The Kingdom That Never Sleeps CH 123 Wang Zifeng: I've Really Had Too Much To Drink!
The so-called greedy and ruthless by nature, they form factions like jackals to oppress.
Unbeknownst to Tang Shen, Yu Chaosheng had already assigned him a political faction—dubbed the Tang Party. It had to be said that Yu Chaosheng’s instincts were incredibly sharp, no less than those of his mentor, Xu Bi.
On the surface, Wang Xiao and Mei Shengze’s appointments to the Silver Pull Division seemed unrelated to Tang Shen. They were formally under the jurisdiction of the Silver Pull Division’s Capital Department, and their direct superior should have been Qin Si.
But simply because these two shared an unusual connection with Tang Shen, Yu Chaosheng immediately sensed that the emperor had sent them to Youzhou not as subordinates to Qin Si, but as personnel specifically placed to support Tang Shen.
At this very moment, Wang Xiao and Mei Shengze were stationed in Youzhou. While handling their official duties—managing silver notes and overseeing the military silver exchange banks across thirty-six provinces—they were also secretly liaising with spies embedded in the Liao State.
Monitoring the Liao State was no small matter.
Upon their arrival in Youzhou, they immediately received intelligence from Qiao Jiu: the Emperor of Liao had suffered a stroke, and the Second Prince had seized the opportunity to make his move.
Although Wang Xiao and Mei Shengze were of equal official rank, it was Wang Xiao who held real decision-making power. Without hesitation, he ordered Qiao Jiu to take advantage of the chaos and further infiltrate the Second Prince’s faction through their insider, Xiao Zhen, to gather more intelligence.
For the next month, a steady stream of intelligence reports arrived from the Liao State.
Routine information was handled directly by Wang Xiao and Mei Shengze, but anything of critical importance was discreetly sent to Shengjing for Tang Shen and Su Wenyun to assess.
Thus, time flew by, and before one knew it, a month had passed.
On the seventh day of the tenth month, the 31st year of Kaiping, it was Emperor Zhao Fu’s grand birthday. In previous years, he had always held lavish celebrations, with officials from all thirty-six provinces sending gifts months in advance.
But this year was different.
Suddenly, Zhao Fu had become devoted to Buddhist fasting and scripture. At the beginning of the ninth month, he issued an edict, the "Imperial Reflection Decree", declaring:
"For thirty-one years since my ascension, I have sought not glory, only to be without fault. Yet, the Yellow River floods year after year, leaving the people along its banks destitute. The lost lands remain unrestored—how can a nation be secure? As the Son of Heaven, the true dragon incarnate, how can I rest peacefully at night?"
"...Therefore, I decree that this year’s birthday shall not be extravagantly celebrated. Instead, let all regions practice frugality, for that shall bring me true joy."
Zhao Fu was always an enigma, his actions unpredictable. His abrupt refusal to celebrate left the Ministry of Rites—who had been preparing for over six months—completely dumbfounded.
Still, this was of little concern. Who would remember that the day before the emperor’s birthday was Wang Zhen’s own birthday?
Yet, this time, even Zhao Fu remembered.
In Chuigong Hall, he smiled and said, “Zi Feng, you’ll be thirty next year, won’t you? I recall today is your birthday.”
Lately, Zhao Fu had taken a peculiar interest in discussing people’s ages.
Most emperors, as they aged, avoided talk of mortality. Even common elders disliked such conversations. But Zhao Fu was different—the more he immersed himself in Taoist teachings, the more he relished discussing age.
Young officials like Tang Shen, who had just come of age, were spared. But Wang Zhen, Su Wenyun, Left Prime Minister Ji Wengji, Right Prime Minister Wang Quan—all the high-ranking ministers—had all been singled out by Zhao Fu for his observations on their advancing years.
Wang Zhen calmly replied, “Yes, Your Majesty, today is my birthday.”
Zhao Fu pondered for a moment before declaring, “A birthday must be properly celebrated.”
Even before Wang Zhen finished his duties at the Ministry of Revenue, imperial gifts had already begun arriving at his residence.
However, after receiving the decree back at the Minister Residence, Wang Zhen promptly left for Fu Wei’s manor, where Tang Shen and Fu Wei had already prepared a private banquet in his honor.
The three of them—teacher and students—raised their cups under the moonlight. Wine cups clinked, the cool evening breeze rustled, and the scene felt like a painting, ethereal and serene.
For the past few years, Fu Wei had been painstakingly compiling a scholarly collection, and by the previous month, it was finally nearing completion.
But time had left its mark. Five years had passed since Tang Shen first met the great scholar Fu Xiru, and now, even more streaks of silver adorned the old man’s temples.
