In early May, the court issued an imperial edict, and the newly minted jinshi who had not been selected as Shujishi or Guanzhenshi were granted their official appointments.
By regulation, they were required to arrive at their posts within three months, without exception.
Those whose postings were nearby could return home briefly in their fine clothes, but those posted to distant places such as Baiyue or southwestern Dian had to set off immediately without delay.
Jiang Ziyun was, after all, a second-tier jinshi, and his posting was reasonably favorable — a small county in the Jiaodong region. It was nothing particularly prosperous, but at least it was not a desolate place, nor was it too far from the capital.
A few days after receiving his appointment, Jiang Ziyun packed his bags, took his wife and children, and prepared to depart for his post. On the eve of his departure, Pei Shaohuai came to host a farewell banquet.
Having known each other for many years, with the moment of parting now upon them, Pei Shaohuai felt a swell of melancholy and said, “Jiaodong is not so far away — why is Brother Ziyun departing in such haste? Why not stay a few more days?”
The haste of the departure made the farewell equally rushed.
Jiang Ziyun raised his cup and drained it in one go, then replied as casually as if speaking of everyday matters: “With stops along the road, and then settling into a small courtyard, walking around the county — by the time all that is done, it will just about be time to take up the post.” Three months was not a long time.
Seeing that Pei Shaohuai’s melancholy remained, Jiang Ziyun added, “Today, Brother Huai ought to be happy for me.”
He rose and began to pace, speaking with ardor: “Where does one find one’s achievements? Look to where your horse’s hooves carry you. I was born and raised in this place and have never once left it. When a man has ten thousand thoughts yet has never ventured beyond his own home — when what he has seen falls short of what he has heard, and what he has done falls short of what he has imagined — then it is time to go out and forge a new world for himself. Brother Huai, having traveled south for your studies and returned, you should understand this better than anyone.”
Listening to Jiang Ziyun’s words, Pei Shaohuai understood. Between friends, to speak only of the sorrow of parting would be somewhat narrow-minded. Today’s drinking was, from his own perspective, a farewell to a dear friend — but for Jiang Ziyun, beyond the parting, there was also the grand ambition of setting forth toward his future. The road ahead was uncertain, yet full of hope.
Pei Shaohuai understood that he truly ought to be happy for his good friend. He raised his cup and drank alongside him.
“There is only one regret,” Jiang Ziyun said, his voice softening with some wistfulness. “I fear I will not be able to attend Brother Huai’s wedding… This cup of wedding wine — let me drink it today in advance. I offer my blessings for your happy marriage and a lifetime of loving companionship, and I will make amends when we meet again.”
Pei Shaohuai acknowledged this, and in turn offered his own wishes: “I wish Brother Ziyun an early and glorious reputation, and may you bring back news of victories year after year. I shall wait here for your good tidings.”
“Let us both strive together.”
For a moment, the thought struck him — that he and Jiang Ziyun had first become acquainted through the gifting of a writing brush, and now they were parting in farewell, which only deepened the weight of their separation.
The wind swept through the wheat fields like waves, and the cicadas cried out as summer grew busy. The southern breeze drifted in, and the heat had not yet grown oppressive.
On the day of Grain in Ear, a messenger came from the Jinchang Marquisate bearing word that the Third Young Mistress had gone into labor after breakfast.
The Pei family waited anxiously for further news. Though all preparations had long been made, this was Ying Jie’er’s first child, and they could not help but feel a deeper worry than usual.
They had expected it to drag on into the night, yet before late afternoon had even arrived, another messenger came from the Jinchang Marquisate with the news: “The Third Young Mistress has delivered a baby girl for the Marquisate. Both mother and daughter are well.”
Lin Shi’s hand, which had been clutching her handkerchief tightly, finally relaxed.
The whole family was overjoyed, and they began preparing new garments and gifts for the little girl, planning to visit Ying Jie’er in a few days.
Pei Shaohuai also let out a sigh of relief, reflecting that his elder sister’s smooth delivery was perhaps due to her habit of frequently going out during her pregnancy, combined with her knowledge of medicine.
Returning to his courtyard, the few newly planted osmanthus trees had taken root and were already sprouting new branches.
Pei Shaohuai thought about how Yang Shiyue had first sent silk velvet bedding during the civil examination, and then, quite by chance, had offered him a bamboo umbrella as he rode through the streets in triumph. Ought he not to give something in return?
He turned the matter over in his mind but could not settle on anything.
The following day, when Shaojin and Yancheng came by for a casual visit, Pei Shaohuai knew he could no longer maintain his composure. He hesitated before asking them, somewhat sheepishly: “Shaojin, Yancheng — when the two of you give gifts… what do you usually give?”
