It was a curious coincidence that as Prince of Beiliang, Xu Xiao, was about to leave the capital, General Gu Jiantang returned from the Liang provinces to attend court. This morning’s assembly was not held in the Baohé Hall, but rather in the Yanshen Hall, the usual venue for court sessions. Outside the main southern gate, the factions gathered in clear divisions: the Zhang Party led by Chancellor Zhang Julu, the military clique of Gu Jiantang that dominated the Ministry of War, the Qing Party with venerable elders Wen Taiyi and Hong Lingshu, and the old Premier of Xichu, Sun Xiji, who was often mocked by the native aristocrats of the Liyang Dynasty as a “household servant of two masters.” Sun, representing the remnants of the Eight Former Kingdoms and the new elites, led the gathering of the four major factions, each clearly demarcated.
Chancellor Zhang was always punctual, neither early nor late. Wen and Hong, the two elder statesmen who once stood as equals with the late Prime Minister Lu Feichi within the Qing Party, were older and usually arrived later. In contrast, the white-haired Sun Xiji habitually arrived early outside the Tai’an Gate, demonstrating his enduring vigor despite his age. Yet he remained habitually reserved and taciturn. Once hailed as the twin gem of Xichu alongside the martial sage Ye Bai’kui, Sun now held a high position in the empire, presiding over the Menxiasheng (Chancellery), wielding the power of veto and bearing the duty of remonstration. Since joining the imperial court, he had never compromised his principles or spoken idly. His words were few but always pointed and impactful, earning him the deep respect of the Emperor. Rumors whispered that he would soon be granted the title of Grand Secretary of one of the Imperial Academies.
Though his hair was white as snow and his skin wrinkled like old pine bark, Sun’s health was frail, often falling ill to colds in winter and heatstroke in summer. The Emperor had even made a special exception to grant him a seat in court. Yet today, Sun appeared unusually spirited. Around him gathered a group of elderly remnants from the Eight Kingdoms, all of advanced age. The second generation of “new remnants,” however, were unbothered by mingling openly with members of the other three factions, exchanging pleasantries and sharing harmless jokes.
Sun lifted his head and saw two approaching colleagues in the distance. His expression remained cold. When the assembled officials noticed the two men’s arrival, they fell silent in unison. One of the two wore a first-rank official robe embroidered with cranes, his beard purple and eyes green, tall and of refined, unusual features, walking at a measured pace. The other wore a first-rank military robe embroidered with qilin, his eyes narrow and phoenix-shaped, always half-closed when looking at people or things. Though this gave no impression of coquettishness, it instead added an air of gloom. His steps were firm. Walking alongside Chancellor Zhang Julu, he seemed to move faster, gradually overtaking the Chancellor by a step. Yet he appeared utterly unaware of this breach of etiquette, continuing forward toward the Tai’an Gate.
Only General Gu Jiantang could be so unconcerned with courtly decorum.
Though his conduct carried a hint of arrogance, Gu’s speech remained within propriety. He did not greet his own faction first but instead approached Sun Xiji, the Left Vice Chancellor of the Menxiasheng. The old servant nodded with a smile. He bore no ill will toward this famed general of the Spring and Autumn Periods, for it was Xu the Butcher and the father-son duo Chen Baiyi who had destroyed Xichu.
The Grand Yellow Gate of the Zhongshu Province was the Emperor’s closest inner court official. This Yellow Gate official was not a eunuch of the Yellow Gate, and the two could not be compared. Only those of high rank could be referred to as eunuchs or senior palace attendants. It was indeed true that even powerful ministers did not dare to slight these eunuchs. However, the Yellow Gate officials of the Neishi (Inner Historiographers) were closest to the Emperor and rivaled the palace eunuchs in influence. Moreover, the Yellow Gate officials were generally held in high esteem among the literati, often eager to expose any misconduct by eunuchs to demonstrate their loyalty to the throne, thus earning the eunuchs’ resentment. Therefore, the Grand Yellow Gate officials held a prestigious and influential position. Though there were a dozen or so of these influential figures who had direct access to the Emperor, none aligned themselves with the four factions, instead dispersing among the crowd.
This group varied greatly in age. Some, like Sun Xiji, were aged, while others, like Gu Jiantang, were in their prime. The youngest were not yet thirty. Among them was a newly appointed Grand Yellow Gate official from the provinces, whose reputation was not bad. His self-made Lanting Ripe Xuan Paper paper was widely praised in the capital. Normally, based on seniority and ability, he would not have been qualified to serve even as a minor Yellow Gate official, let alone a Grand Yellow Gate. Yet, inexplicably, he had been personally recommended by Prince Xu of Beiliang. Indeed, before Xu the Grand Pillar of the Realm had even arrived in the capital, the imperial decree appointing Jin Lanting to the Zhongshu Province had already been dispatched to the northwest.
