When Tang Shen had once achieved top honors in the imperial examinations and paraded through the streets on horseback, he had thought to himself that his greatest aspiration was to serve in the Ministry of Works.

After that, he entered officialdom, spending six years moving through various positions. When he was promoted to Right Deputy Imperial Censor of the Silver Pull Division, he had even mentioned to Tang Huang, “What I truly want is to serve in the Ministry of Works.” But those were just passing words—he had never seriously believed that he would actually end up there.

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Yet, fate was unpredictable. Now, he found himself exactly where he had once dreamed of being.

Attaining a third-rank position at the age of twenty-two was not entirely unprecedented during the reign of the current emperor. Wang Zhen had become Minister of Revenue at twenty-three, which was an even more shocking achievement.

The position of Right Vice Minister of Works was an interesting one. His predecessor was none other than Su Wenyun, who had just been promoted. Su Wenyun had taken the post at twenty-four, but since he had also served concurrently as Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, he primarily acted on imperial assignments and rarely visited the ministry.

Now that Tang Shen had taken over, the first thing he did was move back into Qinzheng Hall.

The place remained much as it had been in the past.

After two years away, little had changed. Among the four chief ministers, only Xu Bi had been promoted from Right Vice Prime Minister to Left Prime Minister, while former Minister of Justice Geng Shaoyun had become Right Vice Prime Minister. Many colleagues expressed their amazement at Tang Shen’s return, offering their congratulations. In just one day, his residence was overflowing with gifts.

The imperial court did not prohibit officials from exchanging gifts, as long as it was kept within acceptable bounds and did not attract the scrutiny of the Censorate.

Thus, the spring of the 33rd year of Kaiping passed in an atmosphere of quiet contentment.

By summer, however, disaster struck—the Yellow River flooded.

The Fourth Prince, Zhao Jing, sent word to the capital, requesting that the court dispatch officials for disaster relief.

Having served as Right Vice Prime Minister of Works for half a year, Tang Shen finally received his first major assignment. Zhao Fu ordered him to lead a team to Jizhou to manage the flood response, while the Ministries of Revenue and War handled relief efforts for the affected population.

Tang Shen immediately set out for Jizhou.

When Tang Huang learned that her elder brother was going to manage a flood crisis, she was astonished. “Brother, since when did you know anything about flood control?”

Tang Shen raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know either.”

“Huh?”

“What do you think officials in the Ministry of Works do?”

Tang Huang was confused.

Tang Shen chuckled. “I may only have a basic understanding of flood control, but I’m the Right Vice Minister of Works, not a laborer. On a chessboard, when have you ever seen the general charging into battle while the pawns remain behind?”

This was what it meant to be a high-ranking official. This was what it meant to wield power.

In his past life, Tang Shen had been an engineering student, but that didn’t mean he actually knew how to manage floods. His knowledge was limited to news reports of summer floods and the general principles of flood prevention—diversion was better than blockage, and a well-designed drainage system was key.

But in the ancient world, such solutions were far more difficult to implement. Fortunately, with a smaller population, simply relocating people from flood-prone areas often resulted in less severe disasters than in later eras.

In July, Tang Shen and his team departed for Jizhou. He did not return until September.

When he arrived back, Wang Zhen studied him for a long moment before pulling him into an embrace, distressed. “You’ve lost weight, and gotten darker.”

Tang Shen laughed, pushing him away. “Do you know who I met in Jizhou?”

“Who?”

“Sir.”

Wang Zhen’s expression showed genuine surprise.

Tang Shen had held back this revelation for so long, just to see that exact look on Wang Zhen’s face. Now that he was satisfied, he explained, “Sir spent the past year traveling through the southern provinces, exploring rivers and mountains. But since he’s getting older, he can no longer visit every place he wishes, so he finally decided to return to Changzhou. By chance, he passed near Jizhou and, upon hearing that I was there, came to see me. He was accompanied by his two page boys, Wen Shu and Fu Qin.”

Without betraying any emotion, Wang Zhen pulled him back into his arms. “Fu Qin? Am I not Fu Qin?” (TN: Fuqin means “playing the zither,” but also sounds like “father.”)

Tang Shen smirked. “You play the zither, but is your music as good as Wen Shu’s?”

It was well known that their teacher’s two page boys had ironic names—Wen Shu (Book Reader) was skilled at playing the zither, while Fu Qin (Zither Player) was skilled at reading.

Wang Zhen chuckled. “So, little Junior Brother wants me to play a tune for him?” As he spoke, he pulled Tang Shen toward the study. “What would you like to hear? Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix or Longing for Each Other?”

Tang Shen burst into laughter. “All you ever think about is playing chess and plucking strings. Can’t you say something more interesting?”

Wang Zhen sighed dramatically, feigning sorrow. “Alas, you must find me dull. It’s true—I have spent my life reading books and learning the arts, while you have seen and experienced so many fascinating things. I heard, for instance, that you once sold a kind of fruit juice—sweet, sour, and refreshing. Such a thought would never even have crossed my mind.”

Tang Shen’s eyes widened. “Where did you hear that?”

Wang Zhen merely blinked, offering no answer.

Tang Shen wasn’t about to let it slide. He resorted to every trick—coaxing, threatening, even playing the seduction card—until Wang Zhen finally surrendered. He pressed Tang Shen’s face against his chest and murmured, “Enough mischief. It’s still broad daylight—are you truly so shameless?”

Tang Shen immediately behaved. “Then tell me—where did you hear it?”

Wang Zhen sighed, knowing he was doomed to be at this man’s mercy for life. Smiling, he finally confessed, “From your servant, Yao San.”

Tang Shen’s eyes widened further.

Wait—how were Wang Zhen and Yao San even connected?!

Before he could process the revelation, Wang Zhen leaned in, pressing his lips to Tang Shen’s neck. Between feather-light kisses, he murmured pitifully, “When I heard about it, I realized how dull and meaningless my life has been. Look at me—I cannot wash clothes or sweep floors, nor can I cook a decent meal. I have lived over thirty years, and looking back, I have accomplished nothing.”

Tang Shen couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this was off. If Wang Zhen claimed to be an underachiever, anyone who heard it would have every right to scoff.

Wang Zhen continued, “So you see, I haven’t seen every mountain or tasted every herb. I didn’t even know what fruit juice was until I heard about yours.”

Tang Shen finally understood. “So… you want to try fruit juice?”

Wang Zhen’s eyes lit up. He beamed. “Jing Ze, are you saying you’ll make me some?”

“…Wait, I never said that.”

“I am overjoyed!”

Tang Shen: “…”

Fruit juice wasn’t anything special. Given the production methods of the era and Tang Shen’s half-baked knowledge of making fruit vinegar, the juice he had sold in the Tang Family Village had been popular simply because the villagers had never tasted anything better.

Wang Zhen, however, had been raised in luxury, accustomed to the finest wines and delicacies. Yet, after taking a sip of the juice, he sighed in admiration. “Sweet and refreshing, with a lingering fragrance—truly delightful.”

Tang Shen was skeptical. He took a sip himself.

“Is it really that good?”

Wang Zhen kissed his forehead and said, “Because it was made by you, for me.”

After returning to the capital, Tang Shen spent eight out of ten nights staying at the Minister Residence. Their relationship was passionate and affectionate, like honey dissolving in warm oil. Wang Zifeng was remarkably good at sweet-talking, leaving Tang Shen utterly captivated. At one point, he even started doubting himself: What kind of fortune did I stumble upon to earn Wang Zifeng’s favor?

He nearly felt unworthy of him.

When Wang Zhen learned of this, he regretted it deeply.

“Everything requires moderation,” he murmured, writing down the words ‘patience is key’ before sighing. “When will he take more initiative… at a certain time and place?”

Determined, Wang Zhen had the phrase carved onto a plaque and hung it in his study as a daily reminder.

Tang Shen’s career was smooth, and his love life was blissful—he was flourishing in both romance and politics.

However, on the twelfth day of the tenth month in the 33rd year of Kaiping, just days after the emperor’s birthday, something changed.

That morning, as they dressed in court robes, Wang Zhen casually adjusted Tang Shen’s collar and said, as if in passing, “A few days ago, Li Jingde sent a military report from Youzhou. He mentioned a minor skirmish between Song and Liao forces. In his words…”

Tang Shen, surprised by the sudden mention of Li Jingde and Youzhou’s military affairs, asked, “What did he say?”

“He wrote: ‘The sky burned with chaotic fire as Liao arrows rained down in a dense onslaught.’ Do you know how the Song army broke through the encirclement?”

“How?”

“They charged forward with unwavering resolve, seeing nothing but the path ahead.”

