Chapter 2: CH extra 1-2

Transition

Many big events had gone on in the twenty-third year of Chenghua, nearly overwhelming everyone’s eyes.

Commoners of the streets that scrambled daily for their livelihoods wouldn’t know of the thrilling turn of events that had happened in the palace, nor that they had nearly triggered the unrest of a throne change. All they did know was that Consort Wan was dead, the Emperor had fought with the officials to get her titled Empress, and then had suddenly stopped for some reason, making not the slightest peep anymore.

Who was Consort Wan? As long as the citizens of the capital didn’t live too far under a rock, they would know that she had been the Emperor’s favorite consort.

Don’t believe that it was bad for the commonfolk to inquire about what was going on in the heavily family; the farther away they were, the more they would just spread word around with gusto. Recalling the tale of the civet replacing the Crown Prince in the former Song, was it not precisely due to circulating through the citizenry that it eventually came to be written as an opera? How lamentable it was that Empress Mingsu had been the heroine of a generation, yet was a black-hearted woman jealous of others’ virtues, conspiring against a consort and switching out her baby.

However, why would average folk care enough to be interested in seeking out the actual, historical truth, overturning Empress Dowager Liu’s case? As long as the plot was pretty entertaining, they would relish in it.

The civet-Prince was just an opera tale, after all, while the love between the Emperor and Consort Wan was a story of the times. Rage would go to his head over her, and the storm he had kicked up over stubbornly wanting to make her Empress when he had just ascended was remembered by many older folks. Upon hearing that he had fallen out with major officials over posthumously titling her again, they brought that old story out.

Had this been the Hongwu or Yongle periods, no one would ever have dared to take these inner-palace secrets outside to gossip and amuse others with, but these days were different. Who was going to stop the citizens from talking in private? A few decades earlier, the Brocade Guard or Eastern Depot might have arrested people over something like this, but no one had the spare time to care about stuff like this anymore. Unless there was undeniable evidence of an intention to rebel, it was impossible to omnipotently control what people said.

Although most commoners didn’t read much, their imagination was not any lesser than those of scholar-officials. It didn’t take long for someone to associate the famous ‘demon fox night-sightings’ case from the thirteenth year of Chenghua with Consort Wan, saying that she had been the transformed demon fox, bewitching the Emperor into being captivated by her and obeying her every word. They described it so vividly and true to life, like they had seen it with their own eyes, that it made one unsure of how to react.

There were other busybodies that privately speculated as to whether the Emperor would make her Empress or not, even starting up a betting pool. Supposedly, the pool was a few hundred taels strong, some apparent nobles and officials that didn’t want to reveal their identities laying bets amongst them. It was quite a lively time.

However, inside the palace, there was a different scene that no commoner would be able to imagine.

Following the debacle in the Great Court assembly, the Emperor finally stopped bringing up the Crown Prince’s deposition, as well as titling Lady Wan. He appeared to have suddenly become a completely different person: charitable, open-minded, much more decisive, the spitting image of a wise ruler.

This was a doubtlessly odd sight, as many people had never seen him go to General Court for five successive days in a row; starting from some unknown point in time, he would typically be absent every few days, which everyone had long gotten used to.

However, older officials ought to still remember that when the Emperor had just ascended, this situation had actually been the norm. Twenty-three years ago, before the Emperor had buried his late father, Huguang and Sichuan and other areas had been successively hit with bandits, causing great harm. Local authorities, weary of the fight, had been forced to ask the Court for help. The Emperor had appointed Zhao Fu, Zhu Yong, and some others to quell the trouble in the various regions. A full three years had been spent pacifying the bandit calamity one by one, after which the citizens had settled down without further need to be afraid. This was what he had been most praised for, at the time.

Not only that, but he had shown a magnanimity different from the Late Emperor. Not only had he returned his uncle’s Emperor title to him, but when a subject of his had stood up to admit to his sin of not standing up to speak out against the Jingtai Emperor deposing him back in the day, the Emperor had only comforted him, saying, “That is all in the past. That was not something you should have been speaking about as a subject, so it was normal for you to not say anything. There is no need to be preoccupied with that.”

