These Werebeast Gongs Are Rogues CH 064 Meeting Again

Upon learning about the merfolk, Xiya and Lei Jin finally had a clear goal. Originally, Xiya had planned to let Hao Yang take Lei Jin back to the Tiger Tribe first while he rushed to the seaside to assess the situation. He was prepared for trouble, as it was a fact that Moya hadn’t been able to make it to their meeting spot. Given the uncertain circumstances, he naturally didn’t want to risk bringing Lei Jin along.

But if Lei Jin were the type to obediently follow orders, he wouldn’t be Lei Jin. Xiya didn’t dare push too hard, as he was well aware of Lei Jin’s stubbornness.

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To save time, Xiya transformed into his beast form, using his tail to lift Lei Jin onto his back. They flew toward the sea, but even so, it took them over a day to reach their destination. They only stopped twice along the way. Xiya roasted the remaining dried meat until it was crispy and placed it beside Lei Jin, who could easily eat it by leaning forward. The two stops were mainly for them to drink some water.

By the time they arrived at the seaside, it was already evening. Half of the fiery red sun had sunk below the horizon. The ancient sea, untouched by development or pollution, was a clear, deep blue. The golden, soft sand, the white rolling waves, the seabirds circling the coastal cliffs, and even the dolphins leaping out of the water were all bathed in an orange-red glow.

“This is the primitive beauty long lost in the cracks of Earth’s civilization,” Lei Jin suddenly recalled a phrase Roger had once said. He felt a sense of pride for remembering such a profound statement, but the thought of Moya quickly dampened his mood.

Xiya flew low over the sea with Lei Jin on his back. A small blue dolphin leaped up, its head brushing against Lei Jin’s foot. When no one paid it any attention, it kept chasing them, jumping up repeatedly. Lei Jin thought to himself, no wonder dolphins in aquariums love balancing balls—they must really enjoy this kind of play.

“No sign of any merfolk,” Xiya said as they landed on a beach. He helped Lei Jin down and frowned at the calm sea.

“Are you sure they’re in this area?” Lei Jin couldn’t help but ask. The sea was vast, and who knew where the merfolk might have hidden Moya? Lei Jin was convinced that Moya had been captured; otherwise, he would have returned home by now.

“After parting ways with Moya at the river mouth, I headed north to the Tiger Tribe, while Moya went east along the river. If Moya encountered a merfolk, it would have been in this area. Although I’ve never seen the merfolk, according to the continent’s legends, merfolk live in tribes, so this part of the sea should be their gathering place,” Xiya analyzed logically.

Lei Jin agreed with his reasoning, but the current situation was that if the merfolk didn’t show themselves, they had no way of finding them.

“If only the little guy were here. At least he could ask the seabirds or dolphins, or even catch a fish to question,” Lei Jin muttered. Even though he knew Mingya was a werebeast, he still couldn’t help referring to him as “the little guy.” In his heart, Mingya was still that mischievous, lovable little guy.

Xiya looked thoughtful. “Talking to fish would be difficult,” he said. Ordinary fish didn’t make sounds, unless Mingya had somehow mastered fish language.

Having confirmed their location, the next step was to search for clues. They combed the nearby beaches but found nothing. They had only hoped for a stroke of luck, knowing full well that the tides would have washed away any traces.

By the time they finished their search, it was completely dark. The tide was rising, and the water had already reached Lei Jin’s calves. A large wave surged forward, causing Lei Jin to lose his balance. He stumbled, nearly falling into the water, but Xiya quickly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into his arms.

Finally, they found a cave entrance a short distance from the shore. But just as they were about to enter, Xiya suddenly stopped.

“What’s wrong? Can’t we stay in this cave?” Lei Jin asked. They had encountered caves before during their travels, and werebeast could usually tell by smell whether a cave was safe. He remembered once when he had tried to enter a seemingly dry cave, only for Xiya to pull him back in alarm. Later, he learned it was an antlion’s nest—a place where even a wild ox could be reduced to bone dust. Since then, he had made it a habit to ask Xiya’s opinion.

“Moya has been here,” Xiya said with certainty.

“Then let’s go in and check,” Lei Jin said, his heart lifting slightly. But as he took a few steps toward the entrance, Xiya added, “He’s probably not inside now.” Xiya had caught the scent of Moya’s blood, confirming that something had indeed happened to him.

Lei Jin entered the dark cave, feeling that it was quite spacious. Xiya followed, helping Lei Jin sit down before pulling out a flint to light some dry branches and leaves piled in the corner. The cave was soon illuminated, revealing a scene of chaos. It looked as though a fierce fight had taken place, with dried grass scattered everywhere, some of it stained with blood.

Lei Jin’s heart pounded. After several attempts, he finally managed to speak. “Xiya, Moya, he…”

This was the first time Lei Jin had mentioned Moya’s name in days.

Xiya, holding a thin branch, stoked the fire and said, “Don’t worry. Moya’s in trouble, but it doesn’t seem life-threatening. There’s very little of his blood here.” His brother wasn’t one to be easily subdued, and while Moya was injured, his attackers likely hadn’t fared much better.

“En,” Lei Jin acknowledged, indicating he had heard Xiya’s words.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xiya noticed Lei Jin’s visible relief. His feelings were mixed—on one hand, he was glad Lei Jin had found something to care about in this world, as it might make him less likely to leave so decisively. On the other hand, he couldn’t help wishing Lei Jin would show the same concern for him.

But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Moya was in trouble, and Xiya needed to focus on that. Besides, as Hao Chen had said, Lei Jin had already been treating him better and was no longer so resistant to his presence. Things were moving in a positive direction.

Lei Jin, unaware of Xiya’s inner turmoil, was busy examining the cave for any clues Moya might have left. Soon, a small cloth bundle hidden under some weeds in the corner caught his attention.

“Xiya, what’s this?” Lei Jin nudged it with his foot, revealing the bundle.

“It’s Moya’s bag,” Xiya recognized it immediately. Werebeast always carried some food and medicine when hunting, just in case. Their papa didn’t know how to make these bags; they had been commissioned from Uncle Su Rui next door.

“Uncle Su Rui has a childlike heart. My bag has a little sparrow embroidered on the corner, and Moya’s has a rabbit,” Xiya explained. Sure enough, a corner of the bag had a rabbit with buck teeth, looking rather fierce.

Lei Jin could imagine Moya’s expressionless face hiding his disdain for the rabbit. Moya, where are you now? Lei Jin sighed inwardly.

“There’s a bag of dried fruit,” Xiya handed it to Lei Jin. He picked up some clumps of grass-like plants and sniffed them. “These are herbs for stopping bleeding and relieving pain. This falcon grass can stop even the heaviest bleeding instantly when applied. But it only grows in the crevices of cliffs, guarded by giant falcons. It’s not easy to obtain. I wonder how Moya got it.”

Lei Jin turned away, gazing into the deep night outside. After a long pause, he said, “He knew we were together.” It wasn’t a question but a realization that had been forming in his mind.

“The second night we were together, Moya came,” Xiya admitted, deciding not to hide it any longer. His grip on the herbs tightened.

Lei Jin remembered that night. By the end, he had lost all reason, consumed by passion as he and Xiya tangled together. Moya had been standing outside the door the entire time.

Lei Jin pressed his forehead against the cold stone wall, trying to calm himself. His mind was a mess, and he couldn’t make sense of how things had come to this?

Xiya’s care towards him hadn’t gone unnoticed. Lei Jin wasn’t made of wood; he could feel it. Throughout their journey, even in the Tiger Tribe, Xiya had taken care of everything without a word from him, treating him with meticulous care. In the past, Lei Jin wouldn’t have minded adding another to his list of lovers. Maybe even coax Mingya into being more obedient and eating out of the pam of his hand as well. But now he didn’t want to do that.

That night, Lei Jin only ate some dried fruit. Xiya gathered the scattered dry grass and spread it out again. Lei Jin lay down and seemed to fall asleep quickly.

Xiya found some half-cooked meat in the cave but, seeing Lei Jin asleep, had no appetite. He decided to rest and deal with everything the next day.

As Xiya lay down beside Lei Jin, he felt Lei Jin’s body stiffen slightly before he casually rolled away.

In the pitch-black depths, Moya had no idea how many days had passed. Every so often, someone would drop food—raw fish, shrimp, and shellfish. This was the twenty-second time. Moya used a stone to pry open a shell, forcing himself to swallow the slimy contents. The taste of the sea was overwhelming. Although werebeast sometimes ate raw meat, it didn’t mean they enjoyed raw seafood. Moreover, something had been done to his body. As a leopard werebeast, he shouldn’t have been able to survive underwater, yet here he was, breathing seawater as easily as air.

Over the past few days, he had noticed small holes in the chains around his ankles and waist. Instinct told him these holes were the key to freeing himself, but they were too small for even his thinnest finger. He had been busy grinding a bone needle from a shell to try and pick the locks. It was tedious work, and often, just as he was about to succeed, the shell would shatter, rendering it useless.

He had to be extra careful. The current needle was the most promising yet—just a little more, and he might be able to unlock the chains.

Moya was grateful for his solitary upbringing. His two dads had focused all their attention on his papa. His eldest brother was An Sen’s child, and his youngest brother was An Luo’s. Only he resembled his papa, with no trace of either dad. Though they treated him equally, he had never dared to act as freely as his brothers, who could openly seek affection from their dads.

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If anyone else had been trapped in this dark, silent place for so long, they might have gone mad. But Moya had plenty of time to think—mostly about his papa and Lei Jin. He wondered how they were doing. Sometimes he thought that with his two dads, his papa would be fine, and with his brothers, Lei Jin might not need him as much either.

The thought sent a chill through him. The oppressive darkness was clearly affecting his mind. He couldn’t let such thoughts take root. He needed to conserve his energy, as he sensed something even more sinister lurking beyond the ruins.

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These Werebeast Gongs Are Rogues CH 063 Mingya’s Departure

Moya woke up to the salty sea breeze, his first sensation being a splitting headache. He instinctively raised a hand to rub his temples for relief, only to find that something seemed to be pressing down on his arm. After a few failed attempts to move it, he finally looked down and was stunned to discover that Berg was lying in his arms, his warm breath against Moya’s neck. What shocked him even more was that neither of them was wearing any clothes.

Moya felt his headache worsen. He pushed Berg away and sat up.

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Berg’s body hit the ground, and his delicate brows furrowed slightly as he slowly opened his golden eyes. Seeing Moya with his back turned, putting on his clothes, a deeply affectionate smile appeared in his gaze. He didn’t seem to mind the current situation at all. Crossing his legs and shifting his posture lazily, he said, “What’s the rush? Still eager to leave?”

Moya didn’t turn around. He fastened the last knot of his clothing before finally facing Berg and asking, “What happened last night?”

Berg smiled nonchalantly. “Isn’t it just as you see?” He openly revealed the marks all over his body—bruises of various shades, especially concentrated on his chest and inner thighs.

Wait… Moya suddenly noticed something he had overlooked—Berg’s fishtail was gone, replaced by a pair of long, slender legs.

“Your legs?” Moya asked.

“You probably don’t know this yet, do you? Once we merfolks mate with someone, our tails can freely transform into legs. Just like how werebeasts, after reaching adulthood, can shift between their beast and human forms at will. We were together last night, so now I can walk on land. That means I can return to the Leopard Tribe with you,” Berg revealed his plan without hesitation.

Moya tried hard to recall what had happened the previous night. He only remembered that after Berg left, he was about to sleep when Berg suddenly returned in the rain, his clothes still dripping wet and looking exhausted. Just as Moya was about to speak, he felt a sharp sting from something Berg was holding, and soon after, he lost consciousness. He had no memory of anything beyond that.

But as for whether he had actually been intimate with Berg… maybe the old Moya could have been fooled. However, after experiencing it multiple times with Lei Jin, his body’s senses wouldn’t deceive him—he was sure nothing had happened last night. Thinking of Lei Jin’s tight, hot entrance, he even felt a reaction.

Just bear with it for now. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you—make it up to you plenty. Moya silently comforted his most intimate little brother.

Berg took Moya’s silence as a lack of words. He then said, “Don’t worry, I won’t make things difficult for you. I’ll just go back to your tribe with you.”

“I already have a mate, so that won’t be possible.” Moya finally looked up. There was a rare smile on his lips, but his eyes were as cold as ice.

Berg hadn’t expected Moya to remain so composed at this moment, and he panicked internally. He was certain that Moya had been unconscious—after all, Purple Starfish venom never failed. A sufficient dose could even knock out a giant orca. When he had undressed Moya last night, the latter hadn’t resisted at all, right? Berg tried to reassure himself.

While he was lost in thought, Moya picked up the clothes from the ground and tossed them to him. Though neither of them cared much about nudity, having a naked man in front of him was still an eyesore—aside from Lei Jin, he had no interest in seeing anyone else. If Lei Jin decided to walk around naked every day, though, Moya wouldn’t mind.

Not only would he not mind, but he would probably welcome it warmly, tackle him onto the bed, and make love until the world crumbled and spring flowers bloomed.

Berg brushed his golden hair and laughed freely. “I haven’t been to many places, but I do know some of the continent’s customs. If a werebeast and a female have relations, and the female agrees, they must hold a ceremony.” Berg didn’t intend to provoke Moya, but the truth was that in this situation, if the female consented, a ceremony was mandatory—since females were precious, after all.

“Berg, let’s be clear. You and I both know that nothing happened between us, let alone a ceremony. Also, you’re a male merfolk, not a female, so this rule doesn’t apply to us.” Moya didn’t want to waste any more time. Even though it was still raining outside, and the chances of his brother and Lei Jin leaving the tribe were slim, he’d rather brave the rain to meet them at the river than continue this entanglement with Berg.

“Do you know why golden merfolk are the most revered in the Merfolk Tribe?” Berg asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “It’s because golden female merfolk have the highest fertility rates. But there’s another reason—all golden male merfolk are intersex.”

This was a closely guarded secret of the Merfolk Tribe, yet Berg spoke of it carelessly, his eyes filled with mockery. In years when golden female merfolk were scarce, golden male merfolk were forcibly used as substitutes.

