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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fu Wei stepped into the Liang Residence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Su Wenyun bowed respectfully, “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kill him.”

“…Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tang Shen had no immediate answer.

Did Zhao Fu believe in gods and spirits?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wang Zhen smiled and nodded.

Tang Shen: “…”

A ‘mere’ fifth-rank official, indeed!

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

Tang Shen immediately averted his gaze.

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

Tang Shen: “…”

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

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

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

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

Very few people could outmaneuver Zhao Fu?

That meant somebody could?

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

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

Wang Zhen replied, “I don’t.”

“Really?”

“I swear.”

Only then did Tang Shen believe him.

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

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

Was it Shanting’s fault?

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

But Zhao Fu only had three sons.

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

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

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

For wealth and beauty? For supreme power?

Zhao Fu lacked none of those.

Then what was he after?

Eternal renown? A lasting legacy?

Would killing his own sons make him immortal in history?

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

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

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

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

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

“…”

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

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

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

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

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

The bedpost gently rocked, emitting faint sounds.

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

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

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

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

Wang Zhen paused in his actions of getting dressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Changzhou was Fu Wei’s hometown.

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

Little Tang Lang: “…You, go away!”

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However, there was one thing Tang Shen guessed wrong: Wang Zifeng was indeed seriously ill.

Originally, he had caught a cold, and then he braved the wind and snow to personally go to the outskirts of the city to pick up Tang Shen. That night, Wang Zhen developed a high fever and fell into a deep sleep, unable to wake. Tang Shen hurriedly called for a doctor, who prescribed medicine, and Tang Shen stayed by his bedside for two nights.

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Zhao Fu would never have imagined in his lifetime that by sending Tang Shen to Youzhou, he had hoped Tang Shen would help share Wang Zhen’s burdens and handle the affairs with the Liao State properly. Instead, not only were the tasks not completed, but Wang Zifeng fell ill because of Tang Shen, and Tang Shen, in turn, delayed his own duties to care for him. No wonder office romances were discouraged in the modern world—it was entirely reasonable.

On the second night, Wang Zhen’s fever gradually subsided. Tang Shen, having not slept for a full day and night, finally felt relieved and fell asleep by the bedside.

When Wang Zhen woke up, he saw his little junior brother sleeping soundly with his head resting on his hand.

He didn’t wake Tang Shen but instead watched him with great interest for a long time. When Tang Shen woke up, he was startled to find Wang Zhen awake. After a moment of surprise, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Quite well.”

Tang Shen breathed a sigh of relief, “When did you wake up, Senior Brother?”

“About an hour ago.”

Tang Shen was surprised, “That long? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Wang Zhen’s lips moved, but he didn’t say anything.

Usually, when he teased his little junior brother, he never held back his words. Seeing Tang Shen either annoyed or anxious always delighted him. But when it came to genuine expressions of affection, he no longer spoke them aloud. How could he say that seeing Tang Shen worried and sleepless for his sake filled him with immense joy?

After a long pause, Wang Zhen said sincerely, “Jing Ze, I really like you so much.”

Tang Shen’s heart warmed, but he was also puzzled, “Why are you suddenly saying this?”

Wang Zhen, “I’m thirsty. Little Junior Brother, could you fetch me a cup of water?”

Tang Shen was utterly baffled but got up to get the water.

Why say this now?

Because in thirty years of life, I never imagined I could like someone this much.

When emotions run deep, they become hard to control. A thousand words ultimately boil down to one sentence: I truly like you so much.

Of course, there was plenty of sweetness and affection, but Tang Shen hadn’t forgotten that he hadn’t come to Youzhou just to date his boyfriend. He was here on official business. As soon as Wang Zifeng recovered, Tang Shen went to the Silver Pull Division to meet with Wang Xiao and Mei Shengze.

Last year, Tang Shen had sent the two to Youzhou to take charge of the Silver Pull Division. Now, half a year later, they had quietly settled in Youzhou. On the surface, they were officials of the Silver Pull Division, but privately, they had established channels to communicate regularly with Qiao Jiu in Xijin Prefecture. The two sides exchanged messages every half month, and in urgent situations, Qiao Jiu would return to Youzhou to discuss matters with Wang Xiao and Mei Shengze.

Seeing Tang Shen arrive, both men were delighted.

They welcomed Tang Shen inside.

“Youzhou’s winters are bitterly cold. Jing Ze, why did you come here?” Mei Shengze handed Tang Shen a warming hand heater as he spoke. Although his official rank was lower than Tang Shen’s, the two were old classmates and friends, so their relationship wasn’t overly formal.

Wang Xiao, on the other hand, didn’t engage in small talk. He stirred the charcoal in the brazier and then handed Tang Shen the intelligence report Qiao Jiu had sent just a few days earlier. “Daren, three days ago, Qiao Jiu sent a report saying the Liao Emperor is going to Xijin Prefecture for a hunt. The Liao Emperor’s birthday has just passed, and with Grand Preceptor Yelü Ding dismissed from his post, the Grand Preceptor’s faction has suffered a major blow. However, the Second Prince’s faction hasn’t gained much advantage either. Over the past few months, Yelü Ding has been frequently suppressing Yelü Shege.”

Mei Shengze added, “The Liao State is not like the Great Song. The Liao Emperor fought on the battlefield in his youth and is domineering and decisive. But over the past decade or so, the other tribes have gradually grown stronger. The Liao Emperor, having suffered various injuries in his youth, has found it increasingly difficult to manage court affairs as he ages. Therefore, the Liao Emperor’s preferred successor is the Second Prince, Yelü Shege, but Grand Preceptor Yelü Ding supports the Third Prince. This hunt in Xijin Prefecture will be hosted by the Second Prince.”

Tang Shen nodded slightly, “How is the Liao Emperor’s current condition?”

Wang Xiao and Mei Shengze exchanged a glance.

Tang Shen frowned, “The Liao Emperor’s health has been deteriorating. You must know this. Even if Yelü Ding holds immense power, he wouldn’t dare to overstep the Liao Emperor. The Liao Emperor favors the Second Prince as his successor, and Xiao Zhen, being part of the Second Prince’s faction, is naturally aligned with the Liao Emperor. The Liao Emperor is the one we should truly be trying to get close to.”

Wang Xiao said, “I will immediately write a secret letter and send it to Qiao Jiu.”

