Chapter 238: The Azure Clouds (III)

Chapter 238: The Azure Clouds (III)

The Hall of Bright Illumination fell into a deathly silence.

The ministers assembled in the hall, even the old hands who had served through two reigns, were rooted to the spot.

This was something they'd never seen before, not once.

Not in the official histories, and not in the unofficial ones either.

The Imperial Jade Seal was a thing that carried the Mandate of Heaven.

A jade seal hitting the floor was definitely not a good sign.

Although the seal's fall was caused by the emperor's own slip, it was obvious that just moments earlier, His Majesty had been heaping praise on Wen Renyue—only to completely lose his cool the second he got a look at his face...

If they were in Wen Renyue's shoes, they'd already be scouting out a nice, scenic spot for their own graves and their nine clans' too.

But Le Wuya, who'd already died once, handled this crushing silence just fine.

He dropped his eyes to the seal for a beat, then reached out and scooped it up.

Cushioning it with his sleeve, Le Wuya held the seal high over his head.

The startled officials, civil and military alike, snapped back to their senses—no way were they going to stay standing above that seal—and dropped to their knees in a wave, front to back, like the tide rolling in.

Seal in hand, Le Wuya said, smooth as you please: "Back in the day, Wei Zheng used a dropped writing brush to make his point about remonstrance. Today, the jade seal takes a leap and I, your servant, was lucky enough to grab it. This just goes to show that even the holiest of relics needs loyal ministers to hold it up, and a ruler and his subjects working together."

The ministers, foreheads glued to the floor and too scared to make a peep, all sucked in a sharp breath.

Man, he really knows how to polish his own image.

Then again... it kind of makes sense.

His Majesty had called him to court today specifically to reward a capable official.

This guy compared himself to Wei Zheng and called himself a pillar of the state—cocky, sure, but with that slick talk, he'd turned a total disaster into a heartwarming story of ruler and minister getting along.

Xiang Zheng was stuck between shock and regret, but hearing that, he felt a little weight lift off his chest.

From what he remembered, Le Wuya rarely showed this kind of nerve.

At least when he was around, that guy was always a master at kissing up to the throne.

If it'd been him up there, he'd have come out with something slick like: "Your Majesty burns the midnight oil, so Heaven sends this sign as a heads-up. Your servant humbly begs Your Majesty to look after your dragon self, to keep the state on solid ground."

Xiang Zheng's face relaxed a bit. He lifted a hand to wave the pale-faced Xue Jie over to take the seal back, and said approvingly: "Minister Wen Ren, you've got a silver tongue on you."

Le Wuya handed the seal back, calm as could be, neither groveling nor smug: "Your Majesty's praise is too kind. Your servant is deeply grateful."

He knew exactly when to stop talking, and he stopped right there.

Once the seal was back where it belonged, Xiang Zheng stared at it for a second, then suddenly barked: "Where's the Minister of the Imperial Ancestral Temple?"

Zeng Hong, the new Minister of the Imperial Ancestral Temple who'd just taken over from Zhang Yue, hurried forward: "Your servant is here."

"The jade seal fell. What's the read on that, good or bad?"

That question hit him like a thunderbolt. Zeng Hong's head rang, and in a flash he was soaked in sweat.

A jade seal hitting the floor—what the hell was that supposed to mean?

If he called it a good sign or a lucky omen, would His Majesty even buy it?

The Book of Changes says: "The tripod's legs snap, and the minister's stew goes flying."

At the very least, it meant the ruler had lost his virtue and needed to put out a self-criticism edict to apologize to the whole country.

At worst, it meant the dynasty was due for a new boss.

Sweat was pouring off Zeng Hong like a waterfall. He racked his brain, turned it inside out, and still came up empty. But one thing he'd figured out loud and clear.

He'd started as the Director of the Imperial Observatory and worked his way up, step by step, to Vice Minister of the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

Since the Sixth Prince was big into astronomy and fortune-telling, Zeng Hong knew him pretty well—you could even call them allies.

And the whole court knew that Wen Ren Mingke had been dug up and pushed forward by the Sixth and Seventh Princes together.

—His Majesty wasn't really testing him; he was using this chance to put the Sixth Prince on notice!

He cursed his bad luck under his breath.

But the one who'd started all this, Wen Renyue, shot him a lazy sidelong glance, like he was wondering why the guy wasn't answering.

His Majesty caught that glance in an instant: "Minister Wen Ren, you got something to say?"