“You’re saying…” Moya frowned as he grasped the meaning behind his words.

“I’m saying I can also be female. If you want children, this body has that ability too.” Berg pointed to his stomach.

“If it’s not his, I don’t care for it.” The “he” Moya referred to needed no explanation.

“I’ve never been rejected like this before.” Berg finally felt a chill and put on the clothes Moya had thrown at him. “Even after this, I still can’t keep you. Now I’m even more curious about your mate—what charm does he have to make you all so utterly devoted?”

“We know his worth, and that’s enough.” At the thought of Lei Jin, Moya’s gaze finally softened.

“How can you be sure I’m not better than him if you haven’t tried?” Berg stood up and leaned closer, but Moya swiftly dodged. Last night, it wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to go through with it—it was just that, after Moya passed out, there had been no reaction at all. He could have fucked Moya, but that would have completely burned their bridges, and that wasn’t what he wanted. He had hoped to deceive Moya, but to his dismay, Moya wasn’t falling for it at all.

Hearing that Berg’s words indirectly confirmed they hadn’t done anything, Moya no longer bothered to waste time arguing. He picked up a small bundle from the corner of the cave—it contained medicinal herbs he had gathered for Lei Jin and dried fruits he had prepared for the journey. Everything was packed and ready to go.

Berg watched him silently packing up and smirked meaningfully. “It’s not enough for just you to say nothing happened. Many others will soon believe otherwise.”

As soon as Berg finished speaking, Moya felt a strange sense of foreboding. Despite the torrential rain outside, his sharp werebeast hearing picked up the sound of many people rapidly approaching.

Moya’s expression remained indifferent, but he knew things had taken a turn for the worse. This Berg was truly a plague—whoever got close, trouble would follow them. The approaching crowd moved swiftly and in large numbers; escaping now was impossible. His mind raced, searching for a way out, but before he could come up with a plan, the cave entrance was suddenly filled with a dense throng of merfolk. Their scales gleamed in an array of colors—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet—all present.

Berg intimately clung to an older golden mermaid at the front and shot Moya a provocative glance. Kicking his new legs playfully, he said, “Dad, I can walk on land now.”

The middle-aged golden merfolk was clearly not in the same good mood as his son. Seeing his son’s legs exposed beneath his clothing, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally choked out the crucial question:

“Who’s on top and who’s on bottom?”

Berg was completely unprepared for his dad’s bluntness. The sudden question made him stumble on his still-unfamiliar legs, nearly falling over.

Alright then. Old Mr. Shell decided there was no need to ask any further. His son was already standing so unsteadily after being fucked, what else was there to question? He waved his hand to the people behind him and then pointed at Moya.

“Take him back to the Merfolk Tribe, lock him up in the Nether Sea, and never let me see him again!”

He was furious. He had raised his precious son with such effort, only for him to be “eaten” just like that. At the very least, they could have come and greeted him first! Not that it would have made a difference—he still wouldn’t have agreed!

“Dad?” Berg secretly pinched his dad’s arm. This wasn’t how the script was supposed to go! Wasn’t he supposed to barge in and say: Since my son has already been taken, you must hold a ceremony together? His dad had obviously rewritten the plot!

But at this point, Mr. Shell had no interest in playing along with his son’s lines. The mere thought of his son being “eaten” had already sent half of his souls fleeing and the other half ascending to heaven.

Moya glanced at the dozens of strong merfolk behind Mr. Shell. Their tails gleamed with scales as sharp as blades. To fight or not to fight? Winning was out of the question. But if he didn’t fight, he’d end up locked at the bottom of the sea.

Screw it. He still had to get back to see Lei Jin. He didn’t have time for a seawater bath.

The outcome was inevitable. Moya was indeed a male werebeast, but the merfolk were also males, and they had numbers on their side.

When Moya next regained consciousness, he found himself at the bottom of the pitch-black sea. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized the scenery was quite spectacular—ruins stretched in every direction, with thick seaweed growing wildly between the cracks in the rocks, swaying gently in the water. Apart from that, there wasn’t a single living thing in sight. No wonder they call this the Nether Sea.

Thick chains bound his waist and ankles, though his hands were free. Not that they were much use—other than plucking some seaweed, there wasn’t much he could do.

But he needed to figure out a way out of here. Moya surveyed his surroundings and began to think calmly.

Meanwhile, Xiya and Lei Jin had been waiting at the river mouth for days, but there was still no sign of Moya. Xiya was growing anxious. The markings Moya left behind had clearly indicated their usual meeting spot.

So why hasn’t he arrived yet?

Moya was always reliable—it made no sense for him to leave them waiting like this. Xiya had a nagging feeling that something had happened, but the jungle was vast, and he had no way of knowing where Moya was. If he went searching now, they could easily end up missing each other.

So, he forced himself to be patient. Thinking that if there’s still no news in two days, he’ll take Lei Jin back to the Tiger Tribe first and then search for Moya alone.

Xiya didn’t dare leave Lei Jin alone. Every time he went hunting, he brought Lei Jin with him. As for Lei Jin, he never asked a word about Moya’s whereabouts, acting as if he didn’t care at all. But Xiya noticed that, several nights in a row, Lei Jin had woken up from nightmares in his arms, his eyes instinctively flicking toward the cave entrance. It was obvious what he was worried about. Yet, as soon as daylight came, he went back to pretending none of it concerned him.

Lei Jin sat on a rock by the water, soaking his feet.

Xiya busied himself with five bamboo tubes he had cut, following Lei Jin’s instructions to drill small holes in them. He filled them with rice, dried meat, and water, then buried most of them in the ground, sealing the holes before lighting a fire around them to cook slowly. They had been eating only meat for days, and Xiya noticed Lei Jin’s appetite was poor. That’s why he wanted to make him some rice. He wasn’t sure how, but Lei Jin at least had a vague idea.

This method was called bamboo tube rice.

“Lei Jin, how do we know when it’s done?” Xiya had already caught the scent of cooked rice but wasn’t sure if it was ready.

“Once the steam stops, it should be done.” Actually, Lei Jin wasn’t completely sure either. He had never cooked bamboo tube rice himself—only eaten it at restaurants. But he remembered the rice being dry, not watery.

Once the rice was cooked, Xiya dug the bamboo tubes out, split them open, and was greeted by the rich aroma of rice, meat, and fresh bamboo. The scent was truly enticing.

He set the rice aside to cool slightly before helping Lei Jin put on his shoes and bringing him over. Using a smooth bamboo sliver, he scooped up a portion and fed Lei Jin.

As expected, Lei Jin’s appetite improved immediately. He finished three tubes of rice in one go. Xiya saved the remaining two for Lei Jin’s next meal, choosing instead to chew on some dried meat himself.

Just as they were struggling to figure out their next move, they happened to run into Hao Yang, who had just returned from a hunt.

From Hao Yang they learned that he had seen Moya with a golden merfolk.

That was all Xiya needed to hear. If Moya was with the merfolk, then their next destination was clear—Xiya decided that he and Lei Jin would leave for the seaside the next day to find him.

Meanwhile, Mingya had just passed by the same tree—where the little fox had peed—for the sixth time. He plopped down on the ground with a groan, admitting that he was indeed lost.

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“Caw, caw, caw! I must have been out of my mind. I shouldn’t have followed an idiot werebeast just because I want to watch them get it on in bed.”

“I’m not moving. My legs have gone numb. I’m exhausted.”

“Lei Jin, eldest brother, second brother, where are you? Mingya really, really misses you.” Mingya wiggled his tiny paws, lamenting his fate. Stuck with these two unreliable companions, he silently shed tears in his heart.

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These Werebeast Gongs Are Rogues CH 062 Using Each Other

Moya stood up, patted his hands, and walked over to Berg with a pondering expression. “Berg, when I saved you back then, it was just a coincidence. You don’t need to take it to heart.”

At the time, Moya had been following the river downstream when he reached the sea. He found traces of blood on the rocks, and his first thought was that it might be Lei Jin. Following the trail, he discovered Berg hiding under a cliff by the shore. Berg’s body was covered in wounds, as if something had torn into him, leaving him bloodied and with barely any intact skin. Moya had never seen the merfolk before, but he knew they existed in the legends of the mainland, so he wasn’t particularly surprised. He decided to save him.

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Having lived in the wild for so long, werebeasts knew a thing or two about medicinal herbs. Moya carried Berg to the cave they were now in, cleaned his wounds with fresh water, and then went out to gather some herbs to stop the bleeding. He mashed them up and applied them to Berg’s injuries.

Although Berg’s wounds looked severe, most were superficial and hadn’t damaged his bones or tendons. Within a few days, the injuries began to heal, and he was almost back to normal. Moya, worried about missing his meeting with his brother and Lei Jin, was eager to head to the river mouth. However, Berg insisted on accompanying him. During their time waiting at the river mouth, they happened to meet Hao Yang, who had come to deliver Xiya’s message. They hurried to the Tiger Tribe’s territory, where they witnessed the events that had unfolded earlier.

Although Moya had mentally prepared himself, seeing it in person was another matter entirely. Still, no matter what, his brother was still his brother, and Lei Jin was still the person he loved. That couldn’t be changed. Now that he had sorted out his feelings, it was time to reunite with them.

What Moya didn’t know was when Berg had started developing these feelings. According to Berg himself, he was also a male merfolk. A male werebeast from the Leopard Tribe and a male merfolk—what a ridiculous idea. Moya was certain he hadn’t done anything to give Berg the wrong impression.

“Is this your final decision?” Berg asked, his face dark as he stood at the cave entrance, arms crossed. The rain blowing in had soaked half his body, but he seemed oblivious, his gaze fixed on Moya, searching for any sign of hesitation.

But he found none. Deep within Moya’s emerald-green eyes was an unmistakable resolve.

Berg’s golden eyes flickered, and suddenly he smiled, as if letting go. “It seems there’s no way to keep you here. Rest well tonight. I’ll come see you off tomorrow.”

“Where will you go tonight?” Moya asked. They had stayed here together before. Hadn’t Berg said he couldn’t go home yet?

“It’s been a long time since I went back. Since you’re leaving, I should go back to take a look too,” Berg said casually, waving his hand. He turned and stepped into the storm, his slender figure quickly disappearing into the night.

“You’ll see Moya soon,” Xiya said, his hands roaming over Lei Jin’s body, igniting sparks wherever they touched.

“Why are you suddenly bringing him up?” Lei Jin asked, unsure if it was his imagination, but since his injury, his body seemed to have become more sensitive. Just Xiya’s fingers moving over him made him tremble.

“Once you see him, will you no longer let me get close to you? Will we no longer have any connection?” Xiya’s heart was filled with thoughts of Lei Jin leaving and only caring about Moya. His jealousy was almost unbearable.

“What do you think our relationship is? We’re just using each other,” Lei Jin replied. He had thought about it before—why did Rong Chuan’s touch disgust him, while Xiya’s didn’t? In the end, Lei Jin came to a surprising conclusion: perhaps because he had spent more time with Xiya, familiarity made things easier.

“Using each other, huh?” Xiya chuckled softly, his brow furrowing. Suddenly, he changed direction, cupping the back of Lei Jin’s head and kissing him fiercely until Lei Jin was gasping for air, kicking out in protest, but ultimately unable to resist.

“If we’re just using each other, then you’ll have to satisfy my needs too,” Xiya said, swiftly pulling off Lei Jin’s pants, lifting his hips, and draping his legs over his shoulders. Under their mutual gaze, Xiya’s hardened member slowly pushed into Lei Jin. At first, it wasn’t easy, but Xiya managed to get most of the way in.

“Get out…” Lei Jin wanted to slap Xiya, the pain was unbearable.

Xiya, of course, ignored him, thrusting into Lei Jin with force.

After one round, still unsatisfied, Xiya pulled Lei Jin onto his lap and did it again. Under Xiya’s relentless movements, Lei Jin reached his peak, his release spilling out, while Xiya’s spurted deep inside Lei Jin’s walls.

Lei Jin, unable to resist, simply closed his eyes, refusing to look at Xiya. Xiya, clearly not planning to let him off tonight, didn’t do much more, but he bit and kissed Lei Jin all over, even leaving two bite marks along the crease of his inner thighs.

Exhausted, Lei Jin soon fell into a deep sleep. Xiya quietly got up to fetch some hot water, but when he opened the door, he found a basin of steaming water already waiting there.

Hao Chen, wrapped in a robe, was sitting in the main room, a pine oil lamp on the table. Seeing Xiya, he beckoned him over. “Xiya, come here. I want to talk to you.” He glanced at Xiya’s hastily thrown-on clothes, still disheveled, and smiled. “Young people have energy, but you should still take it easy.”

Xiya respected Hao Chen, recognizing him as a reasonable man who genuinely cared for Lei Jin. He felt a rare sense of embarrassment. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

Hao Chen knew that when a male werebeast said such things, there was little guarantee, but he felt it was worth a reminder. “I heard from Jing Ping that Lei Jin is the shared mate of you three brothers?”

Xiya nodded, not denying it.

“I really like Lei Jin’s personality—bold, reasonable, independent, and strong. If you hadn’t come, I likely would have already agreed to let Jing Yue form a bond with him.”

Xiya put on his most harmless smile, waiting for Hao Chen to continue.

Seeing this, Hao Chen mentally wrote off his son’s chances. How could Jing Yue ever compete with Xiya?

“Since all three of you love him and have decided to share him, you should know that he can’t give each of you an equal share of his affection. I’m not your elder, so maybe you won’t like hearing this,” Hao Chen said, not hiding the fact that he had overheard everything.

Xiya, realizing that Hao Chen genuinely cared about their future, straightened up, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I’m not forcing him to divide his love equally. I just want a place in his heart.”

“How do you know you don’t already have a place? I’m not sure if Lei Jin has fallen for you yet, but he definitely cares about you to some extent.”

Xiya sat down, pulling his stool closer to Hao Chen. Suddenly, his throat felt dry, and he poured himself a bowl of water to drink before asking, “Are you serious?”

“This isn’t the first time you two have been together, is it?” Hao Chen asked, suddenly changing the subject.

“A few times,” Xiya replied vaguely.

