Chapter 95#
After the entangled mess in the cabin, Wen Zhuo was completely limp, his undergarments damp, so he resentfully left a series of retaliatory bite marks on Shen Zhi’s shoulder.
The two only left the Dragon River by sedan chair just before the palace gates were locked for the night.
At that moment, the banks of the Dragon River were at their liveliest. Tens of thousands of paper boats drifted downstream, candle flames flickering, merging into a river of stars in the night, as if they could truly illuminate the path to the underworld and guide the souls of the dead.
At the entrance of the Wen estate, Shen Zhi lingered a while longer, holding Wen Zhuo in a tender embrace. Wen Zhuo’s stamina was truly lamentable; after just one round of exertion in the cabin, his eyelids were already heavy, threatening to stick together.
After seeing Shen Zhi off, he stepped into the house and immediately ordered cold water to wash his face thoroughly.
The icy water jolted his muddled mind back to clarity.
His eyes regained their sharp, alert look, and he instructed, “Over the next two days, assign more men to keep watch on the Third Prince’s residence. The moment a bell-ringing Taoist is brought in, report to me immediately.”
He still found it hard to believe that Xie Langyang and Shen Chen would resort to the same old trick.
But on second thought, perhaps in their view, once Shen Ting was dead, the He Lian family’s influence at court would be carved up, benefiting everyone. He had no reason to intervene.
And that was exactly what Shen Chen thought.
He “invited” Zhang Deyuan to the Eastern Tower without revealing his true identity, instead claiming to be the Fifth Prince, Shen Zhi.
This was his cunning: if the plan succeeded, Zhang Deyuan would be executed by Emperor Shun Yuan’s order, just like in the previous life, and would die without ever knowing where he went wrong.
If something went wrong midway—for instance, if Wen Zhuo saw through their scheme and tried to obstruct it—then Zhang Deyuan could conveniently expose “Shen Zhi.”
When “inviting” Zhang Deyuan, Shen Chen had already confirmed that Shen Zhi was not in the palace at that moment. As long as the guards at the palace gate could testify that Shen Zhi had left the palace during that time, it would create suspicion of collusion with Zhang Deyuan, leaving Shen Zhi unable to defend himself.
Shen Chen spoke with Zhang Deyuan through a thin curtain, and at some seemingly casual moment, deliberately revealed an imperial jade pendant that proved his princely status, as well as the golden dragon embroidery on his robe.
In the Great Qi Dynasty, only princes and kings could embroider golden dragons and dragon motifs; otherwise, it was considered a grave offense of disrespect.
Zhang Deyuan, having traveled far and wide for many years, was a man of vast experience, with eyes as sharp as an eagle’s. A single glance was enough for him to confirm he hadn’t been deceived.
Suddenly encountering such a highborn prince, instead of panicking, he was overjoyed.
This was exactly the opportunity he had been waiting for—a chance to rise to prominence overnight!
Though he belonged to the world of commoners, Zhang Deyuan had a wide network of connections and a basic understanding of the current court situation.
Everyone knew that the Fifth Prince, Shen Zhi, was now at the height of his power, with outstanding political achievements that earned Emperor Shun Yuan’s praise. He was also the only prince among the imperial sons with the right to participate in political discussions.
Just now, this “Fifth Highness” had seen through his tricks at a glance, demonstrating intelligence and insight far beyond ordinary people, matching his reputation. This further deepened Zhang Deyuan’s trust.
If nothing unexpected happened, the Fifth Prince would become the future ruler of the realm. If he could serve the Fifth Prince, why worry about not climbing the ranks in the future?
So when Shen Chen laid out the entire plan, Zhang Deyuan didn’t hesitate for a moment. He immediately thumped his chest and agreed.
“This humble one came to the capital precisely to serve a wise lord. Even if Your Highness had not come to find me, I would have eventually sought you out myself. In the future, the wise ruler of the Great Qi Dynasty will undoubtedly be none other than Your Highness. If I can contribute even a little to Your Highness’s bright and righteous path, it would not be for naught in this life!”
