Chapter 96: Audience with the Emperor (Part 2)

Chapter 96: Audience with the Emperor (Part 2)

Le Wuya prostrated himself.

What met his eyes were the stone-blue tips of Jie Jitong's boots.

The Emperor favored cleanliness, and Jie Jitong was immaculate from head to toe—even the dark-gold cloud patterns on his boots were free of a single speck of dust.

This inevitably brought Le Wuya back to the past.

That year, after the Emperor concluded the elaborate palace examination, he picked out three policy essays and placed them before Le Wuya.

Those three examination papers were still wet with ink, their prose brilliant, a mere thousand words packing in the scholars' soaring ambitions and years of dedication to their studies.

Master the arts of letters and war, then sell them to the emperor—that was the way of it.

The Emperor removed his spectacles and looked at him with a warm expression: "You Que, I've been busy all day and am worn out. Why don't you take a look and tell me which scholar should be named the champion?"

Le Wuya squinted, skimmed through the three papers, and quickly made up his mind.

Among the three, one was conventional and balanced, not tipping too far in any direction—the very picture of steadiness, prudence, and solidity. A natural fit for the runner-up spot.

The remaining two papers each had something to recommend it.

One scholar, named Jie Jitong, had written the best essay—substantive, without a single empty word, combining real substance with wide-ranging insight. Clearly, he came from poverty, without powerful connections or proper schooling, possessing only sharp eyes and a loyal heart.

The other scholar, as Le Wuya knew, was the son of a second-rank court official, with a deep family tradition of learning—his calligraphy was in the classic styles of Yan Zhenqing and Liu Gongquan, his prose flowery and polished, though it inevitably smacked of armchair theorizing about the world.

Le Wuya, plain-spoken and down-to-earth, held the title of "third-place scholar" in considerable disdain.

What was the point of being third? If one was to ride through the streets, it should be as the champion, decked out in flowers and glory.

Nothing beat being number one in the whole realm.

Le Wuya had made up his mind, and he also knew which one the Emperor preferred.

In terms of essay quality alone, both were flawless.

But when it came to family background, there was no comparison.

The Emperor was still watching him, smiling, waiting for his answer.

Le Wuya wasn't about to fall for that trap; he planned to shift gears and raise a different question.

Like a bootlicking courtier, he fanned the Emperor, though most of the cool breeze went to himself: "I think they're all great. Which one does Your Majesty consider more handsome? Perhaps we should name the third-place scholar first."

The Emperor laughed: "Do you think I'm like you? Judging people by their looks alone?"

Le Wuya said with a straight face: "Learning's the inside, looks are the outside. Only when you've got both can you call yourself a top-tier talent. I think, with our Great Yu teeming with scholars, as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, why can't we pick by looks first?"

This was complete nonsense.

But firstly, the Emperor did prefer those with neat, handsome looks; secondly, the Emperor favored Jie Jitong's essay but was uncertain whether to prioritize rewarding the second-rank official—hence the question.

Le Wuya deliberately chose by appearance, which in effect tipped the scales a bit in Jie Jitong's favor.

Sure enough, in the end, Jie Jitong was named the champion.

Later, during a meeting with the newly minted scholars, the Emperor pointed at Le Wuya and said to Jie Jitong, grinning: "Yuheng, do you know? If it weren't for You Que telling me you were easy on the eyes, the title of champion wouldn't have fallen to you."

Le Wuya pressed his lips together and laughed along with him, thinking to himself: You old bastard, is that what I said?

He had always firmly believed that if the Emperor weren't the Emperor but had been born into an ordinary family, with that infuriating demeanor of his, wouldn't someone have knocked the stuffing out of him?

Le Wuya had assumed the Emperor simply wanted to make him an isolated official, hence this underhanded trick.

Now he realized—Jie Jitong's expression had turned cold in an instant back then, and the surrounding scholars had all revealed knowing smiles, their looks toward this poor-born scholar changing accordingly.

Probably from that moment on, he had decided Le Wuya was a court-corrupting villain.

Come to think of it—wasn't that true?

A man who could, with mere smooth talk, sweet-talk the Emperor into selecting the top three examination graduates by appearance—that sounded like the very definition of a treacherous official.

Jie Jitong had been twenty-seven when he became the champion; that was nearly six years ago.

Le Wuya still remembered that day when he'd gone to court as usual, only to be caught off guard by Jie Jitong's direct impeachment.

Listening to him enumerate his various crimes, Le Wuya found it downright funny, but the occasion was too solemn to crack a smile, so he could only hold it in.

Then his throat began to itch and he tasted blood; a single light cough set off an unstoppable fit. Somehow, as if all his strength had been drained, he collapsed in the great hall, and the blood gushing from his mouth splattered all over Jie Jitong's boots.

That day, what appeared before his eyes was just such a fine pair of boots.

Le Wuya lacked the strength to lift his head and see Jie Jitong's expression; he only remembered that the man was a stickler for cleanliness.

Before his death, he'd at least managed to annoy him and get a little of his own back.

Worth it—they were even.

