Chapter 25: Into a Political Intrigue Novel, Day 3

Chapter 25: Day Three in the Political Intrigue Novel

Ge Lian's eyes narrowed dangerously, and his rough fingers unconsciously rubbed the icy reins, producing a faint rustling sound.

Looking at An Yi's face—seemingly concerned for the state but actually harboring murderous intent—he let out a low, quiet laugh: "Lord An is doing me an injustice."

He deliberately drawled the word "wronging": "Heh... Lord An truly has a silver tongue—he can make the dead speak again. So, in that case, I, the Marquis, should thank you for cleaning house on my behalf and even worrying about my reputation?"

An Yi smiled good-naturedly: "Yes, naturally."

He nodded slightly, his posture impeccable: "The Junior Marquis's loyalty is beyond doubt."

An Yi recalled what had happened before. After Ge Lian had entered the court, he had caused the original An Yi endless trouble, and the two had been locked in an endless struggle.

They clashed head-on, unable to destroy each other, so they took aim at each other's subordinates!

Some time ago, while Ge Lian was out on a campaign to suppress bandits, the original An Yi had taken advantage of his absence to remove one of his capable subordinates from his post and, not only that, had exiled the man to Lingnan.

A man named Peng Boshi, who had indeed embezzled military funds. Though the amount was not large, he was still guilty!

In the original novel, after learning of this, Ge Lian had given up on rescuing him and returning him to the capital. Even if the original An Yi hadn't acted, he would have dealt with him himself.

However, whether he punished his erring subordinate himself or a political enemy reached in to do it for him—there was a vast difference between the two.

It was nothing less than a stinging slap in the face, a blatant provocation and humiliation aimed directly at Ge Lian!

Ge Lian's faint, false smile vanished without a trace. The handsome lines of his face suddenly hardened as if cast from iron, and a vein of murderous intent seemed to pulse beneath his tanned skin.

His sharp gaze raked across An Yi's perpetually benevolent mask like a tangible blade, with icy anger churning in the depths of his eyes.

He curled his lips into a dangerously suggestive angle—an almost-smile—and lowered his voice to a slow, low tone, dripping with the cold menace of a snake's tongue:

"Lord An is absolutely right. To 'repay' you for this 'kindness,' I have specially prepared a generous gift for you upon my return to the capital..."

He leaned forward slightly, toward the open carriage door, his eyes locked onto An Yi: "I hope... Lord An will appreciate this 'surprise.'" The word "surprise" he emphasized with particular clarity.

An Yi's smile didn't waver: "I'll be waiting."

The two traded barbs back and forth for a while, drawing the attention of many onlookers.

An Yi was already bored with it.

This life of wearing a mask and playing a role was even more exhausting than the cutthroat games and deceit of his previous life in the business world.

Especially when facing an opponent like Ge Lian—sharp in intuition, ruthless in action, and reckless in his methods.

Keeping his smile plastered on, An Yi gave Ge Lian a slight nod—and then, without any warning, reached out and firmly pulled shut the heavy rosewood carriage door!

With a soft click, the door sealed shut, instantly cutting off Ge Lian's menacing face and the biting wind of the palace road.

Ge Lian: "..."

He let out a bitter laugh, gritting his teeth to suppress a retort, and said nothing.

Since when did An Yi throw little fits of temper like this?

With the door closed, An Yi's smile slowly faded. The meticulously crafted mask of the gentle, refined "Lord An, Chief Minister of the Imperial Secretariat" shattered in an instant.

He covered his face in frustration, letting out a long, silent sigh.

Dealing with this kind of person is truly exhausting!!

As for the "gift" Ge Lian had mentioned... An Yi's mind raced—the original novel's plot came back to him: it was clearly Ge Lian's counterstrike, targeting an official under the original An Yi's command who was also not entirely clean—a man named Wang Xian.

This man was greedy and lustful, using his power to bully others. The original An Yi had long seen him as a liability but had kept him for a time due to his family's local influence and the need for him as a pawn in certain matters.

Ge Lian was going to move against Wang Xian? From An Yi's own perspective, this was like a pillow arriving just when he was nodding off! He would be only too happy to borrow Ge Lian's blade to cut away this inevitable threat—a perfect chance to clean house.

Unfortunately, he couldn't.

If he allowed Ge Lian to easily eliminate Wang Xian, it would send a dangerous signal to every hanger-on in his faction: the leader was weak and could not even protect his own people.

At that point, people would scatter, and his faction would collapse. Amid the treacherous currents of the court, An Yi would become isolated, a lamb being led to the slaughter.

An Yi paused as a thought struck him.

But then again, it might not come to that.

Before becoming An Yi's subordinate, Wang Xian was a follower of the Chief Grand Secretary. If something went wrong, it wouldn't be An Yi who took the blame—it would be Chief Grand Secretary Duan Mingde.

An Yi only needed to demonstrate a token stance.

Upon realizing this, An Yi slowly opened his eyes.

He raised a hand and gently smoothed a crease that had formed on his crimson official robe sleeve due to his earlier movements, his voice projecting through the closed carriage door:

"To the Imperial Secretariat."

"Milord, we have arrived at the Imperial Secretariat," came the voice of the driver, An Ping.

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The carriage came to a halt. The door was respectfully opened by An Ping. The chill air rushed in again, carrying the distinctive smell of the Imperial Secretariat—a blend of ink, paper, and old wood.

An Yi adjusted his crimson official robe, carefully concealing every trace of fatigue from his face, and donned again the gentle, composed, and impeccable mask of "Lord An, Chief Minister of the Imperial Secretariat."

He supported himself on An Ping's arm and stepped down steadily from the carriage.

The Imperial Secretariat, as the highest administrative body of the Great Yin, was a majestic and forbidding building—vermillion gates, soaring steps, and guards standing at attention, all testifying to the raw majesty of power.

Beneath the steps, several low-ranking officials in blue-green robes stood with hands folded, waiting respectfully.

Seeing An Yi, they all bowed in unison, respectful and reverent: "We pay our respects to the Chief Minister, my lord!"

"Rise," An Yi said in a gentle voice. He walked with measured steps up the stone stairs, his crimson robe fluttering slightly in the winter wind.

The Imperial Secretariat—here was the heart of the Great Yin. Every memorial, every administrative order emanated from here, governing the lifeblood of the entire dynasty. It was also the vortex of power struggles, where countless ambitions and intrigues intertwined.

An Yi looked straight ahead and made his way directly to his spacious, bright inner office located deep within the compound.

"Milord," said a gaunt-faced, middle-aged official in a deep crimson robe, who had been waiting at the door of the inner office. He was An Yi's trusted adviser and the Left Vice Director of the Imperial Secretariat—Cui Wenyuan.

His expression was grave as he hurried over and said in a low voice: "You've returned. Just now..."

An Yi raised a hand to stop him from continuing, his gaze sweeping over the several subordinates behind Cui Wenyuan, whose faces were likewise tense, his voice remained steady: "Let's talk inside."

The heavy nanmu door shut silently behind them, cutting off all observation from outside.

Inside the inner office, the furnishings were grand but restrained. Stacks of pending official documents covered the massive rosewood desk. In the corner, a bronze beast-head incense burner emitted a wisp of blue smoke, filling the room with the invigorating scent of mint.