Hearing this, Shen Chen was so angry he wanted to grind his teeth, but he forced a gentle smile on his face. “And what reward do you want after it’s done?”
At that moment, he felt that simply executing Zhang Deyuan would not satisfy the hatred in his heart. What nonsense about the future wise ruler being none other than Shen Zhi? The next emperor of the Great Qi Dynasty was clearly him, Shen Chen!
Zhang Deyuan’s skill in reading people and using the tactic of retreating to advance had been honed to perfection.
He knew that when working for the royal family, one must show absolute loyalty and discretion, yet cannot appear utterly without desires or otherworldly.
Only then could one be trusted without arousing suspicion. Striking this balance was extremely difficult, but with decades of worldly experience, he had mastered the art.
Zhang Deyuan put on an honest, kindly smile and said respectfully, “I ask for nothing else. I only wish that, after everything is accomplished, Your Highness might grant me the position of abbot of the Pine Crane Temple in my hometown of Bozhou. The current abbot and I have quite a few disagreements over doctrines, and I cannot bear to see him remain in the temple, leading others astray!”
The Pine Crane Temple was a famous monastery on Pine Crane Mountain, with a long history and profound heritage. Even the prefect, the surveillance commissioner, and the military commander of Bozhou would treat its abbot with great respect, for the abbot represented authority in the Taoist community. Even those who didn’t believe in gods or buddhas dared not profane it lightly.
Zhang Deyuan’s calculations were shrewd: with this identity as a backing, it would be much easier to reap benefits in the future.
Over time, as he won the Fifth Prince’s complete trust, he could then find an opportunity to move from Bozhou to the capital, rising steadily.
Shen Chen listened and nodded with a sly smile. “Easy to say. This ambition of yours actually reassures me. But I must give you a few instructions on how to win my third brother’s trust.”
He then repeated, more or less verbatim, the words Wen Zhuo had given Zhang Deyuan in the previous life. Since those words had helped Zhang Deyuan pass the test smoothly in the past, they would surely work again in this life.
After a deep conversation, Zhang Deyuan was courteously escorted back to the inn.
Once Zhang Deyuan left, Xie Langyang came out from behind a screen in the inner chamber. Now only he and Shen Chen remained in the chess room.
Shen Chen leisurely picked up his teacup, took a sip, looking rather pleased with himself.
Xie Langyang rolled up his sleeves, refilled Shen Chen’s cup, and said in a low voice, “Your Highness has decided to use Wanshan’s tactic after all.”
This time, Xie Langyang no longer frowned with a worried expression of moral indignation.
Having personally participated in these dirty dealings, he seemed to have grown numb. Especially after learning that Shen Zhi was not in the palace and Wen Zhuo was not at home, the anger and resentment in his heart burned like wildfire, threatening to consume his compassion, reason, and virtue.
He wanted to tell Shen Chen what he had overheard at the Wen estate gate on New Year’s Eve, but felt that it would be an insult to himself—too humiliating to bring up, like a fishbone stuck in his throat.
He hated that they had turned him into this, step by step degenerating into a madman, addicted to schemes and conspiracies.
A dimple appeared on Shen Chen’s face as he expressed satisfaction with Xie Langyang’s active cooperation this time. “It’s undeniable that Teacher Wen’s trick works wonderfully.”
Xie Langyang nodded in agreement. “A perfect stratagem is impartial—it bends to its user’s will, bringing benefit in any outcome. To have reached this level is to be close to success. Back then, Wanshan personally taught this principle to Your Highness. Now it is turned back on him. I wonder how he will feel when this is all over.”
Shen Chen’s smile grew deeper, his eyes brimming with pride. “After all, I studied under Teacher Wen for three years. I can’t disappoint him every time, can I?”
News of the “Sweeping Sign Taoist” appearing by the Dragon River soon reached the Third Prince’s ears.
“Able to summon the dead? Even the old abbot of Tanzhe Temple wouldn’t dare boast like that.” Shen Ting leaned half-reclined on a soft couch, skeptical, too lazy to even shift his position.