Shaojin saw his elder brother’s reddening face and already had a good guess, but he deliberately smiled and asked, “Who does Elder Brother intend to give it to?”
Yancheng, seizing his rare opportunity to tease Shaohuai, chimed in: “When it comes to gift-giving, isn’t that your greatest talent, Shaohuai? When have you ever given a gift to your teacher that didn’t land right in his heart?”
The two of them exchanged a glance and could not help but burst out laughing. They truly hadn’t expected that Shaohuai, who was so perceptive in all other matters, would be so oblivious in this one. He clearly wanted to give Miss Yang a gift, yet he couldn’t grasp the simple truth — what mattered was not what he gave, but that he gave it promptly.
“Stop teasing me, both of you, and give me some proper suggestions,” said Pei Shaohuai.
Shaojin replied, “What I usually give, Elder Brother has already given. When it comes to this art, Elder Brother is still unmatched — no one can compare.”
“What do you usually give?” Yancheng played along and asked.
“I give poems.”
So both of them were teasing Pei Shaohuai about that poem of his.
Pei Shaohuai had written a “love poem” right there at the Imperial Banquet of Grace — that was hardly something an ordinary person could match.
The tips of Pei Shaohuai’s ears grew a little redder. He said, “I won’t speak with the two of you anymore. I’ll go think it over myself.”
Yancheng tried to keep him back: “Don’t be in such a rush, Shaohuai. Wait a couple more days — it’s quite likely the great gift you want to give will arrive on its own very soon.”
Pei Shaohuai pressed Xu Yancheng on what he meant by this, but Xu Yancheng only smiled without answering.
Two days later, the Ministry of Rites made a grand procession, carrying an imperially bestowed plaque inscribed with “Sanyuan Jidi” through the streets, before delivering it to the Jingchuan Earl’s Residence. An imperial edict was then proclaimed: “By the grace of Heaven, His Imperial Majesty decrees: Pei Shaohuai, the eldest son of seven generations of the Jingchuan Earl’s Residence, has achieved the rank of Zhuangyuan with the highest distinction. Learned and steadfast in conduct, possessed of both virtue and talent, he is hereby appointed Compiler of the Hanlin Academy and concurrently Supervising Secretary of the Bureau of Works—”
Pei Shaohuai was taken aback. Had it not always been the case that the Zhuangyuan was appointed solely as a Compiler? Why had an additional post of Supervising Secretary appeared?
The Supervising Secretary — a minor rank, but with great authority.
“Your subject thanks His Majesty for his gracious bestowal.” Pei Shaohuai received the edict and responded accordingly.
The news spread quickly throughout the capital. Every great house lamented not having cultivated ties with the Pei family sooner — to call upon them now, with such an obvious motive, would make it impossible to form any genuine friendship.
A Hanlin Compiler typically entered the History Repository to compile national histories, and was ordinarily expected to record the words and actions of the Emperor — it was already a prestigious position close to the throne, considered part of the upright and unaffiliated stream of officialdom. As long as one did not perform dismally or commit some grievous error, an appointment to the rank of Minister would come easily enough after leaving the Hanlin Academy.
And now, on top of that, a concurrent post as Supervising Secretary had been added. What an extraordinary future lay ahead.
Pei Shaohuai finally understood what Xu Yancheng had meant by his “great gift.” Yet he could not help but feel, vaguely, that no matter how glorious the honor, it still fell just a little short of something one had crafted with one’s own hands.
The court sent over a teal-colored official robe, embroidered at the center with a sixth-rank egret badge. Pei Shaohuai was finally about to begin his duties.
The Emperor, mindful that he was new to his post and might find it difficult to attend to two responsibilities at once, graciously permitted him to first enter the Hanlin Academy to familiarize himself with the daily affairs of the History Repository. Only after he had grown accustomed to that would he proceed to observe governance at the Six Bureaus and take up the duties of Supervising Secretary of the Bureau of Works.
This arrangement was to last a full year.
Entering officialdom was like learning — one had to begin from the most fundamental things. Even though Pei Shaohuai was mature in his thinking and had absorbed much experience of officialdom from his elders, all of that was still merely “heard.” When he truly entered service and began to handle affairs in practice, he would inevitably find himself unfamiliar with much.
Every beginning is difficult.
翰 means “writing brush.”
The Hanlin Academy — as abundant in literary talent as a forest of writing brushes.
The Hanlin Academy was situated on Chang’an Avenue. Though it lay outside the Forbidden City, it was separated from the palace by only one street, making entry and exit convenient.