“If he truly didn’t care about you at all, would he let you do as you please?” Hao Chen pointed out the key issue.

“But that’s because…” How could he explain? That it was because of the jade mugwort Jing Yue had mistakenly given Lei Jin, and that their relationship had started with Xiya forcing himself on Lei Jin?

“Are you going to say it’s because you forced him?” Although Hao Chen didn’t know the full story, he had a rough idea of what Xiya was trying to say.

Xiya remained silent, tacitly admitting it.

Hao Chen stood up, stretching his limbs. The late-night rain had brought a chill. He looked at Xiya and said, “I won’t say much else, but take Rong Chuan, for example. If he had forced himself on Lei Jin like you did, no matter how well he treated him afterward, do you think Lei Jin would have treated him the same way he treats you?”

Xiya didn’t even want to think about it. With Lei Jin’s fiery temper, even if Rong Chuan had been trying to help him through the effects of the jade mugwort, Lei Jin would have skinned him alive afterward. So, did that mean Lei Jin did care about Xiya, even just a little? That there was still hope for him?

Hao Chen noticed a hint of joy appearing on his face, unlike before. Although they had just shared the most intimate moment, when Xiya stepped out, his expression carried traces of frustration and helplessness.

“Think it over carefully and treat Lei Jin better,” Hao Chen said, leaving these words behind before opening the door and walking out.

Xiya faintly heard Kun Ge waiting outside, saying, “You always have so much to worry about.”

Hao Chen sighed. “If our first female son had survived, he would be old enough to have a bonding ceremony by now.”

“Don’t think about it. If you like Lei Jin, just treat him as our own son. That kid’s stubbornness is a lot like yours. I like him too.”

“…”

“…”

Xiya didn’t have time to dwell on it. Lei Jin was still lying naked on the bed. He quickly brought the water in, cleaning Lei Jin’s front thoroughly before turning him over. The darkness didn’t hinder Xiya’s sharp vision. The small entrance seemed to breathe, opening and closing slightly, with traces of white fluid seeping out. The sight made Xiya want to take Lei Jin again, but reason held him back. In the end, he painfully restrained himself, though his lower body was beyond control. He undid his recently fastened pants, pressing against Lei Jin’s entrance and releasing himself. Afterward, he cleaned Lei Jin again, but left his own essence inside.

The heavy rain lasted for five or six days before finally stopping. During that time, Xiya and Lei Jin stayed at Jing Ping’s house.

The rice-hulling tool Jing Ping had invented, though simple, was quite effective. However, when used with too much force, the mortar would shift. Lei Jin suggested partially burying the mortar in the ground to stabilize it.

Inspired by Jing Ping, Lei Jin remembered something else. He vaguely recalled seeing a foot-operated rice-hulling device before, though he couldn’t remember the details. Still, Jing Ping was thrilled, saying that by the next time Lei Jin visited, he would have figured out how to make a foot-operated hulling tool.

Lei Jin just smiled, not responding. Whether he would return or not was still up in the air.

Seeing that the rain had delayed Lei Jin’s departure, Hao Chen busied himself making him some clothes. Using some camel wool and silk thread, he wove fabric and made Lei Jin two pairs of pants and a shirt. Lei Jin wasn’t particularly concerned with comfort, and his original clothes, made of coarse linen, had been a bit scratchy but bearable. However, when he put on the clothes Hao Chen had made, the difference was immediate—soft and comfortable, they made him feel at ease.

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Lei Jin tried on one set, thinking he would give the other pair to Roger. He was sure Roger would appreciate the comfort.

When the rain finally stopped, Lei Jin and Xiya prepared to continue their journey. Hao Chen packed them some dried meat and a bag of rice. As they left, both Jing Ping and Hao Chen had tears in their eyes.

But when they reached the meeting point, Moya was nowhere to be found.

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These Werebeast Gongs Are Rogues CH 061 Whose Mate

Everything that needed to be taken had been packed, and farewells had been said to Jing Yue’s family. The temporary residence had been tidied up, and they were ready to set off in a couple of days. However, they were caught in a heavy rainstorm. The rain was torrential, causing the river in the valley to swell and even submerge the small bridge. Since there was no urgent need to travel in such weather, they decided to stay put for a few more days. Hao Chen had mentioned a new method for hulling rice a few days ago. Lei Jin had initially thought they would be leaving soon, so he hadn’t gone to check it out. But with the rain delaying their departure, he decided to take the opportunity to visit.

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Lei Jin noticed two sets of straw raincoats behind the door and gestured for Xiya to bring them over. One for each of them would be perfect. However, Xiya only picked up the smaller one and helped Lei Jin put it on.

“You wear it. I’ll fly you over,” Xiya said. The rain was too heavy, and Lei Jin’s health hadn’t fully recovered yet. He couldn’t stay out in the rain for long. Flying would be the fastest way.

As they flew through the pouring rain, Xiya shielded Lei Jin under his belly, keeping him warm and dry. When they arrived at Jing Yue’s house, they saw that the flowers under the windowsill and eaves had been scattered all over the ground, and the green vine trellis had collapsed, a testament to the intensity of the rain.

Jing Yue’s family was gathered in the side room on the west side. Hearing the commotion, they opened the door and quickly invited them inside. Lei Jin, protected by the raincoat and Xiya, was mostly dry except for a few damp strands of hair. In contrast, Xiya was drenched from head to toe, his hair darkened by the water dripping continuously. Jing Ping grabbed a towel and was about to wipe him down when Hao Chen called from the southeast corner, “Jing Ping, come help me with this wooden frame.”

“Okay,” Jing Ping quickly responded, handing the towel to Lei Jin before rushing off.

Lei Jin stared at the towel in his hand, thinking Jing Ping was too flustered to even notice who he was handing it to. What use was it to him? His arms were still immobile.

Xiya seemed to chuckle softly, then took the towel from Lei Jin. Despite Lei Jin’s silent resistance, Xiya sat him down on a stool, first drying his hair before tending to his own.

“Let me take you to my room to change clothes,” Jing Yue said reluctantly, standing up with a stern face. He had come to terms with Lei Jin’s situation, but that didn’t mean he had to like Xiya. However, knowing that feline tribes like the leopard and tiger had an innate aversion to getting wet, he decided to lend Xiya some clothes.

Xiya, without hesitation, followed Jing Yue, which only deepened Jing Yue’s dislike for him. As they left, Jing Yue accidentally caught Lei Jin’s amused gaze, and suddenly he was recalling the scene by the spring that day, causing his face to flush red.

“Alright, let’s go change,” Xiya said, wrapping an arm around Lei Jin’s shoulder and applying subtle pressure. He knew exactly what had happened that day when he returned from their bath to find the door wide open and game left at the entrance. It was obvious who had been there. Jing Yue was usually clever, but when it came to matters involving females, he became clumsy—a common trait among many werebeasts. Towards other females it was fine, but he wasn’t so generous when it came to Lei Jin.

“Let those two go. Lei Jin, come take a look at this. Isn’t it much better?” Hao Chen said, holding a stone mortar. Jing Ping was using a small broom to sweep the hulled rice and bran into a wooden basin beside them.

Lei Jin stepped closer to inspect it. The mortar was similar to the ones used in modern households for pounding garlic, but much larger—about the size of a small water vat, over a meter deep, with thick stone walls.

After Jing Ping swept out the hulled rice, Hao Chen poured more rice stalks into the mortar. Kun Ge then took a wooden pestle and began pounding vigorously. It was labor-intensive work, but werebeasts were strong. Even so, it took Kun Ge forty or fifty strikes before the rice grains started to separate.

“This is indeed a good method,” Lei Jin remarked. Though it required more strength, it was far more efficient than hand-rubbing.

“I came up with this,” Jing Ping said proudly, tilting his little head up.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” Kun Ge said, wiping his sweat with a towel Hao Chen handed him. He glanced affectionately at his youngest son, who had been listless for days but finally seemed to perk up today.

“Lei Jin, do you think my method works well?” Jing Ping asked, grabbing a handful of rice from the mortar and blowing away the bran.

Lei Jin smiled and nodded. Jing Ping had done a fine job.

“Papa, Lei Jin says my method works well,” Jing Ping said, clenching his fist in self-encouragement.

“I thought of it while pounding herbs. The mortar was dug up by my brother from the mountain. There are many strange things near our temple.”

Hearing about the temple, Lei Jin’s interest was piqued. Roger had once mentioned that every tribe had a temple of unknown origin, and the patterns Roger had copied came from the stone pillars around those temples.

“Do you also have stone pillars behind your temple?” Lei Jin asked casually.

“Yeah, we erect a sacred pillar every cycle year behind the temple, and we carve patterns on them,” Jing Ping replied, not understanding why Lei Jin was asking but answering truthfully nonetheless.

“What kind of patterns?” Lei Jin pressed. Could they be related to the way home?

“I can’t really describe them,” Jing Ping said, frowning. He had seen the patterns but couldn’t articulate what they were.

“Ah! I remember now. I have this,” Jing Ping said, his eyes lighting up. He undid his collar, revealing a black leather cord around his neck with a smooth, black, fan-shaped stone pendant. The stone was covered in intricate, interwoven lines.

Lei Jin’s expression changed as he saw the stone. “Can I take a look at it?” he asked.

Jing Ping readily handed it over. The stone, though seemingly ordinary, radiated a continuous warmth when held.

Lei Jin finally remembered why the patterns at the Leopard Tribe’s temple had seemed familiar. Once, when he was with Liu Si, someone had given him a similar stone. It was from one of Liu Si’s workers, a woman who was about to return to her hometown to get married. To thank Lei Jin for saving her, she insisted on giving him a jade stone passed down from her grandmother.

Later, Liu Si had mocked the gift, calling it nothing more than a worthless rock. But Lei Jin had found the stone’s ancient and mysterious design intriguing, though he hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time and had tossed it aside.

But where had he tossed it? Lei Jin frowned, deep in thought. Damn it, he remembered now. That night, he and Liu Si had returned to his place and headed straight to the bathroom. What happened next was obvious, and he had never thought about the stone again. It must have been left somewhere in the bathroom.

Roger had said that the key to returning home lay in these patterns. Could his arrival here be connected to them, or more directly, to that jade stone?

However, his stone had been round, while Jing Ping’s seemed to be a fragment of it.

“Lei Jin, are you okay?” Jing Ping asked, noticing Lei Jin’s troubled expression.

“Where did you get this jade stone?” Lei Jin asked, calming himself and softening his tone.

“This? It was a gift from my dad. The patterns on it are exactly the same as those on the pillars, right, Dad?” Jing Ping turned to Kun Ge for confirmation.

Kun Ge nodded. “En, it’s been passed down through our tribe for generations. Though it looks old, it’s not particularly valuable. I just let Jing Ping wear it for fun.”

“Lei Jin, if you like it, you can have it,” Jing Ping offered generously, seeing Lei Jin’s apparent interest.

“Let me borrow it for a while. I’ll return it to you later,” Lei Jin said, turning the stone over in his hands. He couldn’t decipher its secrets but thought Roger might be able to figure it out.

“It’s no problem, you can have it,” Jing Ping said, waving his hand dismissively. Though he liked the stone, he was willing to part with it for Lei Jin.

“What are you talking about?” Xiya asked, entering with a bundle of rice stalks under his arm. He had just changed clothes when Jing Yue dragged him to the back shed to fetch more rice, which had delayed him.

Lei Jin waited for him to set the rice down before opening his palm and speaking in a low, excited voice. “Xiya, I used to have a stone like this. Roger said the way home is connected to the patterns on the stone pillars. This stone has the same patterns as the ones on the Tiger Tribe’s temple pillars. I want to take it back for Roger to examine. Maybe this time we can really go home.”

The more Lei Jin thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. For the first time in a long while, he felt a genuine hope of returning home.

Xiya, however, looked as if he had been struck by lightning. He stood frozen for a moment, his expression dimming as Lei Jin spoke excitedly.

That night, the rain showed no signs of letting up, so Hao Chen invited them to stay. With the extra rice they had hulled, Jing Ping cooked a pot of rice using the method Lei Jin had taught him. Lei Jin, in high spirits, ate an extra bowl. Xiya, however, was torn with conflicting emotions. After feeding Lei Jin, he hastily finished his own meal, barely tasting it despite it being his first time trying such food.

Jing Yue’s house had three rooms on the north side. The leftmost room was the main hall, facing the entrance. The two rooms on the left were for Hao Chen and Kun Ge, while the two on the east were for Jing Yue and Jing Ping. The west side was used for storage, and there was a small kitchen by the south wall. Tonight, Xiya and Lei Jin would stay in the room next to Hao Chen and Kun Ge’s. Since Xiya had already declared them as formally bonded mates, Hao Chen naturally arranged for them to share a room.

After washing up, they got into bed. The wind and rain beat against the wooden window, creating a rhythmic tapping sound.

Xiya wrapped his right arm around Lei Jin from behind, his left hand slipping under Lei Jin’s clothes.

Lei Jin took a deep breath, mindful of the people next door, and whispered, “What are you doing, Xiya…”

“If you can accept Moya, why not me?” Xiya asked, licking Lei Jin’s earlobe. He had promised to wait, but with Lei Jin constantly thinking about returning home, how could he wait patiently?

Lei Jin was too elusive, too hard to hold onto. Only by keeping him close like this could Xiya feel any sense of security.

Meanwhile, not far from the Tiger Tribe’s territory, by the sea, the storm raged even fiercer. In the dark night, massive black waves rolled on the horizon. Birds had returned to their nests, but a faint light glowed from a cave on the shore. Moya hung the leftover roasted meat on the cave wall.

“Hey, are you really leaving?” Berg asked, pacing back and forth behind Moya.

“Yes,” Moya replied calmly, picking up a clay pot from the cave entrance. It was filled with rainwater, which he used to wash his face.

“Haven’t I treated you well? Why are you leaving?” Berg’s patience was wearing thin as his attempts to persuade Moya failed.

“I don’t belong here. Of course, I have to return to my tribe,” Moya said, finally looking at Berg with a puzzled expression.

“Stay, and I’ll always be with you,” Berg said, his usually playful face now serious.