The three of them chatted for a while longer before turning to more personal matters.

Wang Xiao had come to Youzhou last year and had settled down there. He was a distant relative of Wang Zhen, and last year, when Wang Xiao went to Ningzhou to oversee the repair of official roads, he had received a letter of recommendation from Wang Zhen, which made his work in Ningzhou go much more smoothly. Now that Wang Zhen was also in Youzhou, Wang Xiao had naturally visited him early on and had heard about Wang Zhen’s cold.

Wang Xiao, “Is Wang xianggong‘s health better now?”

Tang Shen, “Senior Brother is fine.”

Wang Xiao breathed a sigh of relief, “That’s good to hear.”

Mei Shengze said, “Jing Ze, you know this. You didn’t spend much time at the Imperial Academy, so you’re not very familiar with the teachers. I’m old friends with Teacher Xu, and he has always looked out for me. A few days ago, he wrote me a letter mentioning Liu Fang.”

Tang Shen, “Liu Fang?” After thinking for a moment, he recalled the name from the depths of his memory.

Six years ago, when Tang Shen was still studying at the Imperial Academy, Liu Fang was one of the most outstanding students. That year, when the emperor visited the academy, Tang Shen took first place, and Liu Fang came in second. Later, they both passed the imperial examination and became jinshi in the same year.

Mei Shengze, “That’s the Liu Fang I’m talking about. It’s truly lamentable. You might not know this, but after Liu Fang passed the imperial examination, he didn’t stay in Shengjing for long. He went to Yangzhou to take up an official post. If it were just that, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but over the years, he gradually became part of the Ji faction. He should have been thriving, but who could have expected…” Mei Shengze paused before continuing, “Who could have expected what happened in the first month of this year? Liu Fang was implicated, dismissed from his post, and stripped of his rank. What kind of person he was, you might not know, but I do. At the Imperial Academy, he was always arrogant and ambitious, aiming for the top three in the exams. Now, as a disgraced official stripped of his rank, how could he bear it?”

Tang Shen had already guessed what was coming next, “What happened to Liu Fang?”

Mei Shengze sighed, “Teacher Xu had just attended his funeral before writing me this letter. He hanged himself!”

Tang Shen let out a long sigh, feeling greatly affected.

With Prime Minister Ji’s downfall, the situation seemed calm on the surface. The emperor hadn’t drastically reshuffled the court, only promoting Right Vice Prime Minister Xu to stabilize the overall situation. But beneath this apparent calm, how many officials had been destroyed by this storm? It was impossible to know.

Liu Fang was just one shadow among the countless officials affected. How many others like him were there?

In the evening, Tang Shen returned to the residence. As soon as he entered, he saw a middle-aged man in official robes leaving. The two crossed paths, and the man immediately bowed, “This lower official,  Lin Xu, greets Tang daren.”

Tang Shen nodded slightly.

The two didn’t speak further, and Tang Shen walked through the gate. After searching for a while, he finally found Wang Zhen in the study.

Wang Zifeng was someone who never mistreated himself. Even in the remote Youzhou, his study was filled with the faint scent of incense. It wasn’t an expensive or rare fragrance, but the smoke curled gently. On the wall hung several ink paintings of chrysanthemums, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be Wang Zifeng’s own work. These paintings were now priceless, as Wang Zhen was personally named “the unparalleled top scholar” by Zhao Fu and was renowned throughout the land.

Seeing Tang Shen arrive, Wang Zhen beckoned, “Jing Ze.”

Tang Shen walked over, “Was Lin Xu here to see you just now, Senior Brother? Was it something important?”

Wang Zhen, “Nothing major. Sit.”

Tang Shen sat down, and Wang Zhen suddenly began setting up a chessboard.

Tang Shen: “…”

“…Chess?”

Wang Zhen, while arranging the pieces, looked up at Tang Shen and let out a soft “Hmm,” his voice tinged with amusement and a hint of deliberate confusion to continue the conversation with an explanation.

Tang Shen said helplessly, “It’s been so long since we last played chess, Senior Brother!”

Wang Zhen feigned surprise, “Has it?”

Tang Shen, “At least… half a year?”

Wang Zhen said self-reproachfully, “So you enjoy playing chess with me this much. I hadn’t realized. Don’t worry, from now on, I’ll play a game with you every day.”

Tang Shen: “…”

Who wants to play chess with you?!

Tang Shen didn’t consider himself a masochist. Why would he play chess with Wang Zhen and let himself be utterly trounced? Instinctively, he wanted to refuse, but Wang Zhen had already set up the board and handed him the box of black pieces. Who could refuse Wang Zifeng? Tang Shen naturally took the box, only to regret it immediately afterward.

Holding the box, Tang Shen said honestly, “It’s not like I can beat you.”

Wang Zhen smiled, “What did you just say, little Junior Brother?”

Tang Shen: “…”

Do you really need to hear it again?

Tang Shen expressionlessly tossed the box aside, “I can’t beat you. I won’t play.”

Wang Zhen laughed heartily for a while, then took Tang Shen’s hand and placed the box back in his palm. “The world is like a game of chess. How do you know you can’t beat me if you haven’t even tried? At the very least, you’ve already won one thing—you’ve won me over. Look, Jing Ze, isn’t this the most brilliant move you’ve ever made?”

Tang Shen, both amused and exasperated by his teasing, said, “Who wants to win you over? What good is having you in my hands?”

Wang Zhen sighed earnestly, “Those who have don’t know how to cherish. You’re truly blessed but don’t realize it!”

Tang Shen ignored him.

Who ever heard of someone praising themselves so shamelessly!

In the end, Tang Shen still played chess with Wang Zhen.

Wang Zhen was exceptionally skilled at chess. In his life, Tang Shen had only played chess with three people: Liang Song, Fu Xiru, and Wang Zifeng. Among them, Fu Xiru was the worst, followed by Liang Song, and Wang Zhen was the best. However, even Fu Xiru could beat Tang Shen five times over.

Tang Shen played absentmindedly, not expecting to win, but Wang Zhen deliberately fed him pieces, creating the illusion of an evenly matched game.

Tang Shen became interested. After playing for a while, just as he thought he might win, Wang Zhen delivered a decisive move, cutting off his momentum.

Tang Shen threw down his piece, “I’m done!”

Wang Zhen laughed, “You quit just because you lost?”

