Officials would resume their duties on the sixth day of the first month. Before retiring for the evening, Yao Huang retrieved a set of red python-patterned robes from the wardrobe and placed them in advance on Prince Hui’s wheelchair.
Whether before or after his legs became disabled, Zhao Sui rarely wore red robes. Except for occasionally being required to wear red at festive banquets for the occasion, when attending court duties, Zhao Sui had only worn deep red python robes once—and the princess had seemingly detected his intention to please her after making her angry.
“Why this set?” Sitting on the bed, Zhao Sui looked at the princess and asked.
Yao Huang: “New year, fresh start. For Your Highness’s first day of duty after the new year, for auspicious good fortune.”
Zhao Sui thought that fourth and fifth-rank officials all wore crimson official robes. This outfit wouldn’t stand out too much at court or in the Ministry of Works, so he accepted the princess’s arrangement.
Lying in bed, Yao Huang asked Prince Hui curiously, “Your Highness finished reading all those case files before the new year. Will you start taking on assignments this year?”
Zhao Sui held the princess’s hand and asked, “Do you hope I will?”
Whatever Consort Du said, Zhao Sui wouldn’t take to heart, nor did he care what others thought of him. He only feared the princess would suffer loss of face because of him.
Yao Huang: “I don’t understand the ins and outs of the Ministry of Works. Your Highness is the one who will be doing the work. Only Your Highness knows whether you’re prepared. I’m just asking casually, and also want to know what Your Highness will be busy with during a day at the Ministry of Works. Otherwise, must I drag Your Highness into daily conversations about household trivialities? There should be some fresh topics to discuss.”
Zhao Sui: “Mm. I plan to see which previously undecided projects there are. If there are suitable ones, I’ll take them on.”
Yao Huang embraced his shoulders with a smile. “After just two months of preparation, you’re already confident. My prince is truly capable!”
Zhao Sui: “…”
After morning court dispersed, Minister of Works Yan Lun accompanied Prince Hui back to the Ministry offices together. If even the princess knew Prince Hui had finished reading that entire room of case files, the Minister who presided at the Ministry daily was even more aware. He wanted to see whether Prince Hui would continue patiently reading files this year or had some new plans.
Zhao Sui: “Send all the undecided project proposals from last year to my office.”
If a project remained undecided, it basically meant four aspects hadn’t been settled: whether this project was necessary, whether officials and craftsmen had the capability to complete it well, whether the project cost estimate was accurate, and whether the court had surplus silver to support the project.
The war with the Wu Kingdom had only ended a year ago after lasting three years. The court’s treasury wasn’t abundant. Many projects large and small that would benefit the nation and people were stuck on the matter of silver. The Ministry of Revenue could only prioritize approving funds for urgent projects first.
Hearing this, Yan Lun knew Prince Hui was finally ready to act. He immediately dispatched a clerk to fetch those pending memorials, then quietly placed at the very top a batch of project proposal memorials that he believed should be done but had been blocked by the Ministry of Revenue for lack of funds.
After flipping through a few volumes, Zhao Sui saw through Yan Lun’s intention. That the Ministry of Revenue was blocking them naturally had the Ministry of Revenue’s reasons. Moreover, these were all major projects being closely watched by court officials, easily involving millions of taels of silver. Zhao Sui clearly understood the treasury’s situation. He directly set these memorials aside, attempting to select some projects with short construction periods, low silver consumption, and genuine need for prompt action.
In just one day, Zhao Sui selected seven project proposals that local prefecture, county, and state treasuries could afford. He had the officials responsible for calculating project costs estimate the amounts. If the estimates matched or differed little from what local officials calculated, such proposals could be directly submitted to the Ministry of Revenue and the Central Secretariat for approval. If local officials inflated amounts too much, the Ministry of Works would correct the figures in the memorial.
Receiving this news, Yan Lun immediately understood Prince Hui’s approach to officialdom: accomplish real work without seeking the limelight.
