Even the longest palace corridor must end somewhere.
Night had deepened, and the chill of autumn hung in the air.
Yu Wang said, “I’ll see you home.”
Su Yan declined politely. “My carriage is just outside Donghua Gate, Your Highness need not trouble yourself.”
Yu Wang took the lantern from Su Yan’s hand and said, “Then you can see me home instead. After all, your residence and my palace are in the same ward, it’s on your way.”
Su Yan couldn’t find another excuse to refuse. Besides, Yu Wang had helped him greatly tonight by escorting him into the palace, so he invited the Wangye into his carriage.
They rode in silence. When the carriage reached the gate of Yu Wang’s mansion in Chengqing Ward, he alighted but turned back with a parting warning: “You should be careful of my royal mother.”
Su Yan blinked. “…What?”
Yu Wang said, “Didn’t I go to Cining Palace this morning? I saw a palace maid throwing away a basket of beheaded flowers.”
“Beheaded… flowers?”
Yu Wang raised his hand like a pair of scissors and made a snipping motion at Su Yan’s neck. “My mother loves flower arranging. But when she’s agitated or angry, she can’t help cutting off the stems of her arrangements. The stronger her killing intent, the higher she cuts. That’s why they’re called beheaded flowers.”
He paused, then added in a tone of grim amusement, “Once, after quarreling with my imperial brother, she strangled her favorite bird-of-paradise to death, and sent the corpse to him as a gift.”
Su Yan’s insides twisted at the image; he instinctively shrank his neck, feeling a chill creep down his spine.
Yu Wang took the opportunity to pull Su Yan close, guiding him into his embrace. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. But it would be best if you stayed at my residence for a while, to avoid my royal mother’s temper. Let me persuade her slowly.”
Su Yan, cautious about his life, still felt it very inappropriate to move into the Wangye’s mansion, what if people misunderstood and thought he was the Wangye’s new “favorite”? Although the Wangye claimed he had been cultivating self-restraint for over half a year, there was still his past record. So Su Yan pushed away Yu Wang’s hand and shook his head. “I am not a retainer of your household, Your Highness. Moving in recklessly would invite needless gossip, it is truly improper.”
Yu Wang disliked this deliberately distant tone. Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Then I can stay at your residence for a while, didn’t Shen Qi, under the pretext of doing a favor, transfer that house I bought to you and even had it renovated? It’s spacious enough for many.”
Su Yan understood that Yu Wang was concerned for his safety, fearing that the Empress Dowager might act against him, and was using this seemingly persistent approach to protect him. He was touched but had to refuse. “I appreciate your care, Your Highness, but it’s really unnecessary. I will likely depart soon, to Nanjing.”
“Nanjing?” The smile on Yu Wang’s face slowly vanished. “You’re really so reluctant to leave little Zhu Helin?” He sneered at the corner of his mouth. “Ha, this is a new decree for tonight? Even after the Spring Palace incident, you can still mingle with the Crown Prince? Looks like my imperial brother really is… magnanimous.”
The last words dripped with sarcasm. Su Yan didn’t like the prince mocking the emperor, but he couldn’t scold or slap him as before. He could only sigh helplessly. “Can you… be nicer to your older brother?”
You got it backward, Yu Wang thought, shouldn’t it be whether my older brother can treat me better? Considering Su Yan’s feelings, he didn’t say it aloud. With a serious expression he said, “Fine, go then! But remember, don’t let that brat get you into any trouble. I know my brother’s temper: calm and restrained on the surface, yet hypocritical and ruthless. Don’t expect him to care about old affections when the time comes to weigh advantages and losses.”
Su Yan knew that the ten-year confinement was a knot Yu Wang could not easily untie; no words of advice could undo the resentment or grievance. He could only sigh: “So in your eyes, am I, Su Qinghe, really that desperate?”
Yu Wang smiled knowingly. “Indeed, you’ve eaten the rarest delicacies, how can you still care for an underdeveloped cabbage from the field?”
Su Yan suspected that by “rare delicacies,” the Wangye meant himself, he was a narcissist! And the meaning of “eat” here… was even more indecent.