This was Jin’s first official morning court session. Hailing from a modest regional gentry family, he had no deep roots in the capital. The elitist capital officials looked down on this lucky newcomer, but dared not provoke him—after all, was he not a protégé of the untouchable Prince Xu? Very well, we won’t trouble you, but don’t expect us to welcome you warmly. What did it matter if you were a new Grand Yellow Gate official? How many senior officials in the capital had their eyes fixed on that position, only to see it snatched away by an unknown outsider?
Unaccustomed to court politics, Jin Lanting appeared anxious and uneasy, standing alone in a corner, drenched in sweat under the cold gazes around him. The confidence he had carried upon first arriving in the capital had vanished. Nearby, a Gentleman of the Chamber from the Menxiasheng loudly mocked, “They say the barbarians of the northwest are like monkeys in caps and robes. I never believed it before, but now I see it is true!”
Several younger officials from the Menxiasheng, including Chroniclers and Advisers, echoed with laughter, repeating, “Indeed! Indeed!” Jin Lanting, isolated and helpless, wished he could dig a hole and disappear. He felt the capital officials’ exclusivity firsthand. His frail constitution and timid nature made him especially vulnerable to such unexpected humiliation. His eyes reddened, and tears threatened to fall, drawing further sneers and ridicule from the capital officials who delighted in preying on the weak.
At that moment, Chancellor Zhang Julu, observing from a distance, furrowed his brows slightly. He paused mid-step. Gu Jiantang had intended to let the Chancellor enter the palace first, but upon seeing him turn and walk in another direction, the General did not bother with formalities and entered the gate first. The generals of Gu’s faction naturally followed in succession. Sun Xiji and the two venerable elders of the Qing Party also followed closely. Since the Zhang Party was the largest faction with the most members, none dared to move without the Chancellor’s lead. They remained in place, exchanging puzzled glances.
The dignified Chancellor Zhang approached the dejected Jin Lanting with a warm smile and said, “Jin, the other day I shamelessly begged the Chief Sacrificial Official Huan for a few sheets of your Lanting Ripe Xuan Paper. That old man was so reluctant it looked like he was cutting off a piece of his own flesh. When I tested it at home, I finally understood why he cherished it so much—it’s as light as a cicada’s wing, and makes no sound when shaken. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you, the mastermind behind Lanting Ripe Xuan Paper, for a few more sheets.”
Jin looked up in astonishment, unable to speak. The officials who had been waiting to mock him gradually dispersed, no longer daring to openly ridicule the fortunate outsider.
Chancellor Zhang paid no heed, patted Jin’s shoulder, and as he passed, said calmly, “A true gentleman does not form factions or seek private gain. Let them laugh today. Wait another ten years and see who will be laughing then.”
Jin’s legs nearly buckled, and he almost dropped to his knees at the sight of that departing back.
A scholar dies for one who understands him!
Since the founding of the dynasty, the Emperor Gaozu established the belt system. From the Son of Heaven down to the feudal lords, dukes, ministers, and officials of the third rank and above, jade belts were permitted, with the number of embedded jade pieces strictly regulated by law. The Grand Pillar of the Realm Xu Xiao, due to his military achievements, was granted a white jade belt with fifteen jade pieces by the late Emperor. General Gu Jiantang received thirteen. Under the current Emperor, few have been bestowed such belts. The favored Chen Zhibao was granted a purple belt with twelve jade pieces. After the late Chancellor’s death, Zhang Julu, who had risen rapidly through the ranks over two years, was successively granted four purple belts, one golden belt, and jade pieces numbering six, ten, and thirteen, increasing incrementally. Jade was the most honored material for court belts, followed by gold, silver, copper, and iron. Unless specially granted by the Emperor, one could not exceed the rank-appropriate materials.
Though jade belts were strictly regulated, it was an ancient tradition for gentlemen to wear jade pendants, which the court did not prohibit. As Jin Lanting followed the officials through the gate, the sound of jade pendants clinking together filled the air with a pure, ethereal resonance.
Jin’s heart stirred.
This was the very heart of the Liyang Dynasty.
※※※
If anything significant had occurred recently, it paled in comparison to the resignation of Lu Daolin, the Right Sacrificial Official of the National Academy, which had been personally approved by the Emperor. Compared to that, Jin Lanting’s appointment to the Zhongshu Province was trivial. The incident of the Beiliang Prince recklessly killing scholars in the Jiangnan Circuit had already stirred a storm in the capital, where news traveled fastest. The thirty thousand students of the National Academy were in an uproar, their voices rising like dust in the wind. Even knowing that the foreign prince still lingered in the capital, they could not contain their outrage—the future pillars of the dynasty were in a frenzy of discussion.