From the very first sentence, Tang Shen knew—this was no ordinary military report. Wang Zhen had a deeper meaning behind his words. Grasping his hand, Tang Shen looked up and asked, “Senior Brother, what’s really going on?”

Wang Zhen lowered his gaze. A few years ago, he might have told Tang Shen, ‘Don’t ask. This has nothing to do with you.’ But now, he thought of the plaque in his study, of things Wang Quan had said to him, and of things he had said in return.

The person he loved was never meant to be someone who lived under protection.

He pulled Tang Shen into an embrace and whispered three words: “The Silver Pull Division.”

Tang Shen’s eyes widened.

“Jing Ze, this time, do not act recklessly.”

Tang Shen understood, but the urgency in his heart spread like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.

By the time morning court began, everything appeared calm.

Standing among the third-rank civil officials, Tang Shen lifted his gaze and saw Wang Zhen at the very front, beside Wang Quan. As if nothing had happened. As if there was no pressing crisis that required them to charge forward with unwavering resolve.

But just as court was about to be dismissed, Zhao Fu raised his hand, signaling Ji Fu to read an imperial decree.

Ji Fu’s sharp, high-pitched voice echoed through the grand hall.

“…Starting next year, in consideration of the hardships of the people and the successful implementation of the Military Silver Exchange Bank under the Ministry of War, His Majesty seeks harmony and unity with the common people…”

“The thirty-six Military Silver Exchange Banks under the Ministry of War are to be abolished and replaced by the Great Song Silver Bank.”

“…His Majesty decrees that the Great Song Silver Bank shall serve the people and benefit the realm.”

As Ji Fu finished reading, his hands clenched tightly around the decree, his forehead glistening with sweat.

A deathly silence filled Zichen Hall.

Tang Shen’s body tensed, not daring to breathe. No one knew how much time passed before a faint sound of footsteps broke the silence.

Everyone lifted their heads.

From a distance, Tang Shen saw a tall, lean figure step forward, standing before the assembled officials. His posture was like an unyielding mountain—proud, unwavering, and resolute.

Wang Zifeng raised his jade tablet and spoke in a clear, warm voice.

“I accept the decree.”

Since Youzhou, Shengjing, and all Military Silver Exchange Banks fell under Wang Zhen’s jurisdiction, it was only natural that he stepped forward.

Now, only the Ministry of Justice’s jurisdiction over the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division remained.

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Yu Chaosheng stood frozen in place, visibly taken aback.

A moment later, another figure stepped forward from Wang Zhen’s left.

Left Prime Minister Xu Bi, holding his own jade tablet, spoke in a calm and steady voice, his expression as placid as a still lake.

“Your Majesty, I must object.”

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Tang Shen revealed Tang Huang’s true origins. After finishing, even he felt a bit unfamiliar with the story.

All these years, neither he nor Tang xiucai had ever treated Tang Huang as an outsider—they had always seen her as family. After clarifying the matter, Tang Shen was lost in thought for a moment before saying, “Honestly, this doesn’t matter anymore. Ah Huang is my real sister.” Pausing, he then looked up at Wang Zhen. “Senior Brother, you won’t spread this, will you?”

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As of now, only the two of them knew about this.

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

Tang Shen nodded. He had only asked casually—there was no reason for Wang Zhen to go around telling people.

What he didn’t expect was that, far from exposing the secret, Minister Wang was already contemplating how to find Tang Huang a good match. If she were merely Tang Shen’s sister, that would be one thing. But now, with the added status of a “child bride”… Minister Wang had never doubted his own charm, nor had he ever considered that Tang Shen might develop feelings for his so-called sister.

However… a child bride.

Minister Wang smiled faintly, saying nothing.

Since he was busy with official duties, he couldn’t handle this matter personally. Instead, he penned a letter to Jinling, addressed to the current head of the Langya Wang clan—his great-grandmother, the esteemed old Madam Wang.

The old matriarch had her own ways of handling such affairs. When she received Wang Zhen’s letter, the beginning was filled with words of longing for his family, making no mention of Tang Huang’s marriage. Instead, it was a lengthy outpouring of sentiment, expressing how much he missed his great-grandmother.

Tears welled up in the elderly woman’s eyes. “Zi Feng must be suffering in Shengjing. He was so thin when he returned last year—he must have been bullied terribly.”

By the time she reached the end of the letter, she had already made up her mind. Summoning her daughters-in-law, they discussed the matter thoroughly before drafting two responses—one to Wang Zhen and another to the Right Prime Minister’s residence, addressed to the Right Prime Minister’s wife.

That evening, Right Prime Minister Wang Quan sought out Wang Zhen, pointing at him in exasperation. “You! For such a minor matter, you could have just spoken to me or your Second Aunt. Why go through such a roundabout way and write to Jinling first?”

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “Uncle, would it be proper etiquette for me to speak directly to you about this?”

Wang Quan was momentarily speechless.

True, it wasn’t strictly proper etiquette. But knowing Wang Zifeng, could that really be the only reason? Surely, he had some hidden agenda!

Indeed, Wang Zhen had his reasons.

First, by omitting Tang Huang’s origins in his letter, he ensured that once the old matriarch acknowledged her, Tang Huang would be fully recognized as Tang Shen’s biological sister. Second, he deliberately wrote to his family in advance to give them a heads-up. Not all Wang clan members in Jinling knew about his relationship with Tang Shen—most only knew that he had no interest in women, but they weren’t yet aware that he had already found someone he cared for.

Minister Wang gazed at the moon, letting out a long sigh. He truly had to go to great lengths for his dear little junior brother.

Meanwhile, Tang Huang remained unaware that the Right Prime Minister’s wife had already begun scouting eligible young men for her—not to force a marriage upon her, but simply to give her more options, allowing her to meet more young men of good character. If she wasn’t interested, no one would pressure her.

As the year-end approached, the accounts from Xixia Tower and Zhenbao Pavilion were compiled, and the managers from Gusu made their way north to Shengjing.

This year, Tang Shen completely entrusted these matters to Tang Huang, without getting involved himself.

The young lady handled everything flawlessly. On the tenth day of the twelfth lunar month, when the managers were about to depart, she gathered them together and said, “Seven years ago, our Tang family established Tang’s Logistics in Gusu and began selling Golden Wisp and soap. Since then, business has flourished day by day.”

The managers praised, “It is all thanks to the boss’s wise leadership.”

Dressed in a simple yellow dress, Tang Huang remained composed despite their flattery. She took a sip of tea before continuing, “There’s no need to praise me. I only took over the family business in the past two years—before that, it was my brother handling everything. Over these years, I’ve seen a lot and have come to a realization. Do you know why our Tang family has succeeded in business? Why we have reached the scale we have today?”

The managers replied, “Please enlighten us, my lady.”

“Because we, above all else, value time.”

“Everyone knows about Tang’s Logistics. Initially, it was barely profitable. But my brother used it as an advertisement to spread awareness. Through Tang’s Logistics, the people of Gusu came to know about Golden Wisp and soap. The subsequent benefits of this move were immeasurable. And that was just the beginning.

“Xixia Tower benefits from Tang’s Logistics by always having fresher ingredients than other restaurants. Later, Baibao Pavilion was able to gather rare treasures from all over the country in a single store, all thanks to Tang’s Logistics.

“This is the time we have saved.”

She continued, “Two years ago, I implemented a system in our workshops where each worker focuses on a single task. Mastery leads to efficiency, allowing them to work faster and save more time. Over time, even if each worker saves just the time of one cup of tea, imagine the effect multiplied by a hundred workers.”

She set down her cup with a crisp clink on the wooden table. “Today, I will summarize the reasons behind our family’s success into three key points. First, the cultivation of skilled artisans and staff. Second, the keen eye to seize opportunities. And third, the optimization of time.”

She gazed intently at them. “The Tang family has come this far, but how we continue to grow from here depends on all of you. Next year, when we meet again, I hope to hear your own strategies for development. The Tang family is not just my brother’s and mine—it belongs to all of you as well.”

With a bright, confident smile, she asked, “Do you understand?”

The managers, stunned, stared at the young lady at the head of the table. For the first time, they dared not underestimate her.

Someone stepped forward and cupped his hands. “I understand.”

The next moment, all the managers echoed in unison, “We understand.”

After they left, Tang Huang leaned back in her chair, wiping the sweat from her palms.

“Brother, I hope, as you said, these men will come up with good ideas. You always say that strength lies in numbers. If we truly want to grow, we can’t do it alone.”

Much later, when Tang Shen learned of the speech she had given that day, he was astonished. He had merely told her to encourage the managers to innovate—after all, technological advancement was the true path to progress. But none of these words had come from him.

