In the southern study.
Su Yan stood alone in the center of the room, head lowered and gaze restrained, looking at the tips of his dark boots peeking out beneath his crimson robes. In his daze, he felt as though he were staring into a distant patch of impenetrable darkness, like the night sky beyond a city engulfed in blazing flames and red clouds.
When the fire consumed all splendor and gradually died out, that dark void would stretch itself, creeping back to engulf the city once more. Only the next radiant dawn could drive it away again.
No wonder the old saying goes: blessings and misfortunes depend on each other; when one rises, the other falls. Or: when the sun reaches its zenith, it must begin to decline; when the moon is full, it starts to wane.
Su Yan silently reflected on these truths. At a young age, he had passed the imperial exam and achieved quick success, being promoted twice within five months to a position three ranks higher. Solving the Ye Donglou case had brought him fame, his impeachment of Feng Que earned him a stellar reputation, and his proposals for reform—like overseeing the Embroidered Uniform Guard Guard and suggesting new educational policies—were pivotal and politically sensitive. Naturally, they left many feeling threatened.
The Emperor’s apparent trust and support for him kept these vested interests at bay temporarily. They grumbled in private, waiting for the right moment to strike back. Now, the Wei family’s aggressive move had given them the perfect opportunity.
In just two days, no fewer than ten memorials to impeach Su Yan had landed on the imperial desk, forming a tall stack.
Zhu Helin discreetly informed him that Wei Jun’s elder brother, Wei Yan, Xianan Marquis, was married to a woman from the Qin family—the younger sister of the Empress Dowager. After the incident, she had immediately gone to the Cining Palace to meet the Empress Dowager, staying for half a day before leaving. It was clear she had lodged a formal complaint. As for the Empress Dowager’s stance, no one could yet say.
However, Yu Wang was also in Cining Palace at the time, so if Su Yan wanted to know the details, he would have to seek him out.
Su Yan found this odd and asked casually, “Why would the Crown Prince need Yu Wang to gauge the Empress Dowager’s sentiments?”
Zhu Helin looked embarrassed, stammering without an answer.
Su Yan quickly changed the topic, saying, “Forget I asked. I’ll ask Wangye myself—no need to trouble you.”
Zhu Helin looked dejected and said, “It’s fine. I might as well tell you—Royal Grandma doesn’t like me much.”
Su Yan didn’t ask why. Instead, he comforted him by patting his shoulder.
Zhu Helin grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly against his own shoulder. “People say that back when my royal mother wasn’t favored by the Empress Dowager, she extended that dislike to me as well.”
Su Yan was speechless.
Seizing the moment, Zhu Helin leaned in close and whispered near Su Yan’s ear, “Are you feeling sorry for me now? Go ahead, feel a little sorrier.”
Su Yan gave his back a light slap, pushing him away with a laugh. “You’re already fourteen, Crown Prince, and you still have the nerve to act spoiled!”
A loud “bang” ahead snapped Su Yan out of his reverie. He realized that, because he had been thinking about the Crown Prince, he had lost focus in front of the Emperor.
—The Crown Prince was seated nearby, his sharp young eyes watching him intently.
Emperor Jinglong tossed a stack of memorials onto the desk with a resounding “thud” and said, “Now explain what happened—each of you. Old Fourth, you first.”
Yu Wang sat lazily in a round-backed chair, propping his chin on his right hand. His left hand, wrapped in bandages, rested casually on the desk beside him.
“Indeed, there was an attempt on Fengan Marquis’s life, but it had nothing to do with me.”
“No one accused you. They’re talking about Su Yan.” The Emperor tapped the pile of memorials. “See this? All these memorials accuse him of colluding with outlaws, secretly harboring assassins, and conspiring to murder political opponents.”
Yu Wang chuckled dismissively. “Heh, I was present as well, yet I saw no sign of such collusion. Su Yan did stop me at one point, but he later explained that he was worried the assassin, when cornered, might harm the Marquis and then target the Crown Prince. In his panic, he didn’t think things through and just wanted to ensure the Crown Prince’s safety first.”