Tang Shen said matter-of-factly, “Who would keep playing after losing?”

Wang Zhen looked at him deeply, about to speak, but Tang Shen cut him off, “Don’t say it. I’ve grown bold with favoritism.”

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

Wang Zhen was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter. He stood up, hugged Tang Shen, and kissed him. Tang Shen was caught off guard, and by the time he realized what had happened, his ears turned slightly red. Just as he was about to protest in embarrassment, Wang Zhen said, “On that cold night in the first month, did you stay up all night?”

Tang Shen was taken aback. He composed himself and looked up, “Uncle said he didn’t understand, and neither do I. But Senior Brother… do you understand?”

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Liao State, Shangjing, Dading Prefecture.

It happened to be the Liao Emperor’s birthday, and the entire city of Shangjing was decorated with lanterns and banners as the people celebrated the emperor’s longevity. The Liao people did not have as many rules and formalities as the Song. For the emperor’s birthday, a grand procession would travel from the east gate to the west gate, distributing ten thousand cups of wine to the people, symbolizing “sharing joy with the people.” Thus, the Liao Emperor’s birthday was a joyous occasion for the Liao people, who took to the streets to catch a glimpse of the imperial carriage.

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

However, the person sitting in the imperial carriage was not necessarily the Liao Emperor. Last year, during the emperor’s birthday, it was the Second Prince, Yelü Shege, who represented the emperor and distributed the ten thousand cups of wine. This year, it was the Third Prince, Yelü Han, who sat in the carriage. Holding a wine jar, his chest exposed, he laughed heartily and said to the guard general beside him, “Drink up! We won’t return until we’re drunk!”

The grand procession of ten thousand cups of wine lasted six hours before it finally concluded.

The Third Prince, Yelü Han, presented the wine offered by the people to the Liao Emperor, saying, “Imperial Father, this is the respect of your subjects!”

The Liao Emperor laughed heartily and drank the entire jar of wine in one go.

With that, the Liao Emperor’s birthday banquet officially began.

The Third Prince, Yelü Han, was currently the most influential figure in the Liao court. His teacher was the Grand Preceptor, Yelü Ding. Although last year, Yelü Ding had been imprisoned for attempting to assassinate Yelü Qin, the Third Prince’s faction remained the most powerful. Yelü Ding alone was enough to stabilize the situation.

The Second Prince, Yelü Shege, sat at the banquet, drinking wine from a jar like the other Liao officials. He frowned and set the jar aside. Yelü Qin leaned over and asked, “Your Highness, do you not like this jar of Shaoye wine? Shall I fetch you another?”

Yelü Shege, “No need.”

It wasn’t the wine he disliked, but the sight of all the Liao people at the banquet drinking heavily and tearing meat apart with their hands.

Even the Liao Emperor, as noble as he was, held a wine jar and poured it directly into his mouth, staining the entire front of his robe with wine.

Three months ago, Yelü Shege had hurriedly left the Song capital and returned to Nanjing’s Xijin Prefecture. As expected, the day after his return, envoys from Grand Preceptor Yelü Ding arrived from Shangjing. Officially, they claimed the Grand Preceptor had matters to discuss with him, but in reality, they were there to verify whether he was still in Xijin Prefecture.

Yelü Shege’s timely return had averted a crisis.

After personally visiting the Song Dynasty, Yelü Shege suddenly realized that the Song court was far less treacherous than the Liao State. The Song people were reserved, and the Song Emperor was weak. Moreover, the Kaiping Emperor had been gravely ill for some time and likely didn’t have long to live. But what about the Liao State?

The Liao Emperor had fought many battles in his youth, leaving him with numerous injuries and ailments. However, a starved camel is still larger than a horse. The Liao Emperor was ruthless and bloodthirsty. He didn’t need to understand the intricacies of court politics because no one in the Liao State dared to challenge the Liao Emperor’s authority—not even Grand Preceptor Yelü Ding.

The Liao Emperor was like a sleeping tiger, while the Grand Preceptor was a coiled serpent on a branch.

The two stood in opposition, yet there was no inevitable conflict of interest between them. If anything, the Grand Preceptor supported the Third Prince, Yelü Han, and wanted to make him the Crown Prince. Although the Liao Emperor never explicitly stated it, he paid more attention to Yelü Shege, favoring this second son of humble origins.

“Shege, next month, accompany me to Nanshan for a hunt. Let me see if your archery skills have dulled!”

Yelü Shege snapped out of his thoughts, stood up, and struck his chest with his fist in salute. “Your son will surely shoot down an eagle as a belated birthday gift for you, Imperial Father.”

The Liao Emperor laughed heartily.

By late February, spring had arrived in most parts of the Great Song. Tang Shen traveled north alone in a carriage, heading westward. As the days passed, the weather should have grown warmer, but the further north he went, the colder it became. On the eighth day, the carriage finally arrived ten miles outside Youzhou City.

Thick snowflakes fell from the sky, blanketing the ground in silver.

Tang Shen sat in the carriage, holding a warming hand heater and flipping through a poetry collection. At that moment, the coachman said, “Daren, it seems someone is waiting ahead.”

Tang Shen lifted the carriage curtain and saw a few people standing outside a small pavilion about a kilometer away.

Youzhou was not like other cities in the Great Song. Few commoners traveled to Youzhou, so if someone was waiting ten miles outside the city, it was almost certainly for him. Tang Shen said, “It must be the Youzhou officials, knowing I’m coming, waiting for me there. Stop by the pavilion when we reach it.”

“Yes, daren.”

Tang Shen placed the poetry collection in the carriage drawer, straightened his robes, and stepped out of the carriage. As soon as he stepped out, a biting cold wind pierced through him, and Tang Shen shivered. He looked up at the people waiting outside the pavilion and immediately recognized the Youzhou Governor, Ji Zhaosi.

However, Tang Shen’s gaze swept past him and landed on the person standing behind Ji Zhaosi.

His heart trembled violently as he stared at Wang Zhen. After a long moment, he said, “This lower official, Tang Shen, greets the Grand Secretary of the Left.”

Wang Zhen was draped in a snow-white fox fur cloak, his gaze clear as he looked at Tang Shen. With a single glance, the two understood each other. Wang Zhen slowly raised his hand, “No need for formalities… hai hai.”

Tang Shen immediately asked, “Senior Brother, are you ill?”

