Chapter 79#

After Wen Xu’s death, Lin Yingniang was utterly lost. She seemed unable to accept the reality. When she saw the vast Wen estate turned empty, she merely stared blankly for a moment.

When the officials checking household registries during the arrest, they learned that Lin Yingniang had long received a letter of divorce from Wen Yingjing. In name, she was a free woman, no longer a member of the Wen family.

Moreover, she held an imperial decree personally granted by the emperor. Local authorities had no right to interrogate her without authorization; only after deliberation by the Three Judicial Offices could the procedures for trial and imprisonment begin.

Suddenly, how to handle Lin Yingniang became a dilemma.

This dilemma naturally fell to Wen Zhuo.

Wen Zhuo never expected that Wen Yingjing would resort to the underhanded tactic of writing a divorce letter and dividing property, openly evading the government’s levies.

Fortunately, Lin Yingniang did not protect the Wen family or make things difficult for Wen Zhuo. She confessed everything she knew. Unfortunately, she didn’t know much. Wen Yingjing treated her like a vase, providing her with fine clothes and delicacies but never allowing her to involve herself in business matters.

The sun slanted westward. The afterglow passed through the old window lattice, illuminating floating dust motes.

The officials pushed open the rickety wooden door and moved the wooden crates hidden in the courtyard out one by one, loading them onto carts to be transported to the government warehouse.

By the time dusk darkened, this long-silent courtyard had been completely cleared out—just as it had been in the past, as if it had only briefly welcomed the return of an old acquaintance.

Shen Zheng stood in the center of the yard, gazing at the surrounding dilapidated earthen walls and the chipped eaves. He asked softly, “Is this where you were born?”

Wen Zhuo was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I have no memory of it.”

According to what his teacher had said, Lin Yingniang’s family were carpenters, with one son and one daughter. They originally lived in Pingchang County, very close to the sea.

In the early years, Mianzhou was plagued by Japanese pirates, causing widespread panic. Lin Yingniang’s parents, in a frantic rush, grabbed their young son and fled into the mountains, forgetting her on the ridge of a field.

Later, it turned out to be a false alarm—the pirates never entered the village. The villagers who had fled gradually returned, but Lin Yingniang’s parents never came back. No one knew where they had gone.

She would have starved to death in the field, but luckily, Wen Qimin’s family passed by, took pity on her, and kindly took her in, raising her as a maid in the household.

Later, Wen Qimin’s parents died one after another. He himself passed the imperial examinations to become a xiucai (scholar). Lin Yingniang gradually grew up, blossoming into a graceful and elegant young woman.

At that point, a dilemma arose. If Wen Qimin wanted to continue pursuing the imperial examinations, he would have to marry Lin Yingniang off early. Otherwise, in that era, a single beautiful woman without parents or brothers to support her would find it extremely difficult to survive.

But because Lin Yingniang was a maid by birth, it was hard for her to marry into a decent family as the mistress. If she married into a poor household, who would treat her as well as the current family did?

Wen Qimin had a gentle and kind disposition, unwilling to let her suffer even the slightest grievance. So he gave up his official career through the examinations, married her, and settled down together here.

It was only after Wen Zhuo was born, and then Wen Qimin died unexpectedly, that Lin Yingniang was taken into the Wen household by Wen Yingjing, and this place was completely abandoned.

“But my parents must have lived here for a long time,” Wen Zhuo said as he paced slowly. Suddenly, his gaze fell on the windowsill of the main house.

There sat a small wooden horse carved from wood, about the size of a palm. Its paint had long since peeled off, and its edges were cracked from wear. Yet it had been carefully cleaned and placed neatly in the center of the windowsill.

Wen Zhuo stepped forward, carefully picked up the little horse, and examined it from all sides.

The carving was not particularly fine, but it had been polished many times, without a single rough splinter visible.

This was clearly a child’s toy—in this house, naturally… it belonged to him.

He rubbed the rough surface of the little horse, lost in thought. After staring at it for a long time, he gently put it back in place and said flatly, “Your Highness, let’s go.”

“Take it with you.”

“What?”

“Your little horse. Take it.”

“It’s just a broken…”

The words were cut off by Shen Zheng.

“Mmm, if you want to take it, take it.”

Wen Zhuo fell silent.

After a pause, he finally turned back, tucked the little horse into his sleeve, and took away the last trace of tender memory from this desolate courtyard.

It was too troublesome to travel back to Mianzhou Prefecture overnight, so Wen Zhuo and Shen Zheng temporarily rested at the Liangping County government office.

Barely catching their breath and not yet able to digest the tumultuous emotions of the day, a messenger from outside hurried in to report: “Chief Censor, Your Highness. Madam Lin requests to collect Wen Xu’s body for burial.”