That, however, was a matter for another time.

On the eve of the 32nd year of Kaiping, New Year’s Eve passed quietly, even a little desolately.

The night before, Emperor Zhao Fu hosted a banquet at the palace for his ministers, as per tradition. However, on New Year’s Eve itself, none of the three princes returned to the capital.

Not that they didn’t want to return—though, in truth, they were indeed fearful. The staged coup in the previous year’s first lunar month was still fresh in their minds. Though the emperor had not punished them severely, instead making scapegoats of the monk Shanting and Prime Minister Ji, the lesson was clear.

After that terrifying precedent, none of the three princes dared to set foot before Zhao Fu again with any thoughts of the throne.

However, they did not dare to offend their unpredictable father either.

In mid-December, the three princes submitted petitions requesting to return to the capital, expressing their desire to do so.

Zhao Fu read their memorials with an unreadable expression. After a long silence, he let out a deep sigh and, as if joking, said to Ji Fu, “Look at them. Clearly, they don’t dare to return, yet they still have to ask for my permission, afraid I might be displeased. This is truly a case of being too clever for their own good—so clever they’ve become fools.”

Ji Fu dared not interfere in matters between the emperor and his sons. He only lowered his head in silence. Yet, as he secretly glanced at Zhao Fu out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but think: Your Majesty, have you noticed that you, too, seem to have changed?

None of the three princes returned to the capital, and the imperial family banquet on New Year’s Eve was attended only by Prince Jing’s family. The occasion was cold and cheerless.

Throughout the banquet, Zhao Fu did not smile even once. After it ended, he immediately rose and left in a huff.

Ji Fu quickly followed behind him, but as he gazed at the emperor’s solitary figure, he suddenly understood the true meaning of a certain phrase.

The solitary and lonely ruler.

Perhaps, from the very beginning, he had always been alone.

On the nineteenth day of the first month in the 33rd year of Kaiping, barely ten days after officials had resumed court duties, Tang Shen received an imperial decree.

This year’s huishi in Shengjing would be overseen by Yu Chaosheng, the Minister of Justice and Assistant Minister of the Palace Secretariat. In addition, over twenty officials below the third rank were selected as deputy examiners. Among them, Tang Shen held one of the highest ranks.

He still remembered the first time he had met Yu Chaosheng at the Shengjing Examination Hall years ago, when Yu Chaosheng had just returned to the capital as the Right Vice Minister of Personnel. Back then, both of them had served as deputy examiners under the chief examiner, Minister of Personnel Shen Yun.

Now, years later, they found themselves in the same roles once again. Before the examination began, Yu Chaosheng led the officials in paying respects to the statue of Confucius.

Tang Shen followed behind him, bowing in reverence.

After the ritual, as the examinees entered the examination hall, Yu Chaosheng glanced at Tang Shen. Their eyes met, and both men exchanged a smile.

Under Yu Chaosheng’s competent oversight, the examination proceeded smoothly, with not a single issue arising. Among this year’s candidates, several were already well known for their literary talent.

While grading, Tang Shen came across an exceptionally well-written essay. When he finally lifted the seal covering the candidate’s name, he sighed in realization. “So it’s a scholar from the Su family of Northern Zhili.”

The Su family of Northern Zhili was a prestigious aristocratic clan. The highest-ranking official in the family was Su Wenyun, a third-rank official who currently served as the Right Vice Minister of Works and Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review.

Yet, within just half a month—before the dianshi even took place—Su Wenyun was smoothly promoted. He was elevated to Assistant Minister of the Privy Council and concurrently Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, attaining a second-rank position.

Su Wenyun’s promotion came as no surprise to anyone. Even Tang Shen sometimes wondered when the emperor would decide to promote him.

As expected, once Su Wenyun’s promotion was announced, the entire court offered their congratulations.

Yet, barely a month later, right after the dianshi concluded, another imperial decree was issued.

“Tang Shen, Court Gentleman Consultant and Right Deputy Imperial Censor of the Silver Pull Division, is diligent and meritorious, having presided over two rounds of imperial examinations and deeply understanding Our intentions. We hereby promote him to Right Vice Minister of Works and Right Deputy Imperial Censor of the Silver Pull Division, a third-rank official, effective immediately.”

The court was left in shock. Even Wang Zhen had not anticipated this.

Tang Shen himself was so taken aback that he hesitated to accept the decree. It wasn’t until the eunuch delivering the edict chuckled and reminded him, “Tang daren, don’t let your excitement get the best of you—accept the decree first,” that Tang Shen finally came to his senses and expressed his gratitude.

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The officials were stunned because Tang Shen was only twenty-two years old, yet the emperor had truly promoted him to a third-rank official.

Tang Shen was stunned because he had actually become the Right Vice Minister of Works.

Alone, he couldn’t help but laugh wryly.

“Fate really likes to play tricks on people.”

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That night, Tang Shen rode a carriage to the Western Expedition Marshal’s residence for the banquet.

The Northwest was a land of yellow sands. Even in August, the sky was still filled with swirling dust. People had to wear thick clothing and wrap their heads in veils to shield themselves from the northern winds carrying sand. By the time Tang Shen arrived at the Marshal’s residence, the sun had yet to fully set, and the last remnants of daylight shone from the west. Li Jingde was roasting a large, fat ox over an open flame, skewered on an iron spit.

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The firelight illuminated the general’s thick beard, making his sharp eyes appear even more intense as he focused entirely on cooking.

A servant came over to inform him of Tang Shen’s arrival. Only then did Li Jingde lift his head and wave enthusiastically. “You’re finally here. See this ox? I picked it myself just for you. Like it?”

The Song Dynasty did not forbid the consumption of beef, and Tang Shen had been in this era long enough, moreover his own Xixia Tower even served hotpot beef. Yet, he had never seen an entire roasted ox served like this before.

Li Jingde was truly an extraordinary man.

Tang Shen asked, “Why is the general roasting the ox himself?”

Li Jingde motioned for Tang Shen to sit and replied casually, “What’s the big deal? Roasting an ox is nothing. When we march in battle, there’s often no meat to eat at all. I’ve spent days surviving on wild greens and hot water just to fill my belly. Wild vegetable soup is already considered a luxury. I remember twelve years ago when we clashed with the Liao army in a canyon—we were trapped for sixteen days! We even had to eat tree bark back then.”

Tang Shen thought to himself: I only asked why you were roasting the ox. How did this turn into a survival story?

Not everyone had the honor of tasting meat personally roasted by Li Jingde. The general sliced off a juicy piece of beef, sprinkled some salt on it, and handed it to Tang Shen. Taking a bite, Tang Shen found the meat tender and flavorful—though a bit mild, it had a unique taste. He sincerely praised, “The general’s roasting skills are excellent.”

Li Jingde laughed heartily. “Then eat more.”

The two enjoyed roasted meat and strong liquor. After a few sips, Tang Shen put his cup down and said, “I have a low tolerance for alcohol, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up.”

Li Jingde immediately responded, “Then you better stop drinking! If you get drunk, it’ll ruin my plans.”

Tang Shen paused slightly. He discreetly observed Li Jingde, wondering if the general had actually invited him here for a reason. It didn’t seem like it. Li Jingde was a straightforward warrior—he never hid his thoughts. If he had something to discuss, would he really go through all this trouble instead of just speaking his mind?

The next moment, Li Jingde proved Tang Shen’s assessment of him to be entirely correct. “Actually, I called you here today to talk about the Liao people.”

As expected—this is the Li Jingde I know!

Hearing this, Tang Shen glanced around. Unnoticed until now, the attendants in the marshal’s residence had quietly left the courtyard.

Li Jingde had come prepared.

Tang Shen replied cautiously, “I do not understand the general’s meaning.”

“You don’t understand? How could you not? You civil officials always think about complicated things and talk in circles. Take that Su Wenyun, for example—he dislikes me, but so what? Will his hatred make me lose a piece of flesh? I can curse him to his face, call him a pansy boy, and what can he do? Curse me back? Never.” Li Jingde took another bite of meat and continued, “See, I digress again. I thought you were different from those guys like Wang Zifeng and Su Wenyun, but it turns out that you’re following in their footsteps, Tang Shen.”

Tang Shen, originally maintaining his cautious stance, couldn’t help but chuckle at the accusation. “General, I truly do not understand your meaning.”

“Truly don’t?”

“I don’t.”

Li Jingde scratched his head. “Then let me put it simply—when are we going to kill those Liao bastards? I’ve wanted to fight them for years.”

Tang Shen was momentarily silent before replying, “It cannot be rushed.”