In his urgency, he forgot to address Wang Zhen formally and called him “Senior Brother” instead.

Wang Zhen coughed for a while, and Qin Si, standing beside him, explained, “Daren stayed up late handling official business a few days ago and caught a cold. He only fell ill yesterday. It’s not a serious illness, but it came on strong, so it looks worse than it is.”

Tang Shen breathed a slight sigh of relief.

The group returned to Youzhou City together.

Since Wang Zifeng was ill, Ji Zhaosi, who had originally planned to host a banquet for Tang Shen, had to cancel it so that Wang Zhen could rest early. Tang Shen supported Wang Zhen and took him to the residence where the two would stay in Youzhou. This residence had been specially prepared by Youzhou Governor Ji Zhaosi. Since the Silver Pull Division was established in Youzhou, its highest-ranking official naturally needed a place to stay in the city.

Ji Zhaosi escorted Tang Shen and Wang Zhen to the residence by carriage and said, “Tang daren, you don’t have a residence in Youzhou. You’ve arrived too suddenly—I haven’t had a chance to prepare one yet. In a few days, it will be ready.”

Tang Shen replied matter-of-factly, “No need. I don’t come to Youzhou often. I can just stay with Wang daren.”

Ji Zhaosi didn’t think much of it. “Understood.”

Tang Shen helped Wang Zhen into the residence. Their wide sleeves concealed their hands, and Wang Zifeng took the opportunity to clasp Tang Shen’s hand, their fingers intertwining. Tang Shen paused momentarily, but before he could react, Wang Zifeng leaned his head on Tang Shen’s shoulder.

Minister Wang whispered, “Jing Ze…”

Tang Shen: “…?”

“Jing Ze…”

“I’m here.”

“I’m not going to make it.”

“…What?!”

Minister Wang said, “We’re not married yet. If I die first, you won’t get a single coin from my estate. And my estate is quite substantial. I have three manors in Shengjing, and shops on three streets in Shengjing, Northern Zhili, and Southern Zhili. In fact, I also own a dye workshop and a cloth shop in your hometown, Gusu. And in Jinling, which is the Wang family’s stronghold, most of my assets are there…”

Tang Shen was dumbfounded, “As the Minister of Revenue, you’ve embezzled this much?!”

Wang Zhen, “Embezzled? How could you think that of me? Half of this was your mother-in-law’s dowry… hai hai… How could you hit me? I’m sick.”

“Then speak properly!”

Wang Zhen laughed and leaned heavily on Tang Shen. “My mother only had one son, so her dowry naturally belongs to me, and in the future, it will belong to you too. You haven’t even heard the best part yet. In Jinling, do you know about the Qinhuai River?”

Tang Shen exclaimed in shock, “Don’t tell me the Qinhuai River is also under your name!”

Wang Zhen let out an involuntary laugh, “The Qinhuai River is part of the Great Song’s territory. How could it belong to me alone? But there are two highly profitable restaurants by the Qinhuai River that are mine.”

“Are the singing girls yours too?”

Wang Zhen said cheerfully, “If I told you I own a few pleasure boats, would you be angry?”

“I wouldn’t be angry.”

“Good, then I do own a few… Ai, little Junior Brother!”

Tang Shen pushed him away and strode into the house.

Wang Zhen immediately chased after him, complaining grievously, “You said you wouldn’t be angry.”

Tang Shen looked him up and down, “Of course I’m not angry. Why would I be? What does it matter if you own a few pleasure boats? Do you even like women?”

Wang Zhen hugged him tightly and laughed loudly, “If you say that, I’ll be heartbroken.”

Tang Shen thought to himself: You look perfectly happy right now, thinking I’m jealous!

In truth, Tang Shen wasn’t jealous. If Wang Zifeng could casually fall for a few singing girls, how could he have remained single until the age of twenty-nine? He was simply amazed. This guy is loaded! So annoyingly loaded! He had worked hard to earn his fortune, from Tang’s Logistics to Xixia Tower, and only after opening Baibao Pavilion could he claim to be wealthy. But who would have thought that a true rich heir like Wang Zhen, with just his mother’s dowry, could be so wealthy?

Tang Shen fell silent for a moment, “I gave you a ten percent share of Baibao Pavilion.”

Wang Zhen said sincerely, “Jing Ze, you’re really good at making money. The annual profits from that small Baibao Pavilion are almost as much as all my shops combined.”

Tang Shen was about to say, “Since you’re so rich, why don’t you return my shares?” But after being showered with such flattery, he hesitated and couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Wang Zhen, “Let’s get back to the main topic. Jing Ze, I’m not going to make it.” After saying this, he leaned on Tang Shen’s shoulder again. “If I die, none of my assets will belong to you. That won’t do… I remember you have an elder cousin.”

Tang Shen, “? I only have a younger sister.”

“Not Tang Huang, I mean your cousin in Gusu Prefecture.”

“You mean Tang Yun? He’s my cousin on my father’s side, not my mother’s side. My mother was an only child.”

Wang Zhen frowned but continued, “That’s close enough. According to family customs, if I die, you should go to him and have him help you reclaim my assets from the Langya Wang family. To do that, you’ll need to tell him that you and I are lovers… hai hai.”

Tang Shen pushed him away again, “Aren’t you supposed to be sick?!”

Wang Zhen, “Yes, I’m sick. Very sick.”

Tang Shen: “…”

You don’t look sick at all when you’re scheming!

“Do you know why I got sick?”

“Qin Si said it was because you stayed up late handling official business?”

Wang Zhen gently embraced Tang Shen. He wanted to kiss him but remembered he was sick and didn’t want to pass the illness to Tang Shen, so he held back. He chuckled softly, his voice warm and clear but slightly hoarse, “You were coming, so I wanted to finish as much work as possible beforehand. That way, when you arrived, we could spend more time together. It’s been three months since I last saw you. I really want to kiss you.”

Tang Shen looked up at him, his lips parting slightly, “Senior Brother…”

Wang Zhen, “I’m afraid of passing the sickness to you, so I’ll have to let it go for now.”

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

Tang Shen was even more moved.

Minister Wang rarely acted like a decent human being, so how could he let such a touching moment be wasted on himself alone? Such a losing deal would never exist in his vocabulary.

Holding his little junior brother, Minister Wang deeply felt that he was indeed a once-in-a-century, once-in-a-millennium gentleman.