“I already have a mate,” Moya replied, understanding Berg’s feelings but knowing it was impossible.

“But he’s sleeping with your brother,” Berg retorted, not holding back. If Moya had heard the noises, so had he.

“He’s our mate,” Moya said, emphasizing “our” with a calm but firm tone.

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“Can you really accept that? If so, why did you run away that time?” Berg pointed out bluntly.

“I didn’t run away. I just gave them the space they needed,” Moya said, turning his back to spread more dry grass on the damp cave floor.

“Even if I offered to make you my only mate, you still wouldn’t stay?” Berg asked, his expression unreadable, each word deliberate.

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The Kingdom That Never Sleeps CH 167 I Will Bring Peace To The Kingdom, Calm To The Four Seas, A Millennium In The Twinkle Of An Eye, And Songs Sung To The Skies!

The central figure of the Xingzhou case, Sun Shangde, had already died in prison, but officials from the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice followed the trail and eventually uncovered a deeply intertwined network of relationships.

The Xingzhou case began with Sun Shangde and a group of low-ranking officials, around the fifth or sixth rank, engaging in corruption and embezzling government funds. This might not have been an isolated incident; similar cases could have occurred in other prefectures across the thirty-six provinces of the Song Dynasty, but most were successfully concealed without causing any major issues. Corrupt officials were always difficult to completely eradicate, but seventeen years ago, a heavy snowfall in the Northwest turned what might have been a minor case of corruption into a major scandal.

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Officials from the Court of Judicial Review compiled a report on the case and presented it to the emperor.

The emperor was furious.

The case implicated many, and the highest-ranking official involved was Yu Chaosheng.

That very night, Yu Chaosheng was summoned to the palace. In Chuigong Hall, the emperor threw the impeachment memorials at him.

Zhao Fu: “What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Yu Chaosheng’s official robe was crumpled by the memorials. He bowed his head, hunched over, and took out a memorial from his sleeve, presenting it to the emperor. “Your guilty subject, Yu Chaosheng, begs for Your Majesty’s forgiveness.”

Ji Fu took Yu Chaosheng’s memorial and handed it to the emperor.

The emperor opened the memorial and began reading. As he read, Zhao Fu let out a cold sneer. With a wave of his hand, he threw Yu Chaosheng’s memorial back at him. Zhao Fu’s voice was low, almost mocking, “I see you’ve been planning this for a long time! Over the past seventeen years, have you never had even a shred of doubt about what happened back then? If you, Yu Xianzhi, had spoken up earlier, I might have shown you some leniency.”

“Yu Xianzhi, oh Yu Xianzhi, do you think I’m a fool, or do you think you’re a fool?”

“Do you want me to think you’re a fool, or do you want me to think you’re clever?”

Yu Chaosheng had prepared for this, but facing the emperor’s wrath, he couldn’t help but tremble, “Your subject wouldn’t dare.”

Zhao Fu: “I am deeply disappointed in you!”

Yu Chaosheng’s heart sank. He looked up at the emperor, but the emperor no longer glanced his way.

When the Xingzhou case was first brought to light by the censor, Xu Bi had asked Yu Chaosheng if he was involved. Yu Chaosheng had said, “Absolutely not.” Indeed, he was not part of the group of corrupt officials in Xingzhou.

At that time, Yu Chaosheng had just passed the imperial examination and had been serving as a low-ranking official in the capital for a year before being sent to Xingzhou. As an outsider, he couldn’t have quickly integrated into the group of fifth and sixth-rank officials, so he truly wasn’t involved. However, in the years following the snow disaster in Xingzhou, Yu Chaosheng moved through various positions, gradually rising in rank and gaining a clearer understanding of the bureaucratic landscape.

Looking back, he realized what the slight anomaly he had noticed in Xingzhou was—something he had sensed but, due to his lack of experience and seniority, had not dared to conclude at the time.

He had never embezzled government funds, but he wasn’t entirely unaware of what was happening.

Zhao Fu knew this all too well.

The memorial Yu Chaosheng had written was a plea of innocence, stating that he had never been involved in corruption and had no connection to the Xingzhou case. But what Zhao Fu asked him was, “Did you already suspect the truth?” and “In your memorial, you only say you’re innocent, but you don’t mention that you knew about it and chose to do nothing.”

Yu Chaosheng wasn’t foolish, so Zhao Fu understood that his minister had known all along.

What Zhao Fu despised was that seventeen years ago, he had personally gone to the Temple of Heaven to pray, filled with fear. But now, looking back, it wasn’t a natural disaster, nor was it due to any lack of virtue on Zhao Fu’s part—it was man-made!

The next morning, during the court session, the emperor issued an edict temporarily removing Yu Chaosheng from his position as Minister of Justice and ordering him to reflect on his actions at home. The other officials implicated in the Xingzhou case were also punished. The most heavily involved had already been arrested by the Court of Judicial Review and thrown into the imperial prison, where they would likely spend the rest of their lives.

In Zichen Hall, as Yu Chaosheng personally removed his official hat, the Left Prime Minister Xu Bi held his jade tablet, his eyes fixed on the ground, not stepping forward to plead for his student.

On the other side, the Right Prime Minister Wang Quan, the Senior Grand Secretary of the Left Wang Zhen, and others all maintained their composure, as if they had no involvement in the matter.

Tang Shen stood at the forefront of the third-rank officials, behind the second-rank officials. He watched Yu Chaosheng’s retreating figure as he left Zichen Hall, suddenly wondering if Yu Chaosheng knew who had brought him down.

It was Wang Quan, Wang Zhen, and perhaps even his mentor Xu Bi, who had pushed him from behind, distancing himself from him.

But the one truly responsible for his current predicament was himself.

Being an official in this world is difficult, being a corrupt official is difficult, and being a good official is even more difficult.

Wang Zhen had never said it, but Tang Shen had long guessed why, starting two years ago, the Wang faction had set up such a large scheme to remove Yu Chaosheng, a key piece of the Xu faction.

Two years ago, Zhao Fu had fallen seriously ill, lying in bed for a long time, and everyone thought he wouldn’t make it. Even the Grand Preceptor Zhou, who was stationed in the Northwest, returned to the capital after many years to check on the emperor’s condition. But Zhao Fu had pulled through, and from then on, Wang Zhen had resolved to cut off the Xu faction’s right arm.

Zhao Fu would eventually die, and that day might not be far off.

No matter which of the three princes succeeded him, none would have Zhao Fu’s determination to push through the Silver Pull Division, despite the court’s opposition. Back then, there was only the Silver Pull Division, but now there was also the cage box. The former had already shown its threat to the powerful families, while the latter would only need a few years to demonstrate its potential to transform society.

Yu Chaosheng had been a good official, but Wang Zhen aimed to be a corrupt one.

Only by seizing power and turning the court into a one-voice chamber could one do what needed to be done.

Being a good official is difficult, and being a corrupt one is no less challenging!

As the New Year approached, the Xingzhou case had thrown the capital into turmoil, with everyone on edge. The recent victory in the Northwest was somewhat overshadowed, and with the daily heavy snowfall sealing the city, the vast capital felt even more desolate and cold.

Tang Shen, following the emperor’s summons, entered the palace. When he left, the chief eunuch Ji Fu escorted him out.

Tang Shen: “How is your health, Ji gonggong? The weather is freezing; you should take care of yourself.”

Ji Fu smiled obsequiously, “Thank you for your concern, Tang daren. The ointment you sent last time was truly miraculous.”

Tang Shen smiled slightly.

Previously, Tang Shen had sent the first batch of cloth woven by the textile machine into the palace. The next day, he heard that as soon as he left, Chief Eunuch Ji Fu had emerged from Chuigong Hall with a swollen face. The incident was quite strange, and Tang Shen didn’t know why Ji Fu’s face had suddenly swollen, but influenced by Wang Zhen, he sent the best bruise medicine from Baibao Pavilion to Ji Fu.

Ji Fu, who had compared Tang Shen to a eunuch and slapped himself ten times, had initially held a grudge. But after receiving the high-quality bruise medicine, his anger subsided a bit, and he casually mentioned what had happened that day.

Tang Shen was also surprised; he hadn’t realized he held such a high place in Zhao Fu’s heart.

That day, Tang Shen prepared a generous gift and sent it to Ji Fu’s residence outside the palace.

Ji Fu pretended to decline, but Tang Shen insisted, “Ji gonggong, you were injured because of me. This is my apology. If you don’t accept it, does that mean you’re still angry with me?”

Ji Fu immediately accepted the gift.

Ji Fu sighed, “The snow is falling heavily. Tang daren, be careful on your way.”

Tang Shen: “Thank you, Ji gonggong.”

Ji Fu casually remarked, “Seeing this snow reminds me of something the emperor mentioned yesterday while reviewing memorials. He said this year’s snow is indeed heavy, but the north is accustomed to heavy snow, and the people are well-prepared. If this snow had fallen in the southwest or in places like Xingzhou, it might have caused another disaster.”

Tang Shen looked up at him.

Tang Shen: “These are indeed troubled times.”

Ji Fu smiled, “It will all settle down eventually. Tang daren, take care.”

On the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month of the 36th year of Kaiping, Minister of Justice Yu Chaosheng was demoted to the position of Governor of Changzhou.

That day, Yu Chaosheng left the capital in a simple carriage without informing anyone, having already packed his belongings, not delaying even a single day.

On the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, the eve of New Year’s Eve, the emperor held a banquet in Yanchun Pavilion, inviting all the officials to celebrate the New Year together.

At the banquet, the officials toasted and feasted, and the emperor was in high spirits.

Tang Shen, as the third-rank Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works, with the honorary title of second-rank Right Attendant Gentleman of the Scattered Cavalry, sat among the second-rank officials. He spoke in a low voice with the Minister of Rites, Meng Lang, while glancing at the three princes seated at the head of the table.

Meng Lang followed his gaze, “I heard His Highness the Second Prince was injured while fighting the Liao in Youzhou. It seems the injury was to his arm.” Meng Lang pointed to the second prince Zhao Shang’s left arm, which indeed remained stiff and unmoving.

Tang Shen: “All three princes have served the country with pure hearts.”

Meng Lang glanced at Tang Shen and muttered under his breath, “You’re becoming more and more like Wang Zifeng!”

Tang Shen didn’t catch his muttering, his gaze lingering on the three princes.

During the war between the Song and Liao, Zhao Fu had sent all three of his sons to Youzhou. Once there, they naturally tried their best to contribute and achieve some merit. However, none of them had ever led troops in battle, and no matter how much they tried to curry favor with Grand Preceptor Zhou, he paid them no attention.

The three princes were as anxious as ants on a hot pan.

Finally, the second prince Zhao Shang found an opportunity to lead troops into battle. Whether by accident or design, he was injured and returned to the capital with his wounds.

In Yanchun Pavilion, Zhao Shang, with his immobile left arm, eagerly looked toward the emperor. Unfortunately, Zhao Fu never glanced his way.

The light in Zhao Shang’s eyes gradually dimmed.

The Silver Pull Division in the thirty-six provinces, the Song-Liao war, the Jiao Prefecture Agreement, the Xingzhou case…

The 36th year of Kaiping ended with a heavy snowfall.

As the officials left Yanchun Pavilion, Tang Shen donned his fox-fur cloak. When he exited the Xuanwu Gate, he saw a carriage bearing the lantern of the Senior Grand Secretary of the Left waiting outside the palace. The peachwood window was slightly ajar, and a wisp of sandalwood incense drifted out.

It was the scent Wang Zifeng always carried.

Tang Shen boarded the carriage, where Wang Zhen was holding a jade pendant, examining it in the dim candlelight.

Tang Shen looked closely, “Why are you looking at that, Senior Brother?”

Wang Zhen gently put away the pendant. “This is a gift little Junior Brother gave me.”

After Tang Shen settled in, the carriage quickly set off for the Minister Residence.

The Yanchun Pavilion banquet was a feast hosted by the emperor for his officials. The food and wine served were prepared by the imperial kitchen and were naturally exquisite. But it was a palace banquet, and no official dared to eat heartily in front of the emperor. Tang Shen, still hungry, expertly searched Wang Zhen’s carriage and found some pastries from Caiqi Villa.

As Tang Shen ate a pastry, Wang Zhen casually remarked, “Yelü Shege has ascended the throne.”

Tang Shen nearly choked on his pastry. He quickly took a large sip of tea and, after recovering, looked at Wang Zhen in disbelief. “Yelü Shege has ascended the throne? The second prince of Liao?”

Wang Zhen smiled and nodded, “Yes.”

Tang Shen: “…”

He put the pastry down, still shaken, and muttered, “Really? Why do you say it so casually, as if you were saying ‘let’s eat crab tonight’?”

The ascension of a new Liao emperor was a major event. The emperor at the banquet didn’t even know about it, yet Wang Zifeng mentioned it so nonchalantly.

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow, “Then how should I have said it, little Junior Brother?”

Tang Shen thought for a moment, “…Just say it like that.”

Wang Zifeng always seemed unfazed by anything. The ascension of a Liao emperor? So what if he ascended…

Tang Shen felt that after spending so much time with Wang Zifeng, he had become more composed, and his values had undergone a significant change.

Meanwhile, after the Yanchun Pavilion banquet, Zhao Fu also learned of the Liao second prince’s ascension.

At the time, Zhao Fu was in his concubine’s palace, preparing to sleep. When the scout reported the news, Zhao Fu, like Wang Zifeng, simply said “Oh” and didn’t give it much further thought.

Who the new Liao emperor was didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter at all.

The Liao had already signed the Jiao Prefecture Agreement with the Song, and without the Black Wolf Army of a hundred thousand, the Liao was no longer the formidable empire it once was.

Zhao Fu closed his eyes, recalling many things.

Thirty-six years ago, when he had just ascended the throne, the court was in turmoil, and the Liao took advantage to attack.

Twenty-six years ago, he led troops personally and, after a bitter victory, finally secured a peace treaty.

In his thirty-six years on the throne, the Song had faced natural disasters and man-made calamities, but the people had lived in peace and stability for thirty-six years!

What had he left for his successors?

