Due to the misfortune of having three exceptionally diligent emperors in succession, the morning court sessions of Li Yang seemed endless, year after year, day after day.
And because too many of Tai’an City’s top dignitaries had been hopeful yet disappointed yesterday, today’s assembly lacked the grandeur of the previous day. Still, compared to the somewhat desolate early autumn of the second year of the Xiangfu era, it was much livelier. Moreover, with the addition of three newcomers—Wu Zhongxuan, Gao Shizhi, and Song Daoning—and especially the unexpected presence of Prince Zhao Yang of Changshan, who seemed to have risen from the west, today’s morning court session rekindled hope in many officials who had already given up, evoking the sense of “light at the end of the tunnel.”
Before dawn, the gates remained closed.
The civil and military officials, clearly divided into their respective factions, mostly whispered among themselves. It was said that the elderly Vice Minister Wen had finally achieved his goal—he was to be reassigned, promoted, and given a highly lucrative position!
However, some keen observers had already noticed that Jin Sanlang had yet to appear. In the past, the bearded Vice Minister of Rites, who had sworn to uphold his principles, would have long been standing near the gate, chatting and laughing with his colleagues. Today, however, the Minister of Rites, Sima Puhua, and the Right Vice Minister, Jiang Yongle—two men known throughout the court to be distant—were gathered together, even seeming somewhat like family. This was an extraordinary rarity. Apart from the ever-shifting Ministry of War and the ironclad Ministry of Personnel, who didn’t know that in the other four ministries of the Shangshu Sheng, it was almost unheard of for a minister and vice minister not to hide daggers behind their smiles? One had reached the pinnacle with little room for advancement, while the other eagerly awaited a slightly higher seat just within reach. For them to truly confide in each other would be nothing short of miraculous.
Some older officials, well-versed in court rituals, seized the opportunity to doze off. After all, during the assembly, as long as they weren’t among the privileged few allowed inside the hall, ordinary officials could rest without worry, given their distance from the emperor. But one could never be too careful—losing decorum would be disastrous. This wasn’t without precedent. Even if the Censorate and the Directorate of Ceremonial turned a blind eye, if you were to collapse outright, who wouldn’t notice except the blind? In the world of officialdom, caution was the key to longevity.
Suddenly, like a massive boulder crashing into a small pond, an unexpected commotion erupted near the gate, forcing even the half-asleep elderly officials to open their eyes.
The news spread with astonishing speed, as if delivered by an eight-hundred-li express courier. True to their reputation as the most learned men of Li Yang, the message remained accurate even after passing through countless mouths, reaching the high-ranking officials near the six ministries without distortion.
At the solemn end of the imperial path, a large group of women had appeared—mostly young and radiant!
Across different offices, factions, and positions, many high-ranking officials who had initially remained aloof now wore expressions of extreme discomfort. Several silver-haired elders were so furious their lips turned purple!
Among them were the Marquis of Yongle, the Right Vice Minister of Works, the General of Annan, the Scholar of the Chongwen Pavilion, and even Wen Shouren, the Grand Scholar of the Wuying Hall!
Clearly, among those troublemaking women were relatives of these illustrious figures.
Chen Wang stood farther from the gate than his official rank warranted, accompanied by the impoverished top scholar Li Jifu.
The imperial brother-in-law Yan Chiji had even gone to stand with Kong Zhenrong of the Ministry of War, a man despised by other ministries.
Without Jin Lanting, who had been poised to become the new leader of the literary world, figures like Gao Tingshu and Wu Congxian no longer gathered together, instead aligning with their respective offices.
Upon hearing the unbelievable truth, Li Jifu’s eyes glazed over.
Yan Chiji and Kong Zhenrong exchanged glances and secretly bumped fists.
Most of the refined talents of the capital who had closely attached themselves to Jin Lanting’s towering influence now wore gloomy expressions.
Tang Tieshuang approached the Zhongshu Ling and the Unswerving Elder, whispering, “My lords, shall I have those women driven away?”
