The room had a nine-ridged roof, making it feel especially lofty and spacious. Deep in the night, accompanied by the faint rustling of insects outside the hall, the interior was so silent that even the slightest sound seemed magnified.
Lou Yuxing looked toward Pei Shaohuai. The night lighting was dim, and Pei Shaohuai was standing far away, so Lou Yuxing’s expression was difficult to make out clearly — yet Pei Shaohuai imagined it must carry a hint of contempt.
Lou Yuxing asked: “Do you understand what I mean?” It was as though he had tossed down a coin and expected Pei Shaohuai to scramble to pick it up.
Pei Shaohuai said nothing.
Setting aside their political differences in court, setting aside his connection to Master Nanju, there was no way Pei Shaohuai would ever collude with the Western He faction. Lou Yuxing had overestimated himself. The situation was not that the Emperor depended on him and the Western He scholars — it was that he depended on the Emperor.
If the Emperor was willing to continue tolerating him and preserve some semblance of his dignity, then Lou Yuxing could retire peacefully. But if the Emperor had had enough of him, not even a past achievement as towering as the heavens would count for anything — on the contrary, it would only make the Emperor feel all the more stifled. And when that day came, how hard would it be to find grounds to charge him with an offense?
Whether it was because the Emperor was too magnanimous by nature, or because Lou Yuxing had grown so accustomed to behaving imperiously, or because Lou Yuxing still held other cards to keep the Emperor in check — somehow, Lou Yuxing was still able to act as though all of this were simply his due.
Pei Shaohuai’s continued silence displeased Lou Yuxing. He gave a light snort and said: “Surely you don’t believe that merely on the strength of the Pei family’s title and your marriage connections alone, you have enough to establish yourself at court? Furthermore, the civil and military paths have never been compatible.”
Lou Yuxing picked up his teacup and took an unhurried sip, then added: “In the regions outside the capital, ten county magistrates cannot equal one prefect. The same principle holds here in the capital.”
Pei Shaohuai’s prolonged silence had, conversely, roused Lou Yuxing’s competitive spirit. He moderated his tone slightly and said in a persuasive manner: “It’s common enough for a young man to be hot-headed. You have a strong background in the imperial examinations, and started your career early. If someone were to guide your path going forward, and help bring your ideas to fruition, a man of your caliber and talent could very well become a Deputy Minister in his mid-twenties — it’s not out of the question.”
A Deputy Minister in his mid-twenties — even just waiting it out from there, one could eventually ascend to the Grand Secretariat.
“Now that I’ve put it this plainly, surely you understand my meaning?” Lou Yuxing asked again.
There was no need for Pei Shaohuai to clash directly with Lou Yuxing at this moment. He cupped his hands and replied: “As the Grand Secretary has said, your subordinate is young and hot-headed. I prefer to forge my own path — I’ll only turn back when I’ve hit the wall.”
He had declined Lou Yuxing’s offer to pull him in, but had not deliberately provoked him.
Then he added: “If the Grand Secretary has no other matters, your subordinate will take his leave first.”
Lou Yuxing said nothing. He silently waved a sleeve, signaling permission to go, his expression heavy and dark.
He had spoken at such length with painstaking sincerity, and Pei Shaohuai had likely not taken in a single word.
Outside Wuying Hall, Pei Shaohuai walked along the winding covered corridor. The wind was strong that night, and the lantern carried by the eunuch guiding his way was blown out. They could only navigate by the fitful light of the moon.
Pei Shaohuai thought to himself: huddling together for warmth is a means of survival in the dead of winter — but applied to the court, it only results in mutual erosion and mutual destruction. When the nest is overturned, can any egg remain intact?
In court, the original purpose of remonstrance was for truth to emerge through debate. But once private interests are mixed in, it is no longer “debate” — it becomes “stirring,” muddying the waters further with every turn.
Above, ragged clouds swept past. The bright moon was hidden one moment, revealed the next.
How long can clouds conceal the cassia moon? The jade disk hangs in the sky, now as in ancient times.
What Pei Shaohuai had declined tonight was not Lou Yuxing alone.
The covered corridor beneath his feet was still shifting between light and shadow, but within Pei Shaohuai’s heart, all was already clear.
Three days of duty came to an end. After handing over to his colleague, Pei Shaohuai packed up his basket and left the palace to return home.
He encountered Yan Chengzhao outside the palace gates.
This time it was Pei Shaohuai who spoke first: “Commander Yan — aren’t you always on duty? How do you find the leisure to leave the palace?” Though he and Yan Chengzhao were not close friends, they had at least collaborated before, so a greeting was in order.