Li Jingde widened his eyes. “Not rushed? It’s already been so many years!”

Tang Shen explained, “General, dealing with the Liao is not a matter for me alone. I have no military experience, nor have I ever led troops in battle. But even the common folk know that the Song are wealthy, while the Liao are hardy warriors. They are a people born on horseback, and every man among them is a soldier. Over the past twenty-two years, we have won many victories in the Northwest, but that does not mean we can truly defeat the Liao.”

Li Jingde chewed his beef in silence.

“To destroy them, we must start from within,” Tang Shen continued. After a brief pause, he reconsidered his words, finding them too absolute. In reality, given the current strength of the Song army, it would be difficult to bring down the Liao within the next twenty years. After all, even a weakened camel is still bigger than a horse. Even if the Song had the upper hand now, the moment the Liao regained their footing, the tide of battle could shift drastically. He amended, “To reclaim lost land, does it really matter if we wait a few more years, General?”

Li Jingde took a large bite of meat and downed his wine. “To you, Tang Jingze, I’ll drink to that—I believe you.”

Perhaps it was the heat from the fire roasting the meat, but Tang Shen felt a surge of warmth in his chest. He raised his own wine jug. “To the general.”

What Tang Shen did not expect was that Li Jingde’s alcohol tolerance was so low!

It was Li Jingde who had insisted on drinking together, yet after just two jugs, he became completely drunk. He threw an arm around Tang Shen’s shoulders, calling him brother. After a bit more drinking, he even started sobbing. “Tang Jingze, life is so hard for me, you know that? Your scheming, cunning senior brother Wang Zifeng—when you return to the capital, talk to him for me, will you? Tell him to give me more money. I’m suffering, I really am… wuuwuuwuu…”

Tang Shen panicked, fumbling to comfort him. “General, please don’t cry.”

But Li Jingde only cried harder. “You civil officials always bully us! We warriors are so honest, yet you all keep taking advantage of us! Wuuwuuwuu…”

He sobbed and wailed until he finally passed out. Only then did Tang Shen manage to make his escape.

However, just as Tang Shen left the Marshal’s residence, the supposedly unconscious Li Jingde suddenly sat upright and craned his neck toward the door. “Is he gone?”

A servant handed him a warm towel. “Yes, General, he’s gone.”

Li Jingde roughly wiped away his tears, nearly rubbing his face raw. He sighed, “Ai, it’s so tough. I have to act like this just to get some money. Luckily, after crying in front of the Grand Marshal so many times, I’ve gotten used to it. The tears come naturally now. Tell me—was my performance convincing? He didn’t suspect anything, right?”

The servant: “…”

General, you are truly one of a kind!

Meanwhile, back at his own residence, Tang Shen sighed deeply. “The Northwestern army has it so hard… Is Li Jingde really that short on funds?”

Tang Shen was almost certain Li Jingde had been faking his drunkenness, but for a man of his rank to cry in front of others—even if it was an act—it was still heartbreaking!

“Is my senior brother really this cruel? When I return to the capital, I should bring it up with him.”

Little did he know, in the northwest military camp, Li Jingde wept once every three days and had a full breakdown once every ten. If he didn’t cry, considering all the things he had done, Grand Preceptor Zhou would have already demoted him from a second-rank Marshal straight down to a common foot soldier!

At the end of August, Tang Shen returned to Shengjing.

Unlike the Northwest, Shengjing was scorching hot, with the blazing sun making the heat unbearable.

As soon as Tang Shen arrived home in the evening, Aunt Yao prepared a table full of chilled melons and ushered him to eat.

These melons closely resembled modern-day watermelons, likely an ancient variety that had not yet been selectively cultivated. As everyone was eating and chatting, Tang Huang suddenly froze, exclaiming, “I completely forgot!” She immediately put down her melon and dared not take another bite.

Tang Shen and Yao San were both bewildered.

Aunt Yao, however, covered her mouth and chuckled. “I’ll go make Ah Huang some brown sugar water.”

Yao San still didn’t understand, but Tang Shen, having modern medical knowledge, quickly caught on.

That night, after eating just two slices of chilled melon, Tang Huang indeed fell ill and couldn’t get out of bed. Originally, Tang Shen had planned to spend the night at the Minister Residence, but seeing her condition, he had no choice but to stay and keep his sister company.

When Tang Shen entered the room, he stood beside the bed, looking at Tang Huang.

“Feeling any better?”

The young lady was deeply embarrassed, hiding her face with a pillow. “Much better, much better! Brother, why did you come in? Aunt Yao was just saying a few days ago that now that I’m seventeen, even though we’re siblings, you shouldn’t just walk in like this!”

Tang Shen was speechless. “You do realize we’re siblings, right?”

Tang Huang righteously declared, “But I haven’t married yet!”

Tang Shen chuckled. “So you do know you haven’t married yet?”

Tang Huang was at a loss for words and buried her face back into the pillow.

Tang Shen hadn’t planned to bring it up, but now that the topic had surfaced, he realized that Tang Huang was already seventeen.

In the Song Dynasty, it wasn’t uncommon for girls to remain unmarried at seventeen, or even at eighteen. However, most would already be engaged by this age. Tang Shen had promised her that she could decide her own marriage.

“When do you plan to make that decision?”

Tang Huang peeked out from the pillow with only her eyes showing. “What decision?”

Tang Shen pulled up a chair and sat down. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled slightly and said simply: “Marriage.”

Tang Huang: “…”

“Brother, have you noticed that you’re becoming more and more like the Minister?”

“Hm?”

“…You look even more like him now!”

Tang Shen suddenly burst into laughter. He certainly didn’t want to be like Wang Zhen—it felt strange just to think about it. Clearing his throat, he spoke seriously, “I’m asking sincerely. When do you plan to decide for yourself?”

Tang Huang remained silent. After a long time, she whispered, “What if I want to stay at home forever?”

“Then stay.”

Tang Huang was surprised. “Brother!”

Tang Shen sighed and ruffled her hair. “I said you could make the decision, so of course, it’s entirely up to you.”

Overjoyed, Tang Huang called out “Brother” three times in excitement.

The next day, Tang Shen went to the Minister Residence, where Wang Zhen was reading.

Minister Wang was a man of refined taste—reading under the moonlight. Just watching him made Tang Shen feel like his eyes would start hurting. Leaning over to glance at the book, Tang Shen scoffed, “What’s this? The Analects? Don’t you know it by heart?”

Wang Zhen sighed, “Reading a book a hundred times reveals its true meaning.”

Tang Shen started reflecting on whether he was being too frivolous. Maybe he should read more instead of relying on his eidetic memory and acting carelessly.

Before he could continue the thought, Wang Zhen suddenly closed the book, leaned in, and planted a kiss on his cheek. Laughing softly, he said, “Of course, I was just waiting for you.”

Tang Shen: “…”

So you really were just showing off!

After dinner, the two of them talked, and Tang Shen brought up Tang Huang’s situation.

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly. “If she doesn’t wish to marry, then let her be.”

Tang Shen studied his expression.

Wang Zhen asked, “Is something wrong with that?”

Tang Shen: “…I really have become like you!”

Wang Zhen didn’t know the context and remained puzzled. But the Minister merely smiled, unfazed, as he picked up his teacup and took a sip.

Tang Shen sighed. “Actually, there’s a secret—one that only I know. Even Ah Huang doesn’t know.”

“Oh?”

After a brief hesitation, Tang Shen relented. “Ah Huang isn’t actually my biological sister. My mother found her and took her in when she was just a year old. The villagers all assumed she was my mother’s child because my parents had just returned from visiting relatives in the provincial capital, bringing Ah Huang back with them. But the truth is, my mother only wanted to raise her as a future child bride for me. According to my mother, Ah Huang’s parents had passed away from illness, and she had no remaining relatives.”

Wang Zhen hadn’t expected this revelation. He was surprised and asked, “A child bride?”

“What are you thinking?” Tang Shen scoffed. “Ah Huang is my sister.” He continued, “But within two years, my mother passed away. My father, being the stuffy scholar that he was, disliked the uncultured practice of child brides and raised Ah Huang as my sister instead.

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“In the countryside, people often give children rough-sounding names, believing that it wards off bad luck and ensures survival. ‘Ah Huang’ is one of those crude-sounding names. But my father was particular about naming. He named me Shen, from the phrase ‘A gentleman must be cautious even when alone.’ He was very deliberate about it.

