. With a thud, he knelt on the golden bricks and reported urgently, “Your Majesty! The palace guards shot down a black bird. It’s not an ordinary crow—it’s a wild goose!”

He shouted so loudly that the attendant Liu Quan, standing nearby, shot him a glare. Ge Wei quickly shrank his neck and lowered his voice.

Emperor Shunyuan threw on a robe and stood up, reaching for his outer garment with somewhat slow, deliberate movements. A light cough escaped his lips. “A wild goose?”

Ge Wei didn’t dare slack off, rattling off his report like beans spilling from a bamboo tube. “Your Majesty, the wild goose is a migratory bird. In spring and summer, it roosts near the Qingping Mountains. By late summer and early autumn, it migrates en masse to Mianzhou. I’ve heard that this bird feeds exclusively on rice. They can fly for days or nights without stopping. Now that winter is almost here, they should have long since arrived in Mianzhou to peck at the new harvest. Why would they suddenly fly back to the capital?”

Emperor Shunyuan’s drowsiness vanished. He slowly narrowed his eyes warily. “Did you say Mianzhou?”

In that single sentence, he mentioned Mianzhou twice.

Liu Quan, standing by, cast a deep glance at Ge Wei.

Ge Wei was about to speak again, but Liu Quan immediately cut him off. Bowing, he said, “Master, it’s already strange for a wild goose to fly northward in late autumn. But what’s even more peculiar is that I inspected it just now. This bird was pierced through by an arrow, its bones shattered, and yet there’s hardly any flesh left on its body.”

Hearing this, Ge Wei quickly fell silent, obediently prostrating himself on the ground. He had been too hasty earlier and nearly forgot to stop at the right point. He had almost caused a major mistake. Fortunately, Liu Quan had stepped in to divert the Emperor’s attention, allowing him to escape unscathed.

Emperor Shunyuan naturally wouldn’t look at the bloody thing himself. Since Liu Quan told him about it, he took it as though he had seen it. He raised his aged eyes and pondered for a long while before saying, “Summon the Fifth Prince to see me at once.”

Shen Cheng, still in his casual robes, was summoned to the Hall of Mental Cultivation without time to change.

Upon learning that the wild goose that had flown over the palace had returned from Mianzhou, a look of shock immediately appeared on his face. “Father, Mianzhou has a mild climate. This year, the harvest was abundant—grain piled up like mountains. Why would the wild goose fly back to the capital?”

Emperor Shunyuan let out a cold laugh. “What do you think?”

Shen Cheng lowered his eyes, carefully pondering.

The hall fell into a momentary silence. After a while, he suddenly lifted his head, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “Could it be that something has happened in Mianzhou?”

Emperor Shunyuan slowly closed his eyes. Through the thin light filtering through the windowpanes, one could faintly make out the anger that coiled around him.

“If Mianzhou has no grain, and even the birds are fleeing for their lives, what do you think will happen if you go to borrow grain?”

Shen Cheng paused for a moment, instantly grasping the full picture. His look of shock turned into a bitter smile. “Your son bearing the blame is a minor matter. But the people of Xing and Jing Prefectures can’t afford any more delays. How… how could they do this?”

“How could they?” Emperor Shunyuan opened his eyes, gazing at Shen Cheng with a trace of pity. “Because at the last victory banquet, they failed to use my hand to topple Jun Huaishen. At the Spring Terrace Go Tournament, they failed to pin the crime of colluding with the enemy on you. This matter in Mianzhou is merely history repeating itself.”

Shen Cheng’s eyes reddened instantly. His voice choked. “Your son doesn’t understand. I spent ten years in Nanping and never once vied with them for anything. Why do they hate me so much?”

The sagging skin on Emperor Shunyuan’s face was lined with exhaustion.

The struggle for the heir apparent’s position had already reached such a deranged level. The lives of millions of people were nothing but bargaining chips in their fight for power!

After a long pause, Emperor Shunyuan gathered his gaze again, looking at Shen Cheng with an immensely complex expression. “The national treasury is empty now. There’s no grain near Xing and Jing Prefectures. I ask you—do you have a plan?”

