After the Imperial Examination, the results wouldn’t be announced until mid-March. Because apricot blossoms bloomed at this time, the list of successful candidates was also known as the “Apricot List.”

Following the Apricot List was the Palace Examination, where Emperor Ning personally selected the top three candidates. No one could guarantee they would achieve the coveted title of Zhuangyuan.

So when Shen Ye boasted so boldly, no one took him seriously.

Everyone simply thought he was an arrogant, spirited scholar, but no one would fault a young man for it; they merely offered a kind smile or a playful cheer.

Among the bustling crowd, Zhang Li, riding a green ox backward, recorded everything that had just happened in his “Wordless Book of Heaven.” No one knew he was the author of “Bianliang si Meng,” nor did anyone know that a new collection of stories was about to emerge.

The head disciple of Huangshan Dao Court, lingering in the captivating capital and engrossed in writing storybooks, sounded somewhat unaccomplished.

But who could decide what was a proper occupation?

Fu Wang ignored the commotion behind him and said to Chen Ji without looking back, “What happened today will definitely be written into a new storybook by that cunning Daoist from Huangshan. Tsk, tsk, isn’t this much better than the sour, odorous ‘Bianliang si Meng’? All that love and hate between men and women, how could that be as interesting as a heroic knight in vibrant clothes on a spirited horse?”

Chen Ji didn’t answer him, but he still joyfully said, “This time, I’m definitely in the storybook too. Tomorrow, I’ll have Zhou Kuang go to the City God Temple and send that cunning Daoist two jars of good wine, so he writes me as chivalrous and extraordinarily handsome. What nickname should I use in the storybook? I certainly can’t be called Fu Wang… How about Xian Wang? I’ve long felt that the title of Fu Wang lacks grandeur; it doesn’t at all reflect my martial prowess. It sounds like a fat, big-headed man…”

From Anding Men to Chang’an Jie, Fu Wang chattered incessantly, “Why is it so far? My legs are tired! Hey, next time, how about you lead my horse?”

Chen Ji, in a drunken haze, agreed, “Alright.”

Fu Wang paused slightly. He had been talking to himself for a long time without Chen Ji saying anything, but now, at this point, the other person had agreed.

For a moment, he couldn’t tell if Chen Ji was truly drunk, or how reliable this promise was…

“You can’t trust a drunkard’s words even a little bit,” Fu Wang suddenly turned back to look at him, “Hey, do you have any confidence in overturning this case? Can Liao Zhong be made to confess? He looks a bit dead to me… If you can overturn the case today, my leading your horse will be a beautiful story, and history should record it. But if you can’t, then you and I will both become a laughingstock.”

Chen Ji swayed on the horse, answering irrelevantly, “Five more bowls.”

Fu Wang retorted irritably, “Drink, drink, drink until you die. In the thirty-second year of Jianing, you’re probably the second person to enter the palace drunk to meet the Emperor.”

Chen Ji took a gulp of strong liquor, his eyes hazy as he asked, “Who was the first?”

Fu Wang casually replied, “That Deputy Supervisor of the Qintian Jian, Xu Shu, he’s also an unconventional one.”

He led the horse south, and as they approached Yuhe Qiao, the curious onlookers suddenly fell silent, as if their throats had been choked. They slowly stopped and then scattered like birds and beasts.

Fu Wang looked up.

Across Yuhe Qiao, the streetlights were gone. On the dark, oppressive long street, Jiefan Wei, clad in coir raincoats and with sabers at their waists, lined both sides. Their grey, misty raincoats and bamboo hats in the dark looked like a black mountain forest.

A single person stood in the middle of the bridge, wearing a black yulong uniform with an embroidered python across the shoulder.

Lin Chaoqing.

Fu Wang narrowed his eyes slightly and asked in a low voice, “I’m afraid we can’t cross this bridge.”

Chen Ji, carrying a jar of wine, swayed on his horse, seemingly oblivious to the oppressive presence of the Jiefan Wei, still drinking by himself.

He took a gulp of wine and, with drunken, sleepy eyes, asked, “Is Your Highness afraid?”

Fu Wang was silent for a moment, then laughed freely, leading his horse onto the bridge, “Afraid of what? After this hurdle, we can enter the palace to meet the Emperor.”

The crisp sound of iron-shod hooves echoed on the white marble bridge. The Jiefan Wei, with grim gazes beneath their bamboo hats, watched Fu Wang and Chen Ji approach.

Lin Chaoqing blocked Fu Wang’s path, but without any hostility, he merely said courteously, “Your Highness, may this subordinate speak a few words with Chen Ji?”

