Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Nan Wuxie needed the influence of the Su family, needed the pristine reputation of Su Zhanyu as a standard, while Chao Cheyun needed a legitimate reason—one that came as a "request"—to approach Su Zhanyu, a breakthrough to shatter the current awkward stalemate. The two of them were clearly a perfect match, "birds of a feather flocking together."

But could he immediately pounce on Nan Wuxie's leg and say, "Yes, yes, yes, I'll help you—just tell me how to win him over"?

Absolutely not!

He, the Second Master Chao, had his pride to uphold! Especially in front of someone like Nan Wuxie, who looked like he had more schemes in his head than holes in a honeycomb!

He had to maintain his composure, make Nan Wuxie feel that Chao Cheyun was valuable, hard to sway, an ally worth bargaining for—not some lovesick fool who lost his head at the mere mention of Su Zhanyu's name and eagerly threw himself at the problem.

'Yes, that's it!' Chao Cheyun mentally cheered himself on.

This was a delicate psychological game. He had to show interest in Nan Wuxie's proposal, hold his ground with proper measure, and casually let slip that only he could "talk to" Su Zhanyu. Yet his ultimate goal was to drag Nan Wuxie into the scheme, turning him into an ally—or even a backseat strategist—for his "plan to melt the iceberg."

'Nan Wuxie, you'd better have some real skills...' Chao Cheyun muttered inwardly. 'If you can really help me... no, if you can help me pry open Su Zhanyu's clam-tight heart, I'd not only board your ship—I'd row it for you!'

With that thought, he suddenly found Nan Wuxie's shameless, relaxed smile much more agreeable. This guy might just be a miracle-working troublemaker, the kind who could break any deadlock.

So, the Second Master Chao kept his expression calm and aloof, even with a hint of arrogance, as if to say, "Fine, I'll deign to hear what nonsense you have to spew." He picked up his own wine glass and casually clinked it against Nan Wuxie's, as if the grand internal monologue moments ago had never happened.

"I hope your boat... is sturdy enough," Chao Cheyun said with a double entendre, tilting his head back and downing the wine in one gulp.

Nan Wuxie smiled too, drinking his own cup dry. Though Chao Cheyun hadn't given any clear promise, the tension and distance of their probing exchange had mostly dissolved. A subtle, unspoken understanding—based on mutual recognition of each other's abilities and the realization of potential shared interests—was quietly forming. For Nan Wuxie, reaching this tacit consensus with the shrewd and resourceful Second Master Chao was enough to achieve his goal for the night.

Too bad the prelude to breaking the ice had been so long; he nearly ate himself full.

Outside the window, the night had deepened, but the lanterns on the canal burned ever brighter, reflecting the capital's endless splendor and undercurrents.

***

The storm in Jiangnan ended with the complete collapse of the local officialdom and the downfall of the Luan family. Luan Xucheng was thrown into prison, his years-long network of private salt trafficking in Jiangnan uprooted. Local officials who had taken bribes from the Luan family were either dismissed or imprisoned. The entire Jiangnan bureaucracy—from Wuzhou outward—was shaken, severely wounded.

However, this thunderous purge did not leave every power faction crippled.

The Ji family had lost an important support in Jiangnan's grain and finance sectors and suffered a major blow to its control over most of the trade routes. Yet their foundation was not completely shattered. Ji Zhou was well-versed in the art of cutting off the tail to save the body—he had already severed most overt connections and, through Jin Dalin's death, locked all blame firmly within the Jiangnan region.

Still, though the mansion's foundation remained, its beams were damaged; while the roots were firm, the branches had been hewn. The Ji family's power and status in the capital, due to the shrinking of their Jiangnan granary and financial lifelines, showed signs of an unspoken hollowness.

By contrast, the Listening Terrace and the Celestial Inspectorate, which had rendered meritorious service in this affair, saw their power expand. At the morning court session, Li Sheng rewarded achievements and, with decisive authority, formally placed the command of the "Eagle Feather Guard"—a crack unit directly under the emperor, specializing in investigating major cases and safeguarding the capital's secrets—into the hands of Wen Buchi.

Although the Eagle Feather Guard numbered fewer than the Imperial Guard, its members were elite selected from hundreds, and it held the privilege of direct memorial to the throne. This appointment meant that Wen Buchi and the Listening Terrace he commanded wielded even greater authority, like adding wings to a tiger.

Meanwhile, the Celestial Inspectorate under Situ Kong was granted the responsibility of coordinating the capital's patrol and defense affairs. Some of the powers originally dispersed among the Five Wards Military Office were consolidated under its control, greatly enhancing its grasp over movements inside and outside the capital, and its prestige soared.