Le Wuya: "Your servant's just read the Book of Changes and the Gan Shi Star Canon—nothing next to the Minister of the Imperial Ancestral Temple's expertise in the heavens. How would I dare to show off in front of a master?"

Xiang Zheng: "Go on, then. Since Minister Wen Ren's comparing himself to Wei Zheng, I'll let you speak your mind, no holds barred."

This was clearly putting him on the hot seat.

If he was going to call himself a straight-talking remonstrance minister, then clamming up now would make him a total fraud, wouldn't it?

Le Wuya didn't see it that way at all.

His Majesty asked him in good faith, so he'd be kind enough to answer.

"This is a good omen," Le Wuya said, straight up. "In your servant's humble opinion, this is Heaven's way of telling Your Majesty: even if the realm is solid, you've got to keep polishing your virtue to hold it together. If Your Majesty lifts the maritime ban, wipes out the wokou threat, and looks out for the people's livelihood, those are the kind of benevolent moves that answer Heaven above and win over the folks below. The jade seal hitting the floor just naturally means 'the old ways are over, and new policies are coming'!"

At that, the court went dead silent again—so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

A lot of the officials figured that, given just a few seconds, they could never have come up with something that smooth.

...Now that's a first-rate talent for the ages.

Xiang Zheng was floored.

...This guy's answer looked reckless at first, but it was actually sharp and airtight, every point linking to the next.

After all, Wen Renyue had gotten his promotion exactly because he'd crushed the pirates.

And the new top scholar, Ming Xiangzhao—didn't he win the top spot with a policy paper pushing for opening the seas?

Xiang Zheng knew full well that lifting the maritime ban had a ton of upsides, benefits that would last a thousand generations.

But he had his worries too.

Merchants getting too big for their britches, the tribute system fading, wokou raids getting worse... every single one of those was a headache.

He'd meant to take things slow, just make a few surface-level tweaks, but who'd have guessed this guy would, in a few sentences, link the imperial seal hitting the floor to rolling out the new coastal defense policy?

Something as huge as the imperial seal dropping would definitely go down in the history books, and even this back-and-forth between emperor and minister would be written down word for word in the *Qijuzhu* (the imperial diary).

If maritime defense were mismanaged down the road, leading to a great disaster, wouldn't Xiang Zheng be stuck with the eternal shame of being called a virtue-less, heaven-defying ruler?

Xiang Zheng had meant to put Wen Renyue in his place, but instead found himself hoisted by his own petard.

Zeng Hong's stiff shoulders finally loosened, and he shot a grateful look at Wen Ren Mingke without meaning to.

Then, out of nowhere, he caught Wen Ren Mingke's eye for a split second.

The guy looked totally at ease, a slight smile tugging at his lips, silently reassuring him with his eyes before looking away.

Zeng Hong immediately averted his gaze, ducking his head meekly, yet his heart hammered in his chest.

It hit him then.

That glance earlier, which looked so casual, was totally on purpose—Wen Renyue meant to grab the emperor's attention so he could jump in and save him!

As both trusted men under the Sixth Prince, it made sense they'd look out for each other.

A warm feeling flooded Zeng Hong's chest: What a brilliant guy!

Xiang Zheng snapped out of it and smiled. "What Minister Wen Ren says is spot on. Reforming governance and renewing the people's fortunes is my heaven-given duty."

Le Wuya bowed at once. "Your Majesty is truly wise."

That was the cue—the other officials all dropped to their knees and chanted in unison, "Your Majesty is truly wise!"

Xiang Zheng clapped his hands, pleased. "It seems my Minister Wen Ren is truly the only choice for Censor-in-Chief!"

His face was all smiles and goodwill, but what he was really thinking? Only the ghosts knew.

After receiving the rewards, Le Wuya slowly backed out of Zhaoming Hall.

Waiting outside the hall was Li Shang, already soaked through with sweat.

When Le Wuya's eyes met his, Li Shang had no idea what to say. "You, you..."

Luckily, even though Li Shang was a nervous wreck, Le Wuya looked ten times more lost than he did.

As he came down the steps, his foot slipped, and he almost ate it.

Seeing him like that, Li Shang actually felt a little sorry for him.

He'd been in the palace for ages and had never run into anything this twisted and weird—especially with Lord Wenren, who'd never even met the emperor before?

He quickly reached out to steady Le Wuya, carefully walking him down the jade steps.

Le Wuya said, all innocent, "Eunuch, did I mess up? But when the imperial seal dropped, I couldn't just pretend I didn't see it, right?"

Li Shang: "..." Fair point.

"His Majesty told me to look up, and I did what I was told. Was that wrong too?"

