While the Crown Prince governed by weight in his hall, the Third Prince was rummaging through the Imperial Library.

The Third Prince directed his attendants to carry out stack after stack of books, nearly filling the carriage with them until there was no place for him to sit. He simply sat outside the carriage and drove it himself.

“Your Highness,” the library officials dared not stop him but could only say carefully, “Let us prepare a carriage to deliver these to you.”

The Third Prince raised his hand in refusal: “Don’t touch my books. I know you all too well—you’ll certainly miss or lose some.” Not waiting for the officials to speak further, his pale face filled with fury, “And in the future, whoever dares to ask the Prince for books back, don’t blame me for abandoning scholarly restraint!”

The officials were somewhat helpless: “Your Highness, you’re emptying the entire library.”

The Third Prince sneered: “So what if I empty it? Father has given the entire world to the Crown Prince—what does it matter if I take just one library!”

These words were truly—the officials didn’t know how to respond and could only watch as the Third Prince drove away, leaving in grand style.

The Third Prince had an erratic temperament and showed disrespect to the Crown Prince everywhere, but with Noble Consort Zhao supporting him, and the Emperor turning a blind eye, any official who denounced the Third Prince would face retaliation from the Zhao family—either demotion or imprisonment. In recent years, officials had kept their eyes and mouths shut.

The Empress’s Yang clan, occupying crucial positions in the court, was also not to be provoked.

As they fought and bit at each other, innocent bystanders suffered.

Like that, Official Liang.

Though it was just a tea stain on his shoulder, there were no secrets in court, and the news spread like wildfire.

Being splashed with tea by the Emperor was due to the conflict between the Zhao and Yang families.

“Alas,” hearing this, an official interjected, “I heard it was because of Chu Lan’s daughter—”

Officials naturally learned about the incident between Chu Lan’s daughter and the Liang family’s young lady through their family members, but—

“That’s a minor matter,” they waved dismissively.

Chu Lan, and indeed his daughter, were insignificant people. The dispute between two young ladies was also an inconsequential small matter. Behind Official Liang’s issue must be major affairs involving the Yang and Zhao families, as well as the Crown Prince and Third Prince.

Chu Lan was already a negligible figure.

As for his daughter, she was merely a speck of dust in the capital.

Brushing aside the dust, the officials continued to discuss in low voices the important figures and their significant matters in court.

“What does the Third Prince intend to do with this literary gathering?”

“Is he planning to rally scholars to create momentum?”

“That would cause a stir.”

……

……

The Third Prince drove the carriage with the coachman sitting beside him, speeding away from the Imperial City.

“Your Highness,” the wooden-faced coachman said softly, “The lord uncle asks why His Majesty lost his temper? Does anything need to be done?”

There were no secrets in the Imperial City. With Noble Consort Zhao by the Emperor’s side, the Emperor had even fewer secrets. No sooner had he smashed things than the Noble Consort’s brother knew about it.

The Third Prince’s face showed none of his previous frenzy, his lips curling in a slight smile: “No need. Tell lord uncle that I deliberately provoked Father’s anger by reciting the words Chu Lan used in his memorial that offended Father years ago.”

The coachman was somewhat puzzled: “Does Your Highness dislike this Chu Lan?”

The Third Prince snorted: “He’s nothing worth my attention. Mother says this Chu Lan is about to die, so I’m just hastening his end. We need to get our hands on Luocheng.”

The coachman understood: “Rest assured, Your Highness. Lord uncle knows about this matter and has already sent people there. Even if Chu Lan doesn’t die, we’ll arrange to have someone inside.”

“Very good. Tell lord uncle not to concern himself with these minor people and matters,” the Third Prince said, smoothing his wind-tousled hair, revealing a sinister gaze. “What comes next is our main event.”

With that, he cracked the whip fiercely, and the horse neighed, charging forward like mad.

His guards had long since adapted, promptly clearing the street and ordering crowds to make way. The common people along the street were also accustomed to this and hurriedly stepped aside, watching as the Third Prince passed by with his clothes and hair flying wildly.

The affairs between the imperial father, sons, and brothers were behind closed doors. The Imperial City remained peaceful in the spring afternoon.

In an office in the Western Palace compound, after waiting for a long time and talking for just as long, Deng Yi finally handed over a piece of paper.

The official took it, squinting as he held it up to examine. It appeared to be a pawn ticket but was a voucher to retrieve valuables from a pawnshop.

“Deng Yi, I’m taking a risk accepting this money from you. Who told you to offend the Yang family and then the Zhao family? Now that you’ve made another mistake in your duties, Minister Zhou naturally wants to squeeze you hard,” he said.

Deng Yi nodded: “I understand. Giving money is never the risk—receiving it is. I will remember your excellency’s kindness.”

The official smiled: “You, you—aren’t you quite good at speaking and handling matters? Why must you offend them?”

Deng Yi smiled faintly: “I didn’t intentionally offend them. I’ve done everything I should in terms of giving gifts and handling matters. My abilities are limited to that. If they remain displeased with me, there’s nothing more I can do.”

What “abilities limited to that? Speaking, he simply didn’t want to sell his body and life to them. The official understood—while the Zhao and Yang families openly and secretly fought and formed factions, and though most people in court had made their choice, some didn’t want to choose. They just wanted to secure an official position and live quietly, keeping their heads down.

“Then you’ll just have to work harder,” the official said, tossing an appointment document on the table. “Originally, you could have remained comfortably in the Court of the Imperial Regalia, but now you can only guard the palace gates. This is the most respectable duty I can select for you, still better than patrolling the city with the guards.”

Deng Yi took it and saluted the official: “Thank you for your righteousness, sir.”

The official shook the pawn ticket and laughed heartily: “Think nothing of it. No wonder people say dealing with you, Deng Yi, is most satisfying.”

To accept so much money and still be called righteous—not bad, not bad at all. This kind of righteousness, he would gladly practice a few more times.

Deng Yi bowed and took his leave, walking once more through the Imperial City. Occasionally, officials who recognized him would turn their heads and pretend not to see him.

Deng Yi, Deputy Director of the Court of the Imperial Regalia, had bribed his way into the capital, secured a respectable position, but in less than a year, he had been dismissed.

This man was truly incompetent and had brought trouble upon himself.

“Second Master, Second Master,” a voice called softly from the corner outside the palace gate.

Deng Yi saw his family’s servant boy and hurried over: “What is it? Is there a problem at home?”

Deng Yi brought his family wherever he went, and coming to the capital was no exception. His family was simple: just a blind old mother and a servant boy.

The servant boy complained pitifully: “The old madam wants to eat, but we found there’s no rice at home, and no money either.” He finished and looked at Deng Yi reproachfully. “We just had a lot of money, Second Master. Did you throw it away again?”

Deng Yi smiled and removed the old cloak he was wearing: “The weather is warm now. Take this and pawn it to buy rice for meals.”

The servant boy accepted it resignedly yet habitually, shaking his head and muttering as he ran off with the clothes. Eating was important—he needed to pawn it quickly to buy rice.

Nearby officials passing by heard the master and servant’s conversation, and soon the news spread, making the surrounding gazes even more contemptuous.

Deng Yi paid no attention, walking out of the palace gate in his thin garment with a calm expression. He looked toward the Court of the Imperial Regalia, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He had given gifts and built connections all along his journey, relying on these connections to climb higher. As long as one got onto this major road in the capital, one could surely reach the heavens.

What did it matter if a small figure was as inconspicuous as dust? Given the opportunity, even dust could blot out the sky and sun.