Fu Wang raised an eyebrow, “What can’t be said in front of me?”

Lin Chaoqing cupped his hands in a salute, “It’s a matter of great importance. Please grant us this convenience, Your Highness.”

Fu Wang glanced at Chen Ji, then finally let go of the reins and silently stepped back a few paces.

Lin Chaoqing took the reins and looked up at Chen Ji, slowly saying, “Master Chen, Fu Wang cannot inherit the imperial throne. If you wish to participate in the succession struggle to gain merit by supporting a new emperor, I’m afraid you’ve miscalculated.”

Chen Ji, sitting on the horse, squinted at Lin Chaoqing. He placed the wine jar on the saddle, leaning forward with both hands on it. “Master Lin, how is your tolerance for alcohol?”

Lin Chaoqing smelled the strong scent of wine but his expression didn’t change. “I don’t know if Master Chen is truly drunk or feigning it. Today, I’ll speak a few frank words with Master Chen, and once we’re done, we’ll forget them. Even if others ask, I won’t admit anything… Everyone knows that His Majesty is wholeheartedly seeking immortality, so the Crown Prince is dispensable. But throughout thousands of years and hundreds of emperors, who has truly achieved immortality? His Majesty knows this well, and so do all the officials; otherwise, a Crown Prince wouldn’t have been established.”

The destiny of the nation was substantial, and it was incompatible with the cultivation of officials. Officials above the third rank had no possibility of cultivation, let alone the Emperor. Therefore, the desire for immortality was destined to be futile.

The Emperor knew, and the civil officials knew, but no one dared to expose it.

Lin Chaoqing continued, “His Majesty has only two legitimate children: one is the Crown Prince, and the other is Fu Wang. You might think that if the Crown Prince falls, Fu Wang will have an opportunity. But during the Grand Ceremony for Sacrificing to the Silkworm God in the fourth year of Jianing, there were rumors that the Empress, while picking mulberries, dismissed her palace maids and was alone with Jing Wang. Ten months later, Fu Wang was born. Although this is an unverified rumor, the subsequent falling out between His Majesty and Jing Wang, and the Empress’s subsequent confinement in the deep palace, unable to even see the young Fu Wang for years, already explain everything.”

Lin Chaoqing said with conviction, “Master Chen, the four words ‘disputed bloodline’ are enough to sever all of Fu Wang’s possibilities. Although the Crown Prince has lost favor, the future of the Ning Dynasty still rests solely on the Crown Prince. How about you and I make a wager? No matter what happens tonight, the Crown Prince will not die, nor will he be deposed.”

No wonder Fu Wang was Ning Dynasty’s eldest son, yet he was not made Crown Prince when the time came; instead, the second son was chosen, and the officials remained silent.

No wonder Noble Consort Xue dared to frame the Empress; she was, in fact, confident and fearless.

No wonder the Chen family and Wu Xiu placed their bets on the Crown Prince… It was truly because the Ning Dynasty had no other choice.

The Emperor would die one day, just as the sun would always set, and the moon would always rise.

By then, the Ning Dynasty would need a Crown Prince, and the officials would also need a Crown Prince. Therefore, today, all the officials remained silent, tacitly allowing the Wucheng Bingmasi to block Anding Men and the Jiefan Wei to block Yuhe Qiao.

Lin Chaoqing calmly said, “Master Chen, have you considered it carefully? Don’t make a mistake that harms yourself.”

Chen Ji just picked up the wine jar and took a large gulp, then spilled the wine in front of the horse. The clear liquor flowed from the jar’s mouth, soaking the white marble bricks and Lin Chaoqing’s black boots. “Four more bowls.”

After speaking, he waved to the distant Fu Wang, “Lead the horse!”

Fu Wang muttered softly, “You’re quite handy at ordering me around now, young man. Just wait until you sober up; we’ll see if I still pay attention to you…”

He came before Lin Chaoqing and took the reins. “Master Lin, can we leave now?”

Lin Chaoqing was silent for a long time, then slowly stepped aside. “Please.”

Fu Wang led his horse through the Jiefan Wei with composure. The two of them actually passed by the Jiefan Wei and headed towards Chengtian Men.

Once they had gone some distance, Fu Wang quietly looked back and saw the Jiefan Wei standing motionless at the bridgehead, like a dozen statues.