Wen Zhuo slammed his chopsticks down on the table with a clatter, his eyes instantly turning icy. The meal he had only taken one bite of now seemed utterly unappetizing.

Without a word, he flicked his sleeves and strode out of the room. His robe carried a chilling gust of cold air.

Seeing this, Shen Zheng quickly got up and followed.

Wen Zhuo ordered Lin Yingniang to be brought to the side of Wangtian Gully. The water in the gully rolled forward, black and thick, darker than the night.

Lin Yingniang looked haggard, her hair disheveled. When she saw Wen Zhuo, a hint of tenderness mixed with fear finally flickered in her hollow eyes.

Wen Zhuo pointed to the surging black water, his voice unusually harsh: “Do you even know how utterly evil he was! The Wen family kept children on an isolated island, feeding them spices and resin. When the time was ripe, they cut open the children’s stomachs while they were still alive, took the contents out, and threw the bodies into the river to drift away!”

His hatred surged fiercer, crashing and pounding like the river: “They earned bloodstained dirty money and used inhuman filthy goods. And you still want to collect his body? Do you think he deserves a peaceful burial!”

Lin Yingniang panicked, stumbling backward. The torchlight illuminated her terrified face. She stared at the rolling river in disbelief, as if she could see the wronged souls struggling in the water.

Wen Zhuo stepped closer, his cold gaze making even the torchlight shiver.

“Don’t beg me! Go tell that to the displaced families who lost their children. Say you pity your inhuman son, that you want to collect his body, burn incense for him, and wish him peace. Go say that!”

Lin Yingniang collapsed to the ground, tears streaming as she choked out, “Zhuo’er, I’m sorry… Mother didn’t know… I won’t ask anymore. I’ll never ask again…”

“You didn’t know?” Wen Zhuo showed no sign of letting her off. Instead, he let out a cold laugh, looking down at her, his eyes full of disappointment and mockery: “Was he like this from the very first day? When he pushed me into the river and tried to drown me, didn’t you think he would become like this? When he tricked me into the ancestral hall and let Wen Ze bully me in every way possible, didn’t you know he would become like this?”

“Wen Yingjing threatened me and never allowed me to complain. But you’re neither blind nor deaf. Did you really know nothing at all!”

Lin Yingniang was in unbearable pain. Under the relentless, piercing interrogations, she could no longer hold on: “I knew… but I dared not acknowledge it! Zhuo’er, it’s all Mother’s fault. I’m weak, I’m useless. I didn’t protect you…”

Shen Zheng, listening nearby, felt as if a thousand weights pressed on his heart. He finally understood why Wen Zhuo, though born in Mianzhou, had said he couldn’t swim and was very afraid of water.

So someone had once pushed him into the river, nearly killing him.

As a modern person, he had been educated in the dignity of modern legal systems. But at this moment, he felt that Wen Xu’s death was too easy. He wished he could make Wen Xu experience every ancient torture, dying in extreme agony.

“Since you couldn’t protect me, why did you bring me into the Wen family? Why didn’t you just abandon me?” He hadn’t intended to have this conversation with Lin Yingniang. So many years had passed—the grievances of the past were no longer important, and there was no need to delve into right and wrong. But the emotions were still stuck in his heart; he had to speak them out.

Why could she muddle through life, acting as if nothing happened as long as she pretended not to know?

Why could she shrink back into her shell with peace of mind, covering her eyes and deceiving herself?

He had to tear apart this false facade and show her the bloody wounds and hatred, leaving her no place to hide or escape. He wanted her to know that Wen Xu’s fate today was inextricably linked to her past cowardice and indulgence!

Lin Yingniang had almost cried her tears dry. She said intermittently, “Because… Mother was also abandoned once. That feeling of isolation… I couldn’t bear to let you experience it…”

“Who asked for your pity!”

Wen Zhuo flung his hand abruptly. The little horse in his sleeve flew out, drawing an arc in the air and plunging straight into the river with a tiny splash—gone in an instant.

Lin Yingniang saw what it was. Her body went rigid as she stared blankly at the river. She hadn’t expected Wen Zhuo to have taken that little horse back.

The bond that had long been broken seemed to tremble faintly at that moment. Lin Yingniang, forgetting everything else, suddenly stood up and lunged toward the water of Wangtian Gully.

She wanted so badly, so badly, to grasp this last chance.

Lin Yingniang summoned strength she didn’t know she had. Her movement was swift and frantic. Taken by surprise, Wen Zhuo instinctively reached out to grab her, but his fingertips only brushed past her clothes, catching nothing but air: “Mother—!”