The Unswerving Elder quickly waved his hand, laughing. “Drive them away? Vice Minister Tang, I advise against it. The Ministry of War is already struggling—don’t add to your troubles. Be careful of earning their resentment. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be the one blamed.”
Qi Yanglong also smiled. “If even the palace isn’t intervening, Lord Tang, you shouldn’t either. To be honest, even the Unswerving Elder and I dare not provoke that formidable army of rouge.”
The Zhongshu Ling raised an eyebrow, openly gloating. “Look at our Grand Scholar Wen, renowned for ‘writing moral essays with morality.’ As someone directly involved, he remains as still as a mountain.”
The Unswerving Elder hummed in agreement, adding fuel to the fire. “Vice Minister Tang, take note. This is called ‘remaining unshaken amid the storms of officialdom.’”
Originally displeased, Tang Tieshuang couldn’t help but laugh at the two elders’ uncharacteristic banter, his anger dissipating into a sense of finding joy in hardship.
Tang Tieshuang was overwhelmed with emotion. He remembered General Gu’s half-joking words when he was about to leave the Duoyan Iron Cavalry: “Being an official in Tai’an City isn’t easy, but it’s not without its charms. Take every chance to talk with those elders—don’t mistake it for flattery. If they joke with you, Tang Tieshuang, you’ve truly entered the inner circle of the capital. Otherwise, even if you rise to Minister of War, with the most intimidating rank badge on your chest, you’ll still be an outsider whose voice carries no weight.”
As the Vice Minister of War lost himself in thought, one or two high-ranking officials near the Grand Scholar of the Wuying Hall exchanged glances, their faces expressionless but their lips curling slightly.
Sure enough, Grand Scholar Wen had begun chanting sutras to calm his mind.
At that moment, a plump man hurriedly jumped down from a rented carriage, utterly bewildered.
Had the coachman taken him to the wrong place? Why were there so many young, dazzling women here? Had the capital’s brothels expanded to the imperial path?
The rotund man, whose court robes threatened to burst at the seams, slapped himself—it hurt, so this wasn’t a dream.
He shook his head vigorously, managing to clear his mind somewhat. But the overwhelming fragrance soon made him dizzy again.
Summoning all his strength, he jumped a few times, relieved to see the civil and military officials beyond the thick wall of rouge.
A dignified woman, annoyed by his obstructing view, snapped, “Move!”
The mild-mannered fat man immediately sidestepped, only to be scolded by several others in unison: “Move!”
The poor man, trembling with fear, was about to shuffle further when another woman barked, “Stay put, you fat oaf! Her father’s just a fourth-rank nobody—ignore her!”
The woman opposite him turned her head and sneered, “What’s wrong with my father being a fourth-rank official? He’s the Vice Censor-in-Chief! He can impeach anyone! Your father’s just a lousy vice minister—think you’re so great? I’ll have my father file a complaint against yours!”
All this talk of “your father, my father,” along with mentions of the Vice Censor-in-Chief and vice ministers, made the fifth-rank powerless minor official from the Imperial Academy quake in his boots.
Good heavens! Whether or not he’s the Vice Censor-in-Chief, a fourth-rank official is no small fry—he could crush me, Wang Tonglu, with a sneeze!
Wang Tonglu was on the verge of tears. The imperial path was wide, but these ladies had filled it to the brim.
If he missed the court session, this minor official who had barely clung to his fifth-rank position as a sacrificial officer would surely be booted from the Imperial Academy.
Just as he steeled himself to push through the crowd, a woman pointed at his nose, sending him stumbling back. At this point, Wang Tonglu felt like hanging himself with a strand of hair.
Suddenly, shrieks pierced the sky.
Wang Tonglu gaped as the women before him clutched their chests, covered their faces, or tugged their hair in frenzy. Had they lost their minds before him? The poor one here is me, not you!
Wang Tonglu plopped onto the ground, pounding the earth and muttering, “It’s over, it’s over. Even my old man can’t save me this time. And I haven’t even bought a tiny house in Tai’an City yet! I haven’t saved enough for a wife! These two hundred pounds of autumn fat are natural—I didn’t eat my way here!”