“Your Highness may not know, but Taoists and monks are not the same,” the steward leaned in with a flattering smile to explain. “Monks serve the Western Buddha, whose light shines everywhere, and naturally won’t engage in such yin affairs as summoning souls for ordinary people. But Taoists commune with the ghosts and spirits of the underworld, and those ghosts aren’t bound by so many rules. As long as there’s enough ‘sincerity,’ they’re willing to help.”
Shen Ting found this somewhat reasonable but still uninterested, absentmindedly tapping the armrest. “Just a wandering Taoist, what’s that got to do with me?”
Ever since he realized his chances at the crown were slim, his spirit had sunk lower each day. Perhaps he was tired of fighting with the Crown Prince and the Wise Prince, or perhaps he had completely given up.
Emperor Shun Yuan had seven sons. He wasn’t first or second, and he wasn’t third either. What was the point of forcing it?
The steward kept up his ingratiating smile. “Your Highness speaks truth. It’s just something to listen to for fun. This Sweeping Sign Taoist is now the talk of the capital. Cross any street outside our residence, and you’ll hear commoners discussing his name. These past two days, wealthy merchants and magnates have been flocking to beg him for soul-summoning, but he’s rather picky—only willing to perform twice a day, claiming that doing more would invite retribution from the spirits.”
“Hah, a charlatan putting on airs,” Shen Ting scoffed, his tone full of disdain.
“I heard that yesterday, the Earl of Liang’an personally invited him to his mansion, and he summoned the soul of the Yonghe Commandery Lady. When the Earl saw her shadow, he burst into tears on the spot, couldn’t even walk!” the steward lowered his voice, pretending to be mysterious.
He said all this nonsense just to keep Shen Ting in good spirits.
Shen Ting was moody and unpredictable; when angered, the entire household would suffer. So everyone in the mansion tried their best to please him, hoping for more days of emotional stability.
“Oh?”
This time, Shen Ting sat up straight, his interest piqued.
Even someone of the Earl of Liang’an’s status believed it? Could this Taoist really have some skill?
This divine talent seemed to fall into his lap, and Shen Ting couldn’t help but think of that white moonlight whom his father had pined for his entire life.
He might have lost heart, but striving was already an ingrained habit. Once he found an opening, his ambition would inevitably stir.
If this Sweeping Sign Taoist could summon the soul of Consort Chen and let his father see her and speak with her—what then?
The more Shen Ting thought, the faster his heart raced, and the blood in his chest seemed to boil again.
He immediately pushed himself up from the chair, limping as he stood. “Go and invite this Sweeping Sign Taoist to the mansion!”
The moment Zhang Deyuan set foot in the Third Prince’s residence, Wen Zhuo received the news.
He was eating the jujube cold cakes Shen Zhi had brought him, a cold smile curling at his lips.
Shen Chen thought that since this affair benefited him, he would silently allow the scheme to proceed. But Shen Chen didn’t know that making trouble for Shen Chen and Xie Langyang was what gave him the greatest pleasure!
He had been worried that Shen Chen and Xie Langyang were being too cautious lately, leaving him with no leverage to seize. But after just a few months, the two were already putting on a show like clowns.
Fools after all—one loss wasn’t enough; they actually dared to jump into the pit repeatedly!
Wen Zhuo gently fanned himself, licking off the sugar frost at the corner of his lips, a lazy tone in his voice. “Since they’re so eager, I might as well go and ‘help’ them.”
Shen Zhi, naturally unaware of what Wen Zhuo had experienced in the past life, only smiled and reached out to lift a strand of his loosened hair, twirling it playfully. “What mischief is Teacher plotting now?”
Wen Zhuo looked dangerously charming, tossing aside the crumpled oil paper bag, his eyes gleaming with cunning. “On the nineteenth of the lunar month, make sure to watch the show in the palace, Your Highness.”
The nineteenth day of the lunar month was the death anniversary of Consort Chen.
During this period, Emperor Shun Yuan had completely stopped holding court, sinking into deep depression and grief.
Despite his frail health, he secretly left the palace twice within seven days.