Before he finished, Zhu Helin interjected eagerly: “Exactly! Fengan Marquis only cared about his own life, with no regard for mine! It was his assassin that endangered me, leaving me filthy and frightened… And he even injured Fourth Royal Uncle’s hand! I haven’t even held him accountable yet, and now he has the audacity to lodge complaints against others! If winning an argument proves one’s righteousness, then I, too, could write memorials accusing the Marquis—one for every accusation he has!”
“Ridiculous! As the Crown Prince, what business do you have writing memorials against a court minister?” the Emperor scolded, shaking his head in frustration. “You’ve studied for years, yet when it comes to handling matters, you resort to nonsense. How can I rest easy about the future… Enough. Starting tomorrow, your lessons will include a new subject: every evening from the hour of You to Xu, you’ll come to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to learn statecraft from me.”
The Crown Prince froze as if struck by lightning. With his heavy academic schedule, this additional lesson felt unbearable. He wanted to cry but held back, lamenting inwardly: Oh, Qinghe, Qinghe! Look at the sacrifice I’ve made for you! If you stand me up again, it’ll truly be unforgivable!
The Emperor, noting the Crown Prince’s sullen expression, massaged his temple in exasperation.
Yu Wang thought idly: A widowed father raising a spoiled son—it’s bound to be exhausting.
Then he thought, he also had a young son, who had just learned to walk, and the Wangfei granted to him by imperial decree.
The Wangfei had meticulously calculated the best time to conceive and slept with him once. That one encounter resulted in a pregnancy. After giving birth to the heir, she laughed loudly three times and declared, “My earthly ties are severed!” As soon as her postpartum confinement ended, she donned a Daoist robe, abandoned both husband and child, and announced she was leaving to cultivate immortality. No one knew which mountain she had gone to in pursuit of the “Golden Elixir Path,” and she has been unheard of ever since.
A divorced man was thought even less of than a widower!
With that thought, Yu Wang’s smile faded, his expression darkening as he gazed at Su Yan standing in the hall. He pondered: I wonder if he likes children? Judging by how patient he is with Zhu Helin, he probably does.
The Emperor caught a glimpse of his little brother lost in thought and grew even more exasperated. Waving his hand, he declared, “Are you all done talking? If so, you’re dismissed.”
The Crown Prince, eager to escape the Imperial Study, yet reluctant to part from Su Yan, whispered quickly as he passed by, “Come find me in the Eastern Palace when you’re done!” He shot a glare at Yu Wang, who wore a teasing smile, before finally departing.
Su Yan, mindful of decorum in the imperial presence, pretended not to hear the Crown Prince’s words. With hands folded and eyes lowered, he stood motionless.
The Emperor stepped out from behind his desk, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked toward Su Yan. He asked, “Are Yu Wang and the Crown Prince’s accounts accurate?”
“…They are.”
Su Yan snuck a glance at the Emperor’s unreadable expression and added, “For the most part.”
The Emperor sighed lightly. “Here in this private chamber, only you and I are present. Speak the truth freely—no one else will know. Did you command the assassin who targeted Fengan Marquis?”
Su Yan replied firmly, “I did not! However, I do know that assassin. Fengan Marquis violated his sister and ruined his family. It’s only natural that he sought revenge for such a deep-seated grievance. As they say, ‘Debts have their creditors, and wrongdoings their avengers. Justice always prevails in the end.’”
“Do you think I’m sheltering Fengan Marquis because of his status as a relative of the imperial family, despite knowing of his misdeeds?” the Emperor asked.
Su Yan immediately responded, “No, I don’t think that.”
“Do you believe I’m merely playing political games, manipulating the nobles, officials, eunuchs, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard like weights on a scale to maintain balance and secure my throne?”
“…”
Seeing Su Yan’s silence, the Emperor smiled faintly. “You don’t dare say it. Smart of you—you know what can be pursued and what should remain unsaid. But, Su Yan, let me tell you this:
“I have never placed you on the scales to measure or used you as a pawn in political games.”