With a thud, he looked up to see the woman whose father was supposedly the Vice Censor-in-Chief collapse backward in a dead faint, with no one to catch her.
Behind her, two young women clung to each other, sobbing uncontrollably.
Wang Tonglu pondered earnestly—maybe he should faint too and be done with it?
Just as he weighed his options, a hand suddenly steadied him, pulling him to his feet.
Dazed as if floating on clouds, Wang Tonglu turned his head.
The face before him was the kind of handsome visage he dreamed of seeing in the mirror every day—smiling, the sort that could effortlessly charm women, nearly capable of conquering half the world with looks alone.
The man grinned. “Sacrificial Officer, what a coincidence—meeting you twice at morning court. Fate, indeed.”
Wang Tonglu blinked. “Huh? What did you say?”
The man’s warm smile widened. “Last time, didn’t you remind this prince to be careful not to overstep ceremonial bounds? The censors of the Censorate and the Six Offices, as well as the eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial, would be watching.”
Wang Tonglu, as if seeing a ghost, stumbled back. “It’s you!”
Just when things couldn’t get worse—this damned day was truly unbearable!
During the last morning court session with all the feudal lords present, he had foolishly played the good Samaritan and ended up walking with this young man toward the gate. Those two to three hundred steps had turned him into a pariah in the Imperial Academy! If not for the Unswerving Elder, then serving as Left Sacrificial Officer, speaking a few fair words on his behalf, his two hundred pounds of autumn fat would have been whittled down to a hundred!
Wang Tonglu collapsed to the ground, bursting into loud sobs. “Your Highness, I beg you—be magnanimous! Treat me like a silent fart and walk away! The court session won’t shine any less without you! Spare this lowly official! I can’t take any more torment! The sages warned us—‘pointed at by a thousand fingers, one dies without illness’—it’s true!”
The young man in the purple-gold python robe of a feudal prince stood before the fat man, smiling. “Sacrificial Officer, have you no dignity as a scholar left?”
Wang Tonglu wailed heartrendingly, choking out, “Your Highness, I wish I did! But I have elders above and children below—dozens of mouths to feed!”
Nearby, a woman whose relative unfortunately held a prestigious post in the Imperial Academy delivered a lethal verbal strike sharper than an immortal’s flying sword: “Aren’t you that poor wretch from the Imperial Academy, nicknamed ‘Wang the Furnace’? My uncle mentioned you—said you were delusional, saving up to buy a courtesan’s freedom, only for her to run off with a young scholar. Don’t you have no family? My uncle also said you’re a cold stove—no amount of firewood can make you burn bright.”
Wang Tonglu abruptly stopped crying, sinking into silent sorrow.
With Wang Tonglu wisely quieted and serving as the perfect plump foil, the dashing young Northwestern Feudal Prince shone even brighter, like an immortal descended to earth.
One bold woman stepped forward, cheeks flushed, twisting her clothes nervously. Biting her lip, she mustered her courage: “Your Highness, I… I’m Song Yulin. ‘Yu’ as in ‘abundant,’ ‘Lin’ as in ‘forest’…”
In truth, none of the young women around her—or those still arriving—mocked her slip, for no one was listening. But realizing her blunder, the girl’s eyes welled with tears, rendering her speechless.
Then everyone watched as the legendary young prince smiled gently and said, “Song Yulin—‘Yu’ as in ‘lush,’ ‘Lin’ as in ‘nourishing rain.’ Song Yulin, hello. I’m Xu Fengnian. Pleased to meet you.”
This gesture by the young prince of a different surname sparked an unprecedented uproar.
This time, even the most reserved women lost their composure.
Song Yulin swayed on her feet, trembling as she took a few steps forward and reached out, her eyes already closed.
