“Xu… Constable Xu?” Wang Simu’s eyes widened, doubting her ears. It was indeed the voice of her old acquaintance, Xu Qi’an.
Biaobiao glanced at the dog servant, surprised: “Sister-in-law?”
Wang Simu is Second Young Master’s little sweetheart… Xu Qi’an smiled and said, “Miss Simu and Second Young Master are a perfect match. It’s only a matter of time before they become a couple.”
Wang Simu spat lightly, feeling a mix of embarrassment, anger, and sweetness. From Constable Xu’s words, it was clear that the Xu family quite approved of her.
And her father had never explicitly forbidden her from associating with Xu’s Second Young Master, even maintaining a tacit approval. Otherwise, when she returned from the Xu residence that day, her father wouldn’t have specifically inquired about the situation there.
Oh, isn’t this adding kinship to kinship? Biaobiao immediately became happy, her peach blossom eyes curving into crescents.
Xu Qi’an got straight to the point: “Miss Simu, I’d like to see Prime Minister Wang. By the way, when I came in, I saw servants packing things. What’s that about?”
Wang Simu hesitated slightly, then said in a low voice: “Father might be resigning!”
Resigning? Xu Qi’an frowned. His first thought was that after Minister Wei’s death, Emperor Yuan Jing was purging the court to balance factional power, so he wanted to force Prime Minister Wang out.
But these past few days, Yuan Jing has been busy discrediting Minister Wei, concluding this campaign. He shouldn’t have time to deal with Prime Minister Wang.
Isn’t resigning at this time too early?
Or does Prime Minister Wang know his career is ending, so he’s resigning early for a better ending?
“Constable Xu, what business do you have with my father?” Wang Simu’s eyes were soft and alluring as she stared at him.
“Calling me Constable is too formal. Just call me Big Brother,” Xu Qi’an changed the subject.
He came to seek Prime Minister Wang’s help.
Wang Simu had no way to deal with such an unserious man. She sighed, “I’ll take you to him.”
She made a gesture of invitation.
Xu Qi’an and Lin’an followed behind her, passing through corridors and courtyards toward the depths of the Wang mansion.
Wang Simu wore a light pink lined coat reaching her knees, with a pleated long skirt below. As she walked, the skirt and coat swayed, soft and graceful.
Xu Qi’an appraised her. This sister-in-law was tall and slender, with excellent proportions of hips, waist, and shoulders. Her beauty was top-notch. As the Prime Minister’s daughter, she was both beautiful and intelligent. She and Second Young Master were indeed a perfect match.
The only downside was that she was smart, had a strong personality, and came from a noble background. Such women generally tend to be very possessive.
It would be difficult for Second Young Master to take concubines in the future.
But that’s good too. A good man should be devoted to one woman for life.
Xu Qi’an strongly agreed with this principle and felt that he was such a good man.
Just as they were about to reach Prime Minister Wang’s study, Xu Qi’an suddenly said, “I need to use the privy.”
In the privy, he took out a sheet of the Art of Observing Qi, burned it, and two clear beams shot out from his eyes, then slowly receded.
When he returned, Lin’an and Wang Simu were nowhere to be seen. Only a servant was waiting.
Seeing Xu Qi’an return, the servant approached and respectfully said:
“The young miss asked me to wait here. She said she and Princess Lin’an went to her boudoir to play. You can go in by yourself. She has already notified the master.”
They’re quite close, that’s good. With sister-in-law Wang Simu advising her, Biaobiao won’t be bullied… Xu Qi’an nodded and walked to the study door, knocking gently.
“Come in.”
Prime Minister Wang’s rich, gentle voice came from inside the study.
Xu Qi’an gently pushed open the door. In the well-lit, spacious, and elegant study, behind a large huanghuali wood desk sat Prime Minister Wang. His cloudy and tired eyes, his solemn expression… all the details indicated that the old man was in extremely poor condition.
“I heard from Miss Simu that you’re preparing to resign, Prime Minister?” Xu Qi’an smiled.