The grounds were not large — there were no tall, grand buildings, only a series of small quadrangle courtyards connected by narrow pathways.
Whether viewed from the outside or within, it appeared entirely unassuming, bearing no resemblance to the other grand palace structures.
On his first day at the Hanlin Academy, Pei Shaohuai had arranged to arrive together with Ma Tingwen and Zhong Wangyue. Yet no sooner had the three of them entered the courtyard than a Lecturer-Reader by the surname of He pulled Pei Shaohuai aside alone, leaving Ma Tingwen and Zhong Wangyue in the Restoration Hall.
Lecturer-Reader He’s manner toward Pei Shaohuai was exceedingly cordial. He led him on a tour of the grounds and made introductions to a number of people.
“The Hanlin Academy is more or less this many people on any given day. Although the several Grand Secretaries are academicians of the Hanlin, they manage affairs within the palace and seldom return here. Should you wish to see them, you would need to enter the palace,” Lecturer-Reader He explained.
Then he asked, “Compiler Pei, you will presumably be coming and going through the Hall of Literary Glory on a regular basis? Shall I take you into the palace for a visit, so you may familiarize yourself with the route first?”
He had pointedly singled out the Hall of Literary Glory, which belonged to Grand Secretary Shen.
Pei Shaohuai’s mind was clear. He recognized that Lecturer-Reader He was probing him, and replied, “This subordinate has only just arrived and ought to first become familiar with the affairs of the Hanlin Academy as quickly as possible. On most days, there is no matter that would require troubling the Grand Secretaries.”
“Very well — come find me if anything arises.”
It appeared that Pei Shaohuai had been placed under Lecturer-Reader He’s supervision, yet the attitude Lecturer-Reader He displayed was as though Pei Shaohuai held a higher rank than he did.
This puzzled Pei Shaohuai.
He asked, “Lecturer-Reader, sir — what duties am I to be responsible for during this period?” They had made quite a lengthy tour, yet Lecturer-Reader He had said nothing at all about what Pei Shaohuai was actually expected to do.
Lecturer-Reader He smiled and said, “You have only just arrived, and the History Repository is not particularly busy at the moment. For now, simply wander about and get acquainted with the place. You are also welcome to read some edicts, documents, and archival volumes — entirely as you please.”
He gestured toward the various archival rooms and continued, “You have full access to all books and archival volumes in the History Repository. Just remember one thing: not a single word concerning imperial and national history may be disclosed to outsiders. As for your other duties and palace duty rotation — there is no rush on that front. Once you are familiar with the Hanlin Academy, we can discuss it then.”
“This subordinate will bear it in mind.”
Regardless of how cordial Lecturer-Reader He’s manner appeared, Pei Shaohuai maintained a posture of respectful deference throughout.
After Lecturer-Reader He departed, Pei Shaohuai took a careful look around his own office. If he recalled correctly, having just walked the entire premises, this office was somewhat more spacious and well-lit compared to those of everyone else.
No duties assigned, and yet such a fine office?
At noon, Pei Shaohuai ran into Ma Tingwen during the meal break and exchanged a few words with him.
Ma Tingwen wore a look of resigned misery. He reported that he and Zhong Wangyue had already spent the morning repairing ancient texts, saying, “Some of those fragments were burned, others water-damaged, and the missing characters are barely legible. We can’t simply fill them in at will — we have to pore back and forth over the surrounding text to reconstruct them.”
It was only the first day at the Hanlin Academy, and with just a few brief words of instruction, they had already been put to work.
He then asked Pei Shaohuai, “Compiler Pei, how are things on your end in the History Repository? I heard a Reader from the Restoration Hall say that the History Repository is the busiest of all — compiling books and histories, and also serving on palace duty to record the Emperor’s words.”
Pei Shaohuai understood. Not everyone received the same treatment as he did. After all, new arrivals were the most useful people to put to work.
This, then, was Lecturer-Reader He’s deliberate doing.
Pei Shaohuai replied, “The History Repository is indeed busy. Since I have not yet become familiar with the work, I would not dare to be set loose on compilation or duty rotation just yet.”
After all, compiling histories and recording the Emperor’s words were not trivial matters — they could not be taken lightly. What Pei Shaohuai said was perfectly reasonable.
That afternoon, Lecturer-Reader He did not appear. Pei Shaohuai occupied himself in his office, leafing through old drafts to understand what the History Repository was currently working on.
As the sun began to set, the various Hanlin officials emerged from their rooms, dispersing in twos and threes and heading home.
Pei Shaohuai boarded the Xu family’s carriage and waited for his elder brother-in-law Xu Zhan to emerge.