News spread quickly: the King of Ning had ordered the removal of the Palace of Weiyang’s main-hall threshold — because it had tripped Xu Ji.
Within no time at all, this single incident made Xu Ji the most brilliantly lit figure in all of Chang’an, his name on every tongue.
Back at his temporary lodgings, Xu Ji was almost beside himself. He shut himself inside his study and told everyone to stay out. Alone under the blankets, he wept and laughed in turns.
He had truly never imagined he could matter so much to the King of Ning.
Nor had he imagined that the thing he had spent years scheming and preparing for could fall into his hands this easily, this soon after arriving in Chang’an.
Had he known it would be like this, why had he labored so hard over all those plans?
Outside the door, his aides came and went, returned and left again — none daring to disturb him.
Word of the threshold incident spread like fire through Chang’an, and a stream of officials came rushing to call on Xu Ji. But his gates stayed shut, and the visitors — officials who had come from all corners of the realm — had nothing to complain about. They were all turned away equally.
Before long, people began to say that Xu Ji had only just received his lord’s favor and was already too arrogant for his own good.
But those words, needless to say, were spoken neither before the King of Ning nor before Xu Ji himself.
It was also around this time that word got out: Xu Ji had been personally designated as the Great Ning Empire’s first Prime Minister. Officials from across the provinces were all talking about it. Some began looking for side routes — if they couldn’t see Xu Ji, perhaps they could call on those close to the King of Ning. Feel out the ground. So they turned toward the great generals — Xia Houzhe, Dantai Yajing, Yu Jiuling.
—
In the Palace of Weiyang, Li Chi was eating with his inner circle when the news reached him, one piece after another.
“Look at this,” he said, setting down his chopsticks. “How is this any different from the Chu dynasty?”
A heavy silence fell over the table. Everyone felt a familiar frustration welling up.
He was right. How was it different?
And in that moment, they all finally understood why Li Chi — who had previously said he had no wish to create a system dominated by a single Prime Minister — had gone ahead and named Xu Ji so openly.
He had released the faintest signal, and already these officials had lost their heads.
They were queuing up to flatter Xu Ji. Did anyone believe they were going to lecture him? Offer him sober counsel?
They were going to fawn over him. Every last one of them.
Scenes like this had played out endlessly in the past — this was exactly what the Chu court had looked like in its years of rot. And here it was again, before the new dynasty had even truly begun.
Grand Counselor Yan sighed. “The corrupt habits of the Chu court’s officialdom are not yet purged. The poison lingers…”
He looked at Li Chi. “Your Majesty, this subject was slow to see it clearly. This subject was at fault.”
Chancellor Gao, who had also opposed Li Chi’s approach of testing Xu Ji through the Prime Minister question, found he had nothing to say now either.
Li Chi sat quietly, his voice even. “It isn’t that you failed to see it — it’s that you believed things were different this time. That a new spirit had taken hold.”
He paused, then shook his head slowly. “That new spirit is in you. It isn’t in all of them. Their minds are still full of shortcuts and back routes.”
He rose and began to pace.
“Think about who these officials are — every senior administrator who has come to Chang’an has lived through the Chu court’s culture, steeped in it, shaped by it. That kind of thinking doesn’t change when you reason with it. They understand everything you might say. They’ve already figured it out. They’ve just decided the shortcut is easier.”
“Don’t imagine I could call them all together and talk them out of it. They’d nod along and agree with everything, and not believe a word of it in their hearts. When they see that flattery and powerful connections lead to success, they won’t give up on that path — it’s faster and simpler than doing things the honest way.”
Li Chi turned back to look at Yan and the others.
“I have said before — you cannot reason this generation out of their habits. Lectures are useless. The only thing that works is letting them see consequences. Let them be afraid. Let that fear last the rest of their lives. And perhaps, the next generation after them, that is where the real change begins.”
Grand Counselor Yan rose. “In this matter, Your Majesty decides. We will follow.”
“I don’t need you to step forward and make a declaration,” Li Chi said. “Simply look the other way.”
He glanced toward the far end of the hall — quite a few people were waiting out there, visible even at this distance in the blaze of the palace lights.
“Watch.” He pointed. “The messengers from your own households are already lining up.”
Yan and the others looked. And felt the chill.
They were right. Those who had gotten a cold shoulder at Xu Ji’s gates were already finding their way here.
Li Chi suddenly smiled and turned to Yu Jiuling. “Jiuling, I have a fine errand for you.”
Yu Jiuling rose immediately. “Your Majesty’s command.”
“Go home. Receive whoever comes to visit — turn no one away. Accept whatever gifts they bring — hold nothing back. It doesn’t matter how much silver you collect tonight.”
“This subject does not dare,” Yu Jiuling said.
Li Chi laughed. “Take it, and keep a record. It will be useful later.”
“Then this subject dares even less.”
“Whatever is collected, work with Gui Yuanshu to tally it up, then find out how many new shops have opened in Chang’an. Send every single new establishment a congratulatory red packet in the Ministry of Revenue’s name — from the court, to celebrate their opening. Even if each shop only gets one tael of silver, they’ll be delighted.”
