By the time he returned home from the palace, the sky had gone fully dark, and his elder sisters had long since departed for their own households.
Xiao Nan and Xiao Feng were still over at the Zhaolu Courtyard playing.
Pei Shaohuai drew a hot bath, and sat in the large tub wringing out a cloth and pressing it warm against his forehead, eyes half-closed, resting for a good while. He had a slight headache.
The task the Emperor had entrusted to him was not going to be easy.
On the one hand, a sovereign drove his ministers, making their positions dependent and secure; on the other, a sovereign kept his ministers in check, hoping they would be wholehearted in the service of the public good. These two things were, at their core, contradictory — and small wonder that sovereigns and their scholar-officials had been tangled up in this knot for centuries upon centuries.
The following day’s schedule was full. In the morning, he paid a visit to the Xu household to call on his old tutor, Master Duan.
Master Duan had aged considerably. Three years without seeing him, the contrast struck Pei Shaohuai with particular force.
Time is the most relentless of all things — it does not wait for spring or autumn, nor for anyone.
The cold affliction in the Master’s body had deepened once again. Though winter had not yet properly arrived, braziers had already been placed in all four corners of the room. Pei Shaohuai took Master Duan’s withered hands in his, felt how slightly cool they were, and rubbed them for a long while without being able to warm them.
In former years, Master Duan’s brushwork had been vigorous and forceful, drawing its strength from the wrist and fingers. Now Pei Shaohuai could feel that the force had diminished greatly.
The study still had writing on the desk as before, surrounded by books and scrolls, but the brush and inkstone showed signs of having gone untouched for some time.
Master Duan saw the way Pei Shaohuai’s throat worked as he struggled in vain to speak, and said with a gentle laugh: “Foolish child. ‘Time steals the temples’ color and the years consume the figure in its solitude’ — this is something no one can prevent. From the small scholar you were in those early days, to the man who now has a wife and children, how could your teacher not have grown old? So long as the heart that loves learning remains unchanged, what is there to grieve? You and I have had this bond between teacher and student — to have heard of your accomplishments, to have seen you come back with your children — that is more than enough. Today, teacher and student are reunited. Let there be no more brooding over what the mirror reflects. Let us speak of learning, as we always have, and talk of what you have seen in the world beyond.”
Master Duan had not yet reached seventy, and yet he appeared more aged than Master Nan Ju had. The Imperial physicians had explained it long ago: Master Duan had spent years seated, his meridians unmoving, his vital energy in decline — and so his body was weaker than most, and he had been chronically afflicted with cold. The root of his ailment lay with his legs, which admitted of no cure, only careful tending.
The Xu household had done everything possible to care for him well.
Master Duan was right — teacher and student had reunited after such difficulty, and there was no cause for this mournful sniffling. Pei Shaohuai did not wish to add to his tutor’s sorrow, so he pressed down his feelings and steadied himself.
He told Master Duan about Fujian; Xiao Nan and Xiao Feng came forward and recited two essays from memory, clear and measured in their delivery, which pleased Master Duan greatly.
“They will turn five before long — I hope the Master would be willing to conduct their initiation ceremony when the time comes,” Pei Shaohuai said.
Master Duan noticed that Pei Shaohuai had used the word “they,” and nodded. “They are both uncommonly bright — fine seedlings, both of them.” He smiled and added: “To be able to conduct the initiation rites for three generations — that, in itself, is a kind of completeness.”
After sharing the midday meal at the Xu household, Pei Shaohuai took his leave. He said to Xu Yancheng: “I will be going to the Yang household this afternoon to call on my father-in-law and mother-in-law. I will come to see the Master again in a day or two.”
“The Master is well looked after here with me. Do not divide your attention on his account,” Xu Yancheng said. “Tend to your own affairs first. The Capital Evaluation is treacherous water — think carefully on how to proceed. The Master knows the weight of the responsibility you carry, and he worries too, even if he says nothing.”
“I understand.”
The two men bowed to each other and parted.
In the afternoon, Pei Shaohuai and Yang Shiyue brought Xiao Nan and Xiao Feng to the Yang household.
Yang Shiyue’s elder brother, Yang Xiangquan, had married during the years when Pei Shaohuai was still stationed in Fujian. Now that he was home, the gift he owed for that occasion could no longer be delayed.