Li Shang: "..." No, it wasn't.

Watching Le Wuya blink, his eyes all watery and pitifully cute, Li Shang ended up comforting him instead. "Don't worry, my lord. I heard everything from outside—you followed every rule to the letter. Nothing wrong at all, except..."

Only that today, in Zhaoming Hall, everyone from the emperor on down seemed to have lost their minds.

Of course, he couldn't just say that out loud.

Li Shang could only say, "Go back to the guesthouse and rest. When the decree comes, head to the Censorate and take up your post."

Le Wuya, pretending to be scared, slunk off with his tail between his legs and left the palace.

After seeing Le Wuya off, Li Shang turned and nearly jumped out of his skin.

At the corner of the red wall stood a military officer in black, lurking like a ghost, his eyes fixed on where Le Wuya had disappeared.

One hand was pressed against the red wall without him even realizing it, hard enough to leave scratch marks in the stone.

Once his shock subsided, Li Shang forced a smile and said, "Commander Qiu..."

Qiu Sinian, the Deputy Commander of the Changmen Guard, finally dropped that murderous stare and gave Li Shang a cold once-over, clocking the goosebumps all over him.

After a beat, he coldly fished out paper and a brush from his sleeve, scribbled something fast, and held it up for Li Shang to see.

On it were two big, bold characters in wet ink: "Deputy."

Li Shang: "..."

Since that lord had passed away, the top spot in the Changmen Guard had been left empty.

Even though Qiu Sinian was only the deputy, there was nobody above him, so calling him "Commander" wasn't exactly wrong.

But he corrected it every single time, without fail—stubborn as a mule.

After setting that straight, Qiu Sinian turned and left to report to the emperor on everything this "Wen Renyue" had done after leaving the hall.

But after going about a hundred paces, Qiu Sinian couldn't hold it in anymore and slammed his palm against the red palace wall:

How dare someone with a face like that pull such a pathetic, gutless look?!

Meanwhile, Le Wuya, who'd scrambled into his carriage acting all scared, instantly wiped that "barely escaped with his life" look off his face.

He lifted a corner of the curtain, took in the towering palace bathed in the pale morning light, and smiled softly.

This time, he was really back.

In this life, he wouldn't waste the trip.

...

One single court session had the whole court—civil and military alike—shaking in their boots, robes drenched in sweat.

When it was over, everyone scrammed four or five times faster than normal.

Holy crap, Le Youque had returned from the dead!

Of all the officials, Chang Yuxing, the Minister of Rites, was the fastest, like he had rockets on his feet—impressive for an old guy, gone in a flash.

A bunch of eunuchs had spotted Le Wuya coming and going from the palace.

So the rumor didn't just leak outside the palace—it also slipped quietly into the deepest parts of the inner court.

...

Xiang Zhi had a slight fever today, so he used it as an excuse to ask for leave and hole up in his mother's Palace of Golden Harvest, pretending to rest while actually keeping both ears perked, listening to all the commotion outside.

While he was waiting anxiously, Xi Ying burst in, poking him with a mysterious, nervous look: "Son, son?"

Xiang Zhi pretended to stir from a light doze, rubbing his eyes and mumbling sleepily, "Mother, what is it?"

Xi Ying pressed her hands on the edge of the bed, her eyes gleaming with excitement: "Your crush is back!"

Xiang Zhi's scalp prickled and his face burned hot all at once: "Mom! What are you talking about?!"

Xi Ying, oblivious to her son's embarrassment, chattered on without a care: "I hear even the mole on his lip is identical! Your grandmother used to tell me stories about people being reborn after death when I was little—I never thought they'd actually come true!"

Xiang Zhi, growing anxious, cut in: "Mom, watch what you say!"

Only then did Xi Ying realize she'd misspoken, and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth: "Right, right, I shouldn't run my mouth. As long as my daughter-in-law sneaks back quietly, that's fine... hee hee."

In the end, she couldn't help but giggle.

Xiang Zhi muttered under his breath: "Anyway, whichever one he picks, he's still your daughter-in-law."

Consort Xi didn't quite catch that: "What?"

Xiang Zhi sulked and pulled the quilt tighter around himself: "Nothing. I'm sleepy. I want to sleep."

Consort Xi tucked the quilt around him and patted his cheek: "Oh my, still running a fever?"

Xiang Zhi just buried his whole head under the covers.

Xi Ying was puzzled but still treated him like a child, patting his shoulder through the quilt, one pat at a time, clumsily yet tenderly humming the lullaby he'd loved as a child.