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At sunset, Li Xiaoren, the Chief Astronomer of the Astronomical Bureau, entered the palace, dressed in a Taoist robe adorned with the Eight Trigrams and holding a horsetail whisk. Two young disciples followed closely behind him. On the night of the palace coup on the seventh day of the first lunar month, Li Xiaoren had been bedridden with illness and was absent from the palace. It was his two disciples who had remained at the Immortal Ascension Platform.

Now recovered and summoned by the emperor, Li Xiaoren strode into the palace with an air of arrogance.

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

His two disciples, however, were trembling with fear, not daring to lift their heads. It had not been Li Xiaoren who had cowered in terror that night, shivering throughout the chaos—it had been them. Only those who had experienced that night of panic and horror could understand how terrifying the imperial palace truly was. Had the imperial guards stormed the Immortal Ascension Platform and cut them down, their deaths would have been in vain, and no one would have uttered a word of grievance on their behalf.

When Li Xiaoren arrived at the Immortal Ascension Platform, the Chief Eunuch Ji Fu was already waiting outside the hall.

Seeing Ji Fu, Li Xiaoren quickly approached him with a fawning smile. “Ji gonggong.”

Ji Fu returned the smile. “Li daren. His Majesty has been troubled by many matters lately; you must tread carefully.”

Li Xiaoren bowed slightly. “Many thanks for your guidance, Ji gonggong.” With that, he entered the Immortal Ascension Platform.

Two hours later, Li Xiaoren emerged, letting out a long breath of relief. He felt invigorated, his face glowing with satisfaction. Having been suppressed by the monk Shanting for an entire year, Li Xiaoren now basked in victory—Shanting had been beheaded in a public execution, the emperor had abandoned Buddhism in favor of Taoism, and in the end, Li Xiaoren had triumphed.

In high spirits, he instructed his disciple to slip a few gold leaves to Ji Fu and flattered him, saying, “From tomorrow onward, this lower official will be attending the Immortal Ascension Platform daily. Ji gonggong, serving His Majesty is an arduous task; you must take care of your health.”

Ji Fu accepted the gold leaves without a change in expression and smiled. “Li daren should take care of himself as well.”

Li Xiaoren left with his disciples, walking with a spring in his step, brimming with smugness.

“What an opportunistic scoundrel,” a voice muttered.

Ji Fu turned to see his godson and frowned. “And is that something you should be saying?”

The young eunuch, Xie Bao, lowered his head, sulking. “Yes, but I’m not wrong, am I?”

Ji Fu sighed. “Mind your tongue. This is none of your concern.”

Xie Bao murmured assent and was soon sent off to handle errands in the imperial harem. Yet, as Ji Fu watched Li Xiaoren and his two young disciples leave, he couldn’t help but feel the same way.

How foolish Li Xiaoren was—so foolish that he could so confidently believe Zhao Fu to be a ruler devoted to Taoism.

Zhao Fu was a man who, in his entire life, had believed neither in gods nor in Buddha. He believed only in himself.

After the coup in the first month, Ji Fu suddenly felt that he understood Zhao Fu more than ever. On the day Zhao Fu summoned Ji Wengji, Ji Fu had stood outside, listening to every word of their conversation. Ji Wengji had described Zhao Fu as a ruler of supreme intelligence yet utterly self-serving. But Ji Fu thought that “self-serving” was no longer an adequate description—Zhao Fu, for more than sixty years, had seen only himself.

Having served Zhao Fu for over fifty years, Ji Fu now felt a chill in his heart.

Xie Bao had considered Li Xiaoren a petty opportunist because he sympathized with the late monk Shanting. Unlike this bootlicking fraud of a Taoist, Shanting had been approachable, never currying favor with high-ranking officials, never singling out Ji Fu for flattery while ignoring other eunuchs. He had been well-liked by the palace eunuchs and maids alike.

“Buddha saves only those with affinity. Master Shanting, you truly wished to save our emperor, but your powers were not enough. You couldn’t save him,” Ji Fu lamented in his heart. Perhaps he was the last person in the world mourning the monk.

After court was dismissed, Tang Shen returned home to find Tang Huang vividly recounting a story to Aunt Yao and Feng Bi.

“…The great monk pressed his hands together in a mudra, knelt at the execution ground, and began chanting sutras. The most miraculous thing was that as he chanted, the executioners froze, the gathered crowd fell silent, and everyone listened in awe. With each word he spoke, lotus flowers bloomed on the ground, covering the entire execution site in a sea of blossoms.”

“Why not just say he spit golden lotuses and achieved enlightenment on the spot?”

Tang Huang turned her head and saw Tang Shen. She gasped, eyes wide. “Wait, did that really happen? The monk actually spit golden lotuses and became a Buddha?”

Tang Shen: “…”

“Of course not! Where did you even hear such nonsense? During an execution, the condemned’s hands are chained behind their back—how could they press them together? The moment the appointed time arrives, the execution proceeds without delay—do you think the executioners would just stop? I’ve told you before, don’t believe every wild rumor you hear. They’re all fake.”

Aunt Yao sighed. “Ah, so it wasn’t real. I thought those monks were really that miraculous.”

Tang Shen had nothing to say to that.

The common folk had no idea what truly transpired during the coup in the first month. They believed it was a case of a treacherous monk bringing disaster upon the nation. But it wasn’t just them—many officials in the capital were equally clueless. The people turned it into a tale for idle chatter, crafting multiple versions of the story. Even the Tang family’s Xixia Tower had adopted it as a supernatural legend, spinning a tale of a Taoist priest vanquishing an evil monk.

As February approached, Tang Shen was summoned to the palace.

Zhao Fu had regained his usual demeanor. Seated on the imperial throne, he reviewed memorials. Ji Fu led Tang Shen into Chuigong Hall, where Zhao Fu set down his scroll, looked up, and smiled. “It seems I haven’t seen you in a long time, Jing Ze.”

Tang Shen bowed. “Your subject greets Your Majesty.”

Zhao Fu gestured for him to step closer. “Come closer so we can speak.”

Tang Shen took two steps forward.

Zhao Fu sighed. “Still as youthful and brilliant as ever. But I… I have grown old.”

By now, it was almost instinct for Tang Shen to prepare a flattering remark, but Zhao Fu gave him no chance to speak, continuing, “I have little time left, yet I still have so much unfinished business. Jing Ze, your senior brother has been in Youzhou for quite some time now. How has he been?”

