Hearing his father’s question, Young Master Qin put down his book and smiled.
“Nowhere in particular to go, so I thought I’d stop by and see if there’s any interesting gossip to hear,” he said.
“Are you here to hear the gossip from my place, or from the Council of State?” Qin An asked.
“I can’t hide anything from you, Father,” Young Master Qin replied with a smile. “Something happened recently with Master Zhou. I’m just helping Zhou Liu gather some information.”
Qin An knew that his son was on good terms with Master Zhou’s son. Although he had always believed in not interfering in the affairs of the younger generation, he still paid some attention.
“I’ve heard about it. Someone accused him of mishandling the sentencing in the Bo-zhou military treasury case years ago, so he’s been demoted pending investigation,” he said. “I’ve reviewed the case—his ruling was indeed improper. Punishment is inevitable.”
Young Master Qin nodded.
“Yes, I understand, Father,” he said, picking up his walking stick and rising. “Then I’ll be on my way.”
This son of his had always been sensible—he never spoke about things he shouldn’t.
Qin An nodded.
“Still, the offense isn’t too serious. Right now the western rebels are unstable, suffering defeat after defeat, and His Majesty is in a foul mood. After some time, once tempers cool, it will be easier to make arrangements again,” he added, offering a bit of comfort to his son.
Young Master Qin indeed looked pleased and nodded to thank his father again.
“Oh, by the way, Father,” he said as he reached the doorway, as if something had just occurred to him, turning back to ask, “Is it true the Ministry of Personnel is selecting a new Vice Minister?”
Qin An frowned slightly.
The Historiography Bureau where he worked was close to the Imperial Archives and Council of State, so the clerks under him were among the best-informed, second only to those in the Council itself.
It was likely his son had overheard the clerks murmuring and passing around some insider gossip.
“Chen Shao is being considered for promotion to Left or Right Chancellor of the Council of State. If that happens, the Vice Minister of Personnel post will be vacant. It’s possible, but nothing is decided yet,” Qin An said casually.
“That’s quite the demanding post,” Young Master Qin said offhandedly as well. He made no further comment and took his leave.
Just as Young Master Qin stepped out, Madam Qin arrived.
“Shi’san came to plead with you?” she asked directly.
Qin An smiled and shook his head.
“Your son isn’t as blunt as you,” he said with a laugh.
Madam Qin also chuckled.
“His little schemes always go in circles. Don’t bother with them,” she said. “Still, it’s rare for him to have a close friend. As for the Zhou family’s situation, keep an eye on it if you can—say a word if there’s a chance.”
“But now really isn’t the time to say anything. The more that’s said, the worse it gets—just adding fuel to the fire. The Censorate is already sharpening their knives,” Qin An replied, shaking his head again. “It’s just his bad luck—why did this old case have to resurface at this moment?”
“It won’t get too serious, will it?” Madam Qin asked, a little surprised. She hadn’t expected things to be quite so severe.
“We’ll have to see how his luck holds,” Qin An said.
So it had come to leaving things to fate. A hint of worry appeared on Madam Qin’s usually gentle, smiling face.
“No wonder Shi’san has been rushing about these past few days. He never used to go to those kinds of places,” she said.
Those kinds of places? What kinds?
Qin An asked.
“I didn’t ask in detail—seemed like places such as the magistrate,” Madam Qin replied casually.
Trying to pull strings behind the scenes… Qin An shook his head. But their son had always been both prudent and clever—there was no need to worry.
The couple then let the matter drop and moved on to more ordinary household topics.
Just as the morning light began to brighten, Secretariat Editor Liu suddenly reached out and gave Dou Qi’s arm a hard slap.
Dou Qi let out a miserable scream.
“Not bad, not bad.”
Secretariat Editor Liu nodded, a hint of satisfaction on his face as he withdrew his hand and straightened up.
“If it hurts, it means you’re still okay.”
“Grandfather, this is what you call ‘okay’? I’m miserable!” Dou Qi said with grievance, then gritted his teeth bitterly again. “Did those guys in the jail get beaten to death yet?”
“They got quite the beating yesterday—somehow those sturdy bodies managed to take it…” the manager quickly chimed in.
“They survived a beating from the execution sticks in the magistrate prison?” Secretariat Editor Liu interrupted, frowning slightly.
“Your Excellency might not know—they’re military men, all with strong martial training. Even while running a food stall at Tai Ping Residence, they kept up their physical training every day. They’re not people ordinary folks can compare to,” the manager explained. “But no need to worry—after all, they’re down now. It’s easy to fall, hard to get back up again…”
Secretariat Editor Liu looked reassured and gave a small nod.
“…They’ll last at most another couple of days,” the manager added gleefully, turning back to Dou Qi.
“If they die that quickly, wouldn’t that be a waste?” Secretariat Editor Liu interrupted again.
