On the fifteenth of October, the day of the full moon, there was a grand court assembly. Xie Xuanying rose early in the morning, washed up, and changed into his official robes for court.
After the beginning of winter, people no longer wore silk gauze and switched to ramie garments. Therefore, today’s official attire was a crimson round-collared robe of ramie silk, without rank badges. It did not look as splendid as regular court dress, yet it made his countenance appear even more striking.
Of course, putting on official robes was cumbersome. In the morning, there was both washing up and hair combing to do, and the two maids, Mei Yun and Mei Rui, simply could not manage it all, so they called Zhu Li over to help.
Compared to the inappropriate gold hairpin she had worn before, Zhu Li was much plainer today: a white jacket, a blue sleeveless overgarment, and a silver hairpin in her hair – simple and proper.
The court assembly started early. Xie Xuanying had risen at the beginning of the hour of Yin (3-5AM), feeling very sleepy, and could not be bothered to fuss over her, pretending not to notice.
The maids busied themselves for nearly half an hour before finally finishing dressing him. Zhu Xiang brought tea and snacks: “Young Master, take something to tide you over.”
He ate lamb buns and half a bowl of milk, then hurried out the door.
At this time, the sky was still dark.
After waiting briefly at the entrance, the Marquis of Jinghai and Second Young Master Xie came out together. Between father and sons, brothers, they exchanged only the briefest of gestures, then all mounted their horses and set off.
Along the way, more and more officials merged into the great commute, all yielding according to rank. Xie Xuanying followed his father and did not need to yield to others, so they soon arrived at the palace gate.
Clock in for work – oh no, for court.
After a hundred years of evolution, the court assemblies of the Xia dynasty had become quite humane. Apart from the grand assemblies on the winter solstice, New Year’s Day, and the emperor’s birthday each year, there were only grand assemblies twice a month, on the first and fifteenth.
That is, on the first and fifteenth days of each month, all officials in the capital, from the highest-ranking dukes of the realm to minor seventh-rank officials, had to enter the palace and attend the morning court.
Basically, rise at three, arrive by five, wait for the sun to come up, and when the court assembly began, everyone would take their places and sit in on the emperor’s meeting.
This was much like a company’s large regular meeting, where all that was said was useless talk. The contents of the memorials submitted by the court officials had actually long since had their answers prepared; the emperor would read a couple of lines, and what was petitioned would never be anything confidential or important.
Once the procedure was finished, everyone could adjourn and go back to work.
In October, the weather in the capital was already very cold.
The sun had just peeked out, and only a small area east of the palace was lit and relatively warm. Everywhere else was in shade, and where the light could not reach there was also wind. Low-ranking officials inevitably had to wear an extra layer or two to keep from freezing.
Xie Xuanying had good luck – today he was standing in the sunlight.
Because he had been promoted.
Among the twenty-two close-army guards, the Palace Guard, which was specifically responsible for guarding the palace precincts, had under its command five guards: Left, Right, Front, Rear, and Center. Each guard had five hundred men at full strength. In terms of the position commanding the troops, it was equivalent to a deputy chiliarch of the upper fifth rank.
But the emperor’s personal guards had always been low in rank yet high in power. What the Palace Guard was responsible for was nothing other than the safety and security of the imperial palace. They were the trusted among the trusted. Even the chief grand secretary of the cabinet had to pass through the Palace Guard’s security check when entering or leaving.
After returning this time, the current emperor, on the grounds that Xie Xuanying had rendered meritorious service in suppressing bandits, promoted him one rank, making him deputy garrison commander of the Palace Guard, rising directly to the upper fourth rank. His honorary rank also rose accordingly, becoming Cavalry Commandant – the deputy garrison commander was a functional office, that is, an actual assignment, while the honorary rank was equivalent to a military rank grade.
Standing just a few steps ahead of him was Second Young Master Xie.
The Marquis of Jinghai had long since sought an assignment for him; he was currently a deputy commander, of the upper fourth rank.
The two brothers were five years apart.
However, if one looked further back, one could see old predecessors old enough to be their fathers or grandfathers, still minor seventh-rank officials, shivering in the cold wind, their white beards blowing in the breeze.
Xie Xuanying stood still, and the winter sunlight fell upon him, making the red ramie-silk robe all the more vivid.
Warmed by the sunlight, he could not help raising his head and gazing slightly upward.
A harmonious warm halo, pearl radiance and jade luster reflecting one another.
Pity the people beside him – for no reason at all they looked seven or eight inches shorter, and countless times more haggard. But they had no leisure to grieve over such things; they did not even realize it at all.
