Chapter 110: The Plot

Chapter 110

After ascending the throne, Xiao Shao proclaimed the new era name "Zhaoyuan" and issued a general amnesty. Convicted criminals and female offenders in Jiaofangsi (the imperial entertainment bureau where such women were held) were also pardoned one by one, allowed to leave freely.

Due to the case of the deposed crown prince, countless officials were dismissed, leaving many positions vacant in the court. Thus, in the spring of the first year of Zhaoyuan, the palace examinations proceeded as planned.

The examination was set before the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the imperial palace. That morning, the candidates settled into their seats, heads bowed in tense silence, waiting for the exam to begin.

Xiao Shao also came in person, sitting atop the crimson-painted steps (danbi) leading to the throne, looking down at the candidates.

He spotted Qi Yan—the young Tanhu (‘Xiao Tanhu’)—who was visibly nervous. However, this wasn’t because of the exam itself but due to his identity. Afraid of being recognized, he kept his head lowered, almost burying it in his chest.

Xiao Shao found it amusing. In truth, after a few years, Qi Yan had grown taller, and his features had changed somewhat. Before the exam, Xiao Shao had even summoned palace maids to groom his eyebrows and adjust his features. At a glance now, he looked only vaguely like his former self as Tanhu Qi Yan.

As the exam began, the scholars bent over their papers, and the examination hall was filled only with the scratch of brushes on paper.

Xiao Shao stood up from his seat and, like an examiner, began circulating among the candidates, occasionally pausing behind one to observe their answers.

Finally, he stopped behind Qi Yan.

Qi Yan’s breath hitched, nearly making a mistake with his brush. Xiao Shao’s piercing gaze on him prickled like needles down his back.

This wasn’t the first time he had written an essay on statecraft in front of Xiao Shao, but the feeling was entirely different. Here, before the Hall of Supreme Harmony and beneath the crimson steps, Xiao Shao was no longer the familiar Second Prince but the sovereign who overlooked the world. Ministers poured their life’s learning into essays, hoping for a glance of his favor.

Qi Yan was no exception. He steadied his mind, raised his brush, and resolved to pour all his talent and thoughts onto the exam paper, lest he fail to repay Xiao Shao’s support.

Then the Emperor nudged him with his foot and whispered, "Nervous?"

"…"

"Speak up. Are you nervous?"

Xiao Shao could maintain decorum in serious matters, but now, with everything calm, his mischievous streak returned.

He didn’t know why, but he just wanted to tease Qi Yan—like a schoolboy tugging a classmate’s braid. When Qi Yan remained silent, he tapped his calf with his boot under the desk.

"Your Majesty!"

Qi Yan hissed under his breath, his hand gripping the brush trembling slightly.

Xiao Shao chuckled softly. "No need to be nervous."

"…"

Qi Yan sat in the farthest corner, where no other candidate could see him. The supervising officials were too far away, only able to see Xiao Shao standing behind him but unable to discern what they were doing.

Xiao Shao glanced at Xiao Tanhu’s exam paper. "Why’d you stop? I’m just watching. Keep writing."

"…"

A vein throbbed at his temple. The layered weight of the Emperor’s gaze made his shoulders stiffen with unease. He couldn’t write a single word anymore.

In such a solemn and dignified examination hall, he was exchanging whispers with the Emperor in a corner—utterly improper.

—It was almost like secret lovers passing notes.

Xiao Shao remained standing behind him. A flush crept up his neck, implying embarrassment, before Xiao Shao drifted away, moving on to observe another candidate.

Staring only at Qi Yan would be too conspicuous—he had to share the attention around.

With this interruption, Qi Yan couldn't regain his focus. He continued writing as usual, but his gaze kept trailing Xiao Shao's shadow. When Xiao Shao lingered longer behind a certain scholar, Qi Yan couldn’t help but look up.

He recognized this person—they’d crossed paths before the exam. It was Ji Xi, a scion of the Longxi Ji clan, in his early twenties, one of the brightest young talents and the rumored frontrunner for top scholar.