Shen Cheng keenly sensed that this was a crucial turning point.

Emperor Shunyuan had long seen through the dirty schemes of his sons. He wanted to choose a clean one to stand as the heir apparent. But that heir apparent must also have enough ability to stabilize the overall situation.

He took a deep breath, straightened his back, bowed with hands clasped, and spoke in a resounding voice. “Your son dares to ask for permission to transfer grain from Liang and Ye Prefectures, rushing day and night to Xing and Jing for disaster relief. Although the journey is long, and there will inevitably be some loss of grain along the way, as long as the grain arrives, it will ease the people’s urgent suffering. With the people’s hearts settled, there will naturally be no unrest, and Your Father can rest easy in the capital.”

“Your son further dares to ask Your Father to bestow upon me the Imperial Sword. If Mianzhou’s granaries are indeed full and the people are unharmed, then all will be well. But if someone has truly concealed the disaster and secretly obstructed relief, your son will give an account to the people of the empire!”

After speaking, Shen Cheng met Emperor Shunyuan’s gaze directly, without flinching, his eyes blazing with fighting spirit.

At that very moment, the last piece of aloeswood incense on the desk burned out. A wisp of smoke was scattered by the autumn wind blowing in from outside the hall.

Emperor Shunyuan sat quietly on the couch. After a moment of silence, he slowly uttered two words. “Approved.”

Just as Shen Cheng was about to step over the threshold, Emperor Shunyuan called him back, his voice heavy with worry. “Their aim this time is you. Wen Wanshan has been dragged into this because of you. It’s also my fault for insisting at the victory banquet that he speak on our behalf. Let’s not let him know about today’s conversation between father and son. It would save him from having the upper hand and walking off with my exoskeleton as well.”

Shen Cheng almost burst out laughing at this. Who cares about your exoskeleton? I’m already thinking about making a bicycle for the little cat.

But he said, “Your son understands.”

It was now late afternoon. The autumn wind was crisp and clear. Shen Cheng took his leave, clattered down the white marble steps, and strode briskly out of the Forbidden City, where he ‘coincidentally’ ran into Wen Zhuo within the palace grounds.

Several editors from the Hanlin Academy had gathered around Wen Zhuo, seizing the opportunity to flatter him profusely. Some asked after his health, expressing concern; others muttered about the long journey, lamenting that they couldn’t go in his stead.

“Lord Wen.” Shen Cheng, hands clasped behind his back, greeted him openly with a knowing smile.

Wen Zhuo quickly turned to the people surrounding him and said, “The Prince and I need to discuss disaster relief. You all go back to your work first.”

Once the crowd had dispersed, Wen Zhuo’s eyelashes quivered, catching a glint of autumn light. He asked unhurriedly, “It went through?”

“Guess, Teacher.”

Wen Zhuo cast a faint glance at him. Guess? No way. Too childish.

He walked shoulder to shoulder with Shen Cheng along the base of the city wall, unable to resist complaining, “You only managed to get a single wild goose? Your Highness is really something.”

Shen Cheng chuckled lightly. “Fortunately, there were plenty of crows. I made sure to paint their beaks and claws red. From that distance, there’s no way they’d see through it.”

“Did His Majesty tell you to keep it from me?”

“Teacher, can you guess that too?”

Naturally. Your teacher is an expert at reading people’s minds."

“Then guess what I’m thinking.”

“?”

“Go on.”

“His Majesty trusts you. Your Highness is very pleased?”

“Wrong.”

“That was a close call. You barely got through?”

“Still wrong.”

“Set out for Liangzhou as soon as possible, before they can react?”

“Still off.”

“I can’t guess. What is it?”

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

“…Your Highness, it’s still afternoon.”

“I know. But it’s beautiful.”

“…”

As they walked, the dark clouds unexpectedly began to part. Layer upon layer of thick mist gave way to a very soft beam of light.

It wasn’t strong or intense—like moonlight.

The pale light stretched their shadows long, slowly overlapping into one.