He pushed Yu Wang out of the carriage. “Stop being so sly and insinuating. Do what you need to do! Isn’t the Heavenly Works Academy enough for you to fuss over?”
—
The next day, Su Yan attended the morning court on time and, unsurprisingly, received his imperial assignment to depart from the capital.
Unexpectedly, the position was “Left Shilang of Rites in Nanjing.”
He stared at the seven characters on the decree for a long time, finding them slightly comical.
Among the Six Ministries, the Ministry of Personnel held the most power, the Ministry of Revenue the most wealth, and the Ministry of Rites the most refined. The Left Shilang was second in command, directly below the minister, holding a third-rank position.
Due to his accomplishments, reforming horse administration, pacifying Shaanxi, suppressing heresies, establishing evaluation systems for local officials, he had leapt from fourth rank to third, an almost meteoric rise.
If it weren’t for the prefix “Nanjing.”
Those two characters turned pure gold into gilded copper.
Since Nanjing was the secondary capital, a backup for the imperial city, the Ming court had mirrored the Six Ministries there, forming a reserve leadership team.
Seen the benchwarmer seats of substitute players in sports arenas? That’s the equivalent here.
Which officials typically get sent to Nanjing? Usually, those deemed annoying, obstructive, sidelined by peers, or near retirement wanting a smooth transition… in short: welcome to the Golden Age retirement home.
More tragically, it was the “Ministry of Rites in Nanjing.”
If you were ranking importance in the retirement home, the “Ministry of Revenue in Nanjing” would be heaviest, handling tax collection for Southern Zhili, Zhejiang, Jiangxi, and Huguang provinces, plus grain transport and salt administration, prime positions.
Next would be the “Ministry of Personnel in Nanjing,” overseeing local officials’ six-yearly evaluations, like a small kingdom within its territory.
Then “Ministry of War” and “Ministry of Justice” in Nanjing. The former managed fifty garrisons; the latter oversaw judicial matters for princes and nobility, wielding local legal authority.
And finally, the “Ministry of Works in Nanjing,” considered the stepchild, handling construction, logistics, waterworks, manufacturing, all “menial” work. Even in the capital, Works was undervalued; the bench was its permanent seat.
Of course, Su Yan’s establishment of the Heavenly Works Academy and promotion of empirical science benefited Works most. The minister in the capital, Xia Houkun, held him in high regard, though Su Yan was busy with travel and rarely interacted.
If he were going to Works for infrastructure, Su Yan would probably have been pleased.
However, the emperor sent him to the Ministry of Rites in Nanjing.
Rites was the department Su Yan least wanted to touch, full of old scholars obsessed with ritual and ceremony. Its duties included civil examinations, which were meaningful, but in recent years mostly handled by Hanlin scholars as examiners.
Other duties, divination for auspices, hosting foreign guests, banquets for meritorious officials, Su Yan had no interest in.
This describes the Ministry of Rites in the capital. And “Nanjing Rites”?
It did nothing.
Yes, because emperors rarely went to Nanjing, ceremonial and ritual events were few. The Nanjing Ministry of Rites was essentially a decorative vase.
This year, the highest-level ritual in Nanjing, the imperial tomb ceremony, was presided over by the Crown Prince, a peak event for the otherwise idle Nanjing Ministry of Rites.
All day long, lounging with legs crossed, sipping tea while reading the official gazette, collecting salary without doing any work, this is the dream of countless lazy officials!
But our Lord Su was far too young. He was a man of ambition, vengeance, and passion, a young man unwilling to become a sunbathing salted fish in a vase.
So this third-rank “Left Shilang of Rites in Nanjing” was, in reality, a demotion in disguise, an effort to marginalize him entirely.
The ministers at court immediately noticed. Those who were friendly with him cast looks of pity and sympathy; those who were hostile showed their satisfaction in petty schadenfreude.
Weren’t you the emperor’s favorite? The star at court? And yet, one day out of favor with the emperor, and just like that, a single decree sends you slinking off to Nanjing for early retirement.