If it were an ordinary talented official, Yan Lun could push them to stand out. If it were a mediocre official, Yan Lun could simply assign them mediocre duties.
Prince Hui was naturally talented, but Prince Hui was still a prince—a prince who had long since given up hope of advancing further. With no benefit to entice him, Yan Lun could only let Prince Hui select his own assignments and only trouble him when Prince Hui’s involvement was absolutely necessary.
By month’s end, with only nine days remaining until the spring examinations began, candidates from all regions had essentially all arrived in the capital.
Yao Huang learned from Prince Hui that over five thousand six hundred recommended scholars were participating in the civil spring examinations this year, with over fifteen hundred in the military spring examinations.
Although the military spring examinations would be a month later than the civil ones, most military candidates had also entered the capital by now. The capital’s four main streets frequently saw groups of three to five candidates—some in scholarly blue robes, refined and elegant; others with upright bearing, imposing and robust.
These were the most promising people in all of Great Qi!
Yao Huang’s cousin Luo Yue was sixteen this year. Ever since Yao Huang married into the imperial family as Princess Hui, official families coming to the Luo household with marriage proposals had increased. Some wanted to marry their daughters to the three Luo brothers; others wanted to take Luo Yue as a daughter-in-law.
The Luo family elders felt these people all had intentions of currying favor with Prince Hui’s mansion. They accepted none of them. The three Luo brothers could wait until after completing the military examinations to slowly select suitable matches. As for Luo Yue, like many minor officials and wealthy merchants in the capital, the Luo family also had designs on selecting an ideal husband from among the newly successful civil and military scholars.
With her own marriage at stake, Luo Yue moved directly into her aunt’s home in the capital. Sometimes her aunt accompanied her on leisurely outings to recognize in advance those local talents with considerable fame. Other times Yao Huang called her out, and the two cousins played while strolling about.
Somehow Empress Zhou learned of this and specifically summoned Yao Huang to the palace to ask what she’d heard about various talented scholars.
Seeing the First Princess sitting to the side with a slightly reddened face, Yao Huang teased, “Does Mother Empress also wish to select a consort for Little Sister from this group of scholars?”
Empress Zhou smiled. “She’s already seventeen. If there’s someone suitable, your Father Emperor and I will naturally make the decision for her.”
Yao Huang asked the First Princess directly, “Which type of talent does Little Sister prefer—civil scholars refined as jade gentlemen, or military scholars heroic and extraordinary?”
The First Princess’s face flushed with embarrassment, unwilling to say.
Yao Huang simply recounted all the information she’d gathered about talented scholars from various regions—all young men in their early twenties who were unmarried. As for which one was most suitable for the First Princess, that depended on the mother-daughter pair and Emperor Yongchang’s opinion. Yao Huang wouldn’t specifically recommend anyone, lest the couple’s relationship turn sour in the future and they blame Yao Huang.
The civil spring examinations began on the ninth day of the second month. After three consecutive sessions, they concluded on the fifteenth of the second month.
On the twelfth of the third month, the civil spring examination results were posted. Over three hundred names made the list. Considering one of them might be her future cousin-in-law, Yao Huang had someone transcribe a copy of the list. She then called her mother and cousin to the prince’s mansion. The three women faced several pages full of names, first circling out the dozen or so names they’d investigated clearly and could match to faces.
As she circled names, Yao Huang spotted a familiar name near the tail end of the list: He Wenbin.
Luo Yue: “Sister knows this person?”
Yao Huang smiled. “Met him a few times while summering away from the capital. His appearance is passable, but unfortunately their whole family is rather unlikeable.”
Fearing her cousin might take a liking to He Wenbin, Yao Huang specifically marked an X beside He Wenbin’s name.
In the evening, Prince Hui returned and saw these pages of lists on the table in the side room.
Yao Huang: “Has Your Highness reviewed their examination papers?”
Zhao Sui: “I have not.”
