With that, Wen Zheng raised his fist again.
But this time—Shen Zhengyu caught it barehanded.
“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that… Crown Prince?”
Shen Zhengyu curled his lips into a cold smile. “Since last year, you’ve been living my life, deceiving Ah Heng completely. You stole everything from me, and now you want to keep it all? Do you feel no shame?”
Wen Zheng’s head throbbed in pain. He roared, “You’re lying!”
“I lost my memory last year—I never meant to deceive her. She saved me. She was the one who treated me like a friend.”
Shen Zhengyu looked at him with thinly veiled satisfaction. “You think she’d treat you like that if you didn’t look like me?”
“Wake up. It was only because of the childhood bond we shared that she was so devoted to you. These past days, you’ve been nothing more than a stand-in. Face reality.”
The nightmare he feared most had come true—and Wen Zheng was on the verge of collapse.
“There’s nothing more to say. If I kill you now, I can have Ah Heng back again.”
He grabbed a guard’s sword and struck toward Shen Zhengyu, intending to kill him with one blow.
At the critical moment, Shen Zhengyu dodged, drew his own sword, and the two clashed violently.
Wen Zheng was surprised—he had assumed Shen Zhengyu was a mere scholar, but the man knew martial arts.
One was the Crown Prince, the other a newly appointed top scholar. Their duel was fierce and lethal. No one in the courtyard dared intervene.
Soon, both men were injured.
Shen Zhengyu’s wounds were heavier, but Wen Zheng’s shoulder was also cut.
In the end, their blades met each other’s necks—forcing a temporary ceasefire.
Shen Zhengyu wiped the blood from his mouth and spoke coldly:
“Don’t think a few peaceful days erase who you really are. Ah Heng hates bloodshed—and the corpses you’ve left behind could fill a palace. You and she… were never from the same world. Understand?”
Wen Zheng’s rage flared, but deep down, he knew it was true.
His greatest fear—was that Ah Heng would discover his true self.
Ever since he had that nightmare, he hadn’t had a single good night’s sleep. Day and night, he was so afraid he didn’t dare to close his eyes. Only when he was lying beside her did the fear in his heart ease a little.
Seeing him fall silent, Shen Zhengyu knew that his words had struck a painful chord.
From this moment on, he would never again sit and wait for death. Ah Heng was the one he loved with all his heart—he would never hand her over to anyone else.
“Wen Zheng, starting today, I will take back everything you stole from me—bit by bit.”
Locking eyes with Wen Zheng, he spoke each word in a voice only the two of them could hear: “This time, I won’t back down for you anymore, older brother.”
At that moment, Wen Zheng was utterly shocked.
Older Brother?
Could it be—Shen Zhengyu was his twin brother?
In his dreams, their mother had been filled with hatred toward him for his brother being sent out of the palace.
Every time she missed her younger son, she vented her rage by abusing Wen Zheng, as if the more he suffered, the less guilty she would feel for the child she had lost.
His father was the same. He constantly reminded him that if he didn’t work hard enough, he would be unworthy of his brother’s sacrifices.
While he enjoyed fine clothes and food in the palace, his brother’s life outside was uncertain—whether dead or alive.
But if he could choose his life again, he would rather have been the one sent away from the palace.
He would rather be Shen Zhengyu than continue being this so-called crown prince.
His grip loosened, and the sword fell to the ground with a clear, ringing clang.
Wen Zheng suddenly felt powerless.
At that moment, the eunuch from earlier hurried over, looking anxious.
“Your Highness! We finally found you today. This old servant has already sent word back to the palace. His Majesty is waiting for your return! Quickly, come with me!”
In that instant, everyone inside Mingyue Pavilion turned to look at him.
All were in disbelief.
These servant girls and maids had seen with their own eyes how he visited Miss Quan Heng every day.
He didn’t speak much, but whenever he saw her, he smiled softly, and his expression was always gentle.
No one could have imagined that he was the notoriously violent and tyrannical crown prince.
Everyone was filled with emotion.
As for Wen Zheng himself, he wasn’t even sure how he left the Yongning Marquis’ manor.
Ever since Shen Zhengyu called him “brother,” he’d felt dazed, as if all the strength had been drained from his body.
When he returned to the palace, he had just stepped into Yangxin Hall when a middle-aged man approached him.
In that moment, he finally sobered a little.
This man looked exactly like the father in his dreams—only older, with greying temples.
His eyes were clouded and baggy with darkness beneath them—the look of a man lost to wine and women, a decadent ruler.
In the past, he had no normal emotions. Even when his own family abused him, he didn’t understand what it meant.
The Empress always blamed and hated him, locking him in dark rooms. He only feared her when he was very young.
At that time, he always thought it was because he hadn’t done well enough.