Unfortunately, in the middle and later periods of Chenghua, those that had previously held high hopes for this Emperor stopped seeing that energetic, self-improving presence out of him. He had been replaced by a deeply languid Son of Heaven that grew more moronic and poorly behaved by the day, thus doing many stupid things, even thinking to repeat the same mistake of deposing the Crown Prince.

His current transformation was something many found difficult to believe. Was suddenly repenting and reaching enlightenment actually a thing? How could someone that had been spending a bland life suddenly seem to gain back his former shrewd competence?

Officials that didn’t know the inside story bowed to express adoration, eager for the Emperor’s ‘abnormal’ state to hold up for even longer, but those that did know understood that he might have already reached the end of his life. As the saying went, people on the verge of death grew nicer; he was making a very last-second effort to make up for the mistakes he had made.

But the Emperor himself understood well that it was too late.

He hadn’t wanted to work before. Now that he finally wanted to work hard and bolster the country, it was too late. His body was getting frailer by the day. Cultivation was not going to save his life.

People were always like this, regretting nothing until they were at the end of their road.

The Emperor was not someone who lacked self-awareness. He knew that what had happened with Wan Tong, when all was said and done, had sprung from him. Had Wan Tong not known the position his sister had in the Emperor’s heart, he never would have done such a thing.

There was no need to bother with all of that stuff anymore, though.

Lady Wan was dead. Wan Tong was also dead. Wan An had gone turncoat on the eve. The leftover Peng Hua, Li Zisheng, and everyone else were nothing more than grass blades that went wherever the wind was blowing, not enough to influence the situation at large. All the dust had settled. The obstacles blocking the Crown Prince ahead had been cleared away at last, piece by piece, and no longer posed a threat to him.

On this year, the Emperor came to be forty-one years old, just past the age of full confidence.

He was always dreaming, lately.

He would see saw himself during his childhood, where the Emperor of those times was not the Emperor, and he was merely a deposed Crown Prince in house arrest deep within the palace, a square cun of the world all he could see each day. Instead of feeling stifled in these dreams, however, he would feel a little warm.

That was because someone was by his side: Wan Zhen’r.

She — in her late teens, early twenties — was in her most beautiful prime. He still remembered now how her white, soft skin looked to have had the luster of milk, her slightly round face sweet when she smiled.

In his dreams, he had never forgotten that, either.

And now he would never forget.

The reality was that Wan Zhen’r was dead, no longer of this world, so the Emperor knew that these were not good omens. He might die soon.

“Do you resent us?” he called out his question to the Crown Prince.

“This son has never, Father Emperor.”

“Why?” the Emperor asked. He could tell that the Crown Prince had spoken sincerely, as opposed to deliberately putting on an act before him. That interested him a bit, because he himself knew that what he had done to the Prince could truly be called excessive.

The Crown Prince thought some, then said, “Resentment will not change anything, other than make me unhappier. When she was alive, Mother hoped that I could live happily, not resenting anyone. She said that the reason I survived was by relying on many peoples’ kindness and aid. If I ignored all of these people that risk their lives to help me and instead only ever thought horrible things, I would be someone that only saw and thought of the world above my head, and nothing more.”

The Emperor was slightly moved. “Your mother… Consort Ji said that to you?”

“Yes. Mother only said to not be attached to the material and not feel sorry for myself; the rest is my own guess. If there is something amiss there, please forgive me, Father Emperor.”

Following a short silence, the Emperor sighed. “There is not. Consort Ji, she… taught you well.”

That beautiful, gentle lady-in-waiting from the deep palace seemed to gradually become more defined in the depths of his memories. The outline of the Crown Prince’s features followed hers a bit, but her thick black hair was something he didn’t have.

When the Emperor acknowledged him, the other’s hair was thinner than typical people’s. He had heard that this had been due to Consort Ji being given an abortifacient while carrying him. At the time, he had felt nothing, but now that he was seeing the Crown Prince’s calm expression, his heart inexplicably ached.

“We have let you down… as well as her.” He sighed heavily once more. “But what she said is right. What type of things one can do depends on their mind and scope of vision. If we are not around, you will be the Emperor, and must remember to be close to virtuous subjects, while keeping your distance from lowly people. Never repeat our follies: believing in crazy statements, listening to the ramblings of those demonic monks Li Zisheng and Ji Xiao, and going to great lengths to construct a Daoist monastery. Those are all my shortcomings, which you should draw lessons from.”

