Chapter 109: The Cabinet

Chapter 109: The Cabinet

In the winter of the 37th year of Jianning, the case of Crown Prince Xiao Yi colluding with Hedong Prefecture Governor Song Lvyang to harm imperial princes was exposed, causing upheaval in the court.

Grand Tutor Song and over a hundred upright scholar-officials and ministers confronted the Emperor in court, arguing that Xiao Yi was devoid of loyalty and filial piety, unfit to serve as a moral exemplar for the empire, and demanded his removal as Crown Prince.

Additionally, scholars from the Imperial Academy and the Hanlin Academy submitted a joint petition, condemning the Crown Prince for attacking his younger brother and showing no compassion, deeming him unworthy of ruling the empire.

Emperor Jianning was a long-lived emperor, having ruled for nearly forty years. Now approaching seventy, his health was declining rapidly, while Xiao Yi was in his prime. The Crown Prince’s power-grabbing had already aroused the Emperor’s suspicion, and this incident made him completely unacceptable.

After lengthy deliberations with the Grand Secretariat and the Six Ministries, the Emperor issued an edict deposing Xiao Yi as Crown Prince. Due to the Empress’s plea, Xiao Yi was instead relegated to the title Prince of Ning and placed under house arrest, forbidden to leave without imperial decree.

Over the next six months, Emperor Jianning launched a thorough purge of the Crown Prince’s faction.

Confessions and case files flooded into the Ministry of Justice, the Censorate, and the Court of Judicial Review. The desks of high-ranking officials were buried under mountains of documents—embezzlement, falsified accounts, factionalism, framing upright officials—each charge undeniable. Emperor Jianning smashed several imperial jade seals in fury, and the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard were dispatched en masse. The court trembled at the mere mention of the Eastern Palace.

By the time the dust settled, nearly half of the court officials had been replaced.

That spring, the Second Prince, Xiao Shao, was named Crown Prince.

Emperor Jianning, worried that his son’s playful nature might render him unfit for the responsibility, deliberately assigned him to the Imperial Study. Every time the Emperor reviewed memorials or received ministers, Xiao Shao was required to listen and learn the art of governance. To his surprise, his youngest son proved exceptionally talented and, shedding his past habits, mastered governance within months, handling affairs with remarkable efficiency.

Even Grand Tutor Song regarded Xiao Shao with newfound interest, occasionally stroking his beard and muttering, “Could I have misjudged him?”

But in truth, Xiao Shao was still playing his cards close to his chest.

Having been an experienced ruler in his past life for many years, Xiao Shao was already well-versed in rulership. He carefully balanced the narrative of a reformed prodigal son, gradually transforming from a naive youth into a mature sovereign.

Several months later, the tranquil palace was once again thrown into turmoil.

In the winter of the 38th year of Jianning, the Emperor’s health took a sharp turn for the worse. The monarch, who had ruled for nearly four decades, neared death. He delegated all state affairs to the Crown Prince, retreating into seclusion to devote himself to Daoist practices and focus on recuperation.

Xiao Shao was not surprised—his father had passed away around this time in his previous life.

Emperor Jianning did not die of illness but peacefully of old age. At over sixty, nearing the age of seventy, he was among the longest-lived rulers of Da Qian. Thus, when the day finally arrived, both father and son faced it with calm acceptance.

Xiao Shao visited the palace more frequently, sharing vegetarian meals with the Emperor daily. Then, on the very day he remembered from his past life, Emperor Jianning closed his eyes in the presence of Xiao Shao and the Empress, passing peacefully.

After consulting with the Ministry of Rites on matters of posthumous titles and burial, Xiao Shao ascended the throne amid the acclamation of officials, donning the twelve-beaded imperial crown.

A full six years earlier than in his previous life.

A new reign brings new ministers. Shortly after Xiao Shao’s enthronement, his father’s chief eunuch, Li Dequan, resigned from his position as Seal-holding Director. Bowing deeply before Xiao Shao, he asked, “Your Majesty, regarding the Seal-holding Director… would it be Young Master Qi…?”