A dark whirlpool split heaven and earth. Her figure was swallowed in an instant, without even a sound of struggle.

Wen Zhuo, exhausted, collapsed on the riverbank, his hands supporting him on the cold mud. He stared, dazed.

His thoughts seemed stuck in the moment before Lin Yingniang entered the water. He couldn’t hear the rushing sound of the current or the crackling of the torches. His heart was filled only with surging anger and hatred.

But suddenly, these emotions had nowhere to land. Only an endless emptiness remained.

It wasn’t until Shen Zhen forcefully pulled him into an embrace that he slowly regained his senses.

He moved his lips and, with great effort, forced out two words—

“Ridiculous…”

But as soon as he said them, tears silently rolled down.

“I know.” Shen Zhen tightened his arms.

“I didn’t want her to die…” Wen Zhuo’s body seemed to lose all support; he could only steady himself by clinging to Shen Zhen. “Did she die because of me? Because I threw away that little horse?”

“No.” Shen Zhen lowered his head, pressing it against the top of Wen Zhuo’s hair, and said quietly, “It’s because she was in too much pain.”

“Who isn’t in pain? Why is she the only one who always thinks of running away?” Wen Zhuo’s voice suddenly rose, but it carried a tone of grievance, like a complaint.

Shen Zhen didn’t argue. He just gently patted his back, gradually smoothing away the tremors: “Because she wasn’t strong enough. Teacher, can you allow her not to be strong this time too?”

Wen Zhuo closed his eyes. Shen Zhen’s collar was soaked with tears.

The search lasted a full day and night, but yielded nothing. She seemed to merge into the vast ocean alongside those children, becoming one with heaven and earth.

Even though he knew there was no hope, Wen Zhuo still stayed by Wangtian Gully for several consecutive days.

Shen Zhen didn’t try to dissuade him; he simply accompanied him in silence. During the day, they stood side by side watching the flowing water. At night, they huddled together by the campfire, warding off the damp and chill.

In the dead of night, Wen Zhuo would uncharacteristically let down his guard, rambling about old childhood stories.

He talked about how the Wen family saw him as a burden, how Wen Ze and Wen Xu bullied him, and the tangled mix of gratitude and resentment he felt toward Lin Yingniang.

He also mentioned those two burn scars—how slowly they had healed.

“I should be relieved…” he said, looking into the distance, a hint of bewilderment barely perceptible in his voice. “Yet here I am, staying by this river. Your Highness must find it hard to understand.”

“I can.”

Wen Zhuo gave a derisive laugh: “Even I can’t understand myself.”

“Because deep down, you know that she also had a hard life.” Shen Zhen reached out to adjust his fur robe, gently pressing his head to his own shoulder. “She couldn’t fight Wen Yingjing, and she couldn’t protect you. So she chose to escape. It’s not that she didn’t love you at all, but she only gave you a little—enough that you can’t resent her wholeheartedly, nor can you love her wholeheartedly.”

Wen Zhuo remained silent.

Shen Zhen continued, “Last time at uncle’s military camp, when you went out to… ‘happen to run into’ Mo Shu… we talked about something.”

“What?”

“About whether we should have saved Yibin, knowing what she would become.” Shen Zhen’s fingers gently combed through his hair, his voice tender. “I once learned a concept: a person only needs to focus on their own tasks. Saving someone is a good deed, so you save them—that completes your task. As for Yibin harboring ill intentions and choosing the wrong path, that’s her task, not something you need to dwell on.”

“This is the same with Teacher. The reason you feel conflicted and pained now is that you keep thinking about her hardships. But those hardships are ultimately her task; they don’t have to become your burden. You can thank her for giving you life, and at the same time, you don’t have to forgive the harm she caused.”

“That’s a strange way of putting it.” But hearing it, his heart inexplicably felt lighter.

“It is a bit strange, but it also makes a lot of sense.” Shen Zhen smiled.

The nights in Mianzhou were already tinged with winter’s chill, but here by the campfire, it was warm and cozy. The surrounding wilderness was silent except for the crackling flames. Even Wangtian Gully seemed gentler.

“By the way, I haven’t asked Your Highness why you suddenly came after me to Liangping County.” Wen Zhuo lifted his head from Shen Zhen’s shoulder, turning to look at him.

“Jiang Mannü reported that there are more than a dozen young children in the cave stronghold with no one claiming them; we don’t know where their homes are. So I wanted to ask you how best to settle them.”

“About that—” Wen Zhuo started to speak.

“That matter was just an excuse.” Shen Zhen suddenly leaned closer, his gaze so direct it was unsettling. “The truth is, I missed you.”