“I knew I couldn’t hide it from her!” Prime Minister Wang laughed helplessly. “At tomorrow’s court session, I will request retirement. According to custom, he will symbolically urge me to stay a few times, then allow me to retire and return to my hometown.”
“Is this your wish to resign?” Xu Qi’an stared at him.
Prime Minister Wang nodded: “It is.”
The Art of Observing Qi indicated it was the truth, not a lie. The Prime Minister is retiring from the fray… Xu Qi’an still asked:
“Why so?”
The Art of Observing Qi page was obtained from the great Confucian scholar Zhang Shen after meeting with Second Uncle. He didn’t ask for other spells; spells of the Fourth Tier and below would not affect a Second Tier Daoist.
A Fourth Tier Golden Core Daoist would be immune to all spells, let alone a Second Tier.
As for Principal Zhao Shou, that Confucian spell book was his only stock, long since consumed by Xu Qi’an, with nothing else available.
If he had to record something, he could record Confucian system spells, but the “words become reality” of a Third Tier great Confucian scholar was something Xu Qi’an didn’t dare use. If he did, he might not be able to kill the Second Tier Jeanne d’Arc, but it would get him killed.
Overpowered as he was, after two trips to death’s door, he had developed a slight psychological shadow regarding the Confucian bragging technique.
“Since I have no power to change things, it’s better to resign,” Prime Minister Wang said calmly.
“It’s not just because of Minister Wei, is it?” Xu Qi’an frowned.
Prime Minister Wang hesitated slightly, then shook his head:
“There are other hidden circumstances you need not know. It wouldn’t benefit you. I’ve already become disillusioned and don’t wish to stay long in court. It’s a pity that this empire passed down by our ancestors will perish under that foo—”
Prime Minister Wang abruptly closed his mouth.
His resignation was certainly not just because of Wei Yuan’s matter. The current emperor is unfilial, the current Chief Astrologer is indifferent, and he, though holding the highest position among officials, is just a scholar. What can he do?
It’s futile to lament!
Since that’s the case, it’s better not to stay in this court.
But these secrets, a mere Fourth Tier martial artist like Xu Qi’an need not know. Knowing too much would only bring harm.
Prime Minister Wang, disillusioned, picked up his tea and took a sip of hot tea to warm his cold heart.
“Do you know that the grain shortage was orchestrated by Yuan Jing?” Xu Qi’an probed.
“Cough cough…” Prime Minister Wang choked in shock and coughed violently. This sip of tea didn’t warm his heart; it scalded his mouth.
“You know too?” The Prime Minister scrutinized him in astonishment.
“I’ve come to ask for Prime Minister’s help!” Xu Qi’an’s eyes, imbued with the Art of Observing Qi, focused intently on him.
…
It wasn’t until dusk that Xu Qi’an and Lin’an left the Wang mansion.
After seeing them off, Wang Simu walked straight to the study. Bright candlelight shone through the paper-covered lattice door.
Knock knock!
She raised her hand, her slender fingers tapping twice.
“Come in!” Wang Zhenwen’s voice came through.
Wang Simu pushed open the door and smelled the scent of burning paper. Looking to the side, she saw her father, Wang Zhenwen, sitting by a round table with a stack of books, paintings, and calligraphy works on his lap, tossing them one by one into a brazier at his feet.
“Father, what are you burning?” Wang Simu approached with graceful steps.
“Burning some things I wrote in my ignorant youth,” Wang Zhenwen said, head lowered, staring at the flames consuming the papers. His eyes seemed to flicker with fire as well.
“Father, let me help you.” Wang Simu sat down beside him and, without asking, took up a piece of calligraphy, unfolded it, and exclaimed in surprise:
“This… this is a poem you wrote before. His Majesty even praised your poetic talent for it.”
Wang Zhenwen’s poetry was quite good. In his youth, he often frequented poetry gatherings, and over most of his life, he had produced several poems he was quite proud of.