He was speaking like he was handing future affairs over to him.

The Crown Prince was not a saint, in the end. His feelings for his father were equally complicated. He didn’t hate him, but he still held some blame for him. However, that blame, once he heard him say things like this, bubbled with many indescribable emotions. “Father Emperor…”

“The current Court is full of toxic fumes. Wan Tong may be dead, yet there are many other remnant party members that are waiting for an opportunity to snatch so they can make a comeback. You need to distinguish between right and wrong. Do not be hoodwinked by their sweet-talking.”

“This son will remember.”

“In the Cabinet, Liu Ji is actually very strong in skills, though he does not put his heart into proper business. If you feel that he has use, use him, and if not, switch him out. Liu Jian is surly in nature, does not remember personal grudges, and carries the air of a Vizier. Xu Pu, too. Those two can be reused. And Tang Fan…”

The Emperor panted a bit. “Tang Runqing is talented in his work. It was thanks to him that a huge catastrophe was avoided. He is meticulous in thought, good at plans and judgements, and has great use. And your teacher, Li Dongyang…”

“Teacher Li is still mourning his father’s death,” the Crown Prince picked up.

“Right.” The Emperor nodded. “When his mourning period is over, he can be used. Still, he is a cunning one, so you will had to keep more of an eye on him. You can first have him go compile some historical anecdotes, then decide on whether you want to or not.”

How odd.

Before taking leave for his father’s funeral, Li Dongyang had been nothing more than an East Palace lecturer, yet the Emperor had clearly remembered his name, history, good points, and weak points. Clearly, he knew well on the inside who was good and bad, and could make his own determinations; he simply hadn’t wanted to do it before, as opposed to not knowing how to.

And it was precisely that that was causing the Crown Prince to further understand what path he was going to end up taking.

After saying so many words on end, the Emperor became a bit weak. He slowly shut his eyes, looking like he needed to rest. Seeing so, the Prince prepared to quietly withdraw.

All of a sudden, the Emperor opened his eyes again. “Prince, do not blame the Noble Consort.”

The Crown Prince was startled.

The Consort the Emperor spoke of was the recently-passed Consort Wan, of course.

Before the Prince could respond, he heard his father say, “We will not title her as Empress, but we hope that she can be at peace in death. Can you agree to that?”

Sighing on the inside, the Prince respectfully cupped his hands. “This son will fulfill your sacred decree.”

If he didn’t agree, then what? She was already dead. Would he go dig up her grave and flog her corpse?

Many people of power were fond of doing things like that, and would even have executed her entire family to feel that they had quelled enough of the hatred in their heart.

But would that bring back his mother?

Hearing his guarantee, the Emperor appeared to be relieved. Exhaling slightly, he sank into unconsciousness again.

In his dreams, perhaps there would be a girl whose smile was like a flower, who was gently stroking his hair and gently saying to him, “Don’t run too far off, else I won’t be able to find you.”

None of that was for the Crown Prince to be concerned about, though. He also quietly puffed out air, turned, and walked out of his father’s bedroom.

The darkness of that room seemed to instantly be cast behind him. Sunlight sprinkled upon his shoulders, as warm as the words his mother once said into his ear.

Outsides knew nothing of this conversation between father and son, but the Emperor’s steadily worsening weakness was known clearly to all. He was mourning himself to death over Consort Wan’s death; many had heard of this, too. Civil officials were not following him to sentimentally praise the two’s love as laudable and admirable, with everyone only feeling that he had stopped messing around at last, a real cause for celebration.

The Cabinet members, fearing that the Emperor would be too broken-hearted to do anything reliably, quickly used the opportunity of his bedrest to petition for the Crown Prince to enter the Cabinet, observe the process, and participate in deciding major things, which the Emperor agreed to.

Despite being but a teen, the young and energetic Crown Prince was evidently much more welcomed than the Emperor. Before the Cabinet came to a decision, he would never make rash comments, and it was only when it had a dispute and couldn’t come to a resolution would he voice his opinion. What was even more commendable was that no matter what time it was or what he was doing, every time something big happened that he needed to part in or make a decision on, the Cabinet would always witness him arrived in the quickest possible time.

