Chapter 98#

Emperor Shunyuan had just lain down to rest when a eunuch rushed in to report that the Third Prince and the Sixth Prince had broken into a violent brawl at Qianying Gate.

He had no choice but to rise again, his face as dark as the bottom of a pot. Clutching his handkerchief, he coughed violently several times.

“Confine both of those unfilial sons to the rear chambers for three months, under supervision by the inner attendants, with no contact with anyone!”

He didn’t even need to ask the reason for the fight. It took no great intellect to guess that the earlier magic show had caused the trouble.

The Sixth Prince had a crooked heart, and the Third Prince was vicious by nature. Neither was innocent.

The reporting young eunuch hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice: “Your Majesty, both princes are injured. His Highness the Sixth Prince is worse off—he even had a tooth knocked out. Should we summon a physician to examine them first?”

Emperor Shunyuan waved his hand impatiently: “Let the physician go to the rear chambers. Don’t bother me with this!”

“And, Consort Yi is kneeling outside the hall, begging for an audience.”

“I won’t see her!” The emperor shut his eyes abruptly and lay back down on the bed, his voice filled with disgust. “Tell her to leave at once!”

Liu Quan narrowed his eyes from the side and shot a meaningful glance at the reporting eunuch, who understood and quickly withdrew.

Meanwhile, Shen Ting, having vented his anger by beating Shen Chen, gradually calmed down. When he heard of Emperor Shunyuan’s punishment, a hint of regret stirred within him.

Three months of confinement in the rear chambers, cut off from all outside news—wouldn’t that drive a man mad?

Shen Chen, on the other hand, was utterly panicked.

He was secretly planning the struggle for the succession and needed to stay constantly abreast of court dynamics. Moreover, Emperor Shunyuan had less than a year to live; every single day now was crucial. How could he afford to be isolated for three months? By the time he got out, everything would be over!

“O wan’ see ‘Emperor! O wan’ see ‘Emperor!” he wailed, his words slurred by the missing tooth.

Several imperial guards stepped forward and, without argument, hoisted him up and dragged him all the way to the abandoned rear chamber beside the Western Six Palaces.

On the way, Shen Chen’s veins bulged with rage as he shouted hoarsely at the limping Shen Ting: “Dis whole p’an is Wen Zhuo’s doing! You fool, we fought like two birds and a clam, an’ now Shen Zhi will be the fisherman who reaps de spoils!”

Shen Ting cast a contemptuous glance at the dark gap where his tooth had been and sneered: “Such a clumsy attempt to frame me, and you dare say it! Let me tell you, if President Wen hadn’t seen through your scheme today, I really would have fallen into your trap! If you hadn’t been so eager to jump out, I would almost have suspected the Fifth Brother, based on what that Sweeping Statue Hermit said!”

“He could see drough de p’an because it was his p’an! Dat Sweepin’ Statue Hermit is de one he hired!” Shen Chen was so furious he saw stars. Forgetting the boundaries of this life and the previous one, he nearly blurted out the whole chain of cause and effect.

Shen Ting’s smile turned colder: “Are you saying that President Wen controlled your mouth, forced you to make a scene in public, forced a Sweeping Statue Hermit you’d never met to frame the Fifth Brother, and then had to personally expose the scheme to rescue me from danger? Does Wen Wanshan have so little to do that he’d go to such trouble?”

“Dat’s exactly what he wants—to make us two bad eggs kill each oser, neither side a winner!” Shen Chen stamped his foot, his eyes almost splitting with rage.

Shen Ting spat in contempt: “Beating you was just what I wanted. I’d have crushed you today if I could! What the hell does President Wen have to do with it?”

Shen Chen’s eyes rolled back. A breath caught in his throat, and he fainted dead away.

The next day, Gong Zhiyuan rose early, feeling refreshed.

He had arranged to meet Luo Mingpu and Liu Chanming at the Grand Secretariat, planning to join forces that very day to drive out the troublesome Gu Weizhi and, in one fell swoop, firmly bring Liu Chanming into Shen Chen’s camp—just as the three of them had once worked together for the Crown Prince.

But when he arrived at the Grand Secretariat, he heard that the Third Prince and the Sixth Prince had fought fiercely at Qianying Gate the previous night, and Emperor Shunyuan had confined them both to the rear chambers for three months, not allowed to set foot outside the courtyard.

Gong Zhiyuan: “…”

The freshness vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by a grim shadow.