Later, when he was starved for three days and nights, the Emperor, blaming the Empress for neglect, stripped her of her right to raise him and handed him over to the current Consort.
After that, even fewer things could stir emotions in him.
And so, dazed and numb, he spent twenty years like that—until he met Ah Heng, and his world finally gained color.
If he had never seen what a normal world was like, maybe he could have borne the endless loneliness.
But now that he had seen it—he could never go back to what he was. He could no longer be that emotionless blade.
At this moment, the Emperor pulled him into a tight embrace.
Wen Zheng caught a strong scent of ambergris on the man, and his brow twitched faintly.
“Zheng’er, you’re finally back! Let Royal Father take a look—have you suffered out there these days?”
The Emperor looked him over from head to toe, as if inspecting a finely forged weapon of his own making.
Finally, when their eyes met, Wen Zheng had a faint sense of foreboding.
He felt that this blade—after being away from him for several months—now had a crack in it. It was no longer as sharp as before.
But since Wen Zheng had only just returned, even if corrections were needed, they could not be rushed.
“Thank you for your concern, Royal Father. Your son has not suffered during this time. I’ve caused you worry.”
The Emperor gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder and sighed with emotion, “Speaking of which, we must thank the Yongning Marquis’ household for taking you in during your amnesia. Otherwise, you might have suffered real hardship.”
At these words, Wen Zheng’s lips curled slightly. “Indeed. I am very grateful to the Marquis and his wife for their care.”
Seeing this, the Emperor waved a hand. “Then let them be rewarded with a thousand taels of gold, and a pair of rubies from the Western Region’s tribute. Let this be a token of appreciation for their care.”
Soon, a eunuch received the order and left to deliver the decree.
For some reason, watching this unfold, Wen Zheng felt a faint unease rise in his heart.
The Emperor’s reward to the marquis seemed… excessive.
Too much is as bad as too little. When the moon is full, it begins to wane.
But since the imperial decree had already been given, Wen Zheng could not stop it. Otherwise, it would only be seen as disrespecting his father—and who knew what the Emperor might do in retaliation?
“Thank you for Royal Father’s grace. I am also happy on their behalf.”
Just then, a beauty emerged from the inner chambers.
He had never seen her before—likely one of the Emperor’s new favorites.
It was spring, and she wore little. Her figure was faintly visible beneath light gauze.
Wen Zheng instinctively averted his eyes, but still caught a glimpse of her face.
She looked strikingly like his mother—the late Empress.
Wen Zheng suddenly felt nauseous.
Over the years, the Emperor had scoured the lands for women resembling his mother, bringing them into the palace one after another.
Earlier, Ah Heng had said she saved the Sixth Prince because he looked like him.
But she didn’t know—the reason the Sixth Prince resembled him was because his mother looked nearly identical to Wen Zheng’s own mother.
From the start, Consort Li had been chosen as a substitute.
Naturally, her son looked very much like Wen Zheng.
The public didn’t know this. They thought the Emperor’s love for the Empress was deep. Officials and commoners alike praised his devotion.
But when the Empress was alive, they quarreled constantly, unable to speak two words without arguing. The brother who was sent away wasn’t just a curse on Wen Zheng—it was the deepest rift between his parents.
Later, the Emperor took Wen Zheng and gave him to another consort to raise, which the Empress saw as a humiliation beyond bearing.
From then on, she sank into depression and long, bitter struggles with the consort.
In the end, driven to madness by hatred, she tried to harm others, failed, and died tragically in palace intrigues.
When she was alive, the Emperor never once defended her.
Yet after her death, he feigned deep affection. It was revolting.
The person was already gone—what meaning did love or hate still have?
Now, seeing the beauty emerge, the Emperor immediately seemed possessed, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back into the room.
Not long after, lewd noises began to spill out—even though it was still daylight.
Wen Zheng stood motionless, silent.
A eunuch beside him whispered, “Your Highness, now that Imperial Concubine Mei is favored, it’s natural His Majesty forgets other matters. Why don’t we return to the Eastern Palace for now?”
Wen Zheng turned and strode out of the hall. The filthy sounds faded behind him.
The sunlight was warm, falling gently on his skin, yet Wen Zheng felt unbearably cold.
He had thought he would never return to this place again.
He believed that as long as he acted well enough, leaving no flaw, he could remain by Ah Heng’s side as Shen Zhengyu.
But now, things had come to this.
Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath, then abruptly opened them.
In that moment, all the vulnerability and sorrow in his gaze vanished—replaced by a fierce ambition.
What was done could not be undone.
But it didn’t matter. Those who belonged to him—he would take them back.
No matter what he had to do—he would take them back.
Even if the means were dirty, he would never give up.
No matter what happened—he would never, ever give up.
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