Even if the Crown Prince treated you kindly, you could continue clinging to him in Nanjing, but after the winter solstice tomb ceremony, he would return to the capital. And you, Su Twelve, would still have to linger in the Nanjing retirement home, better never come back!
A few sharp-tongued, bitter officials almost laughed aloud. One of them, whose friendship had been broken over the question of whether “Su Yan was a little b*stard,” was the Ministry of Justice official Zuo Guangbi.
By the way, Zuo Guangbi’s former friend, the Censor Chu Qiu, had become a staunch member of Su’s faction, even taking the place of the dismissed Inspector Jia Gongji (nicknamed “Nongzhang Censor” for hosting lavish feasts for newborns and taking bribes, an act exposed by Su Yan).
And Zuo Guangbi now sought favor with Deputy Premier Jiao Yang, who had been eyeing the top cabinet position for years, waiting for Li Chengfeng, the long-lived Minister of Personnel and Premier, to “shuffle off this mortal coil.” But Li Chengfeng, despite a mild stroke, stubbornly held onto his post, unwilling to resign. Emperor Jinglong, ever generous, allowed him leaves of absence.
Hearing the faint laughter, Su Yan glanced at Zuo Guangbi and shot him a sharp look: “Watch your tongue or you’ll get it.”
Although relieved of his post as Right Shaoqing of the Dali Temple and demoted to Nanjing, Su Yan retained his censor rank, like a humble-looking but effective talisman, anyone attempting to move against him would think twice.
Zuo Guangbi closed his mouth, his smirk vanishing, replaced by disdain.
Chu Qiu frowned at his former friend’s opportunism but turned to Su Yan with a gentlemanly, comforting smile.
Su Yan returned a soft, flowing smile in response.
After court, Su Yan prepared to return home and pack for departure as per the appointment documents. As he reached the square, a palace eunuch emerged from the Wenzhao Pavilion, running small steps to catch up. He whispered: “Lord Su, the Emperor summons you, just inside the Wenzhao Pavilion to your left.”
Su Yan was surprised. For some reason, he had assumed the emperor would not see him off after leaving the study, yet here, barely after court, and before even leaving the Meridian Gate, he was summoned.
More than surprised, he was pleased. He followed the eunuch into the pavilion and saw the emperor standing by the window, hands behind his back. The palace staff had clearly been ordered to retreat.
“Your Majesty…” Su Yan called, his voice tinged with bittersweet emotion. Realizing this, he despised himself for such childish sentimentality, quickly cleared his throat, and adopted a formal tone: “Your Majesty.”
The emperor, back turned, asked, “Can you accept it?”
Su Yan paused, then realized he meant the new post. “Yes, I can.”
“Really? Not a hint of discontent or irritation?”
“Really. Your Majesty’s decision has consideration. Every post has its purpose. I cannot pick and choose; I must commit fully to whatever I do.”
His answer brightened the emperor’s gloomy mood, almost drawing a smile at the corner of his mouth.
But the smile quickly faded. “Come here.”
Su Yan approached, looking around to ensure privacy, and embraced the emperor from behind. “Why so serious? No ceremonial sword this time, no poetry recital, at least give me a smile.”
The emperor sighed faintly and turned to hug him tightly.
After a long moment, he released Su Yan, lifted his face, and said seriously, “I have something to entrust to you.”
Su Yan, controlling the warmth in his gaze, responded solemnly: “Please command me, Your Majesty. I will do my utmost.”
The emperor withdrew a small silk pouch from his chest and placed it in Su Yan’s hand.
The pouch was slightly larger than a palm, navy blue satin with subtle embroidered patterns, plain in appearance. Su Yan weighed it, it felt light; he did not know its contents.
The emperor said, “It has been waterproofed. Keep it close, and never lose it.”
“This pouch… what is it for?” Su Yan asked curiously.
“When all paths are blocked, open it.”
“When all paths are blocked? When?”
“You will know when the time comes. Remember: only in absolute desperation, with no options left, may you open it. Understand?”