“Who would have thought that such an ordinary night could produce such appalling news!” Gu Weizhi had just finished the millet porridge brought by his attendant, eating it with pickled radish strips until his stomach was warm and his whole body comfortable. He couldn’t help but sigh.

Shangzhi Qin stood by, smirking, clearly enjoying the show.

Ever since the downfall of the Virtuous Prince, he had been disheartened and lost all ambition for advancement, simply going through the motions day by day.

But that didn’t stop him from enjoying the misfortunes of the former Crown Prince’s faction. The more miserable Gong Zhiyuan and Luo Mingpu felt, the happier he was. Hearing that Gong Zhiyuan’s second card had also been completely wrecked, he was so delighted he could have kissed Emperor Shunyuan on the spot.

Luo Mingpu paced in agitation, asking repeatedly: “What on earth happened! How could the two princes come to blows for no reason?”

Gong Zhiyuan himself didn’t know the details. There were too many secrets between Shen Chen and Xie Langyang that they didn’t share with him. He was no longer a core figure in this succession struggle.

“Let’s go find Xie Langyang and get to the bottom of it!” Gong Zhiyuan steadied himself and prepared to take Luo Mingpu and Liu Chanming to the Xie residence.

But after taking two steps forward, he realized Liu Chanming behind him hadn’t moved.

Gong Zhiyuan spun around sharply and saw Liu Chanming’s backside stuck to his chair as if glued, a memorial in his hands, his face buried deep in it, looking entirely unconcerned.

“Minister Liu,” Gong Zhiyuan called out in a deep, suppressed voice, anger simmering beneath.

Liu Chanming thought to himself: What a piece of work I chose! They want me to protect him? The guy looks hopeless. Good thing I never agreed easily.

He looked up, a fake smile plastered on his face, feigning ignorance: “Grand Secretary, I won’t meddle in disputes between princes. Lately, I’ve been cultivating a pure mind and few desires. I’ve visited Tanzhe Temple a few times and seen through everything. From now on, I’ll be content just to fulfill my duties in the Ministry of Rites.”

Gong Zhiyuan instantly understood Liu Chanming’s meaning. Liu Chanming didn’t think highly of Shen Chen and was politely declining, trying to distance himself.

In fact, Gong Zhiyuan had sensed from the beginning, when Liu Chanming hesitated, that winning him over might be difficult. But facing it now still stung.

Gong Zhiyuan took a deep breath and said coldly: “Very well, I won’t force the issue. Minister Liu, take care of yourself. Minister Luo, let’s go.”

Xie Langyang hadn’t slept all night and had come to the Imperial City early. He ran straight into Gong Zhiyuan and Luo Mingpu, who were hurrying along, just as he reached the Grand Secretariat.

From them, he learned the news of Shen Chen’s confinement.

Xie Langyang was stunned. He hadn’t expected the consequences to be so severe: “How could His Majesty be so ruthless, simply locking them away!”

Gong Zhiyuan’s face was dark, his voice barely a whisper: “The palace has sealed the information tightly. Right now, all I want to know is why they fought!”

Seeing the expressions on Gong Zhiyuan’s and Luo Mingpu’s faces, Xie Langyang knew that if he didn’t give them at least a general explanation today, they wouldn’t be appeased.

After a moment’s hesitation, gritting his teeth, he told them about the scheme: how he had invited Zhang Deyuan by Dragon River, and how they had planned to summon the ghost of Consort Chen to please the emperor during Shen Ting’s performance.

“But the plan went awry. Wen Zhuo exposed it in advance, and the Third Prince turned the tables, turning it against the Sixth Prince!” Xie Langyang’s voice was filled with frustration and regret.

Gong Zhiyuan was silent for a long time after hearing this, then said incredulously: “That’s a clever scheme. But how did Wen Zhuo find out? Has your side and His Highness’s side been so thoroughly infiltrated that it’s like a sieve, or has Wen Zhuo become an omniscient god?”

Xie Langyang averted his gaze and could only shake his head bitterly.

He couldn’t very well say that this scheme was one Wen Zhuo had devised in a previous life.

Gong Zhiyuan narrowed his eyes: “Are you and His Highness hiding something else from me?”

Xie Langyang didn’t dare meet his gaze and quickly bowed: “I beg my teacher, at the next regular court session, to earnestly petition His Majesty to release the Sixth Prince. This is a critical moment; he absolutely cannot be trapped in that rear chamber!”