Since Xiao Shao entered the palace, Qi Yan had also moved in, residing with him and frequently visiting the Imperial Study, enjoying favor surpassing even the most influential eunuchs of previous reigns. Yet Xiao Shao had not granted him any official title, leaving Li Dequan unsure how to address him—hence the tentative “Young Master Qi.”

Xiao Shao: “He won’t be Seal-holding Director. I have other plans for him.”

Qi Yan truly had no idea what those plans were. He simply followed Xiao Shao, quietly assisting in reviewing memorials—handling minor matters himself while selecting major ones for Xiao Shao’s review, complete with neatly written comments. As a result, Xiao Shao’s workload was halved compared to his previous life. No more headaches, backaches, or overwork—he even had time between memorials to prop his chin on his hand and admire Qi Yan.

As if he were some rare ornamental plant.

Xiao Tanhua, now without title or position, wore the attire of a palace eunuch—his black hair neatly tied under a three-peaked hat, clad in plain dark-blue ramie robes with an outer layer of plain white gauze, cinched at the waist with a two-finger-wide belt that accentuated his slender figure. Seated like a green bamboo, he bent his head in writing, his neck gracefully curved and framed by his collar.

Xiao Shao: “Change your clothes, Xiao Tanhua.”

Qi Yan, without looking up: “Mm.”

Xiao Shao: “Aren’t you going to ask what clothes?”

Qi Yan happened to close a petition and asked, "What clothes?"

Xiao Shao replied, "These."

He pushed forward a sage-green robe, complete with jade hairpins, jade waist ornaments, and even a fan—clearly the attire of a scholar.

Qi Yan froze. "This is the palace. I can't dress like this here."

Xiao Shao said, "Who said anything about wearing it in the palace?"

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the clothes toward him. "This year’s metropolitan exams—you’re taking them."

The metropolitan examination was the imperial exam, and by the count, it was less than half a month away.

Qi Yan’s hand holding the brush trembled, dragging a long ink stain across the petition. He hurriedly wiped it with paper and set it aside to dry. "Your Majesty must be joking. How could I possibly take the imperial exams?"

Not only had he already taken them before, but his current status as a eunuch also prevented him from sitting among scholars.

Xiao Shao said, "You won’t be taking it—Qi Pingzhang will."

Qi Yan’s eyelids trembled as if his throat had been seized, his breath halting entirely.

After a long pause, he barely managed to force out a few words: "...What do you mean?"

Xiao Shao said, "The courtesy name your teacher gave you—don’t you want someone to call you by it? When I called you that before, you clearly liked it."

Qi Yan stood motionless before the desk, fingers gripping his sleeves so tightly they nearly tore the fabric before he forced a smile. "Your Majesty, this is improper."

"In this imperial city, I define what's proper." Xiao Shao pulled out an official document from the robes and pushed it toward him. "Here, I’ve taken care of everything for you."

Qi Yan lowered his gaze to look—it was a certificate of candidacy stamped with an official seal.

"Qi Pingzhang, native of Bingzhou, earned his provincial degree in Taian Prefecture, Bingzhou, in the 37th year of Jianning..."

As he stared at that single sheet of paper, his wrist holding the brush shook uncontrollably.

Qi Yan had taken the imperial exams before. He knew exactly what this was—a certificate declaring that Qi Pingzhang of Bingzhou was a provincial scholar eligible to sit for the metropolitan examination.

Passing the metropolitan examination would open the path to the Hanlin Academy, the Six Ministries, or even a local post—any of the ranks of scholar-officials, with the right to serve through scholarship, assist the Emperor, and serve the realm. And if his talent proved exceptional, he might even ascend to the Grand Council, leaving his name properly recorded in the history books.

This was the life's ambition of countless men.

Qi Yan gripped the brush so tightly the bamboo shaft nearly snapped. He raised his head to look at Xiao Shao, unblinking, as if trying to discern whether this was a jest. Shock, disbelief, and other emotions flickered across his face before settling into desperate hope mixed with pleading.