“But since Ah Huang was an adopted child, my father never gave her a proper name—just called her whatever came to mind.” (TN: ‘Ah Huang’ 阿黄=literally meaning “yellow” and a name often used to give to dogs. The “huang” in ‘Tang Huang’ 唐璜 is a homonym with a much nicer meaning “semi-circular jade ornament”l)

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The family letter was sent from Gusu Prefecture to Shengjing, and by the time it reached Youzhou, it was already May.

When Tang Shen received the letter from Gusu, he finally learned that after resigning from office, Fu Wei had even traveled south to Jiangnan for leisure.

The thirty-second year of Kaiping was destined to be different from previous years. Left Prime Minister Ji had been stripped of his position, and Fu Wei had retired from court. These once-powerful ministers, who had wielded immense influence over the imperial court, were now stepping down one by one. Perhaps this also symbolized the gradual passing of the Kaiping Emperor’s era.

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At the end of May, Wang Zhen returned to the capital first.

In just two years, the Military Silver Exchange Bank had been established across all thirty-six provinces of the Song Dynasty, securing its foothold. Originally, the Silver Pull Division only managed the military funds of the Northwestern Army, but starting this year, the pay for the Southwestern Army and various regional forces also flowed into its treasury.

The Silver Pull Division was no longer limited to Youzhou. Wang Zhen’s return to the capital was to oversee the construction of the division’s headquarters in the imperial city.

Tang Shen escorted him out of Youzhou. At the Ten-Mile Pavilion outside the city, Wang Zhen lifted the carriage curtain and smiled at him.
“Little Junior Brother, no need to see me off.”

Tang Shen replied, “Senior Brother, safe travels.”

With many officials present, the two couldn’t exchange private words. Wang Zhen gave Tang Shen a deep look, then let the curtain fall and departed in his carriage.

Not long after Wang Zhen’s return to the capital, the emperor issued an edict to establish Silver Pull Divisions in both Shengjing and Jiangnan.

In an instant, the division’s influence reached its peak.

With immense power in his hands, Wang Zhen even made the Right Prime Minister Wang Quan tread carefully. When officials spoke of the “Wang faction,” the first name that came to mind was no longer Wang Quan but Wang Zhen.

Officials and government officers alike understood how to serve those in power. Seeing Wang Zhen’s rising influence, Minister of Works Yuan Mu, who had previously been at odds with him, chose to yield. Completely disregarding past conflicts, he dedicated himself to constructing the Silver Pull Division headquarters in Shengjing.

Within a month, the divisions in Shengjing and Jiangnan were completed.

During a private family banquet, Right Prime Minister Wang Quan remarked to his nephew, “Look at them—this time, they surely wouldn’t dare to skim off any funds.” He paused, realizing this might not be entirely true, and added, “Even if they did embezzle, it would be at most ten percent. And that’s only because they’re working for you. Everyone knows that you, Wang Zifeng, are the most influential first-rank minister of the moment.”

Wang Zhen raised a brow in mild surprise. “The construction of the Silver Pull Division is a task for His Majesty. What does it have to do with me? Why would you say such a thing, Uncle?”

Wang Quan ignored him, merely snorting. “Ji Wengji has stepped down, Fu Xiru has left, and now I, too, have reached the age of sixty. Perhaps I should start considering my retirement.”

But Wang Quan was only speaking idly. Could he truly resign?

Despite the Wang faction’s growing power, Wang Zhen was only half-aligned with them. If Wang Quan retired, the faction would collapse by half.

The division’s operations flourished, and by July, everything seemed to be thriving.

For years, Wang Zhen had planned meticulously. Now, noble families finally realized something was amiss with the Silver Pull Division and the Military Silver Exchange Bank—but it was too late. These institutions had already spread like chess pieces across the empire, weaving a dense and inescapable net.

The momentum of the Silver Pull Division had picked up. All that remained was the right moment.

Wang Zhen knew that by now, the division was beyond the influence of noble families. However, implementing paper money to replace silver currency immediately would be too hasty. It needed time—perhaps a year, perhaps two. But it wouldn’t be long. The path had been paved. The moment the emperor issued an edict extending the Military Silver Exchange Bank’s services beyond the army and into the hands of the common people, it would mark the first step of a historic transformation.

That night, Wang Zhen sat in the Minister of Revenue’s study, playing Go.

Holding both black and white pieces, he played against himself, each move evenly matched, a fierce battle of wits.

The black stones formed a bold and aggressive dragon, rampaging and destroying cities. The white stones, like a vast and unfathomable sea, remained calm and unreadable. As the game progressed, Wang Zhen’s moves slowed. When he finally picked up another white piece, the steward’s voice came from outside.

“Gongzi, it’s time for the morning court session. Shall I prepare your court robes?”

Dawn had arrived.

Wang Zhen snapped out of his deep thoughts, momentarily dazed.

“Prepare my robes.”

“Yes, gongzi.”

Lowering his gaze, he placed the white piece onto the board.

In an instant, the tranquil sea surged into a great wave, swallowing the black dragon whole.

Looking at the board, Wang Zhen let out a long sigh. He felt immense loneliness.

He rose abruptly, walked to his desk, took up his brush, and penned a letter.

When the steward entered with his court robes, Wang Zhen handed him the letter. “Send this to Youzhou. Use the fastest courier.”

The steward nodded. “Understood.”

Three days later, Tang Shen received the letter. Seeing how urgently it had been sent, he assumed something serious had happened. Anxiously, he tore it open.

Staring at the single line written inside, he was momentarily stunned—before breaking into a helpless smile.

“I miss you too.”

Tang Shen read the letter carefully three times before tucking it into his sleeve. Then, he called for Lin Xu.

Lin Xu was the chief officer of the Youzhou Silver Pull Division and a trusted confidant of Wang Zhen. While Wang Zhen’s letter to Tang Shen only conveyed thoughts of longing, Tang Shen detected something unusual within it. He asked Lin Xu, “Now, in Youzhou, are you familiar with all the officials in the Silver Pull Division? Can you trust them all?”

Lin Xu’s eyes flickered as he lowered his voice. “Rest assured, daren. They are all our people.”

Tang Shen sighed. “Senior Brother has had a hard time.”

Lin Xu did not fully understand but made a mental note to discreetly remove the remaining uncertain elements within the Silver Pull Division.

At the end of July, Wang Zhen submitted a memorial and entered the palace for an audience with the emperor.

Inside Chuigong Hall, the windows gleamed, their glass panes making the palace seem almost ethereal. Wang Zhen had been summoned, and before long, the chamberlains and palace attendants withdrew, leaving only Zhao Fu, Wang Zhen, and the chief eunuch Ji Fu in the hall.

Zhao Fu and Wang Zhen spoke in private for an hour before Wang Zhen left.

Clad in a red official robe, Wang Zhen looked striking yet elegant, as refined as an immortal. With an air of composure, he exited the palace, boarded his carriage, and headed straight to the Ministry of Revenue.

After his departure, silence engulfed Chuigong Hall. The chamberlains did not re-enter immediately, and the eunuchs remained waiting outside.

Zhao Fu leaned back against the throne. Ji Fu stood by his side with his head bowed.

After a long pause, Zhao Fu spoke in a gentle tone, “Tell me, how is it that Wang Zifeng understands my heart so well?”

Ji Fu felt his heart race in alarm. He had no idea how to respond, but since the emperor was awaiting his reply, he cautiously said, “Wang xianggong is devoted to Great Song, just as Your Majesty is. That is why he aligns so well with Your Majesty’s intentions.” Ji Fu had a close friendship with Wang Zhen, and at a time like this, he naturally offered his support.

Even the most calculating ruler could not have foreseen that someone who had served him for decades was actually allied with Wang Zhen.

Zhao Fu nodded and picked up a fresh memorial from the table. He gazed at it for a while before tossing it to Ji Fu. “Take care of this discreetly. I do not want anyone to see it.”

Ji Fu quickly accepted the document and obediently replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Zhao Fu muttered, “How is it that not one of my three sons can compare to Wang Zifeng? I fear even Fei Ran falls short.”

Ji Fu thought to himself: Your three princes were simply born into the right family, but the true power brokers of the court were chosen from among the most exceptional minds in the empire. How could they possibly compare? Let alone Wang Zifeng or Su Wenyun—even Tang Jingze leaves them in the dust!

Ji Fu took the memorial and left Chuigong Hall. He had his godson, Xie Bao, prepare a fire basin and burn the document immediately.

Before tossing it into the flames, Ji Fu hesitated. Ensuring that no one was around, he carefully unfolded the memorial and read its contents.

His eyes widened in shock. The next moment, he hastily threw it into the fire.

The empty palace hall echoed only with the crackling flames. Ji Fu patted his chest and murmured, “That nearly scared me to death.” Then, more seriously, he muttered, “Wang Zifeng is truly remarkable.”