He left a complete territory with three provinces returned to the Song, a Silver Pull Division spread across thirty-six provinces, the cage box that Tang Shen called a beacon of hope, and the peaceful and prosperous 36th year of Kaiping!

That night, the emperor stayed in Consort Zhen’s palace. Consort Zhen was the mother of the second prince Zhao Shang.

Since the palace coup five years ago, Consort Zhen had grown increasingly fearful of the emperor. She carefully attended to him as he prepared to sleep.

The candles were extinguished, and moonlight quietly filled the room.

Consort Zhen, after a long time of anxiety, was about to fall asleep when she suddenly heard Zhao Fu say, “Did Zhao Shang injure his arm in Youzhou?”

Consort Zhen was startled, almost jumping out of bed. She softly replied: “Yes…”

Zhao Fu said nothing more.

Consort Zhen waited anxiously for a long time, but this time she couldn’t fall asleep.

“You’ve been with me for thirty years.”

Consort Zhen forced a smile, “Your subject entered the palace in the third year of Kaiping.”

Zhao Fu casually remarked, “Have I been a good emperor?”

Consort Zhen’s heart skipped a beat. Having survived in the palace for so many years and given birth to a prince, she understood the emperor. She raised her eyes and, in the moonlight, saw the wrinkles on Zhao Fu’s face, deep as mountain ravines.

She thought of Zhao Fu when she first entered the palace thirty-three years ago.

Zhao Fu wasn’t particularly handsome.

The empress dowager wasn’t a beauty, and among the late emperor’s sons, the most handsome was the crown prince. Before entering the palace, Consort Zhen had once seen the crown prince from afar at a palace banquet. He was like a celestial being descended from heaven, captivating her at first sight. Back then, which young lady in the capital didn’t admire Zhao Xuan?

But Zhao Xuan was long dead, and she had entered the palace, becoming Zhao Fu’s concubine.

Zhao Fu managed the court with a firm hand, but he paid little attention to the harem. When the empress was alive, she managed the harem well; after her death, the harem remained orderly as ever. Looking back, perhaps every woman in the harem was terrified of Zhao Fu, even though he rarely showed anger in front of them, they still didn’t dare to act out.

Thirty-three years together, and the second prince Zhao Shang was also already over thirty.

Now, looking at Zhao Fu, Consort Zhen felt that the memory of the crown prince’s celestial face had blurred. Over the years, the one she remembered, the one she sewed clothes for at night, the one she tried so hard to please, the one she feared—it was always Zhao Fu.

Consort Zhen spoke from the heart, “In your subject’s heart, Your Majesty is the best emperor.”

Zhao Fu looked over at her.

Zhao Fu smiled, “You’ve grown old.”

Consort Zhen found the courage from somewhere to say, “Your Majesty has too.”

Zhao Fu laughed heartily.

Consort Zhen, her heart pounding, quietly thought: Perhaps tonight, the emperor was truly happy.

Sleepiness overcame her, and Consort Zhen slowly fell asleep.

The next day, as it was New Year’s Eve, the officials were on holiday and didn’t need to attend court. The eunuchs waited outside the bedchamber.

Consort Zhen woke up and saw that the emperor hadn’t risen yet. She quietly left the palace. By mid-morning, the emperor still hadn’t woken, so Consort Zhen went in to call for him. After calling a few times with no response, her expression changed, and she panicked, calling Ji Fu in from outside. Ji Fu was also terrified, his face pale.

Consort Zhen’s hand trembled as she touched Zhao Fu’s body.

She collapsed to the floor.

Ji Fu’s face turned white with fear, but the next moment, Consort Zhen screamed, “Call the imperial physician, quickly!”

The emperor hadn’t died, but his old illness had flared up, leaving him unconscious.

On the 37th year of Kaiping, during the New Year, chaos filled the palace. The three princes, having learned from past events, wished to visit the ailing emperor but feared repeating the disaster from five years ago. Only after two days did they finally enter the palace to attend to his illness.

Zhao Fu’s illness struck fiercely this time.

Tang Shen had entered the palace to meet the emperor as early as the fourth day of the new year, but unfortunately, the emperor was unconscious, and he couldn’t see him.

The last time the emperor had fallen gravely ill, Grand Preceptor Zhou had not returned to the capital until February, bringing with him a renowned physician. This time, perhaps sensing the urgency, Grand Preceptor Zhou returned to Shengjing on the seventh day of the new year, once again bringing the same physician.

The physician stayed in the palace for an entire month, yet Zhao Fu showed no signs of awakening.

At court, the officials were deeply worried.

Within the palace, the three princes were even more anxious, feeling as if they were sitting on pins and needles. Never had they realized so keenly how close they were to the throne. Yet the palace coup five years ago had instilled deep fear in them—none dared to act rashly. Perhaps no other sons in the world feared their father as much as they did, trembling like frightened rats.

On February 13, the 37th year of Kaiping—

Tang Shen was at the Ministry of Works, discussing with artisans how to improve the cage box mechanisms to enhance efficiency and reduce energy loss when an official messenger arrived:

“His Majesty has awakened. The Left Senior Grand Secretary requests the Right Vice Minister to enter the palace.”

Tang Shen was taken aback and immediately set off.

By the time he arrived outside Chuigong Hall, many officials had already gathered.

Tang Shen spotted Wang Zhen and walked over to his side. The two exchanged glances, and Wang Zhen pressed a finger to his lips, whispering a soft “Shh.” Tang Shen lowered his eyes, stepped behind Wang Zhen, and remained silent.

As the sun set and the bright moon hung high in the sky, the chief eunuch, Ji Fu, stepped out of Chuigong Hall.

His sharp voice pierced through the night:

“Summoning Left Prime Minister Xu Bi and Right Prime Minister Wang Quan to an audience.”

Xu Bi and Wang Quan immediately stepped forward and entered the hall.

An hour later, they emerged with differing expressions.

Xu Bi declared, “Disperse. His Majesty is still unwell; no need to wait any longer.”

The officials responded in unison, “Understood.”

After leaving the palace, Tang Shen and Wang Zhen hurried to the Right Prime Minister’s residence.

Wang Quan, upon seeing them, let out a wry laugh. “I know why you’ve come—to ask what was said and heard inside, yes? I won’t keep it from you. Come with me.”

The two followed Wang Quan into his study, where he pressed a spot on the bookshelf and retrieved a small, intricately crafted box.

Wang Zhen’s gaze flickered. He looked up and asked, “Inside that box is…?”

Wang Quan sighed. “Yes, it contains the imperial edict of succession.”

Tang Shen was startled.

Wang Quan continued, “The box is in my hands, but do you see the lock on it? The key is with Xu Bi. So, I have no idea what’s written inside, and neither does the Left Prime Minister.” Wang Quan sighed again. “Who could have expected His Majesty to have made such arrangements?”

The edict of succession was jointly safeguarded by Xu Bi and Wang Quan.

The two were political rivals—if one attempted foul play, the other would undoubtedly intervene.

Moreover, upon the new emperor’s ascension, both would have contributed to his rise. Even if one side later attempted to overpower the other, it wouldn’t be easy. With a single move, the emperor had effectively nullified half of the Wang faction’s painstaking efforts in the power play regarding Yu Chaosheng’s demotion.

Wang Zhen chuckled.

Wang Quan frowned. “You can still laugh?”

Wang Zhen retorted, “Should I cry instead?”

Wang Quan shot him an exasperated look and sighed. “Ai… I don’t know if this is good or bad. Nor do I know how much longer His Majesty can hold on.”

Tang Shen felt these words resonate deeply. The next day, he quietly made his way to Qinzheng Hall, where he coincidentally encountered the chamberlain on duty.

The man’s surname was Qi, and he had been the top scholar of Kaiping’s 36th year. Appointed as the chamberlain just last November, he had barely started when he was met with the emperor’s grave illness, leaving him with little to record each day.

“Tang daren, greetings.”

Tang Shen acknowledged him with a slight nod. “Heading to your duty post?”

Qi Feng replied, “Yes, daren.”

Tang Shen said no more and stepped aside to let him pass. Qi Feng, momentarily surprised, quickly bowed in gratitude and hurried into the palace.

Since waking, Zhao Fu had only met with Xu Bi and Wang Quan, refusing to see anyone else for two consecutive days.

Some officials speculated that the emperor, like before, would overcome his illness. But Tang Shen knew otherwise. Grand Preceptor Zhou had remained in the capital instead of leaving—perhaps Zhao Fu truly would not survive this spring.

On February 17, Zhao Fu summoned Senior Grand Secretary of the Left Wang Zhen and Deputy Minister of Qinzheng Hall Su Wenyun for an audience.

The two were not summoned together—Su Wenyun exited the palace just as Wang Zhen entered.

As they passed each other, Su Wenyun cast Wang Zhen a meaningful smile. Wang Zhen remained composed and entered the palace calmly. That night, upon returning home, Wang Zhen and Tang Shen dined together.

After the meal, Wang Zhen casually retrieved something from his sleeve and placed it on the table with a soft “click.”

His action was so natural that Tang Shen didn’t sense anything unusual at first. But when he glanced at the object, his expression changed drastically. He grabbed it at once.

“What is this?”

Wang Zhen smiled leisurely. “A death-exemption token.”

Tang Shen: “…”

Of course, he recognized it!

So those dramas were right—such tokens really existed, and they were instantly recognizable!

Tang Shen pondered for a moment. “You received this during today’s audience with His Majesty?”

Wang Zhen nodded slightly.

The corner of Tang Shen’s mouth twitched and then he recalled something. “You said His Majesty only summoned you and Su Wenyun today. If he gave you this token, then what did he give Su Wenyun?”

Wang Zhen replied, “Why assume he gave something to Su Wenyun?”

Tang Shen: “Huh?”

Wang Zhen frowned slightly, assuming a look of noble self-sacrifice. “I, Wang Zifeng, am a man of integrity, devoted to the nation, willing to sacrifice my life for the country. It is precisely because of this that I received this token. Perhaps Su Wenyun received nothing at all. Rather, perhaps His Majesty took something from him instead?”

Tang Shen: “…”

“Truly the pinnacle of shamelessness!”

Neither Tang Shen nor Zhao Fu’s personal eunuch, Ji Fu, knew if Su Wenyun had obtained anything.

The day after his audience with the emperor, Su Wenyun departed for Youzhou.

A few days later, a letter from Wang Xiao arrived from the Northwest, landing in Tang Shen’s hands. Upon opening it, he couldn’t help but laugh.

After ascending the throne, Yelü Shege, the second prince of the Liao State, first eliminated dissenters and restructured the administration. His rise to power was largely due to the strong support from the southern officials. Thus, after taking the throne, Yelü Shege promoted the southern officials on a grand scale, shifting the power balance in the Liao court, which had long been dominated by tribal nobility.

The Liao State was beset with internal and external troubles, a time of great unrest.

More than a month into his reign, Yelü Shege suddenly recalled something. He summoned his long-time confidant, the former Left Vice Minister of Xijin Prefecture and now the Prince’s Grand Protector of Liao, Xiao Zhen. In a hushed voice, the new Liao Emperor asked, “I recall that you knew a tea merchant from the Song State.”

Xiao Zhen’s plump face immediately broke into a sweat. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do indeed know a Song tea merchant.”

Yelü Shege’s delicate face curled into a cold smile as he softly said, “That tea merchant has a son.”

Xiao Zhen looked up, surprised. “Your Majesty still remembers the tea merchant’s son?” His expression turned regretful. “The merchant’s name was Qiao Jiu, a shrewd and capable businessman. Last year, his son passed away from illness at home. Overcome with grief, Qiao Jiu returned to his homeland. Since then, I have not seen him again.”

Yelü Shege stood in stunned silence.

Xiao Zhen’s gaze was clear, his expression full of regret.

Yelü Shege stared at him for a long while without speaking.

Under the intense scrutiny, Xiao Zhen’s scalp tingled, but he dared not utter a word.

After a long pause, Yelü Shege finally said, “You may leave.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Yelü Shege did not fully trust Xiao Zhen’s words. Though there was no apparent reason for Xiao Zhen to deceive him, the emperor still ordered a private investigation. The findings confirmed Xiao Zhen’s account—last year, the Song tea merchant had indeed left the Liao State and had not returned. Whether he truly left due to his son’s death remained uncertain, but he had undeniably disappeared.

The Liao Emperor closed his eyes, recalling a fleeting yet unforgettable moment from the past.

When he reopened them, Yelü Shege shook his head indifferently, erasing any lingering wistful thoughts.

Su Wenyun’s journey to Youzhou was to erase Qiao Jiu’s traces and reorganize their network within the Liao State.

Although Qiao Jiu was gone, Xiao Zhen had long been planted as a pawn beside Yelü Shege. Xiao Zhen had committed countless acts of treason. If exposed, Yelü Shege would undoubtedly have him executed in the most brutal manner. There was no turning back for him now.

After arranging everything, Su Wenyun told Wang Xiao, “This may be my last time coming to the Northwest. The rest is up to you.”

Wang Xiao saluted respectfully. “I will fulfill my duty.”

If not for Wang Xiao’s letter, Tang Shen wouldn’t have even known how much had transpired in the Liao State.

At the end of February, Su Wenyun returned to the capital, accompanied by Li Jingde.

The day after Li Jingde’s return, he was summoned to the palace for an audience with the emperor.

It was said that the Grand Marshal of the Western Expedition left the palace with red-rimmed eyes that day. No one knew what Zhao Fu had told him, but from then on, he remained stationed in the Northwest for the rest of his life.

While the emperor recuperated in the palace, Tang Shen continued working in the Ministry of Works, refining the design of the cage boxes with the craftsmen.

On the 6th day of the third month in the 37th year of Kaiping, the emperor’s health suddenly improved, and he was able to walk in the imperial garden.

The following afternoon, Zhao Fu summoned Tang Shen to an audience in Chuigong Hall.

Dressed in a newly tailored official robe, Tang Shen kept his head down as the eunuchs led him into the palace.

When he entered the hall, he was surprised to find that Zhao Fu was not resting on the dragon bed but was instead seated on the dragon throne, reading a book.