Xiao Shao thought, *If this were just a joke, he would be utterly heartbroken.*

He could easily imagine that Xiao Tanhu (his former title as third-place exam finisher)—how he would be devastated, lips pressed tight, swallowing all emotion, silently continuing to review petitions while the tear mole at the corner of his eye trembled like held-back tears.

The mere thought softened his heart.

So Xiao Shao dropped his teasing tone and nudged the clothes forward, letting the soft fabric brush against Qi Yan’s pale, stiff fingers.

Xiao Shao said softly, "I promised you'd join the Grand Council."

Though he had said the same as a prince, he'd always liked to tease, and Qi Yan had never taken it seriously. Only now, seeing the official seal with his own eyes, did he realize Xiao Shao meant it.

He had truly used the name Pingzhang, fabricated an identity, and taken care of everything.

Qi Yan opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

...

Silence, a long silence.

Qi Yan leaned against the desk and slowly closed his eyes.

A bitter, restless surge filled his chest—indistinguishable between joy and pain, confusion and grievance. The sensation gripped his heart and stifled his breath, overwhelmingly vivid and intense, as if some long-suppressed emotion had burst forth, leaving him unable to maintain even the most basic composure.

For a moment, His vision swam, the strokes on the paper twisting and distorting before his eyes. Though he had ranked third in the imperial examinations, he could no longer decipher the lines of text before him, nor comprehend their meaning. His hands trembled violently; the flimsy page might as well have weighed a thousand pounds, impossible to lift.

He could hardly tell whether this was reality or a dream.

Xiao Shao touched his cheek lightly. "...Grand Councilor?"

The voice seemed to snap him back to his senses. Qi Yan took a deep breath.

After a long pause, he suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse. "Your Majesty... may I say a few words?"

The request was strange, bordering on insubordination—far from what a eunuch should say to an emperor. But Qi Yan's mind was a tangled mess, and the words spilled out without thought.

His tone was soft, thick with emotion.

Xiao Shao felt a strange tug at his heart, as if something had brushed against it. He sat down beside Qi Yan. "Speak."

Qi Yan lowered his gaze and began softly, "When I was young, my father hadn't yet become an official. He couldn't afford a house in the capital, so our family lived in a temple on the southern mountain outside the city. From the mountaintop, you could look down and see the entire imperial palace."

"Back then, I rode on his shoulders, and he pointed to a certain part of the palace and told me, 'That is the place all scholars in the world aspire to. Only the most outstanding among them can enter.' Later, I learned it was the Grand Secretariat."

"I asked my father, 'How outstanding must a scholar be to enter?' He joked with me, saying, 'As outstanding as my Yanyan. When you grow up, you'll surely get in.'"

"He said he had been dull-witted since childhood, not as clever as me. He didn't aspire to the Grand Secretariat—he only wanted to be an upright censor, beyond reproach, championing the people's cause. He didn't seek fame in history, only a clear conscience in this life..."

At this point, Qi Yan's voice hitched slightly, trembling before steadying again. He continued, "He said that entering the Grand Secretariat would be left to his son. That was the first time I learned of it."

"So I asked him, 'If I really get in someday, will there be a reward?' Back then, I loved the pastries from Tongxing Hall in the capital, but they were expensive, and my mother couldn't bear to buy them for me. So I begged my father, 'If I enter the Grand Secretariat, can I eat as many as I want? Plum blossom cakes today, osmanthus cakes tomorrow—every kind, every day, without stopping?'"

"My father laughed heartily and said that when the time came, he would buy Tongxing Hall for me. He'd take Mother back too, to offer incense at our ancestors' graves."

"I asked him, 'Why take Mother but not me? If I enter the Grand Secretariat, shouldn't I go too?'"

"He patted my head and said, 'By then, you won't be able to leave. You'll be the emperor's right hand, governing the realm. There will be too many important matters awaiting your decisions. Honoring ancestors is trivial—leave them to your father and mother.'"

Qi Yan's voice was strained, his words fragmented. Most emperors would have no patience to listen to a eunuch ramble like this, but Xiao Shao simply sat quietly beside him, soothingly stroking his neck, neither commenting nor interrupting, letting him continue.