Yan Chengzhao usually rode on horseback, but today he had a carriage prepared — its curtains in a subdued color, wrapped tightly shut.
Seeing it was Pei Shaohuai, Yan Chengzhao replied: “Being on duty comes in two forms — duty inside the palace and duty outside the palace. As long as the men of the Southern Office of Judicial Review are still breathing, they count as on duty.”
Pei Shaohuai inwardly scoffed: slipping out of the palace and making it sound perfectly legitimate. He also thought: the Southern Office of Judicial Review really is something — just being alive counts as clocking in.
He made small talk: “And where is Commander Yan headed?” Then, realizing that Yan Chengzhao was not an ordinary person and could not be treated to ordinary small talk, Pei Shaohuai immediately apologized: “Forgive me — that was out of line. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m going to watch an opera.”
A pause. Yan Chengzhao, out of courtesy, politely offered: “Would Official Pei like to come along?”
This mysterious Commander Yan’s one and only known pleasure was watching opera. Pei Shaohuai could hardly impose on that, and replied: “There are still some matters at home, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint Commander Yan’s generous invitation.”
The two parted ways and each boarded their respective carriages.
Several days later, Pei Shaohuai finished organizing the notes from his duty as recording scribe. He condensed them to just over a thousand characters, made a clean copy, and sent it to the Hanlin Academy to be submitted.
Only after a Lecturer-in-Waiting or a Grand Secretary had reviewed it could this written record be entered into the archives.
Lecturer-in-Waiting Zou’s office was as neat and tidy as ever, the dusty scent of old books mingling with the heavy smell of ink.
Lecturer Zou read the draft while Pei Shaohuai waited quietly to one side. In less than a quarter of an hour, Lecturer Zou nodded and said: “The narrative is clear, the wording precise — no further revisions are needed.”
This meant it had passed his review.
Pei Shaohuai took back the draft and said: “Then your subordinate will next present it to Grand Secretary Shen at Wenhua Hall for his review.”
Pei Shaohuai had just bid farewell and was about to leave when he heard Lecturer Zou call him back and invite him to sit — he had something to discuss.
Lecturer Zou asked: “I heard that Compiler Pei once traveled and studied in Jiangnan. Did he happen to meet my father in Suzhou Prefecture?”
He had guessed correctly.
Pei Shaohuai was momentarily startled, then smiled and replied honestly: “When your subordinate traveled south to study, he did indeed frequently meet with Grand Secretary Zou in the south of Suzhou’s city to converse. It was of great benefit to me — something I will draw upon for the rest of my life.” He then asked: “Might I ask how the Lecturer perceived this?”
Upon receiving confirmation, Lecturer Zou’s face lit up with something approaching joy. He explained: “The remonstrance Compiler Pei made at court, and the silver coin reform he helped enact — I recognized within them traces of my father’s thinking, which led me to this conjecture.”
Pei Shaohuai understood. No one knows a father like his son. His remonstrance had indeed been deeply influenced by Grand Secretary Zou, so it was natural for Lecturer Zou to have recognized it.
Though Lecturer Zou’s face showed joy, the emotions in his eyes were far more complex — there was gratitude, but also regret and self-reproach. He continued: “My father must have felt very comforted and glad to have met someone who could truly understand his ideas, someone to discuss them with at length and exchange thoughts — someone like you, Compiler Pei.”
Pei Shaohuai did not know what had transpired between Grand Secretary Zou and his son Lecturer Zou, so he simply listened quietly.
Lecturer Zou confided: “If only I were not so lacking in ability, if only I had not been indifferent to the study of monetary and tax policy, and had not spent years making so little progress — my father would not have retired to the countryside so early.”
He recounted many past events, and from the pieces Pei Shaohuai assembled as he listened, he gradually came to understand.
It turned out that Grand Secretary Zou had, at one point, cultivated his son as his own successor. Whether it was preparation for the civil examinations and an official career, or the study of taxation and financial administration in the Ministry of Revenue, Grand Secretary Zou had taught his son every detail with meticulous care, leaving out not even the smallest point.
Yet Lecturer Zou had no inclination for such things, nor any aptitude for them. After several years of effort, he was mentally and physically exhausted, and his gains were meager. In Lecturer Zou’s eyes, his father had been strict.
Lecturer Zou said: “At that time, Lou Yuxing had just assumed the position of Chief Grand Secretary, and his arrogance was at its height. My father, serving as the Deputy Grand Secretary, was suppressed at every turn. Whenever he wished to propose new policies, Lou Yuxing would reject them outright. Those in court who supported my father grew fewer and fewer — only the disciples he had once recommended and promoted stayed firm alongside him.”
