“Prefect” was a title anyone could use, yet in Xiao Chiye’s mouth it became something more secretive—like a coded message hidden in plain sight, hinting at a kind of forbidden pleasure. It was like a sudden rising tide, dense and spreading, flowing to every place where they touched, seeping into a thin sheen of sweat.
By day, the Prefect sat high above, surveying the crowd of men. His folding fan concealed the rest of his emotions, leaving only the cold detachment between his brows and eyes—sharp enough to make danger apparent at a glance. But now, his lips were slightly parted, teeth catching on Xiao Chiye’s finger. That soft tongue, the moisture spilling over, and the restrained shame in his expression all carried the implication of “being toyed with.”
Xiao Chiye wanted him.
Not just his pale neck, but also his slick, wet tongue.
The calloused pad of Xiao Chiye’s finger rubbed against his gums. Shen Zechuan had just drunk hot tea; the mucous membranes in his mouth were sensitive. His eyes grew wet, his speech muddled by the intrusion, unable to answer Xiao Chiye.
Saliva welled up, his tongue tentatively tracing along the finger.
They faced the wall. Pressed forward, Shen Zechuan leaned into it, Xiao Chiye’s chest tight against his back. In this position, every thrust felt like it reached the deepest point. He braced himself against the wall, forehead resting against it, tears streaming uncontrollably. When he lowered his head, the back of his neck was exposed, only to be bitten again by Xiao Chiye. His loose robe bunched up beneath him.
Kneeling like this, all control belonged to Xiao Chiye.
Xiao Chiye’s nose brushed faintly along Shen Zechuan’s neck, as if asking, yet also as if coercing. His gaze was dangerous as he watched Shen Zechuan’s profile, catching the subtle allure hidden in the upward tilt of his eyes.
Shen Zechuan had no idea what his eyes had invited. He was so innocent that even when bitten, his soft moan was barely audible. But Xiao Chiye was so fierce that Shen Zechuan felt like a small boat tossed among raging waves, battered by surging tides—within the dense sound of water, even struggling was not permitted.
Seeing Shen Zechuan’s tears fall in broken drops, Xiao Chiye tilted his head and kissed the corner of his eye.
Shen Zechuan whimpered into the kiss, accidentally dampening his robe, then turned his gaze toward Xiao Chiye, his voice trembling. “It’s all… all—mm… your fault…”
Xiao Chiye bit the tip of his ear and murmured, “My fault, huh.”
The next movement was so deep that Shen Zechuan couldn’t even make a sound.
After several rounds, Shen Zechuan was drenched in sweat; his robe could be wrung out. Xiao Chiye pressed him down onto the carpet and leaned in to kiss him. Shen Zechuan’s neck was too tired from arching back, so he lazily stuck out the tip of his tongue.
Xiao Chiye caught it, pressing him down like that.
The carpet here was different from the one at home—not as soft, more like a dense brush. Shen Zechuan’s robe was already soaked through; when Xiao Chiye pulled it open, his front pressed fully against the carpet, the friction unbearable.
“No…” Shen Zechuan sobbed, pleading with difficulty. “Xiao Er… no…”
Xiao Chiye pinned him down, drawing that soft tongue back into his mouth, leaving him no choice but to cry.
How could Shen Zechuan withstand such relentless invasion? The friction in front left his waist weak and his legs numb, while behind, Xiao Chiye was merciless. Amid disordered breaths, he was completely undone, unable to form words. His face flushed, thoroughly disheveled, he murmured incoherently, “Turn… turn me over, Ce’an!”
“Shh.” Xiao Chiye stretched out his arms, pressing down Shen Zechuan’s slipping hands, his whole chest weighing on him, burying him completely into the dense fur of the carpet. “My wife is coming back.”
He still remembers that?!
Half-burying his face, Shen Zechuan whimpered softly, “You… you—mm…”
Xiao Chiye pressed the tip of his nose against Shen Zechuan’s damp temples, his breath brushing against his ear. The candles had long gone out; outside, snowlight filtered through the window paper, branches weighed down by snow stretching across it. The carpet was soaked from Shen Zechuan’s movements—and he himself was nearly just as soaked.
Xiao Chiye was close. He gripped Shen Zechuan’s hand, biting him. Concealed, dim, damp, and intense—Xiao Chiye always managed to make Shen Zechuan cry.
“I…” Shen Zechuan said through tears, almost spitefully, “I’ll tell… tell your wife! You—you…”
“Mm,” Xiao Chiye chuckled. “Go ahead. Tell him you get excited whenever you see me.”
Shen Zechuan couldn’t hold on. Xiao Chiye’s force made him tremble. His fingers clutched at the carpet—he was right at the edge.
Outside, snow slipped from the branches with a soft rustle, a few crows calling in the night.
Held by the cheeks, kissed, Shen Zechuan finally gave in completely.