Amused yet exasperated, Xu Fengnian hesitated before offering his wrist, teasing, “Men and women shouldn’t touch. If this ruins your marriage prospects, come to Northern Liang. I’ll introduce you to our finest men. They’re fierce against the northern barbarians, but they’ll cherish their wives for life.”
After the commotion came an eerie silence.
The sixteen-year-old Song Yulin finally opened her eyes, sniffing innocently. “But I only want to marry you.”
Xu Fengnian gently withdrew his arm but patted her head. “When you’re truly grown, you’ll naturally marry a scholar. The world will be at peace then, and you’ll live a tranquil life. Just remember—Northern Liang will have its fair share of learned scholars too.”
None present could have imagined that by the time the Xiangfu era had passed and true peace reigned—so much so that one could travel unhindered from Tai’an City to Northern Liang’s Qingcang City, even to the former northern territories—a woman named Song Yulin would indeed marry a scholar in Northern Liang. Though he never achieved imperial honors, remaining a humble tutor, the couple respected each other deeply, from bride and groom to white-haired companions.
On this early morning in Tai’an City, even after the young feudal lord half-dragged the pitiable fat man through the crowd, many women still hadn’t snapped out of their daze.
As if resigned to his fate, the dejected Wang Tonglu hung his head low, silent and sullen.
Xu Fengnian released his grip. “Alright, I’ll go ahead now. Just follow from a distance.”
Wang Tonglu glanced at the sharp, scrutinizing gazes of the nearby officials and shook his head despondently. “It’s no use. Those officials have keen eyes. They might not be the best at reading or writing, but spotting faults is their specialty.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “There’s still a way. I could kick you flying, and you wouldn’t even have to attend the court meeting. You’d even earn yourself a reputation for integrity out of thin air. How about it, Master Sacrificial Wine? Relax, I’ll use a clever technique. With all that autumn fat of yours, you’ll only hurt for half a day at most—no broken bones, I promise.”
Wang Tonglu grimaced. “Your Highness, let’s forget it. I already walked through the gates of hell once. At worst, I’ll just be the Imperial Academy’s sacrificial wine for life. The salary’s enough to get by… and anyway… that girl’s already married.”
Xu Fengnian shot him a sidelong glance. “You gave her everything you had to buy her freedom, only for her to marry someone else. Like drawing water with a bamboo basket—all for nothing. Do you regret it?”
Wang Tonglu sighed, then gazed ahead at the dragon’s den and tiger’s lair with a calm expression. “Of course I regret it. I’m no saint. But not as much as you’d think. The woman I loved—at the very least, I know she’s happy. That’s a small blessing in misfortune. Just like how I aced the provincial and metropolitan exams, only to nearly fail the palace exam. But in the end, I still made it into the Imperial Academy, where I can read books for free for the rest of my life. Not bad, right? Same principle. The old man—ah, I mean, the Unswerving Elder—once said, ‘A living man shouldn’t let himself be choked by piss.’ You won’t find words like that in books, but I’ve kept them in my heart.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Hah, no wonder the Unswerving Elder called you ‘a pound of flesh, a pound of wisdom.’ You really are more open-minded than most.”
Wang Tonglu blurted out, “You think I *want* to be this open-minded?!”
The fat man immediately shrank back, trembling.
The two men, worlds apart in status, walked side by side down the imperial path once more.
Wang Tonglu glanced back at the lingering women and sighed. “Your Highness, this really feels like a dream. This lowly official has never experienced anything like this in his life—and probably never will again.”
Inwardly, he prayed: *And hopefully never again!*
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Same here. Facing this is no easier than confronting tens of thousands of Northern Desert cavalry.”
Wang Tonglu looked skeptical. “How could that be?”
Xu Fengnian replied, “Don’t doubt it. Back when I visited brothels, I had to spend piles of silver—more than most, in fact. Looking back, it was all wasted money. But that’s also when I grew a thick skin. Later, after hearing all the curses from you Liyang folks, I got used to it. By the way, after the last court meeting, did *you* curse me?”
The honest and simple Wang Tonglu instinctively answered, “Well, privately, of course—”
Then he abruptly corrected himself, “No! Absolutely not!”