Gong Zhiyuan let out a sudden cold laugh: “You’re happy to have this old man risk his face to help, but you keep secrets from me. Is it that you don’t trust me, or are you still holding a grudge because I once served the former Crown Prince?”

Xie Langyang bent even lower, almost touching the ground: “Teacher misunderstands. One day, your student will tell you everything from start to finish! But for now, Shen Zhi’s departure to Tianjin to handle maritime affairs is our last chance.”

Gong Zhiyuan didn’t press further. His calculating old eyes rested on Xie Langyang for a long time.

The source of Qingping Mountain had ceased to flow; the murky waves of Dragon River gradually calmed, and the water level no longer rose.

The Fire Sacrifice ceremony had come to an end; the eighteen hungry ghost rituals in the capital had all been extinguished. As the uproar subsided, the banks of Dragon River returned to their former quiet.

Mo Shu had gathered elite troops at the Ministry of War and set off for Songzhou, where a mutiny had broken out.

Shen Zhi’s departure for Tianjin had also arrived.

On the night before his departure, Shen Zhi first bid farewell to Consort Liang, then, carrying his bags, made a detour to the Wen residence.

Again it was the season when the crisp pears hung heavy on the trees. In the inner courtyard, the branches were lush, laden with bright green fruit that bent the boughs.

Liu Qiyin stood on a bamboo ladder, silver shears in hand, snipping ripe pears and tossing them into a bamboo basket below.

Catching sight of Shen Zhi entering the courtyard, she didn’t come down to bow. Instead, she leaned over, a mischievous smile on her face: “Your Highness isn’t leaving tonight, is he? Looks like I’ll have to change the menu—put away the preserved fruits, the autumn pear jam, and the iced pear candies.”

Shen Zhi smiled, playing along: “Oh? So Teacher has been eating a lot of sweets lately, has he? Got it, I’ll make a note of that for a good report.”

With that, he cheerfully entered Wen Zhuo’s bedchamber.

Jiang Manü scratched her head in confusion and said tactfully: “A’Liu, how can you lie? The Master hasn’t been eating much at all lately.”

Liu Qiyin plucked a fresh green pear leaf and flicked it onto her head, teasing: “Silly girl, do you think His Highness takes it seriously?”

Shen Zhi lifted the curtain and stepped inside to find Wen Zhuo reclining against a pillow, one arm lazily reaching out from under the blanket, a scroll loosely held in his hand.

The book was open to about a third of the way through, but Wen Zhuo was already fast asleep, looking thoroughly content.

Falling asleep reading this? How boring must this book be?

Shen Zhi stepped softly closer and gently parted the pages between his fingers to see the cover, which bore a few roughly printed characters: Essential Secrets of Treasure Hunting by Tomb-digging in Nanping.

Shen Zhi: “…”

Is the cat reading this to help him better understand me?

At the movement, Wen Zhuo’s eyelids fluttered slightly and slowly opened.

His eyes still held the daze of recent waking before slowly focusing and discerning Shen Zhi’s silhouette. Instinctively, he reached out, his hand grasping vaguely toward Shen Zhi’s shoulder, his voice hoarse: “What time is it? Has Your Highness come to say goodbye?”

Wen Zhuo had known for some time that Shen Zhi would leave the capital tomorrow, and this time he couldn’t go along.

Shen Zhi bent down, arms braced on either side of Wen Zhuo on the bed, trapping him beneath himself, and said with a smile: “Liu Qiyin told me that Teacher has been eating a lot of preserved fruits and iced pear candies lately, and skipped proper meals for lunch and dinner.”

Wen Zhuo’s eyes flew wide open, all drowsiness gone.

Shen Zhi looked at his suddenly alert expression, let out a low laugh, and kissed him on the lips. Instead of pulling away, he lingered, brushing against Wen Zhuo’s warm lips as he murmured: “Teacher isn’t taking care of himself again. How should we settle this score?”

Wen Zhuo froze for only an instant, then saw the laughter brewing in the depths of Shen Zhi’s eyes. He understood immediately: this was deliberate—an excuse to start something, a pretext for intimacy.

So instead of pulling back, he raised his hand to loop around Shen Zhi’s neck, pulling him closer.

His loose sleeve slid down his arm, revealing skin as white as snow. He looked up, meeting Shen Zhi’s deep gaze, and asked softly: “And how would Your Highness settle it?”