Though his movements were always kept confidential, the old palace attendants could guess that he had likely gone to a small detached dwelling near the former Jing Prince’s mansion.
That place had originally been converted from an old ancestral hall, with high walls and rarely visited.
Back when Consort Chen was expelled from the prince’s residence, she lived in that detached dwelling.
But now, it had long been reduced to ruins, along with the emptied Jing Prince’s mansion, abandoned and forgotten.
Like many other officials at court, Wen Zhuo knew very little about this Consort Chen, who had died over twenty years ago.
Even why Emperor Shun Yuan had driven her out of the Jing Prince’s residence and locked her in that remote dwelling, and later why he became so deeply attached to her and unable to forget her, Wen Zhuo couldn’t figure out.
All he knew was that Consort Chen had died in a great fire.
It was said to have been a deep winter night, the air exceptionally dry. The charcoal brazier in Consort Chen’s room carelessly ignited the bed curtains, and the fire spread rapidly, becoming a massive blaze. Because it was discovered too late, by the time the servants of the Jing Prince’s mansion fetched water and rushed to put it out, everything was already lost.
That detached dwelling had completely collapsed in the fire, reduced to scorched earth, and Consort Chen’s body had been turned to ashes in the flames, leaving not even a trace for Emperor Shun Yuan to remember her by.
Within ten days of this incident, Emperor Kangzhen died and Emperor Shun Yuan ascended the throne.
Pity this commoner woman, who after her death received the title Consort Chen, but had never enjoyed a single day of fortune in the palace. She had suffered bitterly in that detached dwelling, only to meet an early death.
Given Emperor Shun Yuan’s cold and heartless nature, Wen Zhuo couldn’t help but speculate that it was precisely because Consort Chen’s death was so tragic that the emperor couldn’t let go. If Consort Chen had lived peacefully to this day, Emperor Shun Yuan would probably have grown tired of her long ago and cast her aside like worn-out shoes.
But such speculation was meaningless to him. He only needed to know that on Consort Chen’s death anniversary, Shen Ting would make his move.
On the nineteenth day of the lunar month, as dusk approached, Emperor Shun Yuan returned from outside the imperial city. The strong scent of incense and candles clung to him, as if he had been paying homage to Consort Chen for a long time.
He rarely wore the clothes he had worn as the Jing Prince back in the day, but as his body grew increasingly thin, those once well-fitting garments now hung loosely on him, unable to muster any trace of vigor.
The long street before the imperial hall was so silent one could hear a pin drop. The eunuchs and palace maids passed by with their heads lowered, tiptoeing.
No one dared to cross Emperor Shun Yuan during this period. They all knew that at times like this, the emperor was truly capable of killing to vent his anger.
That day, Wen Zhuo lingered especially long in the cabinet office.
Gong Zhiyuan and Gu Weizhi were also there. The three were reviewing the performance reports of various officials in the water transport system of Songzhou, one by one.
Gu Weizhi was always talkative; even when reading memorials alone, he couldn’t help muttering the words aloud, irritating Gong Zhiyuan no end.
The office was already stuffy, filled with a thick stench of ink, and with someone buzzing like a fly in his ears, Gong Zhiyuan couldn’t read a single word properly.
He was just about to hold back his anger and make a veiled jab at Gu Weizhi when he saw Wen Zhuo suddenly put down his brush and get up to leave.
Gong Zhiyuan frowned, puzzled, but didn’t dare ask too much.
Naturally, Shen Chen and Xie Langyang hadn’t told him everything about their schemes, as the events of the previous life were too hard to explain.
Wen Zhuo left the cabinet office and walked slowly along the palace walls, as if taking a stroll, as if he had calculated exactly whom he would meet.
Sure enough, just as the last trace of red glow disappeared into the mountain ridges, he literally bumped into a triumphant Shen Ting.
Shen Ting had just descended from his sedan chair, followed by a reoutfitted Zhang Deyuan.
Zhang Deyuan no longer had the wandering air he’d possessed by the Dragon River. His Taoist robe was crisp, his long beard neatly combed, and as he walked, his sleeves billowed and his bell rang.