In the study, the conversation between son-in-law and father-in-law turned, as it so often did, to the Capital Evaluation. His father-in-law cautioned him: “Wang Gaoxiang holds the position of Minister of Personnel. That he submitted a memorial to test the Emperor’s intentions is not difficult to understand — he is serving his role and fulfilling his duties. Boyuan, now that the Capital Evaluation has fallen to you, you must be on guard not only against those who oppose you or seek to probe you — but also those who are close to you.”
Pei Shaohuai nodded. His father-in-law served in the Court of Judicial Review, which regularly worked alongside the Ministry of Justice and the Censorate to investigate major cases at court. His guiding principle was the law, and he had seen a great deal of various parties shifting responsibility onto one another.
His father-in-law was worried that Pei Shaohuai, in his youth, might keep his guard up against his enemies while inadvertently letting someone nearby drag him down.
“Your son-in-law will take heed of this. Thank you for the counsel, Father,” Pei Shaohuai replied.
His father-in-law continued his analysis: “The dynamic of this court is one of mutual surveillance and mutual impeachment — each checking the other in a balance of rising and falling fortunes. The Ministry of Personnel stands at the head of the Six Ministries, and Wang Gaoxiang occupies the post of Minister of Personnel. If even a fraction of his authority slips through his fingers, others will move in to claim a share of the power of appointment — let it slip too much, and the Six Ministries will become the Grand Chancellor’s plaything. He has grown anxious now, and is taking risks in what he does — that, at least, is not difficult to understand.”
Was it truly within the power of a single Supervising Secretary of the Personnel Office to bring down the previous Bureau Director of Merit Evaluations through “his own efforts alone”? Had no other forces been at play? Had Wang Gaoxiang made no attempt to manage the situation? Most likely, neither was as it appeared.
It was precisely because Wang Gaoxiang had lost a capable subordinate and let the crack in his authority grow too wide that he had acted with such urgency to draw Pei Shaohuai into the Office of the Heir Apparent.
This was his father-in-law’s reading of the situation.
After listening, Pei Shaohuai found his thoughts turning to the “black blade” of years past — Pei Jue. When it came to wielding authority at court, the current Grand Chancellor, Hu Qi, was far less formidable than either Lou Yuxing or Shen Yizhang had been; and yet Pei Jue, under circumstances such as those, had maintained his grip on the Ministry of Personnel without yielding so much as a fraction of an inch, keeping Lou Yuxing from gaining any foothold and remaining firmly established at court. That spoke to a genuine mastery of craft.
One could only understand by comparison why the Emperor had made such use of this “black blade.”
“And so, once your son-in-law takes up his post in the Office for Evaluation of Merit, Wang Gaoxiang will not seek to make things difficult for him — instead, he will continue his efforts to draw him in.” Pei Shaohuai followed his father-in-law’s reasoning through to its conclusion.
“Precisely,” his father-in-law said. “There is one more thing you must keep in mind. Those who have reached positions of great height can seldom remain entirely clean — and even those who manage to preserve their own integrity cannot guarantee the same of those beneath them. Even I, as your father-in-law, am no exception.”
He spoke with gravity: “Boyuan — if anyone from the Court of Judicial Review, or anyone connected to the Yang family, should approach you privately on the grounds of my name and ask you to be lenient in the Capital Evaluation on some matter or another — you need pay them no mind. Simply proceed according to the regulations.”
“The Yang family has maintained, generation after generation, the role of loyal subject to the throne. That is how we have preserved the name of a house of scholars and letters. I hope you will be the same.”
“Your son-in-law will remember this.”
Meanwhile, Yang Shiyue was in the rear courtyard in conversation with her mother.
Yang Furen took her daughter’s hands in hers and examined them — the nails were pink and lustrous, which reassured her greatly. She said: “These years while you were in the south, I worried often that you might find yourself with child again.”
Carrying twins was not merely a matter of danger at the moment of delivery. Across ten months of pregnancy, if one ate too much, the two children might grow too large to be safely delivered; if too little, the two children would draw too heavily on the mother’s own nourishment, which could cause lasting damage to her body.
When Yang Furen had been carrying Yang Shiyue and her brother, she had not eaten enough, and to this day her fingernails had never fully recovered their color. Later, she had become pregnant once more, but her constitution was too weak, and she had not been able to carry the child to term — a sorrow she bore to this day.
“Nothing has stirred in that regard since?” Yang Furen asked her daughter.
Yang Shiyue shook her head. “My husband says that having Zhengguan and Yunci is more than enough,” she answered — they had spoken of the matter between them.