Before taking office, reading previous spring examination papers was good learning. After taking office, reviewing these sealed records would be inappropriate, especially for this spring examination—Zhao Sui hadn’t paid attention from start to finish.
Now receiving the list, Zhao Sui casually perused it. He understood the circled names were potential son-in-law candidates the Luo family might contact. The marked X…
Seeing him staring at He Wenbin’s name, Yao Huang smiled and offered an explanation.
But Zhao Sui was looking at the name above He Wenbin’s: Di Xian.
Yao Huang confirmed his line of sight and asked puzzled, “Does Your Highness know this person?”
Zhao Sui: “I don’t know him, just recalled another official with the same surname.”
Anyone Prince Hui could remember surely had some story. Yao Huang urged him to elaborate.
Zhao Sui recalled for a moment, then said, “It was still in the twenty-fifth year of Yongchang. During one morning court session, the Ministers of Works and Revenue argued over an irrigation canal project in Liangzhou. Ultimately, due to that year’s tight treasury, the project was rejected. The county magistrate who proposed the project had the surname Di. I can’t recall his specific given name.”
Yao Huang: “…The twenty-fifth year of Yongchang—that was six years ago. Your Highness still remembers something unrelated to you? What canal?”
Zhao Sui shook his head. He couldn’t recall the canal’s name either, only remembered it was located along the Yellow River.
The next day, arriving at the Ministry of Works, Zhao Sui brought Qing Ai to the storage room containing early rejected project proposals. He propelled his wheelchair himself, having Qing Ai search shelf by shelf. By afternoon, Qing Ai finally succeeded in finding a dust-covered old memorial. The cover read: Submitted by Liangzhou Qingxia County Magistrate Di Yong.
Qing Ai used a cloth to wipe the memorial clean before handing it to Prince Hui.
Zhao Sui opened it. A very thick memorial—it even contained several diagrams of canal locations, including required manpower, materials, and construction period, all calculated clearly.
After reading it, Zhao Sui had Qing Ai return the memorial to its original place.
Three days later came the palace examination for civil scholars, personally presided over by Emperor Yongchang, with three princes and several high ministers in attendance.
He Wenbin from Lingshan County was positioned in the very last row. Upon entering the great hall, he adhered to protocol and dared not raise his head. Then, walking to his seat and receiving the examination questions, he lowered his eyes in thought for a moment before taking up his brush to answer. An hour later, he obeyed the timekeeper eunuch’s announcement and set down his brush. Only then did He Wenbin stealthily glance toward the front of the hall.
The imperial dragon’s authority was formidable. After one glance, He Wenbin hurriedly looked elsewhere. Standing beside should be the princes. The one in the wheelchair was Prince Hui…
He Wenbin’s eyes suddenly widened.
Prince Hui met his gaze for a moment—a calm, level glance, no different in expression from their chance encounter in Lingshan Town.
He Wenbin withdrew in panic and confusion along with the others, unable to sleep all night. He greatly feared Prince Hui would hold his mother’s disrespectful words against him, preventing him from even obtaining the scholar degree.
The next day, palace examination results were announced. As He Wenbin anticipated, he achieved third tier “Scholar Background”—basically guaranteed to be assigned as a county magistrate!
He Wenbin breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Brother He and I truly have fate—our names are adjacent on both lists.”
Di Xian, who had also achieved third tier Scholar Background, walked over with a smile.
Just as He Wenbin was about to respond, a sturdy man in common clothes suddenly caught up to Di Xian and cupped his hands respectfully. “Young Master Di, my master has long admired your talent. Might you be willing to come to the residence for a discussion?”
Di Xian: “Your master is?”
The sturdy man retrieved a waist token from his sleeve.
He Wenbin saw Di Xian’s expression change. Hastily bidding him farewell, Di Xian followed the man away.
He Wenbin felt quite envious. A master who could summon a fellow scholar to his residence must be at least a capital official. Both third tier with similar rankings—why didn’t he have such fortune?