Wen Zhuo froze. His eyes, which had been dull for days, now sparkled like stars bathing in the Milky Way.

“I missed you a lot, and I was worried about you.” Shen Zhen looked at him, open and passionate, with no pretense at all. “I know you have brilliant strategies and hold great power, and dealing with the Wen family is more than enough for you. But I still couldn’t help wanting to come find you, wanting to stay by your side.”

Wen Zhuo’s heartbeat gradually lost its rhythm. His fingers curled nervously.

“Wanshan, what kind of person kisses another on the lips?” Shen Zhen suddenly asked softly, his voice carrying a hint of testing.

Wen Zhuo’s heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, he wanted to hide his ever-weak ears.

Before he could respond, Shen Zhen leaned in, their breaths mingling. His voice was low and serious: “I love you so much. More than just a little.”

The campfire in front of them popped, sending two sparks flying into the air. They flared brightly for a moment before quietly dying out, reflecting flames in both their eyes.

Wen Zhuo’s breathing quickened at these words, his body trembling slightly. But his years of defense and pretense immediately snapped up, even turning a bit sharp as he retorted: “Does Your Highness know what he’s saying?”

“Yes.”

“I am Your Highness’s teacher.” Wen Zhuo emphasized reluctantly.

Shen Zhen leaned even closer, his gaze sweeping over his lips: “I wouldn’t kiss my teacher. I would only kiss my beloved.”

“Your Highness is of the Shen royal family, the foundation of the nation. How can you engage in romance with a man?” Wen Zhuo fought a rearguard action.

“So Teacher’s stolen kisses were just a special gift for this inspection tour? Once we return to the capital, will they be revoked?” Shen Zhen’s tone grew suddenly very grave.

“Otherwise, when Your Highness ascends the throne in the future, will you take a man as your wife?” It was he who had been interrogating Shen Zhen, appearing ruthless and cold, but an uncontrollable sense of grievance welled up inside him. He laid out the absurd delusion that had been mocked and despised in his previous life, offering it up for Shen Zhen’s judgment.

“Yes.”

Shen Zhen reached out and stroked his face, his thumb gently brushing over his pale lips. “I want to take a man as my wife. I want Teacher to marry me as my wife.”

“But the ancestral laws forbid it, and the Great Qian statutes do not permit it.”

“Then I will overturn the ancestral laws and abolish the statutes!”

Wen Zhuo was utterly stunned.

This was what he had in his heart, what he had longed for.

These words filled him with joy, filled him with hope. But years of restraint and caution prevented him from fully expressing his emotions.

Though he kept retreating, he remained guarded every step of the way, unwilling to shed his last layer of armor.

“I’m actually very bad. I deliberately gave Wen Yingjing a chance to hide his assets. Actually, even if the relief funds and grain were sufficient, I would have said they weren’t. Because I wanted to torment them bit by bit, sending one of them to their death each day, making them pay for the suffering I endured back then.” Wen Zhuo tested carefully.

“It’s only right. They committed heinous crimes and deserve nothing better than a miserable death.”

“You have no idea how bad I am. This is just a tiny part of my wickedness.” Tears welled up in Wen Zhuo’s eyes. He clenched his teeth, but still let the tears fall.

“What if I did know?” Shen Zhen chuckled softly, kissed away his tears, then caught that tear and slowly pressed his lips against Wen Zhuo’s, not allowing him to belittle himself any further. “Even if Teacher were a villain of the worst kind, I would still love you.”

The kiss came deep and fierce, filled with an unyielding possessiveness. Wen Zhuo tried to speak again, but Shen Zhen’s tongue slipped inside, sweeping through every corner of his mouth and stifling all his words.

His whole body went limp, unable to hold on any longer. He could only cling tightly to Shen Zhen’s neck, letting himself be dragged into the depths of surrender.

The flames rippled like water across their faces, casting shifting shadows. The brilliant galaxy poured down its tender favor, shedding a single blazing silver star.

After an unknown length of time, Shen Zhen slowly released him, wrapping him tightly in his own fur robe, pressing him against his warm chest so he could feel his heartbeat.

While affectionately stroking his back, he said earnestly, “I’ll take that as Teacher’s agreement. But there’s one thing I need to make clear to you.”

Wen Zhuo, buried in his arms, felt his cheeks burning. He only showed two moist eyes, listening for him to continue.

“I know Teacher once liked women. I even heard Teacher had many confidantes in the Music Bureau.” Shen Zhen was drowning in jealousy but tried to pretend to be magnanimous. “From now on, Teacher can only have me. You are not allowed to see them anymore. This is very serious, and I hope Teacher will take it seriously.”

“…”

It was only this. He really didn’t know how bad I am!