“That is well and good. There is no need for you to risk yourself again.” Yang Furen thought back to the day she had called upon the Pei household with her daughter, and smiled with deep satisfaction. “At the time, I had thought it would simply be a courtesy visit — I had no idea we would find such a fine son-in-law.”
A good family character, someone who cherished and cared for his wife, and a man of real achievement — what mother-in-law could ask for more?
After resting at home for several days, Pei Shaohuai received his Imperial assignment and reported for duty.
The yamen of the Ministry of Personnel was situated inside the Wumen Gate, with a central courtyard separating it from the Hall of Military Eminence and the Pavilion of Literary Profundity across the way — and not far at all from the Qianqing Palace where the Emperor conducted his affairs.
This meant that if the Emperor wished to consult Pei Shaohuai, the proximity was most convenient — it was very nearly a matter of calling out and being heard at once.
On his first day in office, all the clerks and officials of the Office for Evaluation of Merit gathered at the entrance to receive him: two Senior Department Officials, two sixth-rank Junior Department Heads, four Probationary Officials without set posts, Imperial Academy students assigned for practical training, and a number of eighth- and ninth-rank minor clerks. In addition, Wang Gaoxiang had transferred two Junior Department Heads over from the Ministry’s Office of Appointments and the Office of Records to assist with the work.
The yamen was not large, but it was by no means understaffed.
A dedicated suite of offices had been kept specifically for the Capital Evaluation, known as the Capital Evaluation Chamber, and this was where Pei Shaohuai’s work station was established.
At a glance, these subordinates ranged from the youngest at over thirty years of age to the most senior — such as the Senior Department Officials — who had already passed fifty. Every one of them was older than Pei Shaohuai.
Before Pei Shaohuai had been formally assigned to the post, they had certainly not welcomed the prospect of having this younger man as their superior. But once the matter was settled and the dust had cleared, they had become entirely deferential and respectful, not daring to give him offense.
Working from the roster, Pei Shaohuai made his way through introductions with each of them. Then he dismissed the rest, keeping only one official — Bureau Head Miao — to familiarize him with the workings of the Office for Evaluation of Merit.
He spent particular attention on the Office’s archive, which housed, above all else, the records of regular merit reviews, nominations for court appointments, and the Capital Evaluation records from past years.
Bureau Head Miao was around thirty-five or thirty-six. He was there to assist Pei Shaohuai, and had assumed that after this newly appointed Bureau Director had taken a turn around the Office, he would naturally proceed to pay courtesy calls on Minister Wang and the two Vice Ministers — to report in, and to warm the relationships a little.
What he had not anticipated was that after acquainting himself with the layout of the Office, Pei Shaohuai simply returned to the Capital Evaluation Chamber and sat down.
“Bureau Director Pei,” Bureau Head Miao ventured hesitantly — “will you not go to sit with the Minister Wang for a while?”
Pei Shaohuai was not unaware of these conventions of official life. But on this occasion, he had come under direct Imperial mandate to carry out a specific task. If he truly behaved as an ordinary subordinate within the Ministry, he would never be able to accomplish what needed to be done.
He replied: “The Capital Evaluation is a matter of great consequence. Let us prioritize what is most pressing. The Minister Wang’s tea can be taken at any time.”
Bureau Head Miao drew a sharp breath inward. In all his years of service, this was the first time he had witnessed a subordinate put his own superior — a Minister, no less — so firmly in his place. And this man was so young.
“One more thing,” Pei Shaohuai instructed. “Retrieve the materials from the past two Capital Evaluations. I wish to examine all of the assessment reviews and interview forms. And send several clerks with good handwriting to assist me in keeping notes and copying documents.”
“The assessment reviews and interview forms have already been organized and bound into volumes — I will fetch them for you at once,” Bureau Head Miao said, withdrawing.
From the looks of things, this Bureau Director Pei intended to begin working on his very first day.
Before long, the writing desks in the Capital Evaluation Chamber were covered with yellowed volumes, the air thick with the smell of old dust, and the clerks had all been arranged and set in place.
The so-called “assessment reviews” were the evaluations given by an examined official’s superiors — along with the Ministry of Personnel and the Censorate — on the day they appeared before the formal examination of the Capital Evaluation, commenting on how the official had performed in office and whether he was fit to remain.
The “interview forms” were of two kinds — “signed interview forms” and “anonymous interview forms” — distributed by the Office for Evaluation of Merit to individuals without fixed official posts, requiring them to offer their assessment of various officials as a reference for the evaluation.
Signed interview forms were filled out by the chief officials of the relevant government offices. Those who filled out anonymous forms varied more widely.