The court fell silent after hearing the edict—officials on both sides couldn’t help feeling a rabbit’s sympathy for the fox. With corruption, whoever got caught was simply unlucky; no one wearing an official’s cap dared mock the fifty-steps for the hundred.
But regarding Prime Minister Hua’s escape from this disaster, everyone privately felt a bit of relief—the Emperor, who had once targeted the Prime Minister, now seemed to be protecting her instead. Had the Emperor not shielded her this time, Hua Jinghua would certainly not still be standing in this court.
Whether it was because the Prime Minister’s attitude had softened, or because the Emperor had matured somewhat, after this incident, their attitude toward the Prime Minister ought to change as well.
Once morning court ended, Hua Chun immediately tried to slip away.
Sure enough, she was caught by He Chang’an and dragged in front of the Emperor.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Yuwen Jie eyed her. “Don’t leave the palace for the next couple of days—stay by my side.”
Hua Chun pouted, saying quietly, “Can’t this subject even go see a friend off?”
“Friend?” Yuwen Jie looked her up and down, his gaze plainly saying: someone like you has friends?
“Are you thinking of seeing off Grand Tutor Tang?” He Chang’an asked quietly.
Hua Chun nodded, patting He Chang’an’s shoulder gratefully: “Second Brother really does understand me.”
“Foolish,” said Yuwen Jie, his gaze indifferent. “When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter; when the wall collapses, everyone pushes it further. He’s been found guilty and exiled, not retiring with honor.”
What was there to see off? Only trouble to invite!
Hua Chun lowered her head, secretly rolling her eyes. This Yuwen Jie’s heart must be made of stone—no, diamond. Seeing him off wasn’t such a big deal, just a few steps’ worth. Why did she have to be lumped in with the scattering monkeys and the wall-pushing crowd? Corruption aside, Grand Tutor Tang had served the court loyally for over a decade. If the Emperor couldn’t see him off himself, then she, as Prime Minister, going to build a little goodwill on his behalf—was that something to be displeased about?
Seeing Hua Chun’s face full of unspoken outrage, He Chang’an chuckled softly, looking at the Emperor: “If Jinghua really wants to go, then I’ll accompany him. Rest assured, Your Majesty, we won’t be long.”
Yuwen Jie frowned, looking at He Chang’an: “You spoil him too much.”
“It’s not as if he wants to do anything wrong,” He Chang’an said. “You should be a bit more tolerant sometimes too.”
Listening to this exchange, Hua Chun suddenly felt like Yuwen Jie was a strict father, He Chang’an a doting mother, and she herself the mischievous child wanting to sneak out and play. The family-of-three vibe was almost overwhelming!
Why had she, a dignified Prime Minister, sunk to the level of playing someone’s child? She was clearly a person of high status, independent-minded, and self-reliant! Who gave them the authority to restrict her movements like this?
Puffing her cheeks in indignation, she looked up only to meet Yuwen Jie’s thoroughly displeased eyes, dark and unfathomable.
Her cheeks instantly deflated, and Hua Chun instinctively gave him a flattering smile: “Heh heh.”
This servile streak must be bred in the bone—there was no shaking it off! She got angry at herself sometimes, truly disappointed in her own lack of backbone! But in front of someone stronger, she always ended up playing dead like a cockroach, utterly useless.
Yuwen Jie fell silent for a moment, and seeing her face nearly cracking from all the smiling, found it rather endearing, and finally nodded: “Go early, come back early.”
“Yes,” He Chang’an answered, giving Hua Chun a look. She caught his meaning and quickly thanked the Emperor.
Then the two of them swiftly vanished from the sovereign’s presence together.
Yuwen Jie felt somewhat unsettled inside. He’d always considered himself an approachable, amiable person, but for some reason, Hua Jinghua always seemed scared to death in front of him, while in front of He Chang’an, she seemed perfectly normal, relaxed, her smile carrying genuine warmth.
He thought about it for a long while and couldn’t figure out why.
“Eunuch Qin.”
“This servant is here.”
The sovereign turned his head, looking at him seriously: “Am I really that serious-looking?”
Startled, Eunuch Qin looked down in shock at the toes of the Emperor’s dragon-embroidered shoes, not knowing how to answer for a moment.
Why would His Majesty suddenly care about something like this? He couldn’t very well tell the truth—the truth was, yes, he really was quite serious-looking! No one had ever seen him with a happy expression. That aside, even on ordinary days, when those eyes of his fell on someone, it could make palace maids and consorts too frightened to stand steady, thinking he was angry.
Sighing softly, having served the Emperor for so long, Eunuch Qin naturally understood him best. Outwardly severe, the Emperor was actually quite soft-hearted inside, but no one else knew that, so everyone feared him and didn’t dare get close.
With no one daring to get close, the Emperor naturally grew even more severe. Sometimes, as his servant, it pained Eunuch Qin’s heart too—aside from Marquis Gongyu, His Majesty had almost no one close to him, having grown up stern-faced from childhood, which must have been quite lonely too.
After a moment’s thought, he came up with what he considered the best answer: “Your Majesty has the awe-inspiring bearing befitting the Nine-Five Supreme.”
The Emperor didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, and rode the imperial carriage back in a somber mood, sitting silently in front of the mirror once back at Zichen Hall, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, the two brothers-in-arms had already left through the palace gates, arm in arm.