Le Wuya knew his limits; the moment he recalled his embarrassing collapse with blood in the hall, he immediately reined himself in and stopped himself from thinking about it.

And now, Jie Jitong was a changed man.

He started his scolding with a cold question: "Lyu Deyao, do you know your crimes?"

Prefect Lyu's legs went weak, he prostrated himself, and hastily begged for forgiveness.

Le Wuya remained silent, keeping his head down.

Having heard how this man had impeached him, Le Wuya knew right away that this didn't sound like him at all.

—He had always been swift and decisive, quick as a knife, having investigated the evidence beyond any doubt, leaving no room for the other party to catch their breath or defend themselves.

This drawn-out, agonizing method of questioning was more like someone else.

The more Le Wuya listened, the more sure he was.

On one hand, he berated Lyu Deyao for slack governance and botched evaluations, even escalating to "deceiving the court"; on the other, he hinted that this matter should end here, keep it quiet—that it was Shao Hongzhen who had colluded with bandits to do evil, and as for the opium affair, it would be quietly swept under the rug.

In short, this entire admonishment was all bark and no bite—frightening enough to make Prefect Lyu's heart tremble, yet lenient enough to demonstrate the court's magnanimity, bearing the dark, scheming style of the old Emperor.

In a word, this towering young talent had, in four years, turned himself into another version of Le Wuya.

Thinking about it, Le Wuya almost felt sympathy for Jie Jitong.

As it turned out, one should never be too quick to feel sorry for someone.

Just as Lyu Deyao was sinking in despair, convinced he would be dragged out for execution at any moment, Jie Jitong turned his attention: "Wen Ren Yue, do you know your crimes?"

Le Wuya froze.

But just for a second.

He confessed right away, his words crisp and clear: "My crime is leading the Sixth Prince into danger, nearly causing a great catastrophe."

Jie Jitong said nothing, clearly not buying this "confession."

Le Wuya was a master at reading people, and in a flash, he figured out what the old emperor behind him was getting at.

Wasn't the old man just pissed that he'd gone charging around, stumbling into such a huge mess, and reaching out from a thousand miles away to slap him down?

Normally, all he had to do was follow the usual protocol, own up to his mistake, and say he'd "acted rashly, and shouldn't have overstepped his authority to investigate matters in another county," and this whole thing could've been swept under the rug.

But Le Wuya just stared at the ground, frowning, and said nothing.

He thought back to the day he met Xiaoliu and that wild ambition he'd talked about.

Fortune favors the bold.

As a pawn, if you don't take bold risks and just hang back, how can you stir up trouble and control the game?

Le Wuya hid his swirling thoughts behind a quick flicker in his eyes.

Then, with his mind made up, he answered loud and clear: "Other than that, I'm innocent!"

Before Jie Jitong could say anything, Prefect Lyu beside him nearly passed out, choking on his own breath.

How many generations of his family did this guy have to spare, to talk to the emperor's special envoy like that?!

Jie Jitong's tone was unreadable: "...Oh?"

That one little word carried so much weight it made your throat close up.

But Le Wuya didn't flinch or back down. He kept his head down and spoke slowly, one word at a time: "Shao Hongzhen was a repeat offender, using his remote post to do whatever he wanted. If nobody had called him out, he'd have kept causing chaos for who knows how long, hurting countless innocent people. I was reckless, sure, but I'm not guilty."

"Isn't working outside your county a crime?"

"If you see something suspicious and don't look into it, you're a fool. If you see injustice and do nothing, you're no hero."

"So you think you're smart and brave?"

"I'm not saying I'm all that smart or brave," Le Wuya said. "If I were really that smart and brave, I'd have grabbed a sword, stormed the prison, and killed Shao Hongzhen myself, giving him what he had coming."

Jie Jitong's voice got tight, clearly a little shocked: "You think Shao didn't get punished enough?"

Le Wuya: "Yes."

Jie Jitong: "Should he live or die?"

Le Wuya: "If he gets to live, what about the people he killed?"

He carefully kept his voice steady, hitting every word hard and clear.

...Just like Jie Jitong had done four years ago.

Jie Jitong was quiet for a long beat, then said, "Look up."

Le Wuya did as he was told, lifting his chin to look him straight in the eye.

Ever since he'd swapped into Wenren Yue's body, his face had changed a lot, but compared to his old lazy, sinister vibe, it now had a sharper, more upright, righteous look to it.

He clearly saw Jie Jitong's face change, his pupils even widening a bit.

Le Wuya didn't smile, didn't move, his eyes burning like sparks, staring at the "Le Wuya" of now with the eyes of the "Jie Jitong" from four years back.

Luckily, Jie Jitong had been through a lot and didn't lose his cool like that eunuch had.

After staring at him for a while, Jie Jitong tossed out a casual verdict: "Bold."

Le Wuya dropped his gaze again and bowed properly: "I overstepped, so that's a crime. Punish me, my lord."

After that talk with Le Wuya, Jie Jitong clearly lost interest. He quickly asked a few more questions, then handed down the punishments for both men.