This was a seven-character regulated verse about loyalty to the throne, written with stirring emotion.
After being praised by Yuan Jing, Wang Zhenwen was very pleased and had it framed and hung on the wall, where it had remained for nearly thirty years.
“Burn it,” Wang Zhenwen snatched the poem from his daughter’s hand and tossed it into the brazier. The flames instantly flared up, consuming this piece of calligraphy older than Wang Simu herself.
Wang Simu was greatly alarmed. She turned to look at her father and was stunned.
Wang Zhenwen’s face was streaked with tears.
“Father?” Wang Simu’s voice trembled.
From childhood to adulthood, she had never seen her father cry. For a moment, she felt as if the sky was falling.
Wang Zhenwen stared at the flames in the brazier and said in a low voice: “Your father and Wei Yuan have been rivals for most of our lives, with victories and defeats on both sides. I have nothing to criticize about his character; to be honest, I admire him!
“What I disagree with is his philosophy of governing. It’s too tyrannical, too inconsiderate. The officialdom isn’t about one person; it’s about a group of people. To suppress one group, you need to win over another. And how do you win people over? If you want others to listen to you, you have to feed them well.
“Corrupt officials are fine as long as they can get things done. It’s the idle, hypocritical clean officials who truly harm the country and the people. Officials who can both get things done and remain upright are too rare. We can’t rely on these rare gems to govern the country.
“Wei Yuan is one such rare gem. He can tolerate minor corruption but not major corruption. He can tolerate minor evils but not major evils. A few years ago, he wanted to rectify the conduct of petty officials, but I pushed it back. Isn’t that nonsense? If you want to rectify those below, you must first clean up those above.
“But those above can’t be cleaned up. Simu, do you know why?”
Wang Simu pursed her lips and ventured: “His Majesty?”
Wang Zhenwen neither nodded nor shook his head. He sighed: “Now Wei Yuan has died in battle, a man who dedicated most of his life to Great Shang, yet His Majesty won’t even grant him a posthumous title. It’s a bit heartless.
“But I’m burning these things today not because of his heartlessness. The imperial family is most unfeeling; sitting in that position, being cold-blooded is not a problem. People like Wei Yuan are not rare in history books; there were such people before, and there will be more in the future.
“What pains me is that I can do nothing. Over eighty thousand soldiers sacrificed themselves for the Great Shang, leaving behind over eighty thousand households of orphans and widows. Once this battle is defined as a defeat, their pensions will be halved…”
Wang Zhenwen extended his right hand, staring at the thick calluses formed from years of holding a pen, feeling utterly exhausted:
“I’ve held a pen for decades, yet can’t even lift a sword. I’m forced to watch him destroy the 600-year foundation built by our ancestors, powerless to do anything. In normal times, we seem grand, but without military power, all our authority comes from the emperor and can be taken back at any moment. A scholar is useless, utterly useless.
“I’ve spent my whole life reading the classics, all preaching loyalty to the throne. I want to ask the Confucian Sage Ya: What the hell kind of loyalty to the throne?”
He suddenly stood up and kicked the brazier, scattering sparks.
“What the hell kind of loyalty to the throne!”
…
At dawn, as the sky was just brightening, Emperor Yuan Jing wore a bright yellow dragon robe, his crown adorned with hanging pearls, his demeanor solemn and imposing.
He stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the towering Star-Watching Tower.
After a long while, he turned and returned to his bedchamber. As the old eunuch was about to follow him in, Yuan Jing’s authoritative and cold voice came:
“No need to follow.”
The old eunuch then halted outside.
Entering the bedchamber, Yuan Jing walked on the polished floor, head lowered, step by step as if measuring something.
After about a dozen steps, he stopped. Yuan Jing cut his wrist with his fingertip, letting blood flow.
On the ground, it formed a twisted, strange array pattern on its own.