Tang Shen thought that Zhao Fu probably knew more about Wang Zifeng’s situation than he did. “I have not seen my senior brother in a long time, but he is meticulous in his work. Since arriving in Youzhou, he must be accomplishing tasks with great efficiency.”

Zhao Fu laughed. “Then you should go to Youzhou and assist him.”

Tang Shen was startled but maintained his composure. “I obey Your Majesty’s command.”

Zhao Fu sighed. “I truly hope to see my wishes fulfilled before I close my eyes forever!”

Tang Shen understood—Zhao Fu was not merely sending him to assist Wang Zifeng with the Silver Pull Division. His true objective was Liao.

The Great Song had stood for over a hundred years, with a total of nine emperors. During the reign of Emperor Xunzong, the Song and Liao States were locked in years of war, ultimately ending in a devastating defeat for the Song. As a result, they were forced to cede 1,400,700 hectares of land in the northwest and pay annual tributes.

By the time of the previous emperor, the dynasty pursued relentless militarization and waged fierce battles against Liao, finally putting an end to the humiliating tributes.

When Emperor Kaiping ascended the throne, he waged another decade-long war against Liao, successfully reclaiming the three prefectures of Youzhou. However, 600,300 hectares of Song territory still remained under Liao occupation.

To have achieved this much, Emperor Zhao Fu had already secured his place in history. But he was not satisfied. What he sought was to become a true, enlightened ruler of his age.

After leaving Chuigong Hall, Tang Shen went straight to the Censorate to prepare for his journey to Youzhou.

He did not notice that just as he stepped out of the hall, another official, dressed in a deep-red second-rank robe, was approaching from another palace path. The two narrowly missed crossing paths, but the official saw Tang Shen.

Yu Chaosheng stopped in his tracks. The eunuch beside him turned and asked, “Yu daren?”

Minister of Justice Yu Chaosheng said, “It’s nothing, let’s keep going.”

Soon, Yu Chaosheng entered Chuigong Hall to pay his respects to Zhao Fu.

By midday, Minister Yu returned to Qinzheng Hall, where he sought out his teacher, the current Left Prime Minister, Xu Bi.

After Ji Wengji was stripped of his position, no one had expected that the one to succeed him as Left Prime Minister in Qinzheng Hall would not be Right Prime Minister Wang Quan but the seemingly unremarkable Right Vice Prime Minister, Xu Bi. Now, Xu Bi sat in the very same hall that once belonged to Ji Wengji, conversing with Minister of Rites Meng Lang. Upon seeing Yu Chaosheng arrive, Meng Lang said, “I shall not interrupt Xu xianggong and Yu daren’s reunion as teacher and student.” With that, he rose and took his leave.

Once Meng Lang had departed, Xu Bi and Yu Chaosheng sat together on the Luohan couch, sipping tea.

Yu Chaosheng set down his cup and sighed, “Though half a month has passed, I still feel as if I am in a dream.”

Xu Bi asked, “What kind of dream?”

Yu Chaosheng hesitated. “To be honest, it is somewhat embarrassing and laughable, so I won’t trouble you with it. It’s just that this coup in the first month was like trying to see flowers through the mist—I still haven’t made sense of it.”

“What is it that you don’t understand?”

Yu Chaosheng carefully recounted his thoughts. “…I may not understand everything, but I have always followed your teachings. One does not need to grasp everything—knowing just a little is enough to ensure one’s safety. So I choose not to be curious.”

“Are you truly not curious?”

Yu Chaosheng shook his head. “Truly, I am not.”

Xu Bi chuckled. “Oh, you, you’ve had this wooden personality for over a decade.”

Yu Chaosheng smiled but did not respond.

How could he truly not be curious? But he knew well that the more one knew, the sooner one would meet their end. Especially under this emperor—Zhao Fu was never a ruler to be manipulated. The downfall of Ji Wengji was proof enough. Prime Minister Ji had seen too much, and that was precisely why he had ended up where he was. Yu Chaosheng did not know what Prime Minister Ji had discovered, but he was certain he did not want to find out.

Yu Chaosheng said, “Today, outside Chuigong Hall, I ran into Tang Jingze again.”

Xu Bi raised a brow. “Again?”

“Yes. I had just received an imperial decree summoning me to the palace when Tang daren walked out of Chuigong Hall. But once again, he did not see me—only I saw him.” Yu Chaosheng sighed. “I feel as if there is some inexplicable connection between me and Tang daren. I have never believed in Buddhism or Taoism, but as Minister of Justice, I was the one who oversaw the execution of Shanting a few days ago. Under the scorching sun, he was pressed onto the execution platform, yet his expression never wavered—he continued reciting Buddhist scriptures. In that moment, I felt as if I had seen the Buddha himself.”

Xu Bi remarked meaningfully, “Shanting was no ordinary man.”

Yu Chaosheng frowned. “Teacher?”

“A year ago, when he had just entered the palace, I met him briefly in front of the Immortal Ascension Platform. We exchanged a few words, and from his tone, I could tell—he already knew that he would likely never leave this palace alive.”

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

“He foresaw what would happen a year later?”

“Not necessarily. He simply had clarity of mind—he saw through our emperor’s thoughts at a single glance.”

Who in this world truly understood Zhao Fu the most?

Ji Wengji?

Shanting?

Xu Bi took a slow sip of his tea, lost in thought.

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Ji Wengji spoke in a calm, measured voice, uttering each treasonous and heart-piercing statement as if the surface of a tranquil lake, undisturbed by the breeze, yet concealing raging waves beneath. With every word he spoke, Zhao Fu’s expression twisted further, his eyes nearly bursting with fury as he glared at Ji Wengji, murder in his gaze.

Yet, as Ji Wengji finished his words, Zhao Fu suddenly relaxed.

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He let out a soft chuckle, reached for another teacup on the table, and with a loud bang, hurled it against a nearby pillar.

The blue and white porcelain shattered into countless pieces.

Ji Wengji did not spare the broken teacup a single glance.

The emperor’s voice was firm and resounding, like a thunderclap: “Chong Ming, you truly disappoint me. In your heart, am I such an emperor?”

Prime Minister Ji lifted his gaze and earnestly replied, “In my eyes, Your Majesty is the most enlightened ruler since the founding of the Great Song.”