The smoke of battle in Jiangnan had barely cleared when another silent war in the capital began unfolding with the spring breeze.

The Spring Triennial Examination was approaching. Candidates from all over the realm, harboring dreams of "by morning a humble scholar, by evening at the Son of Heaven's hall," had poured into the capital like a hundred rivers converging into the sea. Inns were packed to capacity; tea houses and taverns were filled with scholars in robes, talking and debating loudly.

The defense of the capital thus became suddenly strained. Chao Yunping's Imperial Guard and the patrol camps newly under Situ Kong's command dared not slack off, patrolling day and night.

But how could the examination be foolproof simply through "defense"?

Since ancient times, the examination hall had never been merely a holy ground for candidates to display their literary skills. It was also a contested arena where various court factions vied to plant new sprouts. Countless eyes were fixed on these candidates who were about to leap through the dragon gate. Even before the results were posted, behind-the-scenes battles were already raging. Many candidates, before even arriving in the capital, might have already quietly sent their name cards to certain vermilion gates. Some had even become "disciples" of influential court ministers, seeking patronage.

This was a chronic disease that no dynasty could cure completely. Officials used this to recruit talents, build networks, and strengthen their factions, while candidates needed patrons to gain support at the start of their official careers. Emperors throughout history were not unaware, but if the water was too clear, there would be no fish. Forcibly and thoroughly eradicating this practice would inevitably cause everyone in the court to panic, threatening the foundation of rule. Thus, most emperors turned a blind eye within limits, maintaining a delicate balance.

This year, given the Jiangnan incident, this trend was even more pronounced. The court's undercurrents surged; old and new powers needed to replenish their ranks with fresh blood. At this juncture, the Imperial Censor-in-Chief, Yan Dongshan, stepped forward during a court session amid heated debates over the choice of chief examiner and resolutely proposed:

"Your Majesty, I believe the Spring Examination concerns the great matter of selecting talents for the state. It requires a person whose moral integrity commands universal respect and whose scholarship can be a model for the world. The Su family has been a lineage of pure scholarship generation after generation. Grand Elder Su is the literary patriarch of the realm, a paragon of the scholar-official class. If the Su family leads this Spring Examination, it will surely win the hearts of all scholars under heaven."

As these words fell, the court fell silent, then low murmurs arose. Yan Dongshan's proposal, while not directly mentioning "corruption and favoritism," precisely severed the core link of this unhealthy trend.

On the dragon throne, Li Sheng pondered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the ministers with varied expressions.

He had long been troubled. Whether by the Ministry of Personnel or the Ministry of Rites, if powerful aristocratic families continued to dominate the examinations, their disciples would add countless "private retainers." That would be detrimental to imperial power. Supporting the relatively detached Su family was exactly the way to balance the court, fitting the art of monarchical rule.

The Vice Censor-in-Chief, Yan Qiu, well-versed in officialdom, glanced at the sovereign on high, then at his superior, and resoundingly seconded the proposal.

Of course, the principle was lofty, but he also had a watch-from-the-sidelines attitude. As long as this red-hot potato didn't land in his own hands, he could toss it to anyone.

That was true for everyone.

"My dear ministers speak wisely," Li Sheng said slowly. "The Su family's clean reputation is indeed the unmatched choice."

However, issuing a decree was easy; implementing it was difficult.

Grand Elder Su was old, his energy failing, and in recent years he had retreated even deeper from public life. So, when Yan Dongshan said "led by the Su family," the entire court tacitly understood that the target could only be one person.

The precious son of the Su family, long silent yet whose talent and influence no one dared underestimate—asking him to step forward would be no easy task.

Everyone knew that Su Zhanyu had been in near self-imposed seclusion for four or five years, shutting his door to visitors. Even several imperial summons to teach at court were declined under the pretext of "ill health." The emperor could force an appointment by decree, but for a man of Su Zhanyu's lofty character and deep respect among scholars, coercion would be counterproductive and might cool the hearts of literati across the land.

Thus, this seemingly popular and reasonable proposal ultimately hinged on how to knock open the tightly shut gates of the Su residence.

Whichever minister who inclined toward integrity could persuade Su Zhanyu to re-enter the world and oversee this Spring Examination would take the lead in this silent contest.

Of course, countless hands seeking to prevent it were also reaching in.

***

Since that dinner with Nan Wuxie, Chao Cheyun's mind had been repeatedly circling the same problem: how to convince Su Zhanyu?

For Chao Cheyun, this was even harder than the prospect of taking up arms and rebelling.

While he was racking his brain in agony, a gentle knock came at his study door.