Su Yan abruptly looked up, meeting the Emperor’s calm and composed gaze. “Your Majesty…”
“Do you not believe me?”
“No, I do,” Su Yan replied. A swell of emotion surged within him, an undercurrent that seemed to resonate with his very core. “Your Majesty has shown me great favor. Despite my many breaches of protocol and bold statements, you’ve never punished me. Instead, you’ve upheld my dignity and given me opportunities to fulfill my aspirations. I’m endlessly grateful for this, yet… I have no way to repay you.”
The Emperor closed his eyes momentarily, his face solemn. When he opened them, he said with determination, “If you cannot repay me, then repay the world on my behalf!”
Moved by the Emperor’s words, Su Yan dropped to his knees in a grand bow. “Your minister, Su Yan, thanks Your Majesty for your benevolence!”
His heartfelt gratitude was like a sharp wire constricting the Emperor’s heart, cutting deep yet drawing no blood—leaving behind only an unending ache.
The Emperor drew a deep breath and bent down to lift Su Yan to his feet.
Su Yan felt the scorching heat of the Emperor’s hand through his official robes, as if the warmth seared directly into his flesh and blood. He stumbled forward involuntarily.
The Emperor, unable to restrain himself, pulled him into an embrace.
Both men knew this was a mistake, as if the fragile ice they stood upon might crack, plunging them into an abyss of desire.
But—heaven knows, earth knows, you know, and I know.
In this fleeting moment of privacy, what harm was there in indulging in a little warmth and affection?
Su Yan stirred slightly, prompting the Emperor to come to his senses and release him. Turning away, the Emperor leaned heavily on his desk, his breath uneven. “I can keep the impeachment petitions private and counter the ministers who criticize you at court. But regarding the Empress Dowager…I cannot protect you recklessly. It would only push you into greater peril. You must understand that the more publicly a ruler favors an official, the worse their fate tends to be.”
“I understand. No matter how Your Majesty decides, I will accept it without complaint,” Su Yan said softly.
“The Wei family wields great power, and there are…complicated matters involved that I cannot explain yet. But one day, they will be resolved. Until then, I ask you to endure and keep a low profile.”
“I will follow Your Majesty’s instructions.”
The Emperor picked up a memorial from his desk and handed it to Su Yan. “The Provincial Governor of Shaanxi, Wei Quan, reports that frequent raids by northern enemies have decimated the local horse population. He suggests abolishing the Shaanxi Court of the Imperial Stables and dismissing its officials.”
Su Yan skimmed the document, frowning. “The imperial horse system established by the founding Emperor manages both state and private breeding through local offices. The court allocates substantial funds annually for horse rearing. How has it come to this?”
“I wish to ask him the same question. Warhorses are a critical strategic resource for the army of any nation. Without warhorses, how can we have cavalry? In recent years, the number of horses across the regions has been steadily declining. Wei Quan, as the provincial governor, instead of finding solutions, wants to simply abolish this department and be done with it. Does he expect me, as the ruler of the Great Ming, to spend large sums of money buying horses from the Tatars and Western Tribes, thereby funding our enemies?”
Su Yan pondered for a moment and then asked, “Your Majesty is showing this memorial to me because you wish for me to go to Shaanxi?”
The Emperor nodded. “Correct. I want you to investigate whether Wei Quan truly has unavoidable reasons for this decision, or if he’s just a short-sighted fool willing to sacrifice the bigger picture for minor savings.”
“However, as a shaoqing of the Dali Temple, it seems improper for me to investigate a provincial governor. My position does not align with such a task…”
Emperor Jinglong smiled faintly. “As for the title, I’ve already thought it through. It’s thanks to Jia Gongji, the Right Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate. He once recommended to me that you take on an additional role as a Supervising Censor of the seventh rank. I didn’t approve it at the time, but now it seems like a good cover.”