The National Academy in Tai’an City had originally been small, limited to the descendants of the imperial family, in-laws, and the children of officials of the third rank and above. During the reign of the previous Emperor, it expanded, adding five halls, six chambers, and eighteen towers. After the Spring and Autumn Periods ended and the realm was unified, the National Academy opened its doors widely. Now it housed thirty thousand students, its buildings stretching for ten miles, a magnificent sight unmatched in history. The National Academy had two Sacrificial Officials, Left and Right, a structure similar to the Shangyin Academy. In recent years, scholars had flooded into the National Academy, forming their own scholarly community, rivaling the prestige of the great academies.
Lu Daolin, head of the Lu family of Yangzhou and the Right Sacrificial Official, ranked only below the Left Sacrificial Official Huan Wen, who had once been Chancellor Zhang’s fellow student. This time, due to the misconduct of his relatives in the Jiangnan Circuit, his reputation was damaged, and he felt he could no longer serve as a model for the thirty thousand students of the National Academy. He voluntarily resigned as Right Sacrificial Official. Whether this was influenced by Huan Wen’s maneuvering was likely known only to Lu himself. These days, Lu had been keeping his doors closed to visitors, giving the impression that he was truly disheartened. Sitting behind his desk, holding a classic of the sages, he appeared composed, showing no sign of despair. The head steward approached quickly, slowing his pace only upon reaching the door, bowing respectfully and announcing, “My lord, the Grand Pillar of the Realm is here.”
Lu Daolin, somewhat surprised, thought for a moment before saying gravely, “Open the central gate!”
The steward’s expression turned odd. “My lord, the Grand Pillar of the Realm said opening the central gate was troublesome and entered through the side gate. He’s almost here.”
Lu shook his head with a helpless smile, straightened his robe, and stepped out of the study. Before he could fully cross the threshold, he saw an old hunchbacked figure coming down the corridor. Suddenly, the old man grabbed him by the neck, laughing loudly with a tone of accusation: “My dear In-laws! You’re not being fair! The Huma Wei Posthouse is only a few steps away. Did you really expect me to come to you instead? Don’t you owe me that courtesy? Is this how a In-laws treats another?”
One was the mighty Prince of Beiliang, the other the esteemed former Sacrificial Official of the National Academy. Yet when these two In-laws met, the latter was nearly suffocated by the old man’s embrace. Fortunately, the steward had served the Lu family his whole life and remained respectfully averted.
Lu, whose reputation in both northern and southern scholarly circles had always been excellent and who was known for embodying ancient virtues, could only twist his neck sideways, looking helpless. “Grand Pillar of the Realm, this… this is most unseemly.”
Xu Xiao released him, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked into the study. Lu signaled to the steward to close the door.
Only the two In-laws remained in the study, the focus of the world’s attention.
Xu Xiao sat down casually on a chair, smiling as he asked, “Suddenly without a post, does it feel empty inside?”
Lu smiled. “Not too bad.”
Xu waved his hand, getting straight to the point. “I won’t beat around the bush. Tell me, in the Six Ministries of the Shangshu Province, where do you want to go? Speak plainly. Of course, you can forget about the Ministry of War—that bastard Gu Jiantang treats it like his own wife in bed. Anyone who tries to approach gets his wrath. The Ministry of Personnel is also difficult—it’s Zhang Biyan’s stronghold, practically impervious. The Ministry of Justice doesn’t suit you either. As for the Ministry of Rites, Revenue, and Works— In-laws, you pick one. Heh, if you want me to leave the capital sooner, you’ll need some capital.”
Though Lu had already considered this, since he could no longer remain at the National Academy and had struggled against Huan Wen for years without prevailing, it was better to take a different path. Previously, the Sacrificial Official of the National Academy had been among the most prestigious and refined posts. With the Zhongshu and Menxiasheng not having formal heads, even the venerable Sun Xiji was only the Left Vice Chancellor of the Menxiasheng. Thus, the two Sacrificial Officials were the pinnacle of the refined scholars. Over the years, Lu had cultivated many loyal followers, a veritable orchard of disciples across the land. His only regret was that if he moved to one of the Six Ministries, he would likely never attain the title of Grand Secretary of the Hall. Though Lu was broad-minded, he was still bound by the conventions of a scholar. But this time, taking a step back did not wound him deeply. The Emperor had also hinted that he should take charge of a ministry. Lu had assumed that the Ministry of Rites, a relatively minor post, was the most likely. He had felt some regret, but upon receiving a letter from his younger cousin Lu Baijie, who was vying for the position of Vice Minister of War, Lu had raised his cup in joy, exclaiming with delight. Thus, moving to the Ministry of Rites became the most suitable choice. Otherwise, it would cross the Bottom line of the other three major families in Yangzhou. Lu did not wish to create complications at this time. As long as his younger brother Lu Baijie was willing to serve, everything would fall into place. For the Lu family and the Yangzhou scholar group, this was a great fortune!