There was no official that wouldn’t be happy with such a gentle and compassionate Crown Prince.

While everyone was busy with sorting out the Wan party’s messy operations, the twenty-third year of Chenghua’s Sheep of Labor palace exam branch was held right on schedule, and Lu Lingxi took part in it.

In spite of coming from a big, influential family with many generations of high officials, he hadn’t wanted to take the imperial exam road himself. In his heart, he yearned more for an indulgent, unbridled, itinerant life of Han and Tang’s wandering warriors, which was why he had gone to the Shaolin Monastery for learning martial arts, then begun to travel the land after becoming a County Honorate.

But all of those ideas had changed after meeting Tang Fan.

He had discovered someone that hadn’t changed due to absorbing fame and fortune after becoming an official, instead having self-restraint, therefore never becoming wanton. Tang Fan’s mind was as elevated as an immortals, so no matter whether it was the Court or the streets, and no matter whether he had gotten an idea or was hinting at one, he never made anyone feel dejected or embarrassed.

If Lu Lingxi had to described him, he would think of one portion of words: A capable man resembling jade, stepping on elevated shoes to find a quiet place, both gazing at and stopping for blue-green sky gone on forever. He expressed a different charm that could inarguably not be contained, resembling dawn’s moon, resembling autumn’s air.[1]

That had all originally been used for poet commentary, but it fit most on him.

Back when they had collaborated in cracking the Suzhou case, Tang Fan had made battle plans in his tent and broken through the doubled siege, while Lu Lingxi’s perception of Tang Fan had already risen from typical goodwill to a mix of worship, adoration, and so on.

That hadn’t been enough, though, as he had only been a County Honorate, given no chance to contact Tang Fan more. He thought to himself that even if he went to visit the Tang household, wouldn’t he just be a hanger-on? Besides, when liking someone, one needed to work hard to think of ways to help them and become an irreplaceable asset to them, as in that way, they would come to value you.

He had decided to do all he could to catch up to Tang Fan’s pace. Him being on an equal plane aside, he should at least make the other realize his importance someday, and distinguish himself from the other’s average friends.

If he could…

Although he hadn’t kept on that line of thought, such a secretive, vague notion made him feel a sweetness in his thought.

Embracing that idea, he had flipped his former vagrant life, set his mind upon prepping for the exams, and finally became a Palace Honorate, placing sixteenth in the second bracket. That rank wasn’t as eye-catching as Prime Scorer, but it was still exceptional; he had smoothly gotten into Hanlin Academy, become a name amongst it, and thereby settled down into the capital.

This made him feel excited, but also disappointed.

He was excited because he was finally getting to see Tang Fan every day. The other had never forgotten about him, of course, and was very warm to him, having even invited him over to eat several times. They seemed to have gone back to those days where they had solved a case together in Suzhou.

He was disappointed, however, because every time he managed to get alone time with Tang Fan, irrelevant jokers would always show up to disturb them. The most frequent joker was none other than Commanding Envoy Sui Zhou of the Brocade Guard, who neighbored the Tang home.

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This guy’s really annoying, Lu Lingxi thought to himself, although he wouldn’t rashly express his dissatisfaction.

Tang Fan and Sui Zhou did indeed have a deep friendship. If he excluded Sui Zhou, Tang Fan might not like it. He didn’t want to do anything that would make his Brother Tang unhappy.

As it happened, the Cabinet was much too busy as of late. Wan An, Peng Hua, and Yin Zhi were all staying at home because of what had happened with Wan Tong. Even though Tang Fan had returned, there were only four people working, and they couldn’t possibly be more busy. For that reason, they conscripted a group of Hanlins from the Academy to help out in the Cabinet.

Of course, these people couldn’t enter the Cabinet with Great Scholar statuses, nor as Cabinet members; at most, they could be viewed as Cabinet Deputies. They were to help the Cabinet members handle documents, divvy them up into different categories, assist from the sidelines, and reduce the workload of the Viziers.

Getting the chance to observe the Cabinet’s operations and processes close-up and interacting closely with Cabinet Viziers was a great task, no matter how laborious it was. Therefore, one wouldn’t get to go even if they wanted to, without passing the exams.