“At once!”
Yu Jiuling was already grinning as he headed out to collect his silver.
Li Chi nodded with quiet amusement.
But his words carried more than one meaning, and Yan and Chancellor Gao heard the second layer clearly.
He had mentioned the Ministry of Revenue. He had mentioned Gui Yuanshu.
The inference was obvious: the first Minister of Revenue of Great Ning was almost certainly going to be Gui Yuanshu.
And thinking about it — Gui Yuanshu was exactly right for the role. He had served as Prefect of the Court of Judicial Review under the Chu dynasty, then worked under Li Chi overseeing the intelligence network and the Military Intelligence Division. There was not a trick in the official playbook that his eyes had not seen through.
With the new dynasty just taking shape, the Ministry of Revenue was the most critical posting of all. With Gui Yuanshu at its head, there was virtually no chance of anything slipping through. Any official below who wanted to play the old games — padding accounts, skimming funds, falsifying records — would think twice with Gui Yuanshu’s history staring them down.
Li Chi had already given the signal, and Yan was quick to catch it.
“Your Majesty,” he said, rising smoothly, “Gui Yuanshu is upright and exacting, with exceptional ability. Since the red packet is to be issued in the Ministry of Revenue’s name, this subject suggests the Ministry’s senior posts be confirmed at the same time. Gui Yuanshu is more than qualified to serve as Minister of Revenue…”
He glanced at Li Chi, then continued. “If the shopkeepers learn that the funds were approved by Your Majesty personally and disbursed by the Minister of Revenue himself, they will be all the more pleased.”
Li Chi nodded. “I was just about to discuss this with all of you — and here the Grand Counselor has already brought it up. Gui Yuanshu as Minister of Revenue is sound and fitting. I can think of few people more qualified. Let it be arranged as the Grand Counselor suggests.”
Li Chi looked out toward the waiting area again and let out a quiet sigh.
“They truly cannot hold themselves back.”
The room was still. Everyone felt it.
—
Meanwhile, at Xu Ji’s lodgings.
The storm of emotion had finally blown itself out. He had wept enough, laughed enough. Xu Ji pulled himself together.
He opened the door and beckoned with one hand. His trusted aide Qin Xiang immediately appeared.
Xu Ji settled back into his chair and pointed at the teapot. Qin Xiang went to brew.
“Have the people outside left?”
Qin Xiang bowed. “My lord saw through everything without a glance outside — this subject truly admires you. Most have gone, perhaps half. But a few dozen remain — unwilling to give up, it seems.”
Xu Ji smiled. “What did you expect? I could have told you without thinking how many would come tonight to curry favor.”
He looked at the freshly poured tea and exhaled slowly. “These people — not only will they never amount to anything, they don’t even realize how grave a mistake they’re making. Can’t hold themselves back. Not a single one of them.”
“They caught wind of it, my lord,” Qin Xiang offered, “and none wanted to be left behind. That’s human nature.”
“What era do they think they’re living in? Still acting like it’s the Chu dynasty.”
His fingers tapped a slow, steady rhythm on the table.
“If they had waited — waited until the imperial edict officially naming me Prime Minister was announced to the realm, and then called on me — would I have kept my gates shut? Paying a formal visit to the new Prime Minister is perfectly proper etiquette, as it has been since ancient times. But instead they had to take the oblique route, the sneaking approach.”
He gave a short, contemptuous sound. “Every one of them — useless.”
Qin Xiang took the point and bowed. “Naturally, my lord sees further than they do.”
“Remember this,” Xu Ji said. “Everyone who came tonight — no further dealings with any of them. Whoever comes to see me from now on, send them away. His Majesty will not tolerate people like this remaining in important positions. They come to flatter me, and they haven’t stopped to wonder whether they’re throwing their own careers away in the process. Fools.”
Qin Xiang felt a quiet wave of relief wash over him. He had nearly suggested the lord receive a few of the visitors. Had he done so, he would now be one of the fools.
“The ones who left — did they all leave gifts at the door?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Their name cards will be on the gifts. First thing tomorrow, take everyone you need and return every single item.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Xu Ji sighed. “If I had seen even one of them tonight, I would have been the one getting hurt.”
Then he raised his eyes to Qin Xiang. “The fact that I’ve kept my gates shut tonight — everyone in Chang’an knows by now. Send someone to invite Commissioner Guan to come by.”
Qin Xiang hesitated.
The lord still hadn’t made his peace with the matter of sending someone to assassinate Lu Chonglou. Commissioner Guan had already confirmed there was no record of the man in the Bureau of Justice’s files — but the lord still couldn’t rest easy.
He was still turning that thought over when he heard Xu Ji add:
“Tomorrow, prepare a gift for me as well. Nothing lavish — keep it plain. No more than ten taels’ worth. I intend to call on Lu Chonglou in person.”
Qin Xiang stared.
A personal visit? Why?
—