The following days were all clear. As March approached, signs of spring began to reach Zhongbo. Some of Duanzhou’s snow had melted; Gu Jin and Wu Ziyu cleared the roads, reporting early on which official canals needed repair.
Since Shen Zechuan could not return to Cizhou for the time being, Yao Wenyu had to come to Duanzhou. His mobility was limited, so the journey was slow. Kong Ling and Yu Xiaoza waited for him in Dunzhou, and the three arrived in Duanzhou together.
Fei Sheng welcomed them outside, escorting the gentlemen in before following Qiao Tianya to check the supplies they had brought. When he got closer and saw Huo Lingyun, he said to Qiao Tianya, “Why did you bring him along too?”
“With a badge at his waist, he’s officially part of the Embroidered Uniform Guard,” Qiao Tianya said, hopping onto the carriage. “Why shouldn’t I bring him?”
Huo Lingyun noticed their gaze and turned to look at both of them.
“Keeping him close is dangerous,” Fei Sheng said, looking away. “Duanzhou isn’t Cizhou—if something goes wrong, who’s going to take responsibility?”
“I will,” Qiao Tianya said, crouching down as he pulled out his pipe. In the brief moment before lighting it, he glanced at Fei Sheng. “Don’t let your cleverness backfire. Don’t play tricks in front of the master.”
Fei Sheng was displeased. “Since he arrived, I haven’t caused him any trouble at all. Why are you being so aggressive?”
“What are you getting mad for?” Qiao Tianya exhaled smoke. “I’m just telling the truth. If you leave him idle at the sidelines, are you waiting for the master to use him personally? When that happens, he won’t be under your control anymore.”
Shen Zechuan had spared Huo Lingyun for a reason—he intended to use him. Now that the man was placed under Fei Sheng, if Fei Sheng continued to let him sit idle, then as Qiao Tianya said, once Shen Zechuan grew impatient, Huo Lingyun would no longer belong to him.
Fei Sheng glanced at Huo Lingyun again.
“You came from Qudu the proper way,” Qiao Tianya said. “He came in halfway. His ties to the master—and to the Embroidered Uniform Guard—aren’t the same as yours. What are you afraid of? With just your mouth alone, Fei Lao Shi, you could suppress him.”
“You’re stepping on me now,” Fei Sheng said, withdrawing his gaze. After thinking for a moment, he added, “This man has both cunning and ability. If he stays, rising up is only a matter of time.”
Shen Zechuan was building light cavalry in Duanzhou now—this wasn’t something that could be handled with words alone. Fei Sheng had originally thought this responsibility would fall to him, but Shen Zechuan had directly summoned Yao Wenyu, and Qiao Tianya had also arrived.
“You’ve got ability too,” Qiao Tianya said. “If you keep focusing on this, you’ll only hold yourself back. The master sees everything. What’s meant to be yours won’t escape.”
Fei Sheng didn’t want to dwell on the matter further and only asked, “Why did you start smoking again?”
“Nothing to do.” Qiao Tianya put it out and said no more.
Shen Zechuan held his folding fan in reverse, tapping it lightly against the table. He had changed to a new earring; the agate bead made his skin look even paler, though it was a bit too eye-catching, making others hesitant to stare.
“I copied a set of Luo Mu’s account books,” Yu Xiaoza said, presenting them. “Please review them, Prefect.”
Shen Zechuan looked through them and said, “Spring plowing is about to begin. Choose someone to go over and assist Luo Mu with official duties. He’s only one man—running both ends is exhausting.”
Which meant Luo Mu could no longer dominate Chazhou alone this year. Someone had to be sent to keep him in check.
“I do have a candidate,” Kong Ling said from the side. “While carrying out your orders in Dengzhou, I encountered an old acquaintance of the Second Master.”
“Ce’an’s acquaintance?” Shen Zechuan closed the accounts, thinking for a moment.
Who would Xiao Chiye know in Fanzhou?
Kong Ling reminded him. “Wang Xian. Do you remember? Formerly a clerk in the Ministry of Revenue in Qudu. In the eighth year of Xiande, he handled military expenditure for the Imperial Army.”
Only then did Shen Zechuan recall.
This Wang Xian had once been at odds with Xiao Chiye, involved in the matter of Quancheng silk. He had been framed by Xiangyun in the assassination case, accused of bribing Xiao Chiye, and was demoted. Before leaving the capital, Xiao Chiye had used connections in the Ministry of Revenue to ensure he wasn’t stripped of office entirely, merely reassigned to Zhongbo.
Neither Shen Zechuan nor Xiao Chiye had remembered him.
After arriving in Dengzhou, Wang Xian soon encountered a bandit raid. He feigned madness to escape, was trapped among refugees, and only resurfaced when Kong Ling came to inspect the local offices after Yang Qiu’s death.
“According to the Second Master’s original intention, he was meant to come to Cizhou,” Kong Ling said tactfully. “But then things happened, and the Ministry reassigned him to Dengzhou instead. He suffered greatly there, yet when he met me, he still remembered your and the Second Master’s kindness.”