Xu Fengnian teased, “Oh? So you *can* trim your sails to the wind.”
Wang Tonglu muttered under his breath, “My meager skills are useless against those slick old foxes.”
As they walked slowly forward, Wang Tonglu began to recognize the faces and ranks of the officials at the front.
Xu Fengnian asked softly, “Sure you don’t want the ‘bitter flesh’ act?”
Wang Tonglu wrestled with himself, his legs growing heavier.
Just as Xu Fengnian was about to take pity and decide for him, the stout little official of the Imperial Academy clenched his fists. “Too late now. Today, I’ll be bold for once! I’ve been a coward for nearly ten years—ten years! So cowardly I couldn’t even read in peace. At worst, I’ll just lose this damned post! I’ll pack up and go home!”
Xu Fengnian raised an eyebrow. “*I’ll*?”
Wang Tonglu hastily corrected, “This lowly official!”
Xu Fengnian was amused. “Believe it or not, this time’s different from last time. You won’t lose your post—you’ll get promoted and rich instead.”
Wang Tonglu said earnestly, “No, no, Your Highness, don’t say that! Now that you’ve said it, this lowly official’s teeth are chattering with hope.”
As Xu Fengnian drew closer to the gate, the officials instinctively retreated.
Wang Tonglu muttered to himself, “Last time, I was too dazed to appreciate the feeling of ‘a fox borrowing the tiger’s might.’ Today, since I’m doomed anyway—Wang Tonglu, straighten your back! This might be the only glorious moment of your life. If you don’t cherish it, you’ll be struck by lightning!”
Then he heard the feudal lord—whom he couldn’t bring himself to dislike—say something. Just as Wang Tonglu was about to chat with him for courage… the man vanished!
Wang Tonglu instantly reverted to form, instinctively turning to flee, consequences be damned!
At that moment, an old man bellowed, “Wang Tonglu!”
As if struck by an immobilizing spell, the fat man froze mid-step. He turned his head to see the old man striding toward him.
The old man kicked him, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Ah, Sacrificial Wine Wang, Sacrificial Wine Wang! Once the wound heals, the pain’s forgotten, eh? First, you recklessly walked side by side with a feudal lord, and now you’ve developed a taste for it?!”
Wang Tonglu tried wiping nonexistent tears for sympathy, then chuckled awkwardly. “Elder, it wasn’t this lowly official’s choice! As soon as I stepped out of the carriage, those young ladies blocked my way. Then His Highness dragged me in!”
The Unswerving Elder narrowed his eyes. “Oh? Why not play dead?”
Wang Tonglu scratched his head. “I was too busy sweating to think of that. Next thing I knew, we were here. Then I figured, might as well go all in. Let others think what they will.”
He added, near tears, “Elder, since you’ve helped this far, could you save me one more time?”
The Unswerving Elder sneered. “Whether you’re a Buddha is debatable, but if you want to go to the Western Paradise, I doubt you’ll need an escort.”
Wang Tonglu stood there, awaiting his doom.
The Unswerving Elder sighed. “Fine. Follow me.”
The fat man’s face lit up.
The old man asked softly, “What did that Xu fellow say to you?”
Wang Tonglu grinned foolishly. “Scared it all out of my head. Can’t remember now. Once you get me inside the court meeting, I’ll think hard and report back to you.”
The Unswerving Elder looked impressed. “You’ve grown wiser!”
Wang Tonglu suddenly brightened and whispered, “Elder, I remember something! Before leaving, His Highness said… When the old Liang King first walked this path, no one dared walk with him. His first time didn’t count. The second time, someone fearless followed. So he didn’t bother with ‘not kneeling in court’ or ‘entering with a blade’ anymore.”
The Unswerving Elder’s eyes gleamed. He burst into laughter, grabbed Wang Tonglu’s hand, and hurried to Qi Yanglong’s side. After whispering a few words to the Grand Secretariat, the old man wore a strange expression—as if to say, *I might not beat you, but someone else can.*
Wang Tonglu watched as the lofty Prime Minister of the court stared at him, chuckled, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Wang Tonglu, Grand Sacrificial Wine, eh? You’ve got guts, kid!”