The instant Xie Xuanying raised his head, the breathing of everyone around him suddenly stopped.
The officials who had just been muttering about how cold it was today, how they had not yet eaten breakfast, and what time the sun had come out all fell silent in unison, holding their breath, staring fixedly at where he stood.
After a long while, someone spoke the plain truth. “At the monthly court assemblies, almost no one is absent – all because of Young Master Xie.”
Skipping work was quite normal. The emperor did not often attend such grand court assemblies, so it was entirely reasonable for the officials below to slack off. Why did they come through wind and rain without fail? Was it not simply to see a great beauty?
The person beside him coughed heavily. “You talk too much.”
The commotion reached the very front.
Minister Wang glanced over, gripped his tablet, dusted his sleeves, and said in flattery, “Marquis Xie, after half a year without seeing him, San-lang’s bearing is even more captivating.”
The Marquis of Jinghai merely smiled and said nothing.
“Fine young men are common, but a Young Master Xie is seen once in a hundred years,” Minister Wang said slowly. “Brother Xu, if I were you, I fear my guts would be green with regret.”
Minister Xu smiled bitterly, shook his head, and said not a word.
Minister Wang then said to the Marquis of Jinghai with genuine sincerity, “Marquis, I truly adore San-lang beyond measure. It just so happens I have many granddaughters. So long as he is willing to become my grandson-in-law, everything can be discussed.”
He chuckled and winked at the Marquis of Jinghai.
The Marquis of Jinghai said helplessly, “You are too kind.”
In his youth, Minister Wang had been a famous talented scholar. In his early twenties, he passed the imperial examination as a jinshi, entered the Hanlin Academy, and served as a compiler. He was a renowned poet of the Great Xia and also… a face-connoisseur.
He once wrote a seven-character quatrain, with the line “Beyond the curtain, peach and apricot blossoms vie for spring’s fragrance; throughout the whole city, all eyes are on Xie San-lang.” This directly caused the palace gate area to be jammed with traffic on the day peach and apricot blossoms bloomed in spring, almost alarming His Majesty.
There was an even more formidable ci poem of his – “In the lonely empty courtyard, heartbroken and yearning, I resent Young Master Xie.” At first, it was mistaken for a work by his granddaughter.
This forced his granddaughter, the famous talented woman of the capital, Wang San-niang, to come forward and refute the rumor, saying that Minister Wang himself had written it, and that the second half contained the line “In the season of a hundred flowers, I hope next year to have him as my son-in-law.”
When asked about it, Minister Wang was not at all reticent to admit that he had long wanted to form a marriage alliance with the Xie family, but his granddaughters all looked like him – brimming with talent but plain in appearance – so he was too embarrassed to propose.
After the news of the engagement with the Xu family came out, he cursed countless times. “Xu Bamian counts for nothing – he just has a good granddaughter. Bah!”
The Marquis of Jinghai was truly helpless against such a person.
Grand Secretary Li cleared his throat, signaling everyone.
The great hall, noisy just moments before, immediately fell silent.
A eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial came over and said that His Majesty felt slightly unwell and would not be coming.
With Grand Secretary Li at their head, they paid their respects to the empty dragon throne.
After the ceremony, the assembly dispersed.
Officials great and small all showed expressions of relief, preparing to eat breakfast if they were eating breakfast, go to work if they were going to work, and going home to catch up on sleep was not out of the question either.
Xie Xuanying was just about to leave when an inner envoy in a green round-collared robe came over and said, “Young Master Xie, His Majesty summons you.”
He paused in his steps, nodded to Second Young Master Xie, who was preparing to leave, then turned and followed the inner envoy into the palace.
This imperial city was laid out as follows: ordinary court assemblies were held at the Huangji Hall in the outer gate area, where the plaza was relatively large and could accommodate all the officials of the capital, great and small. When the emperor handled government affairs on a daily basis, however, it was in the Guangming Hall further back.
Diagonally behind the Guangming Hall was the Qianyang Palace, which was also the innermost part of the entire outer court. It was the emperor’s residence, and further back was the inner palace, where outside men were basically not permitted to step even half a pace.
The inner envoy led him directly to a side hall of the Qianyang Palace, bowed slightly, and said, “Young Master Xie, please sit for a moment.”
“No need.” Xie Xuanying stopped in his tracks and simply stood beneath the covered corridor. “I will wait here.”
The inner envoy said nothing more, only, “The wind is strong today. I will pour a pot of hot tea for you.”