“What grieved my father most was that the protégé he had valued most highly — the one he had invested the greatest effort in cultivating — after rising to become Minister of Revenue, removed the Ministry’s veteran officials one by one and led the entire Ministry to defect, switching allegiance to Lou Yuxing’s Western He faction.”
“Watching the Ministry of Revenue he had built piece by piece fall into Lou Yuxing’s hands, with his protégé’s betrayal, and then at just that moment I chose to speak plainly to him — telling him I had no inclination for the convoluted intricacies of monetary and tax administration…”
“My father was approaching his sixtieth year the following year. He immediately submitted a request to His Majesty for permission to resign and retire to the countryside.”
“It is because I was too disappointing, because I let my father down, and learned nothing of worth…”
Pei Shaohuai could imagine the circumstances at the time: on the losing side of factional struggles, lacking sufficient imperial trust, and then suffering a protégé’s betrayal… When one has nowhere to channel one’s ardent convictions and has no successor to carry on the work, why continue to struggle in vain?
Knowledge must be passed down through generations — only then, as each generation transmits it to the next, does it grow ever deeper and more substantial.
The great undertakings of the world are rarely completed in a single generation; they are the accumulated achievement of many generations.
And the most terrible thing of all is when that transmission is severed. That was why Grand Secretary Zou had given up.
It was very difficult for Pei Shaohuai to imagine that the man and woman he knew as the Master and Mistress of Nanju — so gracious and serene, so seemingly at ease with the world — could appear, in the eyes of their son, as a pair of strict parents. But after turning it over in his mind, he found it quite natural. How many people are able to treat other people’s children with gentleness, yet are strict with their own? They want to pass everything they have ever learned on to their child.
Lecturer Zou looked at Pei Shaohuai and said: “Compiler Pei has been able to bring into reality what my father had envisioned. My father, knowing this, will surely feel comforted and glad.” He then gave a self-deprecating laugh and said: “It is laughable, in a way — it is because of my own inadequacy, because I failed to live up to my father’s cultivation… By that reckoning, I should be thanking Compiler Pei.”
Lecturer Zou seemed to believe that his father was deeply disappointed in him.
There were likely some misunderstandings between this father and son. Pei Shaohuai offered a word of comfort: “The son, knowing the depth of his father’s good intentions, once strove diligently to study the ways of the Ministry of Revenue. And the father, upon learning his son’s true inclinations, no longer pressed him — and petitioned before the throne to have his son remain in the Hanlin Academy to study historical records… Both were thinking of the other. Where is there any betrayal or falling short?”
Pei Shaohuai suggested: “In your subordinate’s humble view, if any betrayal has occurred, it is that misunderstanding has betrayed the genuine affection between father and son all these years.”
Lecturer Zou’s eyes brightened. When a person is lost in confusion, even the most straightforward truths become easy to overlook. He murmured: “Compiler Pei speaks rightly. I had let my worries lead my thoughts astray.”
Having worked through this, Lecturer Zou’s emotions surged with some intensity, and it took quite a while for them to settle.
Lecturer Zou then said: “There is one more matter I would ask presumptuously of Compiler Pei — I would like to request a promise.”
“Please speak, Lecturer.”
“You need not make an enemy of the Western He faction — but please, Compiler Pei, at least do not align yourself with them.” Lecturer Zou said earnestly. “My father has already suffered one betrayal…”
The last had cost him retirement. Another such blow might well cost him his life.
Pei Shaohuai answered without a moment’s hesitation: “I give you my word, Lecturer.”
The autumn sky was clear, a rare and beautiful day. Pei Shaohuai went out that day on official business, and when he was done, planned to dine at He Xiang Lou. Taking a shortcut, he passed by a secluded little theater.
He happened upon a scene of commotion.
Several coarse-mannered women servants were dragging a beautiful young opera performer in blue robes out of the theater. They gripped the performer’s joints tightly so she could not move, then hauled her onto a carriage.
The other people at the theater rushed forward to stop them, but were unable to overcome the male servants.
Pei Shaohuai looked at the carriage and the servants’ clothing and insignia, then asked Chang Zhou: “These look like people from the Prince of Anping’s household?”
“They are from the Prince of Anping’s household.” Chang Zhou said with certainty. “I recognize that coachman.”
Pei Shaohuai immediately formed a conjecture. After a few moments’ thought, he said to Chang Zhou: “Chang Zhou, ride quickly to the Southern Office of Judicial Review and pass on a message.”