Zhao Fu said, “Yet I cannot tell—how much sincerity lies in your words?”

Ji Wengji responded, “Absolute sincerity.”

Zhao Fu was momentarily speechless. He sighed. “Then why have you come to the palace today?”

Ji Wengji replied, “I cannot bear to see a tragedy repeat itself.”

Zhao Fu fell into a long silence. “Thirty-two years ago… I recall that Chong Ming was not in Shengjing. Where were you then? Let me think…”

“I was in the northwest, battling the Liao army.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right—you were in Youzhou, with the Grand Preceptor. The Grand Preceptor often praised you before the late emperor, saying you were a rare talent, fit to be both a general and a minister.” Zhao Fu showed a puzzled expression. “You were not in Shengjing, you were neither a supporter of the former crown prince nor of the Songqing Party… so what does this matter have to do with you?”

Ji Wengji suddenly fell silent. Instead, he changed the subject. “I believe I have finally come to understand Your Majesty.”

Zhao Fu raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it that you understand?”

“You have never changed. It was I who was pedantic. I once did not understand—if all three princes were to die at Zhaode Gate, then what would become of this Great Song, the empire you fought so hard to seize? But now I do understand. You care for this empire only because it is yours. If it ceases to be yours, then whether it belongs to Zhao Shang, Zhao Jing, or Zhao Ji—or even Zhao Ao or Zhao Qiong—what does it matter to you?”

Zhao Fu’s lips trembled slightly.

Ji Wengji continued, “The Song-Liao treaty was the achievement of Emperor Kaiping. The prosperity of this era is due to Emperor Kaiping’s efforts. You have never shied away from hardship. You built three great roads, toiled endlessly for the people, and—unless gravely ill—you have never missed a morning court session in thirty-two years. Never has the Great Song seen an emperor as diligent as you. You have lived an immensely harsh life, like an ascetic monk, but even worse than one.”

Zhao Fu’s expression became indescribable. He straightened his back in agitation and called out, “Chong Ming.”

Ji Wengji sighed. “Paper money—it is so difficult to implement. Yet despite everything, you have never given up. The Great Song is fortunate to have you, as are its officials and its people. I have served two emperors in my life, but I have only had one true sovereign—and that is you.”

Zhao Fu said gravely, “In court, I have always known that you are the one who understands me best.”

Ji Wengji looked him in the eye and said, “And so you seek to prove that even if you seized the throne through patricide and fratricide, you were not wrong. If Zhao Shang, Zhao Jing, and Zhao Ji repeat the same history—if anyone else were in your place—they would make the same choices and act just as you did.”

Zhao Fu asked, “Was I wrong?”

Ji Wengji answered, “You were not wrong. No need to repeat history—you were never wrong.”

Zhao Fu closed his eyes, holding back the heat welling up in them.

“But neither was the former crown prince wrong. Nor were Zhao Shang, Zhao Jing, or Zhao Ji. Who, then, was truly at fault?” Ji Wengji spoke slowly. “You are an enlightened ruler. And you are also a selfish, solitary monarch. Your Majesty, I can no longer walk this road with you. You have always walked alone. I have now come to understand something else.”

Zhao Fu did not grow angry this time. He smiled faintly at Ji Wengji and asked, “What is it?”

“If this were a year ago, you would never have acted in such a way. You are beginning to doubt yourself. You hesitate; you fear. Is it the Empress Dowager’s death that has made you afraid of the afterlife? Made you worry about descending into hell upon your death?”

Zhao Fu’s smile froze.

He did not need to answer. Ji Wengji could already see everything in his expression. He bowed respectfully and said, “Your Majesty, as the victor, why dwell on meaningless matters and people? You are who you are, and there are countless matters awaiting Your Majesty to dispel illusions and forge new paths.”

Silence engulfed Funing Palace.

After a long time, Zhao Fu finally spoke. “You may go.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“…Wait.”

Ji Wengji stopped and turned back toward the solitary yet brilliant emperor.

Zhao Fu smiled. “Chong Ming, you were mistaken about one thing. Zhao Jing and Zhao Ji may be like Zhao Xuan, but I… I was never like Zhao Shang.”

Ji Wengji’s eyes dilated.

Zhao Fu continued, “That question I asked—you have yet to answer it. Thirty-two years ago, none of this had anything to do with you. Today, I thought of many people, even Wang Quan—I even considered that he might come to the palace. But I never thought that it would be you. Why did you come? Why do it?”

Ji Wengji’s heart was a stormy sea. He gazed solemnly at the emperor before him. For decades, through trials and tribulations, he had believed he understood this man better than anyone. Yet, in the end, he had misjudged his heart.

But could anyone truly comprehend the heart of an emperor?

After contemplating, Ji Wengji finally spoke. “Your Majesty said I was neither of the former crown prince’s faction nor of the Songqing Party.”

Zhao Fu’s expression shifted slightly. He feigned composure. “Was I mistaken?”

Ji Wengji said, “Your Majesty was not wrong. I was merely a second-rank jinshi—how could I have ever joined the Songqing Party, or gained the former crown prince’s favor? But that year, after achieving honors in the imperial examination, at the Qionglin Banquet, I—a poor scholar—became intoxicated and made a fool of myself. My fellow scholars ridiculed me in secret, yet one person helped steady my drunken form and told me, ‘A true talent asks not of origins.’”

Zhao Fu already knew who that person was. Beneath his dragon robe, his fists clenched tightly.

Ji Wengji looked at him deeply and smiled. “Your Majesty, who in this world did not love Zhao Xuan!”

Ji Wengji turned and left.

As he departed, the sound of porcelain shattering rang through Funing Palace, echoing on and on.

When Ji Wengji left the palace, he happened to run into the Minister of Justice, Geng Shaoyun, who had just arrived for an audience. Seeing him, Geng Shaoyun was greatly surprised and respectfully greeted him. Ji Wengji returned the courtesy but said nothing.

Geng Shaoyun waited outside Funing Palace for a long time before Zhao Fu finally summoned him in.

Upon entering, Geng Shaoyun was shocked by the sight of shattered porcelain covering the floor. He remained calm as he walked toward the inner hall and respectfully bowed. Zhao Fu glanced at him weakly, then spoke with deep sorrow, “Wang Qing, my heart is disappointed!”