After Tang Shen performed his formal greetings, Zhao Fu dismissed the attendants.

In the vast Chuigong Hall, only Zhao Fu and Tang Shen remained.

Tang Shen’s gaze flickered slightly, but he remained composed. Lately, every official who had been summoned to Chuigong Hall had met with the emperor alone.

The emperor was giving his final instructions.

Tang Shen maintained a slight bow. Zhao Fu smiled as he observed him. His voice was low and slow, but unlike before, it now carried an unsteady breath, sounding feeble.

“Jing Ze, raise your head.”

Tang Shen complied.

“Do you know what book I am reading?”

Tang Shen glanced at the cover. Upon recognizing the title, his heart trembled slightly. He bowed and replied, “Your Majesty, I do not know.”

Zhao Fu said, “It is The Teachings of Kangshi by Zhong Taisheng.”

A heavy silence fell over the hall.

After a long pause, Zhao Fu set the book down and spoke indifferently, “Jing Ze, you have served in court for many years. Let me ask you… In your heart, have I been a good emperor?”

Without hesitation, Tang Shen replied, “Yes, Your Majesty is a wise ruler.”

Zhao Fu: “How so?”

Tang Shen: “Your Majesty waged war against Liao, reclaiming lost land and restoring our Song territories; you established the Silver Pull Division, expanding our nation’s financial stability… Every action Your Majesty has taken is for the prosperity of future generations.”

Zhao Fu let out a chuckle. “And how do I compare to Zhao Xuan?”

Tang Shen was taken aback.

After a long silence, he said, “Your Majesty, I do not know who Zhao Xuan is.”

Zhao Fu leaned forward, resting his upper body on the table, his aging but piercing gaze fixed on Tang Shen.

Tang Shen stood calmly in place, showing not a trace of fear or embarrassment.

“Truly?”

“I do not know.”

Zhao Fu spoke lightly, “He was the crown prince under the previous emperor—my elder brother, Zhao Xuan.”

Tang Shen lowered his head and remained silent.

Zhao Fu laughed. “If Zhong Taisheng had served as minister, and Zhao Xuan had been emperor, how would I compare?”

Tang Shen did not answer.

Zhao Fu suddenly roared, “Tang Jingze, tell me!”

Tang Shen calmly responded, “I was born in the 11th year of Kaiping. I have never witnessed the era Your Majesty speaks of. From the moment I gained consciousness, there has only been one emperor—the Kaiping Emperor. I am no seer; I cannot judge events that never occurred. But I do know that in five hundred years, none will surpass Your Majesty’s achievements.”

Zhao Fu laughed softly.

“Jing Ze, in this court, the one I trust most… is you!”

Tang Shen met his gaze and bowed deeply. “This subject pledges his life to Your Majesty’s service, until death!”

Tang Shen left Chuigong Hall just as the sunlight outside was at its brightest, showcasing the beauty of spring.

The glare of the sun was so piercing that he couldn’t clearly see the color of the sky. He wavered slightly before steadying himself.

Ji Fu, noticing his exit and recalling how long Tang Shen had been inside, assumed the emperor must have rewarded him, just as he had done for Wang Zhen and others. He winked at Tang Shen and said, “I’ll find someone to escort Tang daren out of the palace.”

Tang Shen nodded. “Thank you, gonggong.”

A young eunuch led Tang Shen out. Ji Fu watched his slim and upright figure retreat into the distance and turned to his adopted son, Xie Bao, saying, “Today, I finally feel that even though he’s only been in court for ten years, His Majesty truly trusts and favors Tang Jingze.”

Xie Bao whispered, “Godfather, why is that? I see that His Majesty also greatly favors Wang Zhen daren, Su Wenyun daren, and others.”

Ji Fu shook his head. “It’s different. I don’t know what it is exactly, but Tang daren has something entirely distinct from them. He isn’t as clever as Wang Zifeng, nor as ruthless as Su Feiran, but he’s just different.”

Xie Bao was puzzled. “How is he different?”

Ji Fu opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words. “Just mind your own business!”

As spring arrived in March, the imperial court of the Song Dynasty regained its previous tranquility.

No one spoke about the emperor’s health, nor did anyone dare think too much about it.

The capital of Shengjing was peaceful and harmonious. The only anxious ones were likely the three imperial princes, who eagerly eyed the throne. But to their shock, on the 24th of March, the emperor, in seemingly good health, even attended court!

The three princes were dumbfounded.

Even Wang Zhen was surprised. He turned to Tang Shen and quipped, “Does immortality cultivation actually work? Little Junior Brother, should we give it a try?”

Tang Shen, a staunch atheist: “…”

However, just two days later, the emperor proved to Wang Zhen that cultivation was useless—no one in this world could escape death.

On the night of March 28, in the 37th year of the Kaiping era, the emperor suddenly fell gravely ill. His breathing became labored, and his face turned ashen.

The chief eunuch, Ji Fu, immediately summoned the court officials to the palace.

All officials ranked fourth or higher were abruptly awakened from their sleep, hurriedly changing into their court robes and making their way through the night to the palace.

In the side room of Chuigong Hall, imperial concubines and princes wept uncontrollably.

Outside the hall, a solemn assembly of civil and military officials stood, led by Left Prime Minister Xu Bi and Right Prime Minister Wang Quan.

Su Wenyun stood among the civil officials, expressionless, his gaze fixed on the ground, lost in thought.

Wang Zhen stood at the front of the officials, watching the tightly shut doors of Chuigong Hall with an eerily calm expression.

Tang Shen, standing behind them, revealed no discernible emotion on his face.

At the first quarter of chou shi (around 1:15 AM), imperial physicians emerged from the hall carrying their medical cases.

Seeing this, the officials could already guess the outcome.

At that moment, the chief eunuch Ji Fu stepped out from the hall and loudly announced, “Right Vice Minister of Works Tang Shen, is summoned to an audience!”

A collective gasp echoed through the night.

Even Wang Zhen turned to Tang Shen in surprise. But almost immediately, a knowing look crossed his face as he locked eyes with Tang Shen in silent understanding.

Tang Shen was just as shocked as everyone else. He was utterly bewildered. Yet, when he looked up and saw Wang Zhen’s gaze, a sudden calm settled over him.

Straightening his robes, Tang Shen stepped out from the ranks of officials and ascended the steps of Chuigong Hall.

Ji Fu’s eyes were red as he quietly said, “Tang daren, please enter.”

Ji Fu pushed open the doors, and Tang Shen stepped inside.

The moment he entered, the thick scent of medicine engulfed him. Incense curled through the air, and guided by memory, Tang Shen reached the emperor’s sleeping chamber. He did not step inside immediately but instead stood at the doorway and called out, “Your subject, Tang Shen, humbly requests an audience.”

Silence.

Tang Shen repeated his request.

At last, a faint, almost inaudible voice came from within. “Enter.”

Tang Shen: “Yes.” He pushed open the door and entered.

“…Come closer,” the emperor said, his voice weak and disjointed.

Tang Shen approached the imperial bed and, upon seeing the emperor’s face, was struck with shock.

He almost didn’t recognize Zhao Fu anymore.

He had only read about the phrase “a spent oil lamp” in books, but now, seeing the emperor’s waxen, emaciated face, he suddenly understood what it truly meant.

Zhao Fu was nearing the end.

The emperor stared at him for a long time before chuckling, “Do you know why I summoned you alone?”

Tang Shen lowered his head. “I do not.”

Zhao Fu’s breath was shallow. “At this moment… I ask you once more… Was I a good emperor?”

Tang Shen’s throat tightened.

Twenty-one days ago, in this very hall, Zhao Fu had asked him the same question. His response then had been—

“Yes. In my heart, Your Majesty is a wise and enlightened ruler.”

Zhao Fu suddenly found a surge of strength. He propped himself up and, staring intently at Tang Shen, enunciated each word, “Then say it again with me—‘I murdered my brother and usurped the throne, purged the Songqing faction, forced Zhong Taisheng to his death, and drove your mentor Liang Bowen to suicide… yet I am still a wise ruler!’”

Tang Shen slowly lifted his head and gazed at the emperor.

Zhao Fu’s voice sharpened, “Repeat it after me.”

Tang Shen remained silent, looking at him.

Zhao Fu’s fury flared. “Tang Jingze, do you dare defy an imperial decree?”

The vast Chuigong Hall held only the two of them, yet with a single command, the imperial guards outside could storm in and drag him to prison.

The Song Dynasty did not execute officials outright, but that did not mean they couldn’t die in prison—like Sun Shangde in the Xingzhou case. Like Zhong Taisheng.

Even so, Tang Shen did not speak.

Zhao Fu’s eyes burned with rage.

Finally, Tang Shen bowed and said, “Your Majesty murdered your brother and usurped the throne, purged the Songqing faction, forced Zhong Taisheng to his death… and drove my mentor Liang Bowen to suicide. Yet, you are still a wise ruler.”

Zhao Fu collapsed back onto the bed, laughing so hard that tears welled in his eyes.

Tang Shen asked, “Does Your Majesty understand why Liang Bowen chose to die?”

The laughter ceased. Zhao Fu’s eyes bore into Tang Shen.

Tang Shen continued, “I was born in the eleventh year of Kaiping, long after the late crown prince’s era. I never met Zhong Taisheng, but I’ve heard countless tales of their brilliance from many people.”

Zhao Fu did not interrupt.

“I’ve heard that the late crown prince was shot dead by Your Majesty at the Xuanwu Gate.”

“Tang Jingze!” Zhao Fu almost roared in reprimand.

Tang Shen remained calm and unhurried. “I have heard that before that day, Your Majesty and the former crown prince were very close. The former crown prince treated Your Majesty with great kindness, and Your Majesty greatly admired him.” Pausing for a moment, he continued, “These are all things I ‘heard’ from the Records of Daily Life of the late emperor’s reign. Your Majesty knows that I possess an eidetic memory—whatever I have read, I never forget.”

Tang Shen added, “I did not know that Your Majesty’s admiration for the former crown prince was merely an act?”

Perhaps out of sheer rage, Zhao Fu actually seemed somewhat invigorated. At that moment, a strange thought crossed Tang Shen’s mind—if his words truly managed to rekindle Zhao Fu’s life force, then someone in Chuigong Hall would have to die today. And that someone would most likely be him.

Enraged to the point of laughter, Zhao Fu looked at Tang Shen and said, “I have feigned many things in my life, but that was never one of them.”

Tang Shen pressed on, “Then why did Your Majesty shoot Zhao Xuan with an arrow?”

The sudden mention of that name caused Zhao Fu’s body to tremble violently. He practically blurted out, “You are not worthy of speaking that name!”

Tang Shen was momentarily startled.

Zhao Fu, too, seemed startled by his outburst. Slowly, he calmed down.

After a long silence, he smiled. “I always felt you were different. But why, I never understood. Do you truly not know why I killed Zhao Xuan and stole his throne?”

Tang Shen did not answer.

Zhao Fu commanded, “Tang Jingze, look at me.”

Tang Shen lifted his gaze.

Zhao Fu smiled and asked him, “If I offered you the throne now, would you take it?”

Tang Shen was stunned. But before he could answer, Zhao Fu answered himself, “You wouldn’t.”

Tang Shen fell silent before saying, “I am not fit to be a ruler.”

Zhao Fu sighed. “Indeed. If someone else said this, I might think it was insincere, but when you say it, I believe you mean it. If I asked Wang Zifeng or Su Feiran, they might also refuse, but in the moment I ask them, they would waver, they would at least consider it. But only you—you have never had a single thought about this throne.”

“Who in this world doesn’t want to be emperor?”

“I have lived for over sixty years and have never seen anyone who didn’t. Even if only for a fleeting moment, everyone has had that thought.”

“But you don’t. You truly never have.”

Zhao Fu was silent for a long time before speaking in a calm voice. “Why don’t you want to be emperor?”

Tang Shen looked at Zhao Fu’s lifeless visage. After a long while, he finally said, “I wonder, why must there be someone who stands above all others?”

Zhao Fu’s expression seemed to crack for a moment.

After a long silence, Zhao Fu seemed to lose all strength. “Is that what sets you apart from the others?”

Tang Shen bowed respectfully. “If there is a difference, I believe that is it.”

Zhao Fu sneered, “If that is what you believe, then why do you still act humbly before me? Why do you call yourself my ‘subject’?”

“The development of social structures is not something that changes overnight. In today’s Great Song, having an emperor, a wise ruler, is the most suitable path forward,” Tang Shen replied. “Enter a village and follow its customs, as they say. Your Majesty may think I am speaking nonsense, but my conscience is clear. I may never live to see that day arrive, but I am willing to push the Great Song toward that distant future.”

“You do realize that for saying such things, I could have you executed on the spot!”

Tang Shen: “I understand. But now it is Your Majesty’s turn to answer my question—why did you kill Zhao… the late crown prince?”

Zhao Fu let out a laugh, as if he had heard something absurd. “Who in this world does not want to be emperor?”

Tang Shen was stunned.

Zhao Fu repeated himself. “Apart from you, Tang Jingze, who in this world does not want to be emperor?! I wanted to be emperor—is that a crime?!”

“I was never wrong! I have never been wrong!”

“Why shouldn’t this world belong to me? Why did I kill Zhao Xuan? Because I wanted to be emperor! To be emperor!”

Tang Shen: “Then, was the late crown prince, Zhong Taisheng, the Songqing Party… were they wrong?”

Zhao Fu’s gaze was sharp. “Victors rule, the defeated perish.”

Tang Shen stared at Zhao Fu in silence, as if trying to see through him. Zhao Fu, who had lived for over sixty years, for the first time found himself unable to meet the gaze of a young man. Then, Tang Shen smiled—his first smile since stepping into Chuigong Hall.

“Yes, victors rule, the defeated perish. The late crown prince lost, so he was shot dead at the palace gates. Zhong Taisheng lost, so he was poisoned in prison. Everything in this world comes down to those words. But, Your Majesty, as you said—who in this world does not want to be emperor? Now that you have won, why not at least restore their reputation in history?!”

For the first time, Tang Shen felt anger. “Grand Secretary Yang died because he wanted to strike the great bronze bell of history with his life, to declare to the world that the Songqing Party was wronged!”