Su Yan nodded solemnly. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will remember.”
He carefully placed the pouch against his body.
“…Do you still carry my personal seal?” the emperor asked.
Su Yan smiled, opening his robe to show it, an intact white jade seal hanging on a red cord over his chest.
The emperor lowered his head, unable to resist, and kissed along the skin beneath the cord, the last kiss lingering on Su Yan’s heart.
Adjusting his robe, the emperor said softly, “Go. Depart today. Do not wait until tomorrow.”
Su Yan had resolved to be composed, yet at this moment, he felt an unexpected sorrow. Clinging to the emperor’s neck, he sniffled, “I can’t bear to leave… Jinshi.”
There was a depth of color and a moist light in the emperor’s eyes, like the sea at sunrise. The fingers that had been stroking Su Yan’s brows stopped halfway; he drew them back and said, “Stand down, I will not see you off this time.”
Su Yan forced the bitterness in his chest down, bowed with clasped hands and said, “I… am going. May Your Majesty take care of your dragon body.” With that he bit his lip and turned away, leaving Wenzhao Pavilion without looking back.
He did not go out through the Meridian Gate; instead he turned east and went to Deyi Pavilion where Chen Shiyu lived, but still did not find him and suspected Doctor Chen was avoiding him.
Having failed to learn the emperor’s condition, he had no choice but to leave the palace. He instructed Su Xiaobei, who stood by the carriage, to return and together with Xiaojing pack their things and prepare to set off that very day.
Then, with a parcel packed beforehand, he hired a carriage from a coach company and hurried to visit his master’s master, Li Chengfeng, partly to deliver carefully chosen medicinal herbs as a token of respect, and partly to take his leave with proper ceremony.
Li Chengfeng, once a dominant force in court as Grand Chancellor, now trembled in one side of his limbs and spoke with slurred words. Su Yan leaned close with patience, carefully making out the garbled syllables.
Li Chengfeng said, “The cabinet… Jiaoyang, Wang Qianhe… short-sighted, unfit for great responsibility. Yang Ting may have integrity… yet he is too indecisive. Xie Shiyan… a clay statue. I cannot be at ease… I had planned to wait for you… wait for you… but I fear I cannot wait any longer…”
Su Yan’s eyes were wet; he gripped the old man’s hand and, from the bottom of his heart, called, “Master!”
“Rest assured, the present sovereign is enlightened; he will surely choose the most suitable chief minister to shoulder the cabinet’s mainstay.” Su Yan did his best to comfort him. “Your disciple is still young and needs more seasoning; the road of office does not have to be rushed.”
Li Chengfeng laboriously shook his head. “I have long hesitated to submit my resignation… for fear that… after I retire… those few ministers will vie for power and disorder the court… you… return sooner… the Crown Prince…”
The old man erupted into a violent coughing fit; his throat was full of phlegm. Su Yan reached out and patted his back, his heart full of the sadness of a sun on the brink of setting.
“You need not worry, Master. On my way to Nanjing I will earnestly admonish His Highness the Crown Prince to abandon pleasures and private ties, to apply himself to his studies and the affairs of state.”
“Great Ming… may seem full of flowers and splendor, but it still suffers internal and external troubles, with treachery lurking in the dark… The emperor sees clearly, yet may not necessarily… cut down the enemy without harming himself… you must advise him… advise him… to cherish his own life more…” Li Chengfeng’s coughing eased; in his old but still lucid eyes there shone a kind of monk-like enlightenment. “The era that belongs to this old man has already passed. In the future…”
He could not finish what “in the future” would be; he slowly closed his eyes.
Su Yan hastily felt for the old man’s pulse and found it weak but steady, likely he had fallen asleep from exhaustion.
Relieved, he called the servants and physicians outside to come in and care for him, then slipped out of the busy main room and left the Minister’s residence.
He looked up; the deep-autumn sky over the capital was washed clean, and in the distance a hawk’s cry passed by. Su Yan breathed out, involuntarily clenching his fist, and murmured, “The future!”
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