After years of maneuvering within the imperial palace, Wang Zhen had strategically befriended figures like Ji Fu and Li Xiaoren—those closest to the emperor. Now, his efforts were paying off.

Ji Fu sent his godson, Xie Bao, out of the palace with a letter for Wang Zhen.

As Wang Zhen read the contents, he smiled faintly. He brought the corner of the letter close to a candle flame, watching as the fire consumed it.

Who would have thought that by the narrowest margin, Yu Chaosheng had nearly been appointed Minister of Revenue in addition to his position as Minister of Justice?

The next day, the emperor issued an edict promoting Yu Chaosheng to Assistant Minister of the Palace Secretariat, overseeing the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division. Though still second-rank, his authority expanded significantly. By placing the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division under Yu Chaosheng’s control, the emperor subtly weakened Wang Zhen’s power.

After serving Emperor Kaiping for thirty-two years, court officials quickly grasped the implications.

Yu Chaosheng was the prized student of Left Prime Minister Xu Bi, a prominent figure of the Xu faction. By elevating Yu Chaosheng, the emperor was strengthening the Xu faction. Meanwhile, the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division was Wang Zhen’s stronghold—everyone knew he came from the illustrious Wang clan of Langya and was a native of Jinling. The emperor’s move simultaneously curtailed Wang’s power while bolstering the Xu faction, demonstrating masterful political maneuvering.

Su Wenyun had already returned to the capital. Upon hearing the news, he sneered, “If His Majesty truly wanted to elevate the Xu faction, why not simply remove Wang Zifeng from the Ministry of Revenue altogether? He holds the rank of a first-rank minister and still oversees the treasury. Tsk, is that appropriate?”

The minor officials were bewildered.

The self-assured high-ranking ministers believed they had deciphered Zhao Fu’s intent—that he was suppressing the Wang faction while elevating the Left Prime Minister’s faction.

Only the emperor’s closest confidants understood the deeper meaning behind his actions.

Yu Chaosheng himself knew that although he had been promoted, this was not the promotion that was expected.

In a quiet study, teacher and student sat together, listening to the rain pattering against floating duckweed.

After a long silence, Xu Bi exhaled deeply. “I have lost to Wang Zifeng.”

Yu Chaosheng lowered his head. “It was my mistake. I miscalculated.”

Xu Bi chuckled. “You take the blame too easily. But in a match against Wang Zifeng, you are not yet his equal. I spent an entire year raising his status and expanding the Silver Pull Division’s influence to a point where even the Emperor could no longer tolerate it—yet he still managed to turn the situation around. I heard he visited Chuigong Hall a few days ago. Who knows what he said?”

Yu Chaosheng flushed with shame, unable to reply.

For the first time, he felt a deep sense of frustration.

He and Wang Zhen had been part of the same imperial examination cohort—he had placed second, while Wang Zhen was the top scholar. He was even older than Wang Zhen by several years. Yet, his mentor still claimed he was unqualified to compete against Wang Zifeng.

His chest tightened, his fingers trembled. He struggled to suppress his emotions.

Xu Bi glanced at him and said, “Shame can be a powerful motivator. You came from a humble background, so your education and experiences were naturally inferior to his. But time is long. The last prodigy from an aristocratic family who carved his name into the merit stele, only to be condemned for eternity after his death—do you know who that was?”

Yu Chaosheng asked, “Who?”

Xu Bi took a sip of tea and smiled. “Zhong Taisheng. Perhaps, Wang Zifeng will be the next Zhong Taisheng.”

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In August, Tang Shen received an imperial edict summoning him back to the capital.

Before leaving, he finalized all matters concerning the Silver Pull Division. Just before his departure, he received an invitation.

The Marshal of the Western Expedition, Li Jingde, had invited him to a private meeting.

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The official document from the Ministry of Personnel was quickly issued, and Fu Xiru resigned from his official position to return to his hometown.

After staying in Shengjing for another month, Fu Wei met up with a few old friends and, feeling that he had no more regrets, packed his belongings and left Shengjing.

“It’s just a pity that my two students are still in Youzhou and haven’t returned yet.”

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Wang Quan smiled and said, “Once you return to Changzhou, won’t Zi Feng come to visit you when he returns? You can rest assured and go. You’re free now, without the burden of official duties, truly able to travel and enjoy the landscapes, becoming the Master of Insignificant Talent.”

This statement wasn’t wrong. Changzhou is located in the Northern Zhili region, very close to Shengjing, so it wouldn’t be difficult for Wang Zhen and Tang Shen to visit Fu Wei.

However, although Fu Wei often mentioned returning to Changzhou, he didn’t actually go back immediately.

After leaving Shengjing, he traveled south along the Grand Canal, visiting famous mountains and rivers, and enjoying drinks and conversations with several reclusive literary masters. By April, he arrived in Gusu.

Gusu is a place blessed with outstanding people and good energy. As soon as he disembarked, Fu Wei exclaimed, “When you arrive in Gusu, you see houses all built along the rivers.” The numerous water channels and ditches, like a dense web, formed a magnificent and graceful Gusu city.

Having resigned from his official post, Fu Wei naturally didn’t disturb the local officials in Gusu. Accompanied by his Wen Shu and Fu Qin page boys, he arrived at an elegant and quiet residence in a carriage. Upon knocking, the old housekeeper who opened the door was surprised to see him, his eyes welling up with tears as he exclaimed, “Fu xianggong!”

Fu Wei laughed, “I have already resigned from my post; there’s no more ‘Fu xianggong.’ Just call me the Master of Insignificant Talent. Didn’t your master used to call me that?”

The housekeeper nodded repeatedly and stepped aside to let him in, “Please come in.”

Fu Wei stepped into the Liang Residence.

Liang Song’s wife had passed away many years ago, and they had no children. After his death, his only nephew, Xu Hui, was appointed as a county magistrate and left to take up his post six years ago. The Liang Residence was now only inhabited by the housekeeper and a few loyal servants. They kept the large manor spotlessly clean, with the master’s study and bedroom remaining exactly as they were six years ago.

After looking around, Fu Wei entered Liang Song’s study. He carefully examined the room and was surprised to see a piece of calligraphy hanging on the wall, “Is this ‘Viewing Yueyang Tower’ written by Zuoshan Xianren last year? The original is actually here?”

The housekeeper replied, “Indeed, it is the original work of Zuoshan Xianren.”

Zuoshan Xianren was a famous calligrapher of the dynasty, and Fu Wei had met him once in his youth. Not every great master prefers to live in seclusion; Zuoshan Xianren was a thorough businessman. He would write a few pieces of calligraphy each year to auction off. His works were excellent, but also extremely expensive.

Fu Wei looked at it for a while, stroked his beard, and smiled slightly, “Jing Ze had such a thing and didn’t show it to me first, just hung it here?”

The housekeeper’s heart skipped a beat, and he lowered his head without speaking.

The housekeeper hadn’t read Liang Song’s letters, but he knew that Tang Shen had gone to Shengjing six years ago to become Fu Wei’s student. Over the years, Tang Shen would visit the Liang Residence whenever he returned to Gusu. Even when he didn’t return, Madam Tang always took care of both households. Otherwise, how could a few servants manage such a large manor?

But the housekeeper didn’t know how much Fu Wei knew. If Fu Wei misunderstood Tang Shen’s intentions in becoming his student, it could ruin Tang Shen’s plans.

Fortunately, Fu Wei didn’t say much more. He asked, “Where is Liang Bowen buried?”

The housekeeper immediately sent a few attendants to take Fu Wei to Liang Song’s grave in a carriage.

Fu Wei had Wen Shu prepare a pot of good wine and Fu Qin bring out a piece of calligraphy and painting. He poured the wine in front of Liang Song’s tombstone and placed the painting on the ground, setting it alight with a fire starter. No one knew which painting he burned, but he did so without hesitation, suggesting it couldn’t have been too valuable.

Fu Wei took out a small silver leaf from his pocket and buried it in the soil in front of Liang Song’s grave.

“Liang Bowen, oh Liang Bowen, you really were a schemer. Back then, I just forgot my money pouch, and you treated me to a meal, then made me take on a student. That was a big loss for me. When we meet on the Bridge of Forgetfulness, you’ll have to treat me to a few more pots of wine, or I’ll make you regret it.”

After speaking for a while longer, Fu Wei left with his two page boys.

After staying in Gusu for two days, Fu Wei took a boat north to Jinling.