Qi Yan didn’t care about that. He, too, had once been the rumored frontrunner. What he cared about was... this Ji Xi was exceptionally good-looking.

From Qi Yan’s angle, he could see the slender waist beneath Ji Xi’s scholar robes and the refined, full profile of his handsome face.

Xiao Shao lingered behind him for far too long.

Qi Yan’s gaze lingered on that shadow for a moment. He bit his lower lip imperceptibly, a strange bitterness welling up inside him. Suppressing the feeling, he lowered his head and resumed writing.

Soon, the exam ended. The papers were sent to the Eastern Pavilion for review by the examiners. Xiao Shao didn’t look, comment, or participate—until the Minister of Rites and others presented the ranked papers to him for final approval. Only then did he flip through them casually.

At the top was Qi Yan’s paper.

Xiao Shao thought, *As expected of Xiao Tanhu... no, I should call him the little top scholar now.*

After a quick glance, he signed off on the rankings: Qi Yan first, Ji Xi second. The others, Xiao Shao couldn’t recall—nor did he bother. He selected a few future aides and left the rest to Senior Tutor Song, waving them away without further inquiry.

After the results were posted, Qi Yan went to pay respects to his examiner, attended the Qujiang Banquet, and mingled with the other scholars. Xiao Shao let him leave the palace to enjoy himself while he dealt with the day’s memorials. Then, he dined alone—but halfway through, the empty space beside him felt strange, as though something was missing without anyone to banter with.

So Xiao Shao simply moved his meal to his mother’s palace.

Since Emperor Jianning’s passing, the former Empress Li had moved to Cining Palace, observing a vegetarian diet and Buddhist devotions, withdrawn from courtly matters. Xiao Shao visited her every few days to share meals.

That day, a sedan chair waited outside Cining Palace, hinting at a guest. Xiao Shao didn’t ask. He ate with his mother as usual, making small talk until the dishes were nearly cleared. Then, Empress Li suddenly said, “Shao’er, shouldn’t you hold a consort selection soon?”

Xiao Shao paused his chopsticks and deflected, “It’s too early.”

In his past life, he hadn’t ascended the throne at this point. Whenever Empress Li brought it up, he’d brush her off, claiming he was still young and wanted to play for a few more years. She’d humored him, never pressing. Later, after his ascension, he’d been too busy—collapsing into bed each night, overworked to death—to even consider marriage.

Empress Li frowned disapprovingly. “Shao’er, you’re the emperor now. Even if you postpone appointing an empress, you should at least select a few consorts—carefully chosen—before anything else.”

An odd unease twisted in Xiao Shao’s gut. He resisted inexplicably, restless and irritable without knowing why. Muttering a noncommittal reply, he said, “Next time, next time.”

But Empress Dowager Li pressed, “I have two kinswomen visiting—your cousins. Why not meet them?”

Without waiting for his agreement, she clapped her hands. Two young women stepped forward, curtsying gracefully. Both were dignified and well-mannered, clearly raised with care. One even had a delicate teardrop mole at the corner of her eye.

But as Xiao Shao studied her, he thought of someone else.

Someone whose frame was as lean as bamboo, a face feigning calm composure, and a teardrop mole that seemed perpetually on the verge of weeping.

That mole gave him a pitiful yet charming air.

His heart softened slightly. Smiling, he politely declined. Empress Dowager Li didn’t stop him, waving him off.

By the time Xiao Shao returned to his chambers, the moon hung high. The palace felt empty, almost desolate. He called for wine and drank alone—until a screen abruptly materialized before him.

The Hedong case arc wasn’t in the original text; it was Xiao Shao’s improvisation. System 66 hadn’t even been able to interject. Now that Xiao Shao had ascended, the plot had finally inched back on track.

...Though years earlier than in the original, and with Xiao Yi’s storyline swallowed whole.

But given the circumstances—Xiao Shao’s long-laid plans for the throne—asking him to back down and spare Xiao Yi was unrealistic. If he had, System 66 would’ve been left to collect Su Zhu’s corpse. So it wisely stayed silent, playing mute for nearly a year.