Wang Tonglu’s shoulder slumped. He gulped and paled. “Small Sacrificial Wine! This lowly official is a *small* sacrificial wine! Very small!”
Qi Yanglong smiled. “I heard that Xu fellow skipped court today because of you?”
Wang Tonglu’s eyes darted. He thumped his chest. “Absolutely not!”
*Damn, I’m quick-witted! Brilliant!*
Wang Tonglu almost admired himself. Angering the Unswerving Elder meant, at worst, a scolding or a few kicks. But provoking the former Grand Sacrificial Wine? Even if he had two thousand pounds of autumn fat, it wouldn’t be enough to spare him!
The Unswerving Elder blinked, then exploded, “Damn you, Wang Tonglu! Ungrateful little brat! Today, you’re coming to the Chancellery—see if I don’t teach you a lesson!”
Wang Tonglu’s jaw dropped.
Qi Yanglong’s smile was kindly as he patted the young fat man’s shoulder. “Ignore the Unswerving Elder’s bluster. Loud voice, no bite! At the minor court meeting, I’ll personally ask His Majesty to transfer you to the Grand Secretariat. The rank won’t be high—just fourth grade. Whether you climb higher depends on your skill.”
The fat man glanced left and right, then whispered, “Grand Secretariat, upon careful reflection, this lowly official thinks… the Chancellery might be better.”
Head bowed, he missed the two old men exchanging knowing smiles and nodding subtly.
Huan Wen kicked the fat man again. “Scram back to your Imperial Academy colleagues. Don’t stand here being an eyesore.”
Given Wang Tonglu’s bulk, his waddling run was indistinguishable from rolling.
Huan Wen turned to gaze at the gate. “Master Qi, once the Guangling campaign ends, I’ll resign and return home. After that—”
Qi Yanglong cut him off. “It’s fine. I’ll hold on a few more years.”
Huan Wen suddenly lamented, “Green-Eyes… Green-Eyes, you still lost.”
Qi Yanglong shook his head. “Huan Wen, you’re wrong. It seems one man lost while the world won. But in truth, the world lost, and one man won. I, Qi Yanglong, believe that centuries from now, when people flip through the pages of history about us, most will pass by—except for Zhang Julu, this Green-Eyes. On quiet nights, they’ll turn back to his pages, read them carefully, and perhaps sigh, ‘If only there were wine by the desk.’”
Huan Wen murmured, “And a plate of peanuts would be even better.”
※※※
Years later, on a winter’s end filled with firecrackers bidding farewell to the old year, the Unswerving Elder lay on his deathbed. His final words went unheard.
*Old friend… got any wine? Any peanuts?*
※※※
The year after Huan Wen’s death, the new Liyang emperor rehabilitated Zhang Julu, the foremost figure of the Yonghui era, posthumously granting him the title Duke of An with the glorious epithet “Cultured and Upright.”
A plain but gentle woman, her son already able to recite Confucian classics, stood before a row of graves and had him kowtow to each.
Finally, mother and son sat before a stone engraved with the name *Zhang Bianguan*. As in years past, the boy read aloud for his father, his grandfather, and the Zhang family—save for the two women.
Further away stood the Liyang emperor and empress, unaccompanied, not daring to disturb.
※※※
An old man who had retired to the countryside trudged through a snow-laden dusk—not to the Duke of An’s tomb, tended only by the mother and son but never lacking wine, but to a humble grave far from grandeur.
He poured a cup of wine and set down a plate of peanuts.
※※※
After he left, another official who had resigned from the Chancellery came.
For the elder he often spoke of, he added more wine, more peanuts.
And sat alone in the snow all night.
※※※
Perhaps some die with unfinished business, never having brushed their sleeves and walked away in carefree elegance.
But these Liyang scholars, at least, lived up to their name.
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