Lyu Deyao was found guilty of negligence and failure to supervise. He got a year's salary docked and was kept on probation. If he didn't show results in two years, he'd be demoted.

Wenren Yue got an extra year's salary and a royal sword to help the emperor cut down the wicked.

Le Wuya wasn't surprised by the sudden reward.

He'd done a good thing, one that helped the country and the people, even if it made the emperor look bad.

The emperor had to reward him, even if it was through clenched teeth.

But he faked being surprised, showing just the right amount of confusion.

After the edict was read, Jie Jitong made a point of glancing at Le Wuya again.

Seeing the confused look on his face, Jie Jitong figured the young magistrate didn't get why he'd been chewed out and still got a reward.

...So green and reckless, just like he'd been when he first started out in office years ago.

Without meaning to, he softened his voice: "Magistrate Wenren, thank the emperor for his grace."

The man didn't hesitate. After a brief pause, he knelt straight down.

Aside from everything else, his manners were spot on.

Jie Jitong thought, the guy knows all the formalities, but still says all that fiery stuff... really...

He couldn't find the words to describe this guy, so he just kept a blank face and walked off.

As he stepped out, he happened to catch the eye of Eunuch Li, the ceremonial eunuch who'd brought him in.

Seeing the way his eyes darted around, Jie Jitong had a hunch.

Once they were out of the hall, he suddenly asked Eunuch Li: "About twenty days ago, when I was with the emperor talking about Helian Che of the Jing tribe coming to the capital, these two just happened to arrive in the capital that same day, waiting outside the palace gates for their summons. When you went to announce them, did you get a good look at Magistrate Wenren's face?"

Eunuch Li shuddered a little, remembering that face that had made his heart race.

Seeing that reaction, Jie Jitong already had his answer.

He asked: "Did you mention this to the emperor?"

Eunuch Li shook his head in a panic: "Lord Xie, this servant's eyes and mouth belong to the emperor. I only say what makes him happy and do what makes him happy. I wouldn't dare run my mouth."

Everyone knew that dead man Le Wuya had become a long-standing thorn in the emperor's side.

How could he dare go to the emperor and say some low-ranking official looked just like Le Wuya?

By then, Magistrate Wenren's fate would be uncertain, but his own downfall was practically guaranteed.

Hearing Eunuch Li say this, Jie Jitong felt a growing sense of certainty and headed straight for Shouren Hall.

The Emperor was in the Hall of Rare Treasures, a side chamber of Shouren Hall, admiring curios to pass the time.

Seeing Jie Jitong enter and bow in greeting, he wore his usual genial smile.

"Yuheng, you're here?" He gestured to a chair nearby, motioning for him to sit and report. "So, how did the questioning go?"

After thanking the Emperor, Jie Jitong perched on the edge of the chair, angled to the side, silently exhaling a long breath.

Since truly becoming the Emperor's confidant and right-hand man, he felt like he was perpetually sitting for the imperial exam, facing a major test on a different subject each day.

Unlike the imperial examination, however, he now harbored no hope of glory, no thrill of youthful ambition—only the slow withering and numbness from the daily grind.

He kept his hands at his sides and answered with due propriety: "Your Majesty, I've questioned both Lü Deyao and Wen Renyue, and they have each received their rewards or punishments and left the palace."

The Emperor hummed in acknowledgment: "I asked how they seemed."

"Lü Deyao, though inept, can be considered obedient and respectful."

"Wen Renyue..."

Jie Jitong paused, remembering that man's clear, stubborn gaze, and couldn't help shivering.

...It was as if, across a vast distance of time and space, his former self had looked at him with disappointment and anger.

He gave his assessment succinctly:

"A cut above the rest."

"Oh?"

The Emperor looked up from his curios with interest: "Zhi Jie has always sung his praises, and I was rather skeptical—could a county magistrate with only a provincial graduate's background really be a diamond in the rough, stuck in a remote border county like Nanting? If even Yuheng says so, then he must be genuinely interesting."

He set down his magnifying glass and smiled: "Yuheng, what do you think—should I call him in for a meeting?"

Jie Jitong kept his eyes on the ground and said impassively: "Your Majesty, in my humble opinion, now isn't the time for you to meet him."

The Emperor's tone turned slightly grave, feigning interest: "Why?"

Jie Jitong knew the Emperor was displeased.

But he had to do this.

For some reason, his selfish side got the better of him—he didn't want the Emperor to catch the resemblance between Wen Renyue and Le Wuya too soon.

At the very least, he should wait until Wen Renyue had made a name for himself and built up his strength; only then would the timing be appropriate.

Think of it as... protecting the man he used to be.

Jie Jitong lowered his eyes and spoke, word by word, flattery that his younger self would never have spoken: "In my humble view, a man who masters both the pen and the sword offers his skills to the emperor. With his talent, it's only a matter of time before he stands before you in full dignity and gives you a pleasant surprise."

The Emperor mulled it over, and the faint furrow between his brows gave way to delight: "Very well. Then I'll look forward to that day."