Only when he confirmed that the Jiefan Wei had not followed did he finally slump his shoulders and let out a long sigh of relief. “I had already planned how to stage a scene of protecting you, but they didn’t even move. It must be that this matter has reached the Heavenly Court; Imperial Father is waiting to see you in Renshou Gong, so they only dared to act as persuaders, not to block us further.”

“Young man, you’ve had your drink, and you’ve been wild. Whether you can escape unscathed tonight depends on Imperial Father’s mood.”

Wumen had arrived.

Before Wumen.

Huge braziers burned along both sides of the palace road and on the city walls. Shadows flickered on Yan Chi Lou, guarding someone unknown.

Beneath the great red palace walls stood a man of about thirty, as massive as a mountain, clad in armor, holding a monumental halberd.

When the man saw Fu Wang leading his horse, he walked directly to the horse and lifted Liao Zhong as if he were a small chicken. Chen Ji, with hazy, drunken eyes, looked over and was surprised to find that this man, standing on flat ground, was as tall as he was while sitting on the horse.

Fu Wang was about to say something to the man, but then saw Chen Ji reach out and pat the man’s shoulder, exclaiming, “You are so tall!”

Fu Wang’s expression froze.

The burly man glanced menacingly. Fu Wang quickly smiled and tried to smooth things over with the man, “Brother Shan Niu, I hope you’ve been well. This young man has had too much to drink; please don’t mind him.”

The twelve zodiac animals, Shan Niu.

Some said Shan Niu had carved out a reputation in the poisonous insect den of Wunian Shan, caught the Inner Minister’s eye, and was adopted as his godson. But others said no, that those who came out of Wunian Shan had never seen him there.

Still others said Shan Niu had fled into the pass during the Datong famine in the ninth year of Jianing. On the way, his parents exchanged him for something with others, and when he was about to be disemboweled and put into a pot, the Inner Minister, who was not yet the Inner Minister at the time, bought Shan Niu’s life with half a bowl of millet. Someone had personally heard the Inner Minister tell Shan Niu, “Don’t be afraid to die; don’t forget that in the ninth year of Jianing, your life was only worth half a bowl of millet.”

From then on, wherever the Inner Minister went, he always brought Shan Niu with him.

At this moment, Shan Niu ignored Fu Wang, turning to look coldly at Chen Ji. “What happened to Liao Zhong?”

Chen Ji’s eyes were blurred with drunkenness. “Huh?”

Shan Niu asked no more questions. His fist, as large as a copper bowl, slammed into Liao Zhong’s Dantian. The fierce punch generated a powerful wind that made Chen Ji and Fu Wang’s clothes flutter backward.

Liao Zhong trembled all over, then suddenly opened his eyes, which were bloodshot.

After one punch, Liao Zhong’s six souls returned to his body, but his cultivation was completely ruined.

Shan Niu, without changing his expression, reached out and gripped Liao Zhong’s spine. With a slight twist of his two fingers, as thick as drumsticks, the sound of bones cracking came from Liao Zhong’s body.

Shan Niu’s large hand lightly squeezed down Liao Zhong’s back, and a continuous series of crackling sounds could be heard, as if every segment of his spine had been dislocated.

Liao Zhong, with bloodshot eyes, looked like a vengeful ghost. “Kill me!”

Fu Wang was dumbfounded. “He can still speak?”

Liao Zhong’s entire body, except for his eyes and mouth, could no longer move. He glared fiercely at Chen Ji. “I misjudged you; I should have killed you in Guyuan.”

Shan Niu casually swiped at Liao Zhong’s chin, dislocating Liao Zhong’s jaw.

Chen Ji clumsily slid from the saddle to the ground, steadying himself against the horse’s body.

Shan Niu lifted Liao Zhong and walked into Wumen. Fu Wang quickly grabbed Chen Ji’s arm. “Don’t drink anymore, damn it…”

However, before he finished speaking, Shan Niu suddenly turned back and said, “His Majesty is still in conference with the Grand Secretaries; it won’t be his turn to speak for a while. His Majesty’s verbal decree is to allow him to finish his drink before entering the palace to meet him.”

Fu Wang was startled, then looked back at Chen Ji in disbelief. “…Young man, your life is saved. Hmm, could you be my brother?”

He then looked at Shan Niu. “What about me?”

Shan Niu said expressionlessly, “There’s nothing for Your Highness tonight. Go back where you came from.”

With that, he turned and walked into Wumen.

Outside Wumen, Chen Ji shouted, “Wait, I’m almost done drinking.”

He tilted his head back, emptied the jar of wine, stuffed the empty jar into Fu Wang’s arms, and staggered after Shan Niu into Wumen.

(End of this chapter)