After some thought, Shen Zechuan said, “If he’s willing, send him to Chazhou. His original post was in the Ministry of Revenue; assisting with taxation there won’t be unfamiliar.”
He did not trust Luo Mu. Placing Wang Xian—someone skilled in taxation—in Chazhou would allow tighter control over Luo Mu’s accounts. Right now, Chazhou’s most critical asset was money. As long as the silver was firmly in hand, Luo Mu would not be able to act freely.
The hour was still early, so Shen Zechuan set aside the affairs of the three states and asked Yao Wenyu, “How has Yuan Zhuo been these past few days?”
Yao Wenyu, a blanket draped over his knees, replied, “Thank you for your concern, Prefect. There’s nothing serious.”
“Though there’s a road between Cizhou and Duanzhou, it’s still far. I was worried you’d catch a chill on the journey. Seeing you unharmed now puts me at ease.”
After the pleasantries, Yao Wenyu said, “I also brought news from Cizhou. A few days ago, word came from Dancheng that Pan Lin and Pan Yi have both been dismissed and placed under investigation, awaiting trial by the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice.”
Shen Zechuan’s gaze sharpened. “So quickly?”
The Pan family of Dancheng held three high-ranking officials—Pan Xiangjie, Pan Lin, and Pan Yi—and had marital ties with the Fei family of Chuancheng. Among the remnants of the aristocratic clans, they still held considerable weight. The Empress Dowager relied on them to maintain control over the court; losing Pan Lin would be a significant blow.
“Liang Cuishan arrived in Dancheng with Xue Xiuzhuo and immediately began auditing the land accounts,” Yao Wenyu said. “They didn’t use the records submitted by Pan Yi but instead sent people to measure everything themselves.”
Pan Yi had assumed that with Pan Xiangjie, Helian Hou, and Liang Cuishan supporting him, the audit could be glossed over—at least until spring passed. He hadn’t expected Liang Cuishan to come precisely to investigate.
“Memorials were submitted to impeach Xue Xiuzhuo and redirect the audit to Quancheng’s accounts,” Kong Ling added, “but Kong Qiu rejected them.”
Shen Zechuan frowned. “Less than a year has passed since the Imperial Academy incident. Kong Qiu and Cen Yu were both attacked in it and stood firmly opposed to Xue Xiuzhuo. How did they reconcile so quickly…”
“The grain transport commissioner of Juexi has also been imprisoned,” Yao Wenyu said. “It’s tied to irregularities in Chuancheng’s accounts—suspected tariff manipulation. The Censorate has impeached them all together, even affecting Dicheng.”
Shen Zechuan slowly said, “Helian Hou of Chuancheng is close to the Hua family, but he doesn’t handle Chuancheng’s accounts directly. If Cen Yu is impeaching him as well, it means Helian Hou has something on him.”
He rubbed the edge of his fan, thinking.
“There’s something strange about this… Where is Yan Heru? Call him here.”
If Kong Qiu and Xue Xiuzhuo had truly reconciled, there had to be a reason. Shen Zechuan’s eyes were kept outside Qudu, but he needed to know exactly what was happening there at all times. If Pan Lin truly fell, it would not only mean a blow to the aristocratic clans, but also that the Empress Dowager would be left isolated in the struggle for control of the capital.
Yan Heru barely sat down before launching into a tirade, but under Shen Zechuan’s gaze, he gradually quieted, shifting uneasily in his seat.
“Bribery,” Yan Heru finally said in a lower voice. “What other leverage could Helian Hou have? He’s just a ceremonial noble, running around for his son’s future, always giving gifts. When Liang Cuishan went to Dancheng, Helian Hou must’ve lost his mind—he had the grain commissioner send a bag of gold to Liang Cuishan. That walked right into their hands. Liang Cuishan’s not easy to deal with—he’s the same type as Jiang Qingshan. Now that one bag of gold has dragged down a whole group…”
“Bribery?” Yao Wenyu suddenly said. He looked at Shen Zechuan. “If Pan Lin trusted Liang Cuishan enough to assign him, why would Helian Hou add something unnecessary and send gold?”
“He’s stupid,” Yan Heru said dismissively, tapping his teacup.
But Shen Zechuan’s gaze darkened slightly. “Helian Hou survived even when Hua Siqian fell. If he wanted to control Liang Cuishan, he wouldn’t send gold through another party. That’s practically handing himself over. What does he gain?”
Yan Heru’s eyes flickered. He leaned forward, suddenly wide-eyed. “If Helian Hou didn’t do it… then he’s been framed. That means Xue Xiuzhuo just destroyed his entire household—and dragged the Pan family down with it.”
In a flash, Shen Zechuan understood. His folding fan snapped shut against the table, startling Yan Heru.
Yao Wenyu coughed suddenly, covering his lips with a handkerchief before straightening again. Then he said, “What a scheme… Xue Yanqing, what a scheme!”