“Mr. Liang died because he wanted to prove the innocence of the Songqing Party with his death!”

“In places you cannot see, minor officials, old scholars in the countryside—they have all died. Their names will never be recorded in the history books, but they died with a clear conscience, just for that shred of fairness and justice in their hearts!”

“Yes, who in this world does not want to be emperor?”

“But why must you deny them even the last vestige of their reputation?”

“Eleven years ago, I did not understand what could be more important than a reputation, what could make a man die to defend his integrity.”

“But I never needed to understand. I only needed to know that their deaths could not clear their names.”

“And what I can do is dedicate my life to ensuring that history remembers them forever!”

Zhao Fu’s voice was like a hammer blow. “Tang Jingze, victors rule, the defeated perish! If I want you dead here today, you will be just like them—accompanying them in the afterlife!”

Tang Shen raised his voice. “Yes, victors rule, the defeated perish! If I die here, it is merely one more life lost. But I believe there will always be those who refuse to accept injustice! Your Majesty, you can kill Tang Jingze, but can you kill all the people under heaven?!”

“Emperor Kaiping, Zhao Fu, who killed his brother and father—disloyal and unfilial!”

“Emperor Kaiping, Zhao Fu, who slaughtered the loyal and virtuous—cruel and unjust!”

“But Emperor Kaiping, Zhao Fu, who quelled the Northwest rebellion and reclaimed lost lands…”

“He built dams and repaired roads, established the Silver Pull Division, and spread Silver Exchange Banks…”

“He trusted an unremarkable man like me and built the cage boxes, benefiting the people.”

“He allows a rebellious official to speak so brazenly before him, yet still has not taken his life!”

Tang Shen looked at Zhao Fu, who was stunned, his eyes red as he smiled, “To have such a wise ruler, how fortunate the Great Song is.”

“In your place, I could never have matched even a tenth of your achievements in my lifetime. Just simply attending thirty-seven years of court sessions without fail, how could Zhao Xuan compare to you?”

“Your Majesty, why do you still dwell on others? You are you—Emperor Kaiping of Great Song.”

“It is precisely because of you that I willingly bow my head and call myself your subject.”

“I do not know Zhao Xuan. I only know Great Song’s Emperor Kaiping!”

Five years ago, in Chuigong Hall, when Left Prime Minister Ji Wengji walked away without looking back, he left behind one sentence—

“Who in this world does not love Zhao Xuan?!”

Now, Tang Shen’s words resounded—

“I do not know Zhao Xuan. I only know Great Song’s Emperor Kaiping!”

Zhao Fu stared blankly at Tang Shen. Suddenly, he laughed, but murky tears fell with his laughter.

“Now, can you guess who deceived Zhong Taisheng thirty-seven years ago and helped me seize the throne?” Like a patient teacher, Zhao Fu smiled at Tang Shen, gently posing the question.

Tang Shen was silent for a moment. His fingers clenched into a fist, only then realizing his palm was drenched in sweat.

“I know now.”

Zhao Fu smiled. “History is not so easily rewritten. If you change it, my son will not agree, nor will my son’s son. Tang Jingze, victors rule, the defeated perish—those words are my gift to you. If you truly manage to change history, remember to burn a book for me. Let me see how I was defeated after my death.”

Tang Shen: “Your Majesty!”

“Leave now.”

Tang Shen clenched his teeth and turned to go.

“I almost forgot.”

Tang Shen stopped and turned back.

On the dragon bed, Zhao Fu smiled. “I never understood those cage boxes, but such intricate mechanisms make me uneasy. They are not a good thing, are they?”

Tang Shen remained silent.

Zhao Fu: “I gave Wang Zifeng a death exemption token—there is only one in the entire empire. But behind the three-character plaque of Qinzheng Hall, I have left a decree for you.”

Tang Shen was shocked.

“I won’t tell you what it says. I trust that unless absolutely necessary, you will not open it.”

“Now, leave.”

Tang Shen stood still, unmoving.

Zhao Fu helplessly said, “This time, I am really telling you to go!”

Tang Shen gave him a deep glance, then turned and left.

Chuigong Hall fell silent once more.

Long after, a towering figure stepped out from behind the golden screen.

Grand Preceptor Zhou, his hair completely white, strode to the bedside and grasped the emperor’s outstretched hand.

Zhao Fu looked at his teacher, feeling life slipping away rapidly. He could no longer suppress his fear of death. “Grand Preceptor, Grand Preceptor, I am afraid… I am afraid…”

Grand Preceptor Zhou firmly grasped his hand.

“Your Majesty, this old minister is here.”

“Do you see Zhao Xuan?”

“Your Majesty.”

“He is waiting for me there, waiting for me to find him…”

Grand Preceptor Zhou’s heart squeezed, and he was unable to speak.

After muttering incoherently for a long time, Zhao Fu suddenly became calm again.

In a weak voice, he asked, “After I die, how long will you stay to guard Great Song?”

Grand Preceptor Zhou looked at him. Having defended the Northwest for many years and seen countless partings of life and death, for the first time, he shed tears. “Why does Your Majesty ask such a question? After your death, Great Song will have nothing to do with you anymore. How could this old minister not know your wishes and desires? You did it. You really did it.”

A bright light shone in Zhao Fu’s eyes, but the next moment, it dimmed abruptly.

He clutched Grand Preceptor Zhou’s hand, speaking haltingly but firmly, “Kill… killing Zhao Xuan… For thirty-seven years, I… I have never regretted it for a single day…”

A helpless smile appeared on Grand Preceptor Zhou’s resolute face.

The emperor of Great Song stared wide-eyed at the golden canopy above his bed, then slowly closed his weary eyes.

On the 28th day of the third month of the 37th year of Kaiping, the emperor passed away, and the entire nation wept in mourning.

A country cannot go a single day without a ruler. The Left Prime Minister Xu Bi and Right Prime Minister Wang Quan presented the imperial edict of succession, passing the throne to the second prince, Zhao Shang, who established the new era name—Yuanhe.

At that time, by a fish pond outside the city of Gusu, two elderly men sat fishing by a table.

One old man said, “In the end, it was still the eldest son.”

The other old man replied, “Does it matter who gets it? That one only had himself in his heart.”

“I think he regretted it in the end.”

“I think he didn’t.”

“You stubborn old fool, dare to bet with me?”

“Why not? But how will we determine the outcome?”

“I heard your student Tang Jingze was the last to see him.”

“Heh, surnamed Ji, you still don’t understand him. The last person he saw was definitely not Tang Jingze.”

The old man fell silent for a long time before sighing and nodding, “Yes, it must have been Grand Preceptor Zhou!”

The two shared a knowing smile.

“No bet, no bet—as if we could go ask the underworld’s King Yama!”

Outside Shengjing City, Liuqi Courtyard.

The new emperor ascended the throne, and after more than a month of intense affairs, the court officials finally had a moment of peace.

Originally, Liuqi Courtyard was only five courtyards deep, but after Wang Zhen attained the rank of first-rank official, he hired craftsmen to renovate it. Now, in its garden, there was an enormous pond. It could not compare to the imperial Taiye Pond, but it was enough for one to drift leisurely in a small boat, floating with the waves.

Tang Shen lay on a small wooden boat, beside him was Wang Zhen, lying shoulder to shoulder.

It was now May, the time when frogs croaked in full chorus and the greenery flourished under the soaring orioles.

The starlit sky reflected in the water, serene and breathtaking.

Tang Shen couldn’t help but recite, “Drunk, unaware that the sky is mirrored in the water; the boat, laden with dreams, presses upon the Milky Way.” (TN: Drunken Boat by the Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai.)

Hearing this, Wang Zhen turned to look at him. “The stars are beautiful, the poem is beautiful, but the person is even more beautiful. Little Junior Brother always has such brilliant verses.”

Tang Shen retorted, “What other brilliant lines have you heard from me? Oh—’A towering building, a hundred feet high; one may pluck the stars from the sky’?” (TN: Night Stay at the Mountain Temple by the Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai.)

A glint flashed in Wang Zhen’s eyes, and he sighed dramatically, “Indeed, an excellent verse!”

Tang Shen, in a playful mood, continued, “Ai, composition is naturally formed, and a clever hand occasionally brings it forth.” (TN: Composition by the Song Dynasty poet Lu You.)

Wang Zhen nodded approvingly, “Truly marvelous!”

“‘The stars hang low over the vast plains, the moon surges along the great river.’” (TN: Night Mooring by the Maple Bridge” by the Tang Dynasty poet Zhang Ji.)

“Exquisite!”

Tang Shen laughed heartily. “Don’t you think I’m an absolute genius?”

Wang Zhen feigned astonishment. “Indeed! When have I ever thought otherwise? If not a genius, how could you have uttered the words ‘For the rise and fall of the country, every common man has his obligation’ at the age of thirteen?”

Tang Shen’s smile froze. He slowly turned over.

Wang Zhen chuckled, hugging him from behind and resting his chin on Tang Shen’s shoulder, whispering, “I still remember that afternoon. I came from the Ministry of Revenue to Sir’s residence, where he was fuming, holding a letter, saying, ‘Liang Bowen is unbelievably arrogant! He took on a student and now writes to brag about it every single day.’ I asked how Liang daren was boasting this time.”

“Sir said, ‘That thirteen-year-old child told Liang Bowen—For the rise and fall of the country, every common man has his obligation!'”

“Sir thought, how could a thirteen-year-old have uttered something like this so casually? So, he decided to investigate. But he scoured the ancient texts and found no such phrase.”

“In that moment, a name formed in my heart. Guess whose?”

Tang Shen huffed in annoyance.

Wang Zhen, finding his reaction adorable, laughed. “I had many speculations about this person, but I never expected that upon meeting, he would call me… ‘Fu Qin page boy.’ The way he pretended so seriously was quite endearing. If I had truly been a mere page boy, I surely would have been deceived. But I am Wang Zifeng—hai, hai, I was wrong! Don’t hit me! Hahaha—”

Tang Shen grumbled, “I didn’t know back then what kind of person you were. If I had, how could I have tried to show off my petty tricks before a master swindler like you?”

Wang Zhen mused, “Little Junior Brother, you’ve praised me once more. How wonderful—I praise you as a genius and you also praise me as a talent.”

Tang Shen sneered, “Heaven has given me talent that must be put to use; even if wealth is spent, it will return again!” (TN: A Song of the Pipa by the Tang dynasty poet Li Bai.)

Wang Zhen paused. “Sometimes I wonder—do you have some hidden literary master inside you? Why is it that most of your compositions are mostly ordinary, but occasionally, you produce unparalleled masterpieces—? Hai, no, not ordinary! The late emperor himself appointed you as the third-rank scholar; how could that be ordinary!”

Tang Shen withdrew his fist. “Do you want to hear a few more immortal verses, or do you want to see where I’ve hidden that great literary master of mine?”

Wang Zhen’s eyes sparkled. He realized that soon, he would completely unravel the person in his arms, consuming him entirely, completely possessing him.

But outwardly, he remained nonchalant. “Either is fine.”

Tang Shen thought for a moment. “Then I shall start from the beginning…”

Yuanhe year 1, ninth month, fourth day.

Left Vice Prime Minister Chen Linghai was impeached by the Censorate on multiple charges. Knowing his guilt, he resigned in shame and returned to his hometown.

Yuanhe year 4.

The emperor passed away, and the crown prince ascended the throne, adopting the era name Anjing.

Anjing year 5.

Outside Shengjing City, Liuqi Courtyard.

Tang Shen tossed a newly compiled Hanlin Academy history book into the fire, watching as the flames devoured the thin pages.

Wang Zhen embraced him, and Tang Shen embraced him back.

After a long silence, he murmured, “Lately, Senior Brother, I feel like we will never see that day.”

“You mean the prosperous age you spoke of?”

Tang Shen was silent for a while. “Yes, and no… To be honest, when Mr. Liang was alive, I boasted more than just ‘For the rise and fall of the country, every common man has his obligation.'”

“What else did you boast about?”

Tang Shen was about to speak, but then he closed his mouth again. “Never mind, I won’t say it, lest you laugh at me.”

Wang Zhen thought to himself: Haven’t I teased you enough on ordinary days? What’s one more?

But he was such a considerate lover, tenderly mindful of Tang Shen’s thin skin, and deeply aware that too much is as bad as too little. So he softly said, “Alright, I’ll listen to you.”

Tang Shen was deeply moved, and without realizing it, he fell even more in love with Wang Zifeng.

After experiencing love, he came to understand that love is not a constant value. As the years passed, his love for this person did not diminish but instead grew day by day.

Tang Shen thought for a moment and said, “I’ll tell you, but you mustn’t laugh.”

Wang Zhen solemnly replied, “I won’t laugh.”

Tang Shen leaned close to his ear and quickly whispered. Wang Zhen was taken aback, then couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

Wang Zhen stifled his laughter and looked earnestly at Tang Shen. “It’s because I love you that I laugh.”

Tang Shen: “…”

“Laugh if you want to.”

Wang Zhen smiled and kissed his lips. “I don’t think you’re boasting. Aren’t we, step by step, guiding the way for future generations, steadily moving towards that day?”

These words were spoken with utmost sincerity. Under the vast expanse of stars, Wang Zifeng’s celestial beauty had not faded with age but had instead become more reserved. One deep look from him was enough to stir Tang Shen’s emotions.

Tang Shen couldn’t help but kiss him.

Wang Zhen wrapped his arms around his waist, deepening the kiss.

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

Around them, cicadas chirped and frogs croaked, while beneath their feet, the moonlight shimmered on the water.

Amidst this cacophony of sounds, the words Tang Shen whispered into Wang Zhen’s ears echoed through the murmuring pool.

I will bring peace to the kingdom, calm to the four seas, a millennium in the twinkle of an eye, and songs sung to the skies!

– The End –

TN: And that’s another passion project completed! I had a lot of fun revisiting this novel and sharing it with you guys! The Kingdom That Never Sleeps and the story of Tang Shen and Wang Zhen had always been my top favs but now I will have to say a temporary goodbye to them. On to the next novel! 🌱🌸🌞

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The Kingdom That Never Sleeps CH 166 The Jiao Prefecture Agreement

After capturing Datong Prefecture, the Northwestern army advanced with unstoppable momentum. Within just three days, they seized Linzhao Prefecture.