When he saw Wen Zhuo, he simply nodded slightly, one hand stroking his beard, appearing unafraid even when stepping into the imperial palace.
Wen Zhuo pretended it was a coincidence, stepped forward, and greeted him. “Third Highness.”
Shen Ting squinted, recognized Wen Zhuo, and had to put on a semblance of courtesy. “So it’s Chancellor Wen.”
Wen Zhuo’s gaze fell on Zhang Deyuan, and he asked with feigned curiosity, “Who has the Third Highness brought into the palace? Judging by the attire, could he be a Taoist?”
The palace was strictly off-limits to unrelated men. Even high-ranking court officials needed the emperor’s explicit permission to enter, so the question was reasonable enough.
“This is a man of great skill I invited from the Dragon River,” Shen Ting said. He wanted to show off a bit in front of the court official, so he spoke openly. “I intend to introduce him to His Majesty, so that His Majesty might find some peace of mind and better care for his health.”
Wen Zhuo’s brow furrowed slightly, a look of concern on his face. “Could it be about alchemy and immortality? Emperor Zhaoxi of old was obsessed with making elixirs to seek eternal life, but his health only deteriorated. Later, the imperial physicians discovered that those elixirs drained one’s lifespan. Your Highness must not grasp at straws in desperation.”
“You misunderstand, Chancellor,” Shen Ting sneered. “The Sweeping Sign Immortal’s skill is not alchemy. It is the ability to summon the dead and converse with the living.”
Wen Zhuo raised an eyebrow lightly. “A marvel indeed! I’ve never heard of such a thing. May I ask: when the immortal summons a soul, is it dressed in the clothes of its death, or in burial robes? Does its face appear as lively as when alive, or is it ashen and lifeless? Does it walk like ordinary people, or can it fly through the air and burrow into the earth?”
Zhang Deyuan was about to explain, but Shen Ting raised a hand to stop him.
“Eh, it’s not that miraculous,” Shen Ting waved his hand. “The soul appears on a curtain, only as a silhouette. The immortal must listen to what the soul says and relay it to the living. I saw it with my own eyes—it’s absolutely true.”
Zhang Deyuan smiled and stroked his beard again, looking thoroughly composed.
But Wen Zhuo showed no surprise. Instead, he was silent for a moment.
He looked at Shen Ting and said calmly, “Please come with me, Third Highness.”
Confused, Shen Ting still hobbled after Wen Zhuo on his crutch to a corridor nearby.
He urged impatiently, “Whatever you have to say, Chancellor, just say it. I still need to bring the immortal to see His Majesty. There’s no time to waste.”
Wen Zhuo shook out his sleeves, standing straight as a pine, and asked as if it were nothing, “When this man performs the soul-summoning, does he stand barefoot, stiff and motionless at first, and then, just as the soul is about to appear, does he begin to shift his feet stealthily?”
Shen Ting was startled, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.
Wen Zhuo had described it perfectly. But it was still possible that Wen Zhuo had gone to the Dragon River and watched the Sweeping Sign Taoist perform.
Before he could speak, Wen Zhuo continued, “And after the soul disappears, does this man refuse any help, insisting on personally taking down the curtain?”
This time, Shen Ting’s brows were completely furrowed. He stared at Wen Zhuo and asked in a deep voice, “Is there something wrong with that?”
Wen Zhuo suddenly let out a soft laugh. “Third Highness, do you believe that I can also summon a soul?”
Shen Ting’s frown deepened, and a foreboding feeling rose in his heart.
“What are you trying to say, Chancellor?”
“Third Highness, you’ve been deceived!” Wen Zhuo’s gaze was cold, his words deliberate. “This is nothing but a street trick from Bozhou, a lowly means for crooks to earn a living. I’ve seen plenty of it. If Your Highness doesn’t believe me, have him searched immediately. See if you can find a convex piece of glass and an almost invisible silk thread!”
Before Wen Zhuo even finished speaking, the cruel aura around Shen Ting could no longer be contained. His eyes shot out a venomous glare, fixed on Zhang Deyuan not far away.