He respectfully withdrew.
Xie Xuanying turned his head toward the room and said, “Come out.”
“Cousin.” Princess Rong’an timidly peeked out from behind a large crimson pillar. “I thought you would never see me again.”
Xie Xuanying said, “You really were too reckless.”
Princess Rong’an lowered her head and said nothing.
Xie Xuanying was silent as well.
The sun had already completely leaped above the horizon, and the cold wind had also subsided.
Princess Rong’an bit her lip. “I – I didn’t mean to… Please don’t blame me, all right?”
“I already know I was wrong.” Her eyes were red-rimmed. “If – if you… if you really want to marry the Xu family’s young lady, I – I will go apologize to her and ask her to forgive me. Would that be all right?”
Xie Xuanying was rather surprised, not knowing how she had suddenly come around.
“My horoscope is incompatible with Miss Xu’s, and this matter has ended here,” he said. “Rong’an, I do not blame you. It is only that in the future you must not jest with your own body again.”
Princess Rong’an nodded, her tears turning to smiles.
“Cousin.” Her gaze flickered. “Was it fun going to Jiangnan? Tell me about it.”
“It was just so-so.” They had both grown up now; how could Xie Xuanying possibly speak with her at great length? He only seized the chance to admonish her. “You are not young anymore. You must listen to His Majesty and not be willful and reckless again.”
Princess Rong’an nodded repeatedly.
She was so obedient that Xie Xuanying had nothing more to say. “It is cold and windy. Hurry back.”
Princess Rong’an’s tears immediately fell.
But she held back her sobs, letting the teardrops roll down her cheeks, and only after a long while quietly wiped them away. “Mm.” She forced a smile. “I have delayed you from your work.”
In Xie Xuanying’s eyes as he looked at her, a trace of sorrow showed.
It was not only for her, but also for himself. The emperor doted on Rong’an far more than his father cherished him, and yet even she could not have her heart’s desire fulfilled. To what extent, then, could he achieve what he wanted?
“Take care.” Princess Rong’an curtsied slightly, could no longer bear to stay, turned, and quickly walked away, disappearing in an instant behind the Qianyang Palace.
In the Qianyang Hall, behind the window, the emperor in informal blue robes nodded slightly. “Palace Matron Hong, it seems that these days you have indeed spent quite a bit of effort.”
The woman standing in attendance at his side was about forty years old, with a dignified face and elegant bearing. She said respectfully, “The princess is pure and good-hearted. It was only a momentary slip of the tongue, and she had long since felt remorse. I merely explained the principles clearly to her and would not dare claim credit.”
“If I say you have merit, then you have merit.” The emperor waved his hand. “As for what you memorialized earlier, I have thought it over repeatedly. Indeed, in recent years the palace rules have grown lax and people’s hearts restless. It is time to rectify matters somewhat.”
Palace Matron Hong said, “Your Majesty, I still say the same thing: the framework of the Six Bureaus and One Directorate still exists, but nowadays the female officials are mostly promoted from palace maids. Even if they can read and write, how can they be treated as teachers?”
In the early days of the founding of the Xia dynasty, female officials all came from scholarly families. They were well-read and reasonable, understood the great principles of righteousness, and it was they who were responsible for instructing the palace candidates, with full confidence and authority.
But later, as the power of the eunuchs grew, the authority and responsibilities of the female officials were whittled away, and they gradually degenerated into servants. Nowadays female officials were mostly promoted from palace maids and had no confidence at all before the consorts and concubines, so teaching moral character amounted to empty words.
“To rectify the palace rules and purify the inner palace, the Six Bureaus and One Directorate must select new talents and choose those who are well-read and reasonable. Only thus can there be internal governance.”
Palace Matron Hong offered her advice earnestly.
The emperor was in fact already somewhat moved. So far he had no sons, and for this reason had taken many consorts and concubines, but the more people there were, the more disputes followed. Everyone wanted to come out on top, and jealousy and rivalry were commonplace.
He had the intention to set things in order, but first, the position of empress was vacant, and the noble consort was, after all, a notch below; second, heavily employing eunuchs would leave endless trouble and would easily provoke resistance from the court officials.
Perhaps it was time to revive the Six Bureaus and One Directorate.
The emperor nodded. “Write a memorial detailing the candidates. But there is one point: the palace candidates were selected only last year, so this time do not mobilize great numbers. Just choose from within the capital region.”
Palace Matron Hong bowed deeply. “I respectfully obey Your Majesty’s will.”