Dou Qi and the manager were both stunned.
“Grandfather, you mean to keep them alive?” Dou Qi exclaimed, utterly incredulous. “What’s the point of keeping those bastards around? Dead is dead—good riddance!”
“Dead is dead. It’ll happen sooner or later, so what’s the rush?” Secretariat Editor Liu cut him off. “All you care about is a moment’s satisfaction—but aside from that thrill, what else do you gain?”
Aside from that thrill… what else?
Dou Qi stared, confused.
Of course there were real, tangible benefits—this idiot just didn’t get it.
Secretariat Editor Liu walked into the main hall right on time. As expected, he was once again the earliest to arrive—a habit he had kept for decades without fail.
By the time daylight fully broke, the other officials and clerks arrived one after another. Though his official duties as a Section Head in the Ministry of Personnel were not especially heavy, Secretariat Editor Liu, unlike many of his colleagues who idled and cut corners, diligently reviewed the documents he had handled the previous day and seriously inquired about the matters to be addressed that day.
He remained busy until noon before taking a short break.
Secretariat Editor Liu neither returned home nor, like many other officials and clerks, went out to eat at a restaurant or roadside inn. Instead, he took out a small food box he had brought with him, laid out a bowl of rice and a bowl of plain vegetables, and brewed a pot of tea using the hall’s common supply. That was his lunch—simple and resolved.
Just as he was finishing his meal, he heard low murmurs and laughter from outside—the voices of a group of young clerks returning from lunch together, chatting and joking as they walked. From the way their tones rose and fell, it was clear they were trading bits of gossip.
Such things were commonplace in the Secretariat and Council of State.
Secretariat Editor Liu had always kept himself apart from such idle talk and rumors. He continued eating slowly—until one particular sentence drifted in and caught his ear.
“…It’s already settled—Minister Chen is definitely being appointed as Chancellor of the Secretariat and Chancellery. So with that position vacated, who do you think might be next?”
“…Among us, the most senior would be Secretariat Editor Liu…”
Vice Minister of Personnel!
Everyone had known that Chen Shao wouldn’t remain at the Ministry of Personnel for long, but no one expected him to leave this soon. Still, the Emperor’s health had been failing for some time, and with the Crown Prince’s position still unsettled, the Emperor’s thoughts were growing ever harder to predict.
But if this rumor was true, then it was good news—a stroke of fortune for others, yes, but for him as well.
Step by step… was he finally drawing closer to his goal?
A storm surged within Secretariat Editor Liu’s heart. For a moment, he felt as if his heartbeat had stopped, his breath caught in his chest. Instinctively, he reached up and pressed his hand against it.
“Sir?” the attendant clerk beside him quickly asked with concern.
The sound of his own heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears. Secretariat Editor Liu slowly let out a breath and gave the clerk a faint smile.
“Go and give them a gentle warning. We’re very close to the Council of State here—wouldn’t be good if the senior ministers saw things getting rowdy,” he said kindly.
Secretariat Editor Liu had always been cautious, upright, and conflict-averse, so saying something like this was no surprise. The clerk responded with a cheerful “Yes, sir!” and went out.
The noise outside quickly faded, and everything returned to silence.
Secretariat Editor Liu kept his head down and continued eating. His expression remained calm, but inside, waves were surging.
That, too, was his habit—whether sorrow, anger, joy, or worry, he always buried it deep within, never showing it outwardly. After so many years, he had become confident in his ability to stay composed.
But today felt different. He couldn’t shake the sense that his heartbeat was just a little too fast.
And after all, this was merely idle chatter among clerks. Dozens, even hundreds, of rumors circulated through the Council of State every day—how could they all be true?
Besides, he was him, wasn’t he? The cautious, dutiful man he’d always been. How could one stray remark shake him like this?
Secretariat Editor Liu couldn’t help but take a deep breath.
Vice Minister of Personnel—could it really be arriving earlier than expected?
What a joyous prospect. If he could cross that threshold, it would mark a true turning point.
Might there one day be a Liu among the policy-makers of the Secretariat?
Chopsticks still in hand, Secretariat Editor Liu sat frozen for a moment, lost in thought.
The beaded curtain rustled as the attendant clerk walked in.
Secretariat Editor Liu put down his chopsticks and lifted his tea. His heartbeat had calmed, and a faint, lingering fragrance wafted into his nose.
“Hmm, what a lovely scent,” he couldn’t help but say, sniffing deeply as he looked down at the tea bowl in front of him.
“We just switched to a new batch of tea from Nan-zhou. How does it taste, sir?” the clerk asked with a cheerful smile upon hearing his remark.
Ah, so it was the aroma of the tea. Secretariat Editor Liu nodded, the tension easing from his face.
“Excellent tea, excellent tea,” he said, raising the bowl and taking a sip.