Lu Lingxi wanted to go, too, but he didn’t use his relationship with Tang Fan for it. If it did, then Tang Fan’s help would make him feel himself to be a failure.

With his own decent know-how, he ended up winning himself a spot.

I’m coming, Brother Tang!

The night before he was to take post in the Cabinet, Lu Lingxi thought pretty thoughts, turned over, and sunk into dreamland.

He planned to give Tang Fan a big, pleasant surprise tomorrow morning.

Lone Pining

A scholar’s dream was to place as a Palace Honorate, and an acting official’s dream was to enter the Cabinet. This group of new Hanlins was doubtlessly lucky, getting to go report to the Cabinet before they had gotten fully acquainted with the Academy’s foliage.

Being able to interact with the legendary Viziers, observe their day-to-day work procedures, and personally witness them strategize in major national events, thus saving citizens from calamity… just thinking about it could get one excited.

By nature, people always admired the strong. Perhaps some scholars admired Tao Yuanming, the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove, and other such hermits, but for those wanted to have careers as officials, the most readily imitable examples would be the Viziers currently residing in the Cabinet.

Imitating had to be a choice, though. Wan An’s sort was nothing; anyone with any sort of integrity wouldn’t want to copy him. Even so, the gent had changed sides at the last second to leak information to Liu Jian, and the latter had thankfully been careful enough to run off and tell Tang Fan. Being incomparably prudent, Tang Fan had refused to let go of any hints, else they wouldn’t have been able to find the fake Crown Prince and expose Wan Tong on the scene. Two theories were abound about what the situation was now.

Thus, after the matter had concluded, Wan An had been sent home by the Emperor.

It was unclear what the Emperor was thinking. Wan An’s position as Head Vizier was not stripped of him, making him Head Vizier in name, while the actual position was being represented by Liu Ji. That Liu Cottonflower was unparalleled — ever since he had entered the Cabinet in the eleventh year of Chenghua, which was full twelve years at this point, he had been denounced basically every other day, yet was as stable as Mount Tai, stubbornly never taking the initiative to ask for resignation. In fact, Wan An was at home, yet he was conversely making steps towards the peak of enlightenment. The muddying of officialdom reaching this extent was just something people would have to accept.

And yet, that didn’t mean that Liu Ji was a model of conduct to look up to. In the eyes of the Lu Lingxi and the new Hanlins, the most ideal Vizier was naturally as righteous and worried for the public as Liu Jian and as easy-going as Xu Pu, thus combining both their good points, while also not being as liable to be as impulsive as Liu Jiang, or as occasionally too soft as Xu Pu: Tang Fan.

Those three were the idols that the Hanlins wanted to get into contact with and closer to. Lu Lingxi included amongst them, of course.

The Cabinet had lost three people at once, then Tang Fan had re-entered it. The remaining four Viziers could finally receive the treatment of getting their own workspaces, an undoubted extra benefit from overturning the Wan party.

The Hanlins allocated to the Cabinet totaled four, each getting assigned to one Vizier to help them out. Lu Lingxi had been assigned to Xu Pu, but secretly swapped with someone else to be with Tang Fan. However, when he hurried over bright and early in the morning, wanting to surprise Tang Fan, a big basin of cold water was instead dumped on his head.

Tang Fan wasn’t there.

He waited for a long time, then had to go ask the people-pleasing Xu Pu in the neighboring room.

“You’re talking about Runqing?” Xu Pu asked, having an epiphany. “He took leave today.”

Lu Lingxi was taken aback.

Xu Pu thought that he was worried he would have nothing to do, considerately saying, “How about you work alongside Liu Meng here, and sort out those official dossiers? Runqing should be here tomorrow for duty.”

Were he to refuse, it would look like he couldn’t tell right from wrong. Lu Lingxi couldn’t brush off Xu Pu’s goodwill, but he had to worry. “Do you know why Sir Tang requested leave, Sir Xu?”

“It must be illness. His health has always been good, and he rarely takes time off.”

Hearing that just made Lu Lingxi more worried. It was good that he was pretty skilled, so even if he was absent-minded, he got a good amount of work done in one day, both he and Liu Meng praised for it by Xu Pu.

Of course, given Lu Lingxi’s understanding, Xu Pu likely just didn’t want to knock them down, because everyone knew that Sir ‘People-Pleaser’ Xu never said anything bad about anyone.