“How has staying in the palace been?” He Chang’an looked at the person beside him, his brows gentle.
Thinking back on last night’s ordeal, Hua Chun wanted to say it hadn’t been comfortable at all, but what she was more curious about was: “Why on earth did the Emperor have me stay in the palace?”
“He’s doing it for your own good,” He Chang’an said with a low laugh. “You should be grateful for His Majesty’s benevolence.”
For her own good? Her eyes rolled, and Hua Chun probed cautiously: “Is someone planning to move against me?”
He Chang’an had already come to warn her before, and now Yuwen Jie wouldn’t even let her go home—these two clearly knew a lot of things but had no intention of telling her.
“You’re a smart one,” He Chang’an said with a smile. “It’s a pity you don’t know martial arts, so it’s not too convenient for you to move about freely these days. Sticking with His Majesty isn’t wrong—you should trust that even if your elder brother isn’t reliable, your second brother is absolutely doing this for your good, so don’t worry about anything else, just be a good Prime Minister.”
He said it so profoundly. Hua Chun raised an eyebrow, nodding lightly.
In their eyes, Hua Jinghua was probably seen as an utterly upright, bookish sort—full of righteousness but not much substance. No wonder they were treating her like some protected panda.
Having people looking out for her wasn’t a bad thing, though. The old Hua Jinghua might have been quite formidable, but the current Hua Chun really was useless at everything—if she ran into an assassin, she wouldn’t even be able to climb up a roof beam by herself.
Thinking it over, she accepted it—might as well let herself be treated as their child.
Grand Tutor Tang’s residence was still being searched. He Chang’an said that, in fact, he hadn’t taken much at all—just this round’s disaster relief funds, a few thousand taels eaten up. Grand Tutor Tang had stayed clean for over a decade, never expecting to lose his integrity at the very end—now regret came too late.
Hua Chun said with a very serious expression: “Second Brother, have you heard of the ‘circle theory’?”
A pointless question—where would an ancient person like He Chang’an have heard of such a modern theory?
So she went ahead and explained directly: “It’s when everyone in a circle, even if they initially have different ideas and want to hold to their own convictions, after being together long enough, if something happens and someone takes the lead, the whole circle’s thinking will unconsciously follow along, just to prove they belong to that circle. Eventually everyone gets assimilated, brainwashed, doing things that even they themselves once thought were wrong. Because everyone around them is doing it, they stop feeling like anything’s off.”
He Chang’an blinked, looking at her: “Never heard that before, but it does describe the truth.”
“I think we could still try to convince His Majesty on the point about never letting him return to the capital,” Hua Chun said. “Dying far from home in a foreign place is rather pitiable.”
He glanced at her: “What you say makes sense, but as an official, one shouldn’t be too soft-hearted. Doing things outside your duties will bring a lot of unnecessary trouble.”
“I know,” Hua Chun nodded. Not that she’d let compassion cloud her judgment excessively—but she did have her principles. For those who could be shown mercy, she’d show mercy; but for those rotten at the root to begin with, she wouldn’t waste her sympathy, and would send them off a thousand miles away, never to return!
The carriage arrived at the gates of the Heavenly Prison, where Grand Tutor Tang and the others were about to be loaded onto the prisoner cart.
“Wait.” Hua Chun jumped down from the carriage, walked over to the jailer, showed her token, and successfully pulled Grand Tutor Tang aside.
“Prime Minister?” Grand Tutor Tang was utterly stunned, never expecting she would come see him, and his eyes immediately welled with tears. He knelt and kowtowed to her: “This guilty official has wronged the Prime Minister!”
An old man of his age, kneeling to her like this—it would shorten his lifespan! Hua Chun hastily crouched down too, pressing something into his sleeve.
“I just happened to be passing by, and thinking we once served at court together, I came to see you off,” she said. “May you long remember His Majesty’s past grace, and live out your remaining years in peace, wherever you may be.”
His lips trembling nonstop, Grand Tutor Tang’s old eyes streamed with tears, and he held onto Hua Chun’s hand to stand, gazing at her deeply: “The Prime Minister’s words, this guilty one will surely remember. For the grace of your seeing me off today, my Tang family’s descendants will surely repay this kindness, even if it takes tying grass and holding rings to do it.”
She’d merely come to see him off, and hadn’t expected to be thanked so profusely—Hua Chun felt rather moved by it all. Perhaps more than icing on the cake, it was the charcoal given in snow that people remembered longest. She didn’t expect anything in return either—the old man’s remaining years wouldn’t be easy, and his family fortune had been confiscated besides. She’d just slipped him a pouch of silver, travel money of sorts, hoping he could find some peaceful place with good scenery to live out his days.
He Chang’an watched from not far off, seeing her clumsily help Grand Tutor Tang up, speaking to him with such genuine sincerity on her face.
He’d always thought that anyone who could climb to the position of Prime Minister couldn’t be simple—even if Hua Jinghua had earned this position through the imperial examinations herself, staying seated in it surely required a certain depth and cunning.
What happened today was truly beyond his expectations, and he suddenly understood why the Emperor had been so insistent on keeping her in the palace.
Naivety was the most fatal thing in officialdom, but if someone was naive and kind-hearted, perhaps no one had the heart to make them taste the full bitterness of the world.