Now, it had no choice. System 66 lowered its voice, forcing gravity. “Xiao Shao, I remind you—the plot is nearing its end.”

Xiao Shao: "Hmm? Every single plot point you mentioned, I've followed meticulously without fail."

66 paused for a brief 66 microseconds, its tone strange: "Is that so?"

Xiao Shao raised an eyebrow: "The suicide note—I wrote it. The tutorship—I secured it. Waterboarding—I endured it. What else is there?"

"..."

66 didn’t want to engage further with Xiao Shao and simply stated: "Xiao Yi’s plotline is gone. His part must now be fulfilled by an emperor—namely, you."

Xiao Shao: "Go on."

So 66 manipulated the screen, displaying a line of text.

"Death of the Mentor."

According to the original plot, Xiao Shao shouldn’t have ascended the throne this early. After receiving instruction in the palace, Qi Yan stayed behind to work in the Directorate of Ceremonial, serving under Xiao Yi. Xiao Shao disliked him and never intervened on his behalf, leaving him to endure scattered hardships in the palace—beatings, kneeling punishments, and the like.

66 couldn't be bothered to track these minor plot points, looking the other way since they were inconsequential anyway. Now, 66's heart was colder than a blade, harder than iron—it only cared that the final major plot point proceeded without mishap.

66 continued: "In this plot, Xiao Yi believed the influence of the purist literati faction had grown too strong, obstructing his actions—especially Senior Tutor Song, their figurehead. So he moved to eliminate Senior Tutor Song and his faction."

Xiao Shao’s expression was unreadable: "Senior Tutor Song’s faction?"

Old Man Song was notoriously eccentric and despised factionalism above all. He had a faction?

66 replied flatly: "Just an excuse."

"Senior Tutor Song came from an upright background, acting with impartial integrity, leaving no openings. So Xiao Yi framed him, accusing him of slandering the imperial court and harboring long-standing grievances. When the Eastern Depot raided his residence, they ‘discovered’ dozens of grievance-filled essays."

The old man couldn't help but resent the unjust persecution of his favorite student. He had written these pieces for personal amusement, never sharing them, stashed beneath his bed. Yet somehow, word had leaked.

"With irrefutable evidence and the culprit caught in the act, Senior Tutor Song was imprisoned."

Xiao Shao: "He died in prison."

He recalled this event. Around the same time in his past life, it had happened too—though back then, he had been relegated to a distant border principality, thousands of miles from the capital. By the time news of Senior Tutor Song’s death reached him, the body had long gone cold. Xiao Shao only learned of it during a banquet, from an inspector sent from the capital who claimed only that the old man had succumbed to sudden illness.

At over seventy, the old tutor had already lived a long life—sudden illness wasn’t unusual. Xiao Shao hadn’t thought much of it then. But now it seemed he had died in prison.

The Eastern Depot's cells were frigid, damp, and reeked of filth, untouched by sunlight year-round. Even a man in his prime would emerge half-dead, let alone a septuagenarian.

Xiao Shao sighed softly: "And then?"

66: "The fallout was extensive. Xiao Yi unleashed a witch hunt through writings, raiding the homes of many upright officials. As Senior Tutor Song’s student, Qi Yan’s quarters in the palace were also searched. They found a few questionable verses, so he underwent interrogation under torture. After release, he was wracked with fever, bedridden for half a month and nearly losing his life."

The system scrolled the screen: "This is the final turning point in the plot. From here onward, the Qi Yan you knew ceases to exist. He transforms completely into the treacherous, venomous Nine Thousand-Year Lord of later records."

Xiao Shao gripped the desk.

After a moment, he asked calmly: "For this arc, I only need to score 60 points, right?"

Senior Tutor Song must not die—perhaps the old man could be persuaded to retire. As for the raids, torture, fever, and bedrest… The raids and torture would be tricky, but the fever and bedrest…

That could still be negotiated, right?

If Young Scholar Xiao proved amenable.