The Tang family only learned of Fu Wei’s visit to Gusu three days later. Madam Tang immediately sent someone to look for him, but Fu Wei had already left. Tang Yun said, “Mother, Fu daren is the teacher of Cousin Jing Ze. We should have entertained him properly when he came to Gusu. Now that he’s already left, what should we do?”

Madam Tang was also worried, but after some thought, she said, “Since Fu daren didn’t want to make a big deal of his visit, let’s pretend we didn’t know. Just write a letter to Shen’er and inform him that Fu daren has been to Gusu.”

“Yes.”

The news of Fu Wei’s travels didn’t reach Youzhou.

By April, Youzhou still showed no signs of spring, truly a place where the spring breeze does not cross the Yumen Pass.

During these two months, a major event occurred in the Liao State.

In March, the Liao Emperor went hunting in Nanjing’s Xijin Prefecture, which should have been a joyous occasion for the emperor and his subjects. However, during the celebration banquet, the eldest prince, Yelü Zhan, angered the emperor, who flew into a rage and had the prince escorted back to Dading Prefecture to reflect on his mistakes, forbidding him from leaving his residence.

When this news reached the Song court, many officials understood that it was merely a result of the power struggle between the second prince, Yelü Shege, and the third prince, Yelü Han, involving the eldest prince. The eldest prince was never a candidate for the throne, and now, like the fourth prince, he had been maneuvered out of contention, which was expected.

However, Tang Shen wrote a secret letter and sent it to Shengjing.

Su Wenyun received the letter, his expression changed, and he immediately went to the palace to see the emperor.

Upon hearing Su Wenyun’s report, Emperor Zhao Fu showed rare interest. Sipping his ginseng tea, he smiled amiably and said, “Is that so? Fei Ran, please tell me in detail.”

Su Wenyun bowed respectfully, “Yes.”

Su Wenyun recounted the events of the Xijin Prefecture hunt in full detail.

The eldest prince of Liao, Yelü Zhan, was a man who loved to affect a cultured demeanor but was utterly uncultured. The Liao people admired Song culture, and the nobility aspired to Song cultural etiquette. Among them, the second prince, Yelü Shege, excelled. He was well-read, elegant, and dignified, a renowned scholar in the Liao court.

Yelü Zhan wanted to emulate his younger brother and become a cultured literatus. However, his attempts were clumsy and unsuccessful, neither achieving the grace of a gentleman nor accomplishing any significant tasks. Additionally, the ordinary background of his birth mother meant he was never a candidate for the throne.

Though Yelü Zhan was foolish, he wasn’t completely stupid. After the fourth prince, Yelü Longzhen, was caught in an affair with Princess Anding, Yelü Zhan couldn’t sleep at night, constantly worried, fearing he would be the next Yelü Longzhen. Driven by this intense anxiety, Yelü Zhan finally decided to give up any ambitions for the throne, wanting only to live out his life in wealth and comfort.

He went to see the Grand Preceptor, Yelü Ding, to pledge his loyalty.

The eldest prince voluntarily stepping aside and supporting the third prince was a great boon for the third prince’s faction.

There are no walls without ears, and when this news reached Yelü Shege, he was furious but kept his anger hidden. The next day, a handsome young servant from the second prince’s residence fell ill and was wrapped in a straw mat and thrown outside the city.

Originally, Yelü Shege had planned to organize a grand event during the Xijin Prefecture hunt to please the emperor. But with this development, he conspired with Yelü Qin and others to execute a scheme.

Yelü Zhan was known for his lust. During the hunt, Liao princes were allowed to bring a concubine. Yelü Shege arranged for Yelü Zhan’s concubine to be sent to an official’s tent. The official, not daring to touch a richly dressed stranger, was confronted by Yelü Zhan, who beat him up and comforted his weeping concubine, thus missing the celebration banquet.

It wasn’t a major issue, but the emperor had always favored Yelü Shege.

Yelü Shege seized the opportunity to criticize Yelü Zhan, asking sternly where the eldest prince had been and why he was late. Yelü Zhan, not daring to lie to the emperor, told the truth. Yelü Shege sighed, “Elder Brother, it’s just a woman. How could you delay such an important event as the celebration banquet?”

Yelü Zhan thought to himself: You don’t like women, what do you know?

But he didn’t dare say it, swallowing his anger.

Seeing this, Yelü Han naturally took the chance to mock Yelü Shege, “I heard that Second Brother didn’t bring his favorite concubine to the Xijin Prefecture hunt. Oh, but I did see a handsome young eunuch in your tent. Is he your new page?”

Yelü Shege’s expression changed, and the emperor grew angry.

The emperor was displeased with Yelü Shege but didn’t want to punish his favorite son, so he punished Yelü Zhan instead. Yelü Zhan was truly caught in the crossfire, suffering unjustly.

Afterwards, the emperor summoned Yelü Shege privately. The once fierce Liao Emperor coldly said, “What young eunuch?”

Yelü Shege replied respectfully, “Just someone to warm the bed.”

“Kill him.”

“…Yes.”

Leaving the emperor’s tent, Yelü Shege let out a long breath and smiled slightly.

The saying goes, to kill ten thousand enemies, one must lose three thousand of their own allies. The emperor was angry with him, but a male concubine was a small matter. Even the emperor himself had had a few young eunuchs to warm his bed. Men play around; as long as it’s not taken seriously, it’s no big deal.

The emperor always thought Yelü Shege only liked to play with men, not that he exclusively liked men. To maintain appearances, Yelü Shege had many concubines in his residence.

If it was just playing around, it was harmless. But if he had no interest in women at all, that would be a serious issue.

After this incident, the emperor would only be slightly angry about the male concubines but would never suspect that Yelü Shege had orchestrated Yelü Zhan’s downfall.

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It was just a pity; that young eunuch was very lovely, with features somewhat resembling a Song man he had taken a liking to. He hadn’t had the chance to enjoy him before having to send him to his death.

After a moment of regret, Yelü Shege called his trusted guard and said indifferently, “Kill him and throw the body in a remote forest.”

“Yes.”

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The two walked out of the study, only to see that outside, a fine and dense silent snowfall had begun.

Against the pitch-black night sky, thick, pristine snowflakes drifted gently to the ground, already forming a thin layer of white. The residence that Ji Zhaosi had prepared for Wang Zhen was meticulously designed; in Youzhou, such a courtyard, rich with the charm of Jiangnan’s water towns, was rare. The manor’s garden even had a pond, with stacked rock formations and layers of trees partially concealing the scenery.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Tang Shen and Wang Zhen walked side by side along the corridor. Tang Shen extended his hand, catching a snowflake.

“It’s strange,” he mused. “On the eve of the seventh day of the first lunar month, Shengjing had a heavy snowfall, and the next day, another just like today. Yet on that very night, the moonlight was clear, without a single flake in sight.” After a pause, he added, “On the night Shanting was executed, it also snowed.”

Wang Zhen’s voice was crisp and cool. “Do you believe in gods and spirits?”

Tang Shen suddenly lifted his head, meeting his senior brother’s gaze. They looked at each other for a moment before Tang Shen replied, “No.”

Of course, he didn’t believe. And he knew that Wang Zhen didn’t believe either.

If he did, then back during the xiangshi exams, Wang Zhen wouldn’t have ‘released’ turtles and rabbits in his name, trying to dissuade him from seeking divine protection and instead relying on himself.

Wang Zhen asked, “Then, little Junior Brother, do you think His Majesty believes?”

Tang Shen had no immediate answer.

Did Zhao Fu believe in gods and spirits?

Ask any citizen of the Song Dynasty, and they would likely answer: He believes, and he believes deeply!

Zhao Fu had followed Taoism for over twenty years. Every Chief Astronomer in the Astronomical Bureau had been a Taoist priest. The Immortal Ascension Platform, the Xuji Tower—weren’t they all built for his pursuit of immortality? He didn’t just believe in Taoism; he even believed in Buddhism. Even after executing that demon monk, Shanting, Zhao Fu still often played with a string of prayer beads during court sessions.

But after a long silence, Tang Shen finally said, “Perhaps he doesn’t believe.” His tone carried hesitation, uncertain speculation.

Wang Zhen chuckled softly. He reached out, grasped Tang Shen’s hand effortlessly, and held it. “Perhaps?”

Encouraged by his gaze, Tang Shen said with more certainty, “He doesn’t believe.”

Wang Zhen commented, “Li daren is an interesting man.”

It took Tang Shen a moment to realize that Wang Zhen was referring to Li Xiaoren, the Chief Astronomer.

“More than ten years ago, when I first met him, he had just been appointed Chief Astronomer and was still full of unease. But at that time, I was just a fifth-rank official myself.”

Tang Shen asked, “A fifth-rank Chamberlain?”