Fu Wei sighed, “Time spares no one. Look at all this white hair—I could still hide it last year, but now it’s sprouting like bamboo shoots after the rain. Ah, I’m old now. Seeing you two still in your prime brings tears to my eyes. Wen Shu, fetch me a handkerchief.”
Wen Shu, the page boy who now followed Fu Wei everywhere, grumbled under his breath, “You didn’t even shed a tear.” But still, he obediently produced a handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it over.
Fu Wei dramatically dabbed at his nonexistent tears before glancing at his two students.
Tang Shen chuckled helplessly. “Why do you suddenly speak like this, Sir? To me, you are as vigorous as ever—there is no sign of old age in you.”
Fu Wei scoffed, “So His Majesty can tell people they’re old every day, but I can’t?”
Tang Shen finally understood—Fu Wei had clearly been summoned one too many times by Zhao Fu, only to hear, “Ah, my dear minister, you’re getting old.” It seemed he was now venting his frustration on his students. Tang Shen was even more exasperated now.
Recently, Zhao Fu had been summoning officials to inquire about issues regarding their ages—a matter that Tang Shen was well aware of. However, since Tang Shen was simply too young, Zhao Fu never called for him. Even Su Wenyun had been summoned several times. Among the emperor’s closest confidants, only Tang Shen had yet to experience this "privilege." Sometimes, he even wondered if Zhao Fu had forgotten about him—only for the emperor to summon him out of the blue, making a few caring inquiries, instantly dispelling that illusion.
Since Tang Shen had not yet enjoyed this dubious honor, Fu Wei saw fit to personally bestow it upon him.
As the conversation turned to literary matters, Fu Wei mentioned a newly written poem that had been circulating in literary circles.
“This poem was written by a military officer—a mere battalion commander, no less. But this officer is said to be completely illiterate.” Fu Wei gave them a knowing look. “Jing Ze, do you know what this is about?”
Before Tang Shen could respond, Fu Wei eagerly revealed the answer with a mischievous smile. “Turns out, he recently married a renowned young lady of scholarly talents in the local area.”
Tang Shen played along, feigning surprise. “Is that so?”
Fu Wei laughed. “This so-called ‘commander’ has been producing masterpiece after masterpiece. Coincidentally, I have his latest work in my collection. Now, where did I put it…”
Turning to his page boy, he asked, “Boy, where did you place that poetry book?”
Wen Shu blinked innocently. “Sir, all matters of book storage are handled by Fu Qin. How would I know?”
Fu Wei sighed. “Such a mouthy child. Go find the book.” Then, he turned to Tang Shen. “Go with him, help him look.”
Tang Shen hesitated for a moment, glanced at his teacher, then nodded. “Alright.”
As Tang Shen and Wen Shu left for the study, the flower hall grew quiet.
Just now, while Tang Shen and Fu Wei were chatting, Wang Zhen sat beside them, drinking and listening to their conversation. He smiled faintly, not feeling the need to chime in, as if simply listening was enough.
Now that Tang Shen had gone to look for the book, Fu Wei waved his chopsticks in front of his prized student. Wang Zhen lifted his eyes and looked at his teacher.
“Sir, you deliberately sent Jing Ze away—what is the matter?”
Fu Wei tapped his chopsticks against the table and said gruffly, “I didn’t send him away. Don’t make things up.”
Wang Zhen smiled knowingly. “You really think Jing Ze doesn’t know?”
Fu Wei sighed, “Enough, enough. You’ve all grown up, spread your wings. There’s nothing this teacher can do anymore.” After the playful remark, his expression suddenly became serious. He put down his chopsticks and looked at his student.
Twenty-four years ago, Fu Wei had traveled to Jiangnan and passed through Jinling.
At the time, he was already one of the four most renowned scholars in the land. When he arrived in Jinling, the Wang clan of Langya sent him an invitation, welcoming the great scholar into their estate with a grand banquet.
Fu Wei himself was born into an aristocratic family, but his lineage had dwindled over generations. Though their household had declined, the prestige of their name still carried weight in Northern Zhili—though it was nothing compared to the Wang clan of Langya. As the pillar of his family, he was delighted by the invitation and prepared carefully before attending.
Jiangnan’s noble estates were picturesque, with winding bridges, flowing water, and exquisite gardens.
After the banquet, Fu Wei was escorted through the gardens to admire the scenery. As he chatted with his guide, he spotted a finely dressed young boy, adorned in gold and jade, standing quietly in the garden, gazing intently at a flower.
Fu Wei observed for a long time. However long he watched, the boy watched the flower just as long.
Curious, Fu Wei asked, “What are you looking at?”
The boy lifted his head and glanced at him before turning to his uncle beside him. Then, with impeccable manners, he bowed and replied, “I am looking at a flower.”