Su Yan sighed inwardly: I couldn’t escape Jia Gongji’s persistent push after all!
“I plan to relieve you temporarily from your position as shaoqing of the Dali Temple, under the pretense of suspension pending investigation, and demote you to Supervising Censor. At the same time, I will appoint you as the Imperial Inspector for Shaanxi. Your duties will include overseeing local governance, rectifying administrative issues, and resolving the region’s horse management problems before reporting back to me.”
Being demoted from a fourth rank to a seventh rank was a significant fall. However, although the rank of Censor was low, its authority was substantial. Censors could directly report administrative flaws to the emperor, bypassing local officials. In a modern context, their role resembled anti-corruption inspectors or central disciplinary committees, wielding considerable influence over local governance.
Hence, they were colloquially known as “Imperial Envoys” or “Heavenly Agents,” tasked by imperial command and seen as enforcers of divine will. In popular theater, such figures often carried the emperor’s “Imperial Sword,” granting them the power to execute justice on the spot.
Su Yan joked, “Does this make me an Imperial Envoy? Will I be given the Imperial Sword?”
The emperor chuckled, gently ruffling Su Yan’s hair near his temple. “I can grant you the sword, but you’re not to use it recklessly.”
“Does Your Majesty fear I’ll harm the innocent?”
“No, I fear you’ll injure yourself because you don’t know how to wield it.”
***
Returning to his residence, Su Yan removed his fourth-rank official robes and folded them neatly. Turning to his two young attendants, he announced, “Your master has been demoted and reassigned. We’ll be leaving the capital.”
Su Xiaojing was dumbfounded. “What? Why? Master is diligent and capable. Why would they demote you?”
Su Xiaobei pursed his lips, speaking solemnly. “I told you, serving the emperor is like living alongside a tiger. Fine, demotion it is! Wherever the master is sent, I’ll follow, ready to serve at any moment.”
“Same for me!” Su Xiaojing chimed in loudly, eager to show his loyalty.
Su Yan laughed. “It’s rare to see such loyalty. If you’re willing to follow me, then we’ll go together.”
“Where are we going?” Su Xiaojing asked.
Su Xiaobei, ever practical, asked, “When do we depart? Should I begin packing? Should we sell off the house?”
“This courtyard will remain. I might return to live here someday. There are still two or three days before the decree takes effect. In the meantime, you two will be busy preparing our belongings.”
“Leave it to us. Everything will be handled properly,” they assured him.
Su Yan nodded but suddenly slapped his thigh and exclaimed, “Wait, I can’t stay home these next few days!”
Su Xiaobei frowned. “Why not? Have we failed to serve you well?”
“No, no, it’s not that. I’m worried about the Wei family. Though His Majesty is demoting me, it’s clear to any discerning person that he’s simply sending me away to lie low while granting me significant authority. I fear someone might hold a grudge and, in desperation, resort to underhanded tactics.”
“What kind of underhanded tactics?” Su Xiaojing asked, alarmed.
“For example… hiring thugs to break in at night and cut off my nose or ears. You know our laws prohibit the physically disabled from holding office.”
The two young men shook their heads, wide-eyed.
Su Yan laughed. “Yes, even in public service, appearances matter. I heard that during the reign of the late emperor, a scholar was disqualified from the imperial exam for being too ugly.”
Su Xiaojing’s jaw dropped. “What? What should we do?”
Su Yan thought for a moment, then clapped his hands. “I’ll hide out at my ‘brother’s’ place for a few days.”
Su Xiaojing blinked. “But, Master, you don’t have any brothers in the capital.”
Before Su Yan could respond, Su Xiaobei pinched Xiaojing hard, making him yelp in pain. Once Su Yan had left, Xiaobei scolded, “You fool! Do you have to expose him? As his servants, must we embarrass the master by forcing him to admit he’s going to his… mistress house? If he says it’s a brother, then it’s a brother! From now on, that’s the story we stick to. Got it?”
Clutching his sore arm, Xiaojing nodded repeatedly, tears welling up.
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