On the ninth day of the first month, the grand farce of the palace coup finally came to an end.

The treacherous monk Shanting had deceived the emperor and disrupted the court, seizing the opportunity to rebel while the emperor was gravely ill. He was thrown into the imperial prison, awaiting execution. Left Prime Minister Ji Wengji had secretly colluded with the monk, attempting to overthrow the throne. In consideration of his years of service to the nation, he was stripped of his office but allowed to retire in peace.

The Fourth Prince, Zhao Jing, and the Fifth Prince, Zhao Ji, had been misled by traitors, leading to chaos in the capital. Their official positions were revoked, and they were ordered to reflect on their mistakes behind closed doors.

Xu Bi was promoted to Left Prime Minister, Geng Shaoyun to Vice Right Prime Minister, and Right Vice Minister of Personnel Yu Chaosheng to Minister of Justice.

This wave of promotions and demotions left the court in turmoil. But what surprised everyone most was the emperor’s decision to recall Zhao Jing, the Governor of Qinzhou, to the capital and appoint him as Right Vice Minister of Personnel, a prestigious third-rank position.

Zhao Jing had been one of Ji Wengji’s most promising protégés. Yet, while his mentor had been stripped of power, Zhao Jing had finally emerged from hardship, returning to the capital to take office.

On the sixteenth day of the first month, during the first grand morning court assembly of Kaiping Year 32, officials gathered in Zichen Hall. Among them, Tang Shen spotted Zhao Jing, who had traveled thousands of miles from Qinzhou back to the capital.

The emperor’s health still seemed frail. After the chaotic palace coup, he appeared even older, but his gaze was sharper than ever. At this point, who could still believe he was on his deathbed? A dying emperor would not have suddenly awakened in the midst of a coup and seized control with such precision.

Some officials had already pieced together parts of the truth, while others remained in the dark, trembling in fear and reverence.

During the court session, Zhao Fu spoke briefly about the events of the previous month, brushing past them as if they were of little consequence.

Xu Bi, now leading the civil officials, stepped forward with the ministers to formally offer congratulations for the prosperity and stability of Kaiping Year 32.

After the court session ended, Tang Shen finally got a clear look at Zhao Jing.

Four years ago, Zhao Jing had been demoted from a second-rank minister to a lowly fourth-rank governor of Qinzhou due to his failure in overseeing the Revenue And Expenditure Department. Now, he had returned to the capital as a third-rank minister. Yet, Ji Wengji’s faction had fallen from power, and Zhao Jing’s hair had also turned gray. Though only in his forties, he looked like a man well past sixty.

Tang Shen felt like a lone boat drifting upon a vast, turbulent sea.

The next day, just as Tang Shen returned home from court, a steward from the Right Prime Minister’s residence arrived to summon him.

Surprised, Tang Shen asked, “The Right Prime Minister is waiting for me at his residence?”

The steward smiled. “You’ll know once you arrive.”

Puzzled, Tang Shen followed him. But soon, he realized that the carriage was not heading toward the Right Prime Minister’s residence in the east of the city. Instead, it moved southward, leaving the capital entirely.

As the carriage swayed along the road, they eventually arrived at the Ten-Mile Pavilion outside the city. Stepping out, Tang Shen saw Right Prime Minister Wang Quan already waiting, dressed in a plain black robe.

Tang Shen immediately approached and greeted him, “Uncle, what is the matter?”

Wang Quan did not answer immediately. He looked Tang Shen up and down and remarked, “I was too hasty in calling you here. I forgot you’d still be wearing your official robes. Today’s meeting is a private one—I should have prepared a black robe for you as well. Do you know that the Wang family’s sons prefer to wear black?”

Tang Shen hesitated, then replied, “…Yes, I know.”

Just as Wang Quan was about to speak, he noticed a carriage approaching from the direction of the capital. He murmured, “He has arrived.” Striding toward the main road, Tang Shen followed him.

The carriage came to a slow stop. The occupant lifted the curtain, momentarily surprised to see Wang Quan. “Prime Minister Wang?”

Wang Quan bowed slightly. “Prime Minister Ji.”

Ji Wengji stepped down from the carriage and returned the gesture. “A criminal official like me has no right to such a title.” He then glanced at Tang Shen.

Tang Shen immediately saluted him.

Wang Quan chuckled. “If that is so, then why should I, dressed in black, still be called Prime Minister?”

The two men exchanged a look and laughed.

For years, the Ji and Wang factions had been rivals in court. They were not sworn enemies, yet they had always been political adversaries. Who would have thought that now, outside the city at the Ten-Mile Pavilion, Ji Wengji and Wang Quan would be conversing so freely, laughter ringing in the air?

Tang Shen remained uncertain. He did not understand why Wang Quan had brought him here, but he stood quietly to the side, listening without speaking a word.

As the sun began to set, Ji Wengji finally said, “It is getting late; I should take my leave.”

Wang Quan clasped his hands together. “Safe travels.”

Ji Wengji turned to Tang Shen again and suddenly remarked, “This reminds me of something.”

Wang Quan asked, “Oh? What is it?”

Ji Wengji mused, “At the New Year’s banquet in the palace, any of the three princes could have been chosen. Yet, His Majesty specifically picked the Second Prince, Zhao Shang.”

Tang Shen’s heart jolted, but he remained composed, focusing intently as Ji Wengji continued.

“Was it a random choice, selecting an innocent man as a scapegoat? Or… was it because he is the eldest son? The eldest son, who reminded His Majesty of someone—someone who burdens him with guilt, leading him to make that choice?”

Ji Wengji suddenly paused, then chuckled. “Ah, am I rambling again? Brother De Zhan, don’t mind me. Ever since I was misled by that treacherous monk, I often find myself speaking nonsense. Pay it no heed.”

Wang Quan smiled. “Of course not. What did you say just now?”

Tang Shen calmly replied, “Ji daren did not say anything.”

Ji Wengji and Wang Quan both turned to look at him, their gazes filled with approval. Tang Shen kept his eyes lowered, his expression steady.

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

Ji Wengji chuckled and pointed at Tang Shen’s official robes. “I had thought Tang daren should be wearing black as well.”

Tang Shen’s eyelid twitched slightly.

Wang Quan burst into laughter. “Every generation must forge its own path. Brother Chong Ming, we shall meet again. Farewell!”

“Farewell!”

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