Fu Wei smiled. “Why do you stare at a flower for so long?”
The boy answered, “At first, I only looked at it for a moment. But then I noticed the guest was looking at me. I look at the flower, the guest looks at me—perhaps it is like admiring a painting. How could I disturb your enjoyment? But, dear guest, what are you looking at?”
As he spoke, the boy raised his dark, clear eyes and gazed at Fu Wei with curiosity.
Fu Wei was instantly impressed. Learning that this boy was Wang Zhen, the legitimate son of the Langya Wang family, he became determined to take him as a student. The Wang clan was initially hesitant, so Fu Wei extended his stay in Jinling. In the end, it was Wang Zhen himself who agreed, and he formally became a student of Fu Xiru.
Wang Zhen had once said, “I see flowers as paintings, and my teacher sees me as a painting. Perhaps this is what my second uncle always called fate.”
And so, Wang Zhen became Fu Wei’s student.
“How time flies—it has been twenty-four years.” Fu Wei sighed. “Ah, why am I bringing up these old stories?”
Wang Zhen lifted his gaze to his teacher.
Of course, he still remembered what happened when he was five years old. After all, his eidetic memory was famous. Back then, he had been hailed as a child prodigy, but looking back now, some of his behavior seemed rather eccentric. He had never enjoyed reminiscing about the past—like the time he had written a thousand characters in a single day while practicing calligraphy, only to collapse from exhaustion. When he woke up, his face was covered in ink. It had been utterly undignified.
Wang Zhen kindly reminded him, “Little Junior Brother will be back soon.”
Fu Wei’s expression froze. After a moment, he looked at Wang Zhen, his tone solemn and deeply concerned. “A few days ago, Jing Ze sent me a painting. The artwork was exquisite, but it made me uneasy. Zi Feng… what exactly does your junior brother want to do?”
Wang Zhen was momentarily stunned. A suspicion formed in his mind. “What painting?”
Fu Wei hesitated before saying, “Just a painting of flowers and birds—hundreds of birds singing, a sea of blooming flowers. Amidst the birds, a phoenix soars in the sky. Among the flowers, a peony stands proudly above the rest. The painting is well done—it's the work of Lin Jiude, the reclusive painter from Shu. I haven’t seen him in over a decade, and his skills have improved tremendously.”
Wang Zhen’s brows furrowed.
Fu Wei knew he had understood his meaning. “A painting of a hundred birds and flowers—it seems ordinary. But during the late emperor’s reign, there was another painting just like this… That one was painted by the former crown prince.”
Fu Wei sighed. “Back then, I was the crown prince’s calligraphy and painting tutor. I guided him briefly—we had a teacher-student bond.”
For years, Fu Wei had remained in seclusion, avoiding political struggles and hiding his sharp edges.
But over a decade ago, he had been the Right Prime Minister, a powerful figure at the heart of the imperial court.
Most people wouldn’t understand the underlying intent in Tang Shen’s actions, but Fu Wei saw it clearly. He let out a long sigh. “I thought he wouldn’t do anything for Liang Bowen. Or that after so many years, there was no longer any point. But who would have thought… he still remembers. How foolish! How naive!”
Though he scolded him, Fu Wei’s expression was one of admiration. Stroking his beard, he mused, “But your little junior brother’s actions are exceedingly dangerous. Do you know what he’s planning? Does he truly intend to overturn Zhong Taisheng’s case?”
“I don’t know,” Wang Zhen replied.
Fu Wei was taken aback. After a long silence, he blurted out, “You don’t know?!”
Wang Zhen met his gaze and countered, “Why does Sir assume that I must know what my little junior brother intends to do?”
Fu Wei paced a few steps before turning back, still skeptical. “How could you not know?”
You, Wang Zifeng, not knowing?
With thay petty possessiveness, could you really allow your junior brother to act without your knowledge?
Wang Zhen raised his wine cup and downed it in one gulp. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but the usual restraint in his demeanor had faded, replaced by a sharp brilliance, as if mingling with the heady intoxication—dazzling like the radiant moon. He laughed openly, without pretense.
“Why should I know?”
Fu Wei was caught off guard. “Eh?”
“I only need to know that whatever he wants to do, I will support him. I will clear the obstacles in his path, remove the worries behind him. Isn’t that enough?”
Fu Wei was stunned, then collapsed onto his seat. “So this is how you truly feel about your junior brother!”
Wang Zhen chuckled softly.
Fu Wei’s questioning today wasn’t just about the painting. He had also been testing Wang Zhen’s feelings toward Tang Shen. And Wang Zhen knew it.
So why not go along with it?
Besides…
What did it matter if he said it out loud?
After a long silence, Wang Zhen let out a heartfelt sigh.
“Today, I’ve really had too much to drink!”