"Yun, still awake?"

His elder brother Chao Yunping's voice came through.

Chao Cheyun quickly reined in his overly visible distress and rose to open the door. "Brother, it's so late. You're just off duty?"

Chao Yunping entered holding a steaming bowl of sweet soup. He was still in his Imperial Guard uniform, his brow showing signs of exhaustion that couldn't be hidden.

"On the way back, I saw an old man selling lily seed and lotus seed soup. I thought Third Sister likes sweets, so I bought some. I saw your study light still on and brought you a bowl." He set the soup on the desk. "I've been busy lately and haven't had time to look after you. Take care of yourself."

As the Imperial Guard Commander, Chao Yunping was responsible for the safety of the imperial city—a heavy duty. With the capital tense due to the upcoming examination and the influx of people from all sides, he was already on edge. Then Li Sheng transferred some capital patrol duties to the Celestial Inspectorate and the Eagle Feather Guard to the Listening Terrace. While this strengthened the capital's defense network to some extent—Wen Buchi's careful mind and decisive action, Situ Kong's experience and efficiency could help fill gaps and prevent potential trouble—

But fortune sometimes lurks within misfortune. Both of those bureaus were core institutions close to the throne. Especially the young but powerful Wen Buchi, who had made countless enemies in the court, both overt and covert. Someone might try to create trouble or even instigate incidents during this sensitive period of handovers and power realignment. And if any fault occurred in the defense of the imperial city or the capital, he, as the Imperial Guard Commander, would not escape responsibility. When the city gate catches fire, the fish in the moat suffer. These days, his pressure was immense.

But his temperament was simple and straightforward. Though aware of the stakes, he didn't complain excessively; he only worked harder and more cautiously, striving to avoid mistakes.

Chao Cheyun picked up the sweet soup. "Thank you, Brother." Seeing the dark circles under his brother's eyes, he comforted him, "You should rest more too. Patrolling is important, but don't overexert yourself."

Chao Yunping waved his hand, sat down across from his younger brother, and rubbed his temples. "No trouble. It's my duty."

He paused, seeming to choose his words, and his gaze at Chao Cheyun carried obvious concern. "Yun, have you heard about what happened at yesterday's court session—Censor Yan's proposal that the Su family oversee this Spring Examination?"

Chao Cheyun's hand, lifting the spoon of sweet soup, paused slightly. "Mm."

"This is a big deal, and a difficult one," Chao Yunping said worriedly. "Grand Elder Su is too old to handle the work. In the end, the choice will probably fall on Master Su."

When he mentioned Su Zhanyu, his tone was naturally familiar, and he simply said: "But Shuying's temperament... ah. Although His Majesty hasn't stated it explicitly, it's clear he wants this to happen. Whoever can accomplish this will have resolved a major concern for His Majesty—a great achievement."

He paused, turning to his ever-astute and adaptable younger brother with a look tinged with expectation: "Yun, you were once the closest to Shuying. Do you have any way to persuade him?"

Chao Cheyun listened to his elder brother's words, feeling like crying but having no tears. First there was Nan Wuxie's seemingly casual but meticulously calculated "request," and now his own brother's straightforward question filled with trust and expectation.

One after the other, they both placed their hopes on him, as if he truly possessed some miraculous plan to persuade Master Su, who was determined to stay secluded from the world.

Difficult... so difficult!

In front of Chao Yunping, Chao Cheyun had always sheathed all his thorns and sharp edges. Now, he could only muster a helpless wry smile, his tone gentle and even with a hint of humility: "Regarding this matter... I'll do my best."

Even though he lacked confidence, Chao Cheyun knew deep down that this had to be accomplished—for the sake of scholars everywhere, and for himself... even more so.

Chao Yunping clearly did not detect the storm beneath his younger brother's calm tone; he merely took it as humility and prudence.

He sighed, his brows furrowing further. "I know it's difficult, but since His Majesty has this intention, it would be good if we could make it happen. A talent like Shuying, shutting himself away day after day—it's a pity."

His words were simple, carrying genuine regret. "Yun, you've always been the most resourceful. Think some more—maybe there really is a way?"

Chao Cheyun looked at his brother's pure eyes full of blind loyalty, and the frustration in his heart suddenly deflated. His elder brother was straightforward in his thinking, not at all shrewd, and far from skilled in political maneuvering. But his heart was sincere—toward family, friends, and his sovereign.

All his hopes were written plainly on his face. "Alright... alright, Brother. I'll think it over carefully." Chao Cheyun finally softened his voice and agreed. He lowered his head to take a sip of the sweet soup, so as not to let his brother see his weakness.