With no one else around, he no longer addressed Xu Xiao as the Grand Pillar of the Realm but called him In-laws Weng with a smile, speaking subtly: “Minister Liu is old and unwell. He submitted a request to retire at the beginning of the year.”
Xu Xiao smirked, cutting straight to the point. “Then it’s settled.”
Lu hesitated slightly, speaking softly: “ Father-in-law need not personally intervene.”
Xu Xiao spat and pointed at Lu’s face, scolding without mercy: “You stubborn in-laws, do you really think the Six Ministries are yours to command? If I don’t step in, do you think Zhang Biyan and Sun Xiji won’t team up to bury you in some insignificant post where you’ll never rise again?”
Lu was startled.
Xu Xiao shook his head and laughed. “ in-laws Ah, you’ve read plenty of sages’ books and know many great principles, but being an official isn’t something you can do with just a thin skin. Let me speak plainly: if you treat the Ministry of Rites like the National Academy, you’ll be packing up and leaving before long.”
Lu sighed and said, “I take your advice.”
Xu Xiao waved his hand, smiling as he narrowed his eyes. “Fengnian caused trouble in Jiangnan and made you lose your foundation at the National Academy. Are you angry?”
Lu replied seriously, “To say I’m not angry would be pretense. But truthfully, I can’t blame the young master for his anger. If one’s own family doesn’t support its own, even the greatest estate will crumble. Even a country bumpkin understands this.”
Lu then looked pained. “I’ve already written to Xuanlang. From now on, he will not be allowed to act recklessly!”
Xu Xiao finally opened his eyes, slowly rising to his feet and saying, “ in-laws, now that’s what a family member should say.”
Lu felt a great weight lifted.
As Xu Xiao was about to leave after sitting down briefly, Lu was surprised. “ Father-in-law, are you leaving already?”
Xu Xiao grumbled, “Do you expect me to stay and chat formally? No. I’m going back to Beiliang.”
Lu had no reply.
As Xu Xiao left the study, he whispered softly, “Don’t worry about the Emperor suspecting us. Law does not override human feeling. Since we are in-laws, we must act like in-laws. If we become distant and cold, worse than enemies, then people will start to wonder, and when they wonder, they’ll start to plot, and when they plot, trouble arises, right?”
The shadow over Lu’s heart finally lifted completely.
The Prince of Beiliang came and went in haste. What Lu did not know was that outside the mansion, in a carriage, sat Princess Sui Zhu in plain clothes.
After entering the carriage, Xu Xiao sat beside the Princess, who tugged at his sleeve, looking troubled. “Uncle Xu, can’t you stay a little longer? I’m so bored.”
Xu Xiao smiled. “I can’t, my dear. I’m a man of toil. If you like, I can send Fengnian to the capital to keep you company?”
Princess Sui Zhu’s eyes sparkled.
Xu Xiao ruffled her hair. “Look at you, still holding a grudge, aren’t you? Well then, Uncle will have to pull out my secret weapon—treating you to several bowls of almond tofu. If you’re still angry with him afterward, Uncle won’t be happy!”
The Princess pouted and tugged at Xu Xiao’s sleeve, then smiled brightly. “Alright, alright! For Uncle’s sake, I won’t hold it against that guy anymore!”
That day, after eating almond tofu for three coins a bowl with Princess Sui Zhu, history records that it was the last time Prince Xu Xiao of Beiliang entered and left the capital.
Still dressed like a wealthy old man, the Prince left the city, stepped down from his carriage, and stood with his hands in his sleeves, gazing at the towering city wall.
Beside him stood Yang Taishui, the Black-Robed, Sick Tiger.
Xu Xiao sighed. “Master Yang, after today’s parting, I suppose we won’t see each other again in this life.”
The old monk nodded dully.
Xu Xiao smiled. “Whoever dies last, remember to bring wine to the other’s grave.”
Yang Taishui said calmly, “I’m poor, so I can’t afford good wine. That means I’ll die first. I win.”
Xu Xiao reached out and patted the monk’s bald head. “You, all your life, you never wanted to take even a small loss. Being your brother has been a loss!”
The two men, who had once toppled eight kingdoms with a mere word, parted ways.
The black-robed old monk remained in place, watching the carriage grow smaller in the distance, touching his bald head before finally bowing his head in prayer.
In this world, only Xu Xiao of Beiliang could make this old monk willingly bow his head!
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