Wang Zhen smiled and nodded.

Tang Shen: “…”

A ‘mere’ fifth-rank official, indeed!

Wang Zhen continued, “Look at that expression—you’re thinking of kissing me, aren’t you?”

Tang Shen immediately averted his gaze.

Wang Zhen, however, leaned in smoothly, pressing a light kiss to Tang Shen’s eyelashes before continuing, “Since last year, Li daren often came to me, complaining about the oppression of Shanting. I understood his meaning, but what could I do? I, Wang Zifeng, am but a minor official with no influence in His Majesty’s eyes. Even if I spoke until my mouth was dry, His Majesty wouldn’t spare me a glance.”

Tang Shen: “…”

“Jing Ze, that look—hehehe, come back here.” Wang Zhen had been about to steal another kiss when he saw Tang Shen nearly turn away without a second thought. Laughing, he grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

Tang Shen was speechless. You? A minor official with no influence? Can you be any more shameless!

Wang Zhen sighed, “Do you think I’m lying? Ah, you misunderstand me again. I mean it sincerely—when it came to Shanting, I truly was powerless. Otherwise, given my longstanding friendship with Li daren and my naturally helpful disposition, how could I not have aided him?”

Not giving Tang Shen the chance to roll his eyes at him again, Wang Zhen quickly added, “Uncle said he couldn’t understand what had happened, couldn’t grasp His Majesty’s motives. But I have always said the same thing—to Uncle, to you: Do not doubt His Majesty. Even if you don’t understand him, do not doubt him. There are very few in this world who can outmaneuver him.”

Very few people could outmaneuver Zhao Fu?

That meant somebody could?

Tang Shen nearly asked Wang Zhen who he thought could outmaneuver Zhao Fu. But the question seemed too much like a death wish, so he refrained. He pondered it himself—Wang Zhen probably thought he himself could, and… Prime Minister Ji?

Better not ask. Instead, Tang Shen looked at Wang Zhen. “Even you don’t understand?”

Wang Zhen replied, “I don’t.”

“Really?”

“I swear.”

Only then did Tang Shen believe him.

It made sense, after all. If Zhao Fu’s actions had once followed some discernible pattern, this New Year’s palace upheaval had been utterly unpredictable.

The world believed it was a matter of an evil monk deceiving the Left Prime Minister, nearly causing disaster. But those within the imperial court, the emperor’s confidants, knew the truth was entirely different—so different that not a single detail aligned with the official account.

Was it Shanting’s fault?

Then how had the emperor, after days of unconsciousness, woken up at the exact crucial moment?

But Zhao Fu only had three sons.

As Emperor of the Song Dynasty, what reason could he possibly have to scheme against all three of his own sons, ruining them so thoroughly?

After the palace upheaval, the three princes had fled Shengjing in a panic, as if escaping for their lives. They seemed to have grasped part of the truth and were left suffocating under the weight of their father’s overwhelming dominance.

What kind of father would plot against his own children like this?

For wealth and beauty? For supreme power?

Zhao Fu lacked none of those.

Then what was he after?

Eternal renown? A lasting legacy?

Would killing his own sons make him immortal in history?

Tang Shen sighed, “Long ago, I once told Sir: I’d rather be a xiucai for life than have my descendants serve in the Hanlin Academy.”

Serving a ruler was like accompanying a tiger. High office and power—such things were not so easily held.

Wang Zhen looked at him in surprise. “Little Junior Brother once thought of not becoming an official? Strange—I don’t recall our teacher ever mentioning this.”

Tang Shen hesitated. “You know which teacher I meant.”

“Wasn’t it Fu Wei—Fu Xiru, our teacher? Who else could it be?”

“…”

“Wang Zifeng, you’re asking the obvious!”

Wang Zhen laughed heartily, pulling him into an embrace. “It’s a cold night with heavy snow. Shall we go inside?”

Only then did Tang Shen realize that, unknowingly, Wang Zhen had led him right to his sleeping quarters. The door creaked open with a soft squeak.

Tang Shen hesitated for a moment. By the time he grasped Wang Zhen’s true intention, he was already being lifted and placed onto the bed.

Wang Zhen gently loosened his waistband. Tang Shen looked at his elegant, handsome features and, for a moment, lost his senses. Without thinking, he instinctively lifted his head and kissed him. Wang Zhen froze for a moment. Although Tang Shen’s kiss was not brief, it wasn’t long either. After the kiss, however, Wang Zhen’s lips curled upwards, and he kissed Tang Shen’s lips again—lips that he had longed for for months.

The bedpost gently rocked, emitting faint sounds.

By the time the snow stopped, the tremors of the bed also ceased. Wang Zhen donned his outer garment and added some charcoal to the brazier. Tang Shen lay on the bed, stretching his neck curiously to watch him tend to the fire. When Wang Zhen turned around, he saw the handsome young man half hanging out of bed, the blanket only covering down to his waist, exposing his snow pale back.

And this person was gazing at him with shiny black eyes, not even blinking.

Wang Zhen’s eyes heated up, his throat tightened, and he quickly said, “Indulging in wine and lust is not the way of a gentleman,” before swiftly walking over and rolling Tang Shen back onto the bed.

The next day, both of them got up. As Tang Shen tied his waistband, he said, “Before coming here, I visited Sir’s residence. He told me that once the book was completed, he would have no regrets.”

Wang Zhen paused in his actions of getting dressed.

He sighed deeply, then said, “Sir’s hometown is not in Shengjing. I don’t know if we will be able to return in time to visit one last time.”

This time, Wang Zhen guessed correctly. On February 19, in the 32nd year of the Kaiping reign, the Hanlin Academy finished a book titled Wen Xun Jing Ji. This book took over three years of effort from Fu Wei. When Fu Wei was younger, he enjoyed participating in literary gatherings and reading the works of poets. Now, having finally completed Wen Xun Jing Ji, he was in high spirits and stayed up two nights in excitement.

But after the excitement wore off, Fu Wei felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. The book had nearly drained all his energy. Fu Wei finally realized that he was no longer a young man in his thirties or forties; he no longer had boundless energy. He was getting old and could no longer remain in the court.

At that moment, Fu Wei thought of his favorite student, Wang Zhen, who had left the capital the year before but had specially come to visit him and brought him a painting.

Fu Wei walked to his study and opened the painting. It was a beautiful landscape, with rich ink tones and an ingenious style. Wang Zhen’s painting was always casual and free-flowing, much like his calligraphy—extremely elegant. Yet, as Fu Wei looked at the painting, he saw the image of a white-haired old man riding a mule in the mountains.

After a long silence, Fu Wei burst into laughter. “You know everything, don’t you!”

The next day, Fu Wei submitted his resignation to the emperor and requested to retire to his hometown.

Several years ago, Fu Wei had resigned once, but Zhao Fu had strongly urged him to stay. That time, Fu Wei had gone from being the Left Prime Minister to the Hanlin Academy’s Minister of Imperial Edicts. This time, Zhao Fu tried to retain him again, but Fu Wei said, “I’m old. A few days ago, I finished Wen Xun Jing Ji and went out to gaze at the sky. Suddenly, I realized the vastness of the world, the bright moon, and the stars, yet I have never fully looked at them. Your Majesty, I really am old.”

Zhao Fu sighed deeply and didn’t insist further. “Xi Ru, I truly will miss you.”

Fu Wei said, “I will miss you as well, Your Majesty!” At those words, his eyes grew moist, and a tear fell.

After leaving Chuigong Hall, Fu Wei wiped his eyes and looked at the confined sky above the palace. His past flashed before his eyes—back in his younger days, the four great scholars were renowned, and he loved painting and leisure, calling himself the Master of Insignificant Talent. Back then, there was a person named Zhong Wei, and even a carefree person like Fu Wei had been deeply impressed by Zhong Taisheng.

When the previous emperor passed away and Zhao Fu ascended the throne, the sky changed again. The turbulent years of being lonely and uncertain about the future had lasted more than thirty years!

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Now, Fu Wei was truly old. He no longer moved quickly, and his body was not as strong. Yet, as Fu Wei walked out of the palace, he felt a great sense of relief with every step. The further he walked, the faster his pace became. When he stepped out of the palace gates, Fu Wei threw his head back and laughed loudly. He turned to the page boy and said, “Back home!”

The page boy, not understanding, looked at him. Fu Wei added, “Let’s go, back home to Changzhou, to the place I should have returned to long ago!”

Changzhou was Fu Wei’s hometown.

AN: Old Wang: “Indulging in wine and lust is not the way of a gentleman, but I am no gentleman!”

Little Tang Lang: “…You, go away!”

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