"Later, I began my studies, and my father rose steadily in rank. He took me to meet Senior Tutor Song, calling him a great Confucian scholar of our dynasty, the emperor's teacher. Among all his disciples, Senior Tutor Song took most pride in me. He would often tug at his beard and say, 'This child's talent will one day take him to the Grand Secretariat.'"

"I, too, believed I would enter the Grand Secretariat."

"Before I even reached twenty, I achieved the rank of Tanhua. In literary prowess, I ranked third among all scholars in the realm. The Zhuangyuan of that year's exams was twenty-three years older than me; the Bangyan, seventeen. Were we the same age, I would have been first in the world."

"By right of pedigree—my father was a censor of the court, my teacher the emperor's own tutor. I was the brightest disciple of the emperor's teacher. If I couldn't enter the Grand Secretariat, who could? If I wasn't worthy, who in all the realm was?"

"But... but..."

But with a single twist of fate, he had been forever barred.

He had raged, seethed with resentment, until, in the end, all those emotions turned to ashes, leaving only an empty, tomb-like silence.

At this point, Qi Yan found his voice failing him.

Xiao Shao sighed softly.

He reached out to touch the tear mole at the corner of Little Tanhu's eye, wiping away the lingering dampness, then shoved the papers into his hands. "Keep this safe. If you lose it, I won’t get you a second copy."

Qi Yan turned his head slightly, rubbing his fingertips.

As if dazed, his mind too muddled to think, he instinctively leaned closer, seeking comfort.

For some reason, Xiao Shao quickly withdrew his hand and changed the subject with forced lightness. "Also, I’m just giving you the chance. If you fail the exam or perform poorly, I won’t go easy on you. If the former Tanhu ends up in the second or third rank—or worse, fails the examinations entirely—forget about the cabinet. You’ll come back to the palace and obediently serve as my palace steward, handling memorials. Understood?"

"And you’ll have to follow the same path as any other candidate—start at the Hanlin Academy, then move to the Six Ministries or take an external post for experience. Only when your qualifications are met will you be allowed into the cabinet. I’ll be fair in this. If you don’t meet the requirements, I won’t show favoritism for you."

His teasing eased Qi Yan’s tension somewhat, and he replied softly, "...Mmm. I won’t lose it. I won’t fail. Serving as your palace steward won’t be necessary, and neither will making exceptions."

He had answered every point, one by one.

Xiao Shao: "..."

He patted Little Tanhu’s shoulder. "Secure the documents and change your clothes."

The long-suppressed emotions, now released, felt like a boulder lifted from his chest. Qi Yan slowly steadied his breathing, folded the document, and tucked it close to his body. Then he picked up the clean clothes and stepped behind the screen to change out of his outer robe and trousers.

Having been under Xiao Shao’s care for over a year, Qi Yan had regained some of his former health, no longer as gaunt as before. The blue robe draped elegantly over his frame, accentuated by the warm jade ornament, giving him a tall, refined, and noble air.

Xiao Shao looked him up and down approvingly. "You look well."

His gaze lingered on Qi Yan’s waist, and a sudden thought crossed his mind: *Now he probably wouldn’t be so thin to embrace.*

The idea startled even himself. Though accustomed to being a rake, he felt an inexplicable guilt and coughed, averting his eyes.

Qi Yan followed his gaze to his own waist and spoke abruptly, "Back during the Silver Case, the late emperor initially wanted to sentence my entire family to lingchi (death by a thousand cuts)."

Xiao Shao hummed in acknowledgment, looking back at him. "Yes. He was furious and considered every extreme measure. Thankfully, Senior Tutor Song and the upright officials intervened before it could happen... Why bring this up now?"

He eyed Qi Yan warily. "Are you joking? Are you trying to settle old scores with me?"

Qi Yan shook his head with a faint smile. "You're joking. Of course not. It’s nothing, just a passing thought."

He lowered his eyes to his attire—the finest fabrics, soft cotton wrapping his body, warm and soothing.

He was only remembering that time. Though spared lingchi, left with this skin and bones, he had wandered in a daze, no different from a walking skeleton. Yet somehow, at some point, this barren frame had regained flesh and blood again.