The Liao court was in an uproar.

The Liao Emperor had just passed away, and the war with Song was turning dire. The kingdom was in turmoil, teetering on the edge of collapse. Of the 100,000 Black Wolf Army soldiers sent to Datong Prefecture, fewer than 40,000 remained. Grand Preceptor Yelü Ding suppressed his rage, biding his time like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

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

With the Liao Emperor’s recent death and the crushing defeat in the south, Liao officials flooded the court with petitions urging Grand Preceptor Yelü Ding to negotiate peace with Song as soon as possible.

Twenty-six years ago, Song and Liao had fought intermittently for a decade, ending in a narrow victory for Song. Yet when Liao came to negotiate, they had acted arrogantly, showing no shame or fear as a defeated nation. But now, the Liao envoys galloped toward Shengjing, no longer as domineering as before.

Minister of Rites Meng Lang, once again serving as welcoming official, received them.

The Liao envoys requested an audience with the Song Emperor, but Meng Lang flatly refused.

“In a few days, it will be our Great Song Emperor’s celestial birthday. Have the Liao envoys prepared a tribute?”

The lead Liao envoy was momentarily stunned. “The Song Emperor’s birthday is still a month away, is it not?”

Meng Lang’s sharp eyes gleamed as he rebuked, “So you have not prepared a tribute? Coming empty-handed to see our emperor—do you not know that Great Song is a land of propriety? As the saying goes, ‘One must give before one receives.’ Since there has been no ‘giving,’ there shall be no ‘receiving.’”

The Liao envoys had no choice but to send word back to their court to prepare gifts for the Song Emperor.

By late September, the two sides convened for peace talks and signed a new treaty.

The Liao envoys protested, “We may relinquish Datong Prefecture and Linzhao Prefecture since they have already been taken. But Jinxi Prefecture is Liao territory—how can we possibly hand it over to you Song people?”

Meng Lang sneered. “The Datong, Linzhao, and Jinxi Prefectures you speak of had different names 104 years ago—they were known as Jiao, Han, and Ding Prefectures! Since they were originally our Great Song’s land, why should they not be returned to us?”

The Liao envoy mocked, “Do you take me for a fool? Your Song army has besieged Jinxi Prefecture for half a month and hasn’t even touched the city gates.”

Jinxi Prefecture was the most defensible of the three territories. Surrounded by mountains on three sides and a river on the fourth, it was nearly impregnable. The largest river in the nlNorthwestern plains, the Xi River, separated Jinxi Prefecture from Linzhao Prefecture. Crossing the river had already drained the Song army’s strength. To take Jinxi Prefecture would be an arduous and costly endeavor. This was why the Song ancestors had renamed the area “Ding Prefecture”—signifying that its capture would require firm resolve.

Meng Lang was well aware of this fact.

Yet he also knew that if he failed to secure Ding Prefecture today, General Li Jingde would lead 100,000 troops to attack it again tomorrow.

Li Jingde had once teased him, saying that civil officials were only good at talking and writing. But when Meng Lang closed his eyes and opened them again, he seemed to see not a negotiation table but a battlefield filled with the sounds of slaughter. Yellow dust filled the sky, blades clashed, and blood and corpses littered the ground.

Steadying himself, Meng Lang smiled and said, “Oh? As I understand it, your Liao Second Prince, Yelü Shege, has just returned to Shangjing, has he not?”

The Liao envoy’s expression changed.

“The Liao Emperor has fallen, and your nation is beset by internal and external crises. Our Great Song army is strong and our people are prosperous. While Jinxi Prefecture may be difficult to take, if we choose to attack with full force, it will inevitably fall. And when it does, our Song cavalry can sweep northward in an unstoppable advance.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Meng Lang’s eyes glared furiously. “Our Great Song warriors fight on the battlefield with no fear of death! What would we not dare?”

On the 29th day of the 9th month of the 36th year of Kaiping, Song and Liao signed a treaty: Liao returned Jiao, Han, and Ding Prefectures to Song and paid an indemnity of two million taels of silver and one hundred prized warhorses.

With the treaty signed, the entire nation rejoiced.

The emperor greatly rewarded Minister of Rites Meng Lang, bestowing upon him the title of Grand Secretary of the Guanwen Hall while allowing him to retain his position as Minister of Rites.

Tang Shen was surprised. At this time, Mei Shengze was still riding high after being captured and released. After completing his duties in Youzhou, Tang Shen arranged for his transfer back to Shengjing, where he was appointed as a fifth-rank official in the Ministry of Works. Tang Shen had originally planned to recall Wang Xiao as well, but Wang Xiao chose to remain in Youzhou to continue his work.

The grand victory in the Northwest delighted the court officials, and even Mei Shengze could not hide his joy.

Tang Shen remarked, “The return of the three prefectures to Song was expected, but I didn’t think Meng daren could also extract other compensation from the Liao.”

Mei Shengze replied, “Two million taels of silver is a hefty sum, but for our Great Song, it’s merely a year’s tax revenue. The real treasure is the hundred Ferghana horses.”

Tang Shen sighed, “It’s more than just that. Meng daren has truly outdone himself. The two million taels of silver and the hundred warhorses aren’t just wealth—they mark the beginning of a new era where our Great Song will never again fear the Liao!”

A thousand years, ten thousand affairs—history records but a single word.

Tang Shen had read history; how could he not understand that the Jiao Prefecture Agreement would surely be recorded in the annals with bold and heavy strokes?

With victory secured, the Northwestern army returned home.

On the fourth day of the tenth month, the emperor personally left the city gates to welcome them.

A similar scene had played out twenty-six years prior when the Song army returned from a hard-fought victory. At that time, a forty-something Zhao Fu had personally helped the aged Grand Preceptor to his feet, granting him the title of “Grand Preceptor”—the first and only living person in Song’s history to receive that honor.

Now, twenty-six years later, Tang Shen stood among the ranks of third-rank officials.

He lifted his gaze to the rising sun, watching as 100,000 troops marched in majestic formation. The sound of their hooves echoed like thunder. A young marshal clad in silver armor, his helmet adorned with golden plumes, leapt from his horse and knelt on one knee before the emperor.

“Your subject Li Jingde has fulfilled his duty, leading the Northwestern army to report before Your Majesty!”

Zhao Fu’s face lit up with joy. “Excellent!”

Taking Li Jingde’s hand, the emperor led him through the gates of Shengjing. The officials followed closely behind.

Watching from afar, Su Wenyun snorted coldly. “So Grand Preceptor Zhou didn’t return, but he sent him back instead.”

Grand Preceptor Zhou remained in the Northwest to maintain order, leaving Li Jingde to lead the victorious troops home. Had the Grand Preceptor returned, the emperor would have helped him up—rather than Li Jingde.

“General Li shaved his beard?”

Su Wenyun turned sharply and saw Tang Shen standing behind him.

Tang Shen greeted him with a salute and a faint smile. “Su daren.”

Su Wenyun glanced at him. “Tang daren.”

Tang Shen feigned curiosity and asked, “Su daren, do you know why General Li shaved his beard? Back in Youzhou, I once heard people say that General Li was born with a handsome face, but whenever he charged into battle, he lacked intimidation. So, he deliberately grew a full beard to appear more formidable and imposing.”

After a brief pause, Tang Shen concluded with certainty, “That beard is his lifeline.”

Su Wenyun smirked. “How would I know? If Li Jingde wanted to shave, what business is it of mine?”

Tang Shen nodded. “Oh, I see. I understand now.”

Without saying another word, he cast Su Wenyun a knowing glance and turned away.

Su Wenyun: “…”

Understand what? What exactly do you understand?!

Who the hell does he look like? This infuriating expression—so familiar!

Su Wenyun was suddenly stunned. “Wang Zifeng?”

He fell into deep thought.

That evening, when Tang Shen returned home, he told Wang Zhen about teasing Su Wenyun.

“I already heard from Mei Shengze that Li Jingde shaved his beard because Su Wenyun told him he wouldn’t provide any intelligence otherwise. So, I decided to try Senior Brother’s trick and corner Su Wenyun with words, teasing him a little. I never thought much of it before, but now I realize—it’s really amusing to watch someone rendered speechless. No wonder Senior Brother always does this.”

Wang Zhen chuckled. “When have I ever teased others all the time?”

Tang Shen raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You don’t?”

Wang Zhen looked at him seriously and said sincerely, “I only tease you.”

Tang Shen: “…”

The emperor’s birthday and victory in the Northwest meant a double celebration. 

On the 13th day of the 10th month in the 36th year of Kaiping, the emperor held a grand ceremony to reward his meritorious officials.

Nearly half of the military officers were promoted by one rank, and the civil officials received generous rewards.

Tang Shen and Su Wenyun were also supposed to be rewarded, but because their involvement in the secret mission against Liao had to remain undisclosed, the emperor summoned them privately, offering them commendations and reassuring them not to feel slighted.

When Tang Shen left Chuigong Hall, he already had an idea—he knew his reward was inevitable; it was just a matter of timing.

And timing always arrived unexpectedly.

On November 7th, the Ministry of Works’ Construction and Reform Department successfully developed a new type of loom, designed to work in tandem with the cage box. This new loom could produce ten bolts of fabric at once in a fraction of the usual time.

Tang Shen had spearheaded this project, leveraging his knowledge of Western looms from his past life to suggest improvements. The ministry’s craftsmen, building upon his insights, modified the diagonal loom and designed this advanced textile machine.

The first bolt of cloth woven from the new loom was personally presented by Tang Shen to the emperor.

Zhao Fu gently stroked the fabric. It was not as exquisite as Sichuan brocade or Suzhou embroidery, yet he examined it for a long time before finally looking up at Tang Shen.

“So this,” the emperor mused, “is the new world that Jing Ze once spoke to me about?”

Tang Shen remained composed, bowing as he replied, “This is only the beginning of the new world.”

After Tang Shen left, Zhao Fu sat on his throne, speaking in a measured tone to the grand eunuch Ji Fu.

“Do you know whom I trust most in this court?”

Ji Fu’s heart skipped a beat.

The emperor either stayed silent or said something that could decide a man’s fate. Serving the sovereign was like living alongside a tiger—one misstep, and disaster followed.

Ji Fu’s eyes flickered as he responded, “Your Majesty, all ministers are the pillars of the state. This humble servant dares not presume to know Your Majesty’s preference. However, if I may say, my personal favorite is Tang daren.”

With a shy smile, Ji Fu added, “Your Majesty knows, we eunuchs have no children of our own. Many of us take in godsons within the palace. I, too, have one. Every time I see Tang daren, he reminds me of that godson—so considerate, so thoughtful. Tang daren is always so thoughtful toward Your Majesty.”

Ji Fu had grown up alongside Zhao Fu and understood that nothing he did could be hidden from this emperor. So sometimes, he would confess minor secrets outright. It wasn’t that the emperor didn’t already know—he simply liked hearing it spoken aloud.

Sure enough, Zhao Fu laughed heartily, pointing at Ji Fu in mock reproach. “You dare compare Tang Jingze to a eunuch?”

Ji Fu’s expression changed instantly. He dropped to his knees quickly. “This servant wouldn’t dare! I spoke wrongly! Please punish me, Your Majesty!” As he spoke, he began slapping his own face.

Only after he had struck himself ten times did Zhao Fu say, “Enough, rise.”

Ji Fu, still aggrieved, murmured, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Zhao Fu’s tone grew pensive. “In this court, I do not trust Xu Bi. I do not trust Wang Quan. I do not trust Wang Zhen. I do not trust Li Jingde. The only one I have ever fully trusted is Grand Preceptor Zhou. But now, I suddenly think that Tang Jingze…”

His voice trailed off. He tapped his fingers against the table, lost in thought.

Ji Fu cautiously lifted his eyes to study the emperor’s expression.

Zhao Fu finally spoke. “Tang Jingze truly wishes to build something great for our Great Song—not just for me.”

On the second day of the twelfth lunar month, Tang Shen was promoted to Right Attendant Gentleman of the Scattered Cavalry (Second Rank, honorary title) in recognition of his contributions to the cage box project. (TN: Scattered Cavalry” is not actually a military post, referring to officials who were not assigned to fixed posts but served as imperial advisers or attendants. The “Attendant” here is a high-ranking court official who advised and accompanied the emperor.)

The day after his promotion, as Tang Shen entered Qinzheng Hall, he unexpectedly ran into someone.

Both men paused in momentary surprise.

Tang Shen clasped his hands in greeting. “Now I believe what Yu daren once said—you and I are indeed fated to cross paths.”

Yu Chaosheng returned the salute. “I have yet to congratulate you. Congratulations on your promotion, Tang daren.”

Tang Shen smiled. “Many thanks, Yu daren.”

Yu Chaosheng simply said, “I have matters to attend to.”

Tang Shen nodded. “Take care.”

The two men brushed past each other in the garden of Qinzheng Hall.

When Tang Shen arrived at his office, Mei Shengze was already waiting outside.

Mei Shengze reached out and brushed a snowflake off Tang Shen’s shoulder. “It’s snowing.”

Tang Shen looked up, only then realizing that at some point, the sky had begun to fill with gently drifting snowflakes.

This was the first snowfall of this year’s winter in Shengjing.

The next day, the Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review submitted a report to Chuigong Hall.

“Your Majesty, the case in Xingzhou has been fully investigated. The criminal official Sun Shangde has taken his own life in prison out of fear. However, after meticulously unraveling the evidence, I have uncovered the full truth.

This case involves numerous officials—most of them are of the fifth or sixth rank. However, there is one individual, while not one of the principal offenders, who currently holds a second-rank position.”

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

Zhao Fu had already anticipated this. He asked, “A second-rank official dared to commit such crimes? Who is it?”

The Junior Minister of Judicial Review bowed deeply, his voice unwavering.

“It is none other than the current Minister of Personnel and Vice Commander of the Silver Pull Division—Yu Chaosheng daren!”

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