...

The mood in the Palace of Azure Stream couldn't have been more different from the Palace of Golden Harvest.

Amid curling wisps of blue incense smoke, Imperial Consort Zhuang's features were veiled, like a statue of an immortal in the hall, untouched by mortal concerns.

Between her brows was a vermilion mark—not painted or dyed, but left by incense burns from past Daoist rites.

On the cold floor tiles before her knelt Xiang Zhi Jie, silently awaiting her instruction.

When Imperial Consort Zhuang spoke, her tone was flat and cool: "There are so many people in this world—why must you seek out someone who looks like him?"

"In doing so, are you being true to him, and true to yourself?"

Xiang Zhi Jie replied gently: "That is him."

Imperial Consort Zhuang didn't initially grasp his meaning: "Those who deceive themselves will ultimately be deceived by Heaven."

"Your Grace." Xiang Zhi Jie emphasized, "That is him."

In private, Imperial Consort Zhuang didn't allow him to call her mother.

"Your Grace" sufficed.

Imperial Consort Zhuang frowned slightly: "You..."

After a brief silence, she seemed to understand something.

She knew Xiang Zhi Jie's nature well.

Though he was often mad, as if possessed by a demon, in her presence he'd always spoken plainly, without lying.

She commanded: "Rise and speak."

Xiang Zhi Jie rose and took a seat as told.

Imperial Consort Zhuang closed her eyes and slowly counted the beads of her thunderwood rosary: "The one who gave me the Sichuan incense—was it this person?"

Xiang Zhi Jie: "Yes."

Imperial Consort Zhuang: "...How did he come back to life?"

Xiang Zhi Jie: "This is an art beyond the mortal world, not fit to be spoken of to those within it."

Imperial Consort Zhuang opened her eyes, like cold jade emitting mist.

She said softly: "So you're not afraid of the Emperor, daring to bring him back to the capital?"

"His Majesty has never believed in Daoist arts. The late Emperor, our grandfather, died from overindulging in elixirs, and His Majesty chose 'Ling' as his posthumous name—the meaning speaks for itself. Making him believe in resurrection is like trying to make the left hand fight the right—harder than climbing to Heaven."

Xiang Zhi Jie said: "Besides, it wasn't I who brought him here. It was his own outstanding abilities that carried him all the way into the Hall of Radiant Brilliance. Zhi Jie's part in it was merely a small helping hand."

Imperial Consort Zhuang let out a breath: "Has your heart's intent ever wavered?"

"Never once altered."

She closed her eyes again and said placidly: "I see."

After a long while, she suddenly asked: "Can your method revive those who have been dead for a long time?"

Xiang Zhi Jie raised an eyebrow: "...Zhi Jie can make inquiries. May I ask whom Your Grace wishes to revive?"

"An old acquaintance."

"Who is this old acquaintance?"

Imperial Consort Zhuang's lashes drooped slightly.

As her neck moved gently, a silver lock pendant was revealed—the only trace of mortal warmth left upon her.

"Never mind." After a long pause, she said quietly, "An old acquaintance is just an old acquaintance."

Author's note:

His Majesty ascended to the Hall of Radiant Brilliance and summoned the newly appointed Left Assistant Censor-in-Chief, Wen Ren Yue, to an audience for commendation. ... Suddenly His Majesty beheld his countenance, his hand trembled, and the imperial seal fell. ...

Yue raised the seal above his brow and proclaimed in a clear voice: "In days of old, Wei Zheng used the dropping of a brush to illustrate the acceptance of remonstrance; now the imperial seal leaps forth and I am fortunate to bear it—this is Heaven's sign that Your Majesty should contemplate the weight of your ministers." His Majesty's countenance eased somewhat, and he clapped his hands, saying: "Well said!" He then ordered the Court of Sacrificial Worship to divine the auspiciousness. The court director, Zeng Hong, trembled and could not speak. Yue further advanced: "If we open the maritime bans and benefit the people's livelihood, this indeed answers the omen of renewal." His Majesty smiled and said: "Minister Wen Ren is truly my mirror." Thereupon he bestowed fifty taels of gold.

The Historiographer records: In ancient times, Emperor Wen of Han abandoned the hunt and reflected on his faults after being startled by a horse; now His Majesty initiates new policies upon the stirring of the seal—is this not Heaven's will? Yet Wen Ren Yue's countenance bears an uncanny resemblance to Marquis Le, and the mystery therein awaits detailed examination by later generations.

—From "History of Yu: Annals of Emperor Gaozong"