Upon leaving the palace at night, Lu Lingxi went to a pastry shop to buy half a catty each of rose cakes and osmanthus cakes, then went to the Tang home. A maid was naturally the one to open the door for him.

The Tang home had three maids total, all responsible for cooking meals and cleaning the residence, not the type to be personal attendants. He also noticed that they all had one very remarkable trait: they had extremely average looks, without the least bit of distinguishing features at all. One was even big and tall, nearly able to be mistaken for a man when seen from the back.

This was… really too injurious to the eyes.

Back when he had been at home, the serving maids, if not as beautiful as immortals, had at least been fine-featured. Looking at these Tang ones… every time he looked at them, he quietly choked down a mouthful of blood.

He had heard that the Tangs were a generational family of scholars, though the family later declined. Reasonably speaking, Brother Tang’s tastes shouldn’t be so weird.

Lu Lingxi thought and thought, yet couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t his place to criticize someone else’s business, though. He also didn’t wish for any bit of his actions to draw Tang Fan’s unhappiness; he prudently protected this newborn feeling, fearing that any inadvertent action would destroy it.

Today was a little different. Once the Tang home’s door opened, Lu Lingxi instantly felt like light was pouring into his eyes.

A national beauty, in the more, intoxicates; A divine fragrance, at night, dyes.

If not seen on the peak of Many Jades Mountain, she would only be met in a jade tower beneath the moonlight.

Every single poetry verse that could be used to describe the beauty in front of him crashed into his mind like a wave, but even the most talented of poets fell somewhat short. A beauty like this ought to be difficult to depict or draw. Regardless of whether it was written word or a portrait, it was not as startling as seeing the real live person.

Unfortunately, though, he recognized this beauty. Not only did he do that, but he was very familiar with her.

“Xiao Wu?” Lu Lingxi suffered a great shock, nearly jumped. “Why are you here?!”

She gave a skin-deep smile. “Why can’t I be here? I helped you all with that big Suzhou case, too. Don’t you feel a bit of joy at seeing your old friend?”

Had this been some time before, seeing a beauty like this really might have made his heart race; in other words, few would be unmoved by people as gorgeous as Xiao Wu.

But, his mind instead immediately went on the alert. “When did Brother Tang and you get this close?”

Xiao Wu turned to allow him inside, saying, “I was passing by the capital, and came to visit Sir Tang while I was at it. Why? You can come here, but I can’t?”

The beauty was beautiful, but she had thorns. He had also learned of her backstory back in Suzhou already; aside from involuntarily getting charmed by suddenly catching sight of that face, he had not a single fanciful daydream.

He was even unconsciously comparing her to Tang Fan, abruptly feeling that comparing them would be to desecrate Tang Fan…

Without realizing it, he had contracted a one-sided lovesickness. In his eyes, there was nothing bad about Tang Fan.

Lu Lingxi had no clue that Xiao Wu had been absorbed into the Brocade Guard. She had been garrisoned in the South before this, but due to a recent mission, she’d had to return to the capital to report to the Northern Bastion Office, which was why she showed up here. She wasn’t staying here, either, she was only visiting out of courtesy and about to say her goodbyes. Still, she was happy to see Lu Lingxi’s sullen, I-want-to-ask-but-won’t look, and wasn’t going to explain too much to him, of course.

She brought him to the door of Tang Fan’s bedroom. “You can go in by yourself.”

With that, she didn’t wait for him to ask anything, turning right around and leaving, her figure swaying, giving off all sorts of flirty overtones.

Lu Lingxi watched her leave, not appreciating her carefreeness. He took in a deep breath. He had wanted to knock, but feared disturbing Tang Fan’s sleep. After thinking a bit, he just quietly pushed the door open, lightened his steps, and walked into the room.

Against expectations, Tang Fan wasn’t sleeping, nor did he detect Lu Lingxi’s arrival. He was still laying on his stomach in bed, a stack of papers below him, as if he was writing something.

Seeing him write furiously, not forgetting to handle work even while sick in bed, Lu Lingxi immediately felt a deep respect for him. Out of fear of ruining Tang Fan’s line of thought, he dared not even breathe loudly, merely standing there and watching for a long time. This went until his feet sort of ached, where he had to move.