“Naturally, by bullying Teacher,” Shen Zhi said bluntly, as if stating something perfectly modest and reserved.

Wen Zhuo’s face was as thin as paper; the words made his whole body flush with heat. But he didn’t resist in the slightest. Instead, he buried his head in Shen Zhi’s neck, hiding his face tightly, his rapid breath spilling chaotically against his skin.

The smile in Shen Zhi’s eyes deepened. Without ceremony, his fingers slipped inside Wen Zhuo’s robe, precisely loosening the ties, peeling aside the sheer undergarment to find and fondle the delicate red bud.

Wen Zhuo shuddered violently, instinctively trying to flinch, but it was too late. Shen Zhi caught him and pulled him forward, pressing him close against his palm.

“…Your Highness!”

“Mmm, Your Highness is listening. Wanshan, keep your voice down. Liu Qiyin and the others are still in the inner courtyard.” Shen Zhi spoke calmly, answering every question, the very picture of a refined gentleman—if not for what his hands were doing.

“Close the book. Can’t let the sage see…” Wen Zhuo’s voice trembled violently at the end.

“What sage? The one who wrote Essential Secrets of Treasure Hunting by Tomb-digging in Nanping can’t be much of a sage.” Even as he said this, Shen Zhi calmly flipped the book shut.

He was still fully dressed, not a single crease in his robe, his leather belt still fastened tightly, not an inch loosened. But Wen Zhuo, held in his arms, was not so fortunate.

Wen Zhuo lost his composure above and below, unable to support himself, left to be manipulated by Shen Zhi. Through the fabric, he left shallow bite marks—some deeper, some lighter—on Shen Zhi’s neck, collarbone, chest, and shoulders.

By the end, Wen Zhuo’s thin robe had slipped completely to his waist, the slender lines of his back fully exposed in the glow of the setting sun.

Shen Zhi deliberately brushed aside his loose hair, letting the sunset bathe him even more thoroughly, revealing every bead of sweat rolling down his spine, every streak of moisture.

Wen Zhuo clung tightly to Shen Zhi, his knuckles white. He had never worn so little in front of Shen Zhi before, and it filled him with an extreme sense of shame—yet mixed with a kind of reckless, indulgent joy.

“I really don’t want to leave,” Shen Zhi murmured, lowering his head to kiss Wen Zhuo’s sweat-damp forehead. “But at least Shen Chen is locked in the rear chamber, so he can’t cause trouble for a while. Tianjin is close; I’ll try to be back within three months. Teacher, wait for me.”

Even as he spoke, he withdrew his wet fingers and traced gentle circles on Wen Zhuo’s dimples, making the man in his arms tremble again.

“Does Your Highness not want to?” Wen Zhuo didn’t lift his head; his face was still buried in Shen Zhi’s neck. But his hand fumbled, gently touching the place where Shen Zhi’s long birthmark was.

The setting sun was fierce, pouring down like Buddha’s light, exposing all his disarray with nowhere to hide. But he no longer cared about shame, or the possible pain. He was unwilling to let go; he insisted on one final moment of abandon.

During the Dragon River Fire Sacrifice, he had foreseen that Shen Chen’s scheme would fail and that he would make an enemy of Shen Ting. But he had not foreseen that Shen Ting would completely lose control and brawl with Shen Chen, landing them both in the rear chambers.

Gong Zhiyuan led the way, with Luo Mingpu and Xie Langyang following suit, along with several other officials, to plead for the release of Shen Ting and Shen Chen, hoping Emperor Shunyuan would relent.

Emperor Shunyuan refused.

This signaled a subtle shift in attitude.

Shen Zhi was to be away for about three months; Shen Ting and Shen Chen were to be confined for three months. Emperor Shunyuan wanted to ensure that, during this time, no one could interfere with Shen Zhi’s promotion of maritime trade.

Everything at court would remain as it was until Shen Zhi returned.

Jun Dingyuan, Mo Shu, and Gu Weizhi grasped this and couldn’t help but show relief in court.

Only Wen Zhuo was heavy-hearted.

He understood clearly: this meant that the Sixth Prince’s faction had truly reached a dead end. The “Ode to Wanshan”—the piece capable of stirring up a storm—would soon see the light of day.

He wasn’t sure how Emperor Shunyuan would react upon seeing that ode, nor was he certain of what his own fate would be afterward. So before that, he wanted more—to feel Shen Zhi more deeply, to engrave this person completely into his own bones and blood.