By coincidence, Tang Fan set down his brush, intending to rub his neck, and that lift of the head made his notice Lu Lingxi.

However, his first reaction was not to greet him, but to seem to subconsciously want to cover up what he had been writing.

As soon as he reached out his hand, he felt that that made things too obvious, and was forced to awkwardly retract his hand, smiling uncomfortably at Lu Lingxi. “You came? Sit, sit!”

Seeing his movements, Lu Lingxi became rather curious. “Brother Tang, what are you doing?”

Tang Fan coughed lightly. “Nothing. I’m just casually writing.”

He propped himself up on his elbows in a desire to turn over. Apparently, he didn’t control his own strength properly, as his brows swiftly knit into a ball.

Lu Lingxi quickly stepped up to help him. “What’s wrong? What did the doctor say?”

“The doctor said…” Tang Fan coughed emptily. “…that my waist is sprained.”

The other was astonished. “It’s serious enough that you can’t even get out of bed?”

Tang Fan chuckled. “It actually isn’t, it’s just that the Cabinet has been hectic recently. Every night, I was getting home at almost midnight, which exhausted me a bit. I took this chance to rest for a day.”

Remembering the surprise he had prepared to give him, Lu Lingxi said with a smile, “You won’t be exhausted anymore!”

Tang Fan raised a brow. “Hm? Why do you say that?”

“Hanlin Academy recently chose four people to help the Solons, I’m one of them, and I happened to be assigned to you, Brother Tang. I’ll have to bother you with giving me more pointers, but if your wish is my command!”

Tang Fan was a little surprised, immediately smiling in praise and saying, “That’s good.” He looked to be pretty happy.

He had known that Lu Lingxi would make something of himself sooner or later. It was merely that, when he had first met him, the other’s youthful spirit had not yet dispersed, he had an unconcealed edge to his actions, and he’d been careless by nature, none of which was suitable for a posted career. After testing into being a Palace Honorate, he had indeed dialed himself in a lot.

Lu Lingxi somewhat obsessively stared at the other’s smile. A short moment later, he heard Tang Fan say “What did you bring?”, then realized that he was behaving rudely, quickly setting his paper bag on the table. “These are rose and osmanthus cakes. I heard that you like sweets… huh?”

While he was talking, he spotting the draft that Tang Fan had set to the side out of the corner of his eye. With just a few words taken in, his attention was immediately drawn to it.

“This is… the last script of Records of the Warring States?” Seeing a few familiar names, Lu Lingxi was kind of in disbelief. “Are… are you the author?!”

Tang Fan touched his nose, a little embarrassed-looking as he neither confirmed nor denied this. There was no need for him to admit it, as just from looking at his expression alone, Lu Lingxi already knew the answer.

It was a much too shocking answer, though.

Record of the Warring States was a popular new release in bookstores, and a best-seller novel. The plot had twists and turns, drawing one in, with romance and story alike, making it very popular. All of those pedantic scholars would always turn up their noses, but that did nothing to prevent many people from buying it and bringing it home for a read. Even the stories told in teahouses lately were majorly from the Record.

Because it was being published in volumes, many that had read the first volume were eagerly wishing to read the latter half of the story. There were therefore many follow-ups cropping up, imitating the writing style of the Record’s author, Mr. San Qing.

A lot of people were curious about the author. In general, those that wrote books were scholars in dire straits, forced to rely on literary remuneration for living expenses due to financial hardship. Lu Lingxi has already heard before that some scholar-officials secretly wrote under pen names, but the identities of those people would never come to light, so no one knew if that was true or false.

And yet, a living example was now in front of him.

A Cabinet Solon, Vizier for the Court, was writing novels during his time off — and his writing was very successful. To tell the truth, even Lu Lingxi hadn’t been able to put the book down in his spare time. The connection between the two entities was really hard to imagine.

The author of the story I like / the legendary scholar in dire straits / Mr. San Qing = Great Scholar of the East Pavilion and Minister of Justice, Tang Fan?

Lu Lingxi felt himself to be a bit bewildered.

The translator says: Guess who’s back, back again.

[1] This is a quote from Sikong Tu, a Tang poet-critic. He’s very obscure, unfortunately.

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