After the array formed, Yuan Jing took out a transparent pearl from his bosom, about the size of a fist. Inside the pearl was an eyeball, its pupil deep and dark, coldly watching Yuan Jing.
This was the supreme treasure of the Witch God Cult, sealing one of the Witch God’s eyes.
It contained a trace of the Witch God’s power.
Yuan Jing released the pearl. It didn’t fall to the ground but hovered in mid-air, shedding streams of semi-transparent energy.
As soon as this energy fell, it was dyed bright red by the array formed from Yuan Jing’s blood.
Faintly, Yuan Jing heard painful dragon cries from beneath the ground. In the center of the array, a golden light appeared, and then slowly, a golden dragon head emerged.
In the pearl, that eyeball suddenly became much deeper, as if turning into a vortex, producing a huge suction force.
The golden dragon kept shaking its head, struggling against that suction force, and emitting a series of shrill dragon cries that only special people could hear.
“The Fate has dispersed to this point, the dragon vein is unstable, but it’s still not enough. We need to shake it a bit more. Once Wei Yuan’s matter is settled, immediately announce it to the whole country, to the capital.
“The curses and resentment of over three million people in the capital, the panic of three million people over the loss of the war, will be enough for the pearl to extract the spirit of the dragon vein. Wei Yuan, what evil posthumous title should I give you?”
Yuan Jing’s lips curled up, and he suddenly turned and walked out of the bedchamber.
…
At dawn, before daybreak.
Song Tingfeng and Zhu Guangxiao, who had been on night duty, stretched their backs and walked together towards the main gate of the yamen.
At this time, it was just the moment for roll call, and constables of various ranks were constantly coming in. Along the way, the looks they gave Song Tingfeng were strange.
The scene of him enduring humiliation yesterday was still fresh in everyone’s mind.
He was at the Spirit Refinement realm, quite talented, but unfortunately too soft-boned. No matter how high such a person’s cultivation, they could never be a leader.
Before, seeing him act carefree, people just thought he wasn’t steady enough. Now, they realized he was simply not up to important tasks.
Sensing the gazes of his colleagues around him, Song Tingfeng’s eyes dimmed for a moment, and then he put on a carefree smile, maintaining his nonchalant attitude.
Zhu Guangxiao’s eyes held sadness.
Originally, he too should have endured such humiliation, but Song Tingfeng deliberately acted despicably, throwing his face on the ground, allowing him to avoid Zhu Chengzhu’s bullying.
Zhu Guangxiao knew his character; he would rather die than suffer such humiliation.
He was to be married at the end of the year, starting a family and career, with a bright future ahead. Song Tingfeng didn’t want to ruin his good brother’s beautiful future, so he tore off his dignity and threw it on the ground for others to trample on.
Seeing Song Tingfeng pretending to be relaxed, Zhu Guangxiao thought of Xu Qi’an again. He had left decisively; after the news of Minister Wei’s death in battle reached the capital, he had disappeared without a trace.
The Xu mansion was empty.
In the future, he would either change his name and hide or wander the jianghu, probably.
“If Ning Yan were here, he wouldn’t have watched you be humiliated,” Zhu Guangxiao said through gritted teeth.
“And then die with me?” Song Tingfeng rolled his eyes and said irritably, “After Minister Wei’s death, the capital couldn’t accommodate him anymore. It’s good that he left. If he hadn’t, I would have driven him away myself. If he didn’t leave, we wouldn’t be brothers anymore.”
Zhu Guangxiao grinned: “That’s true.”
Song Tingfeng suddenly spat and cursed: “He didn’t even leave an address. Sigh, I hope we’ll meet again in this life.”
Just as they reached the gate, they ran into Zhu Chengzhu, wearing a constable’s uniform with a sword at his waist.
Song Tingfeng and Zhu Guangxiao lowered their heads and tried to walk past quickly.
“Stop!”
Zhu Chengzhu suddenly called out, half-turning his body to look down on the two, asking, “It’s roll call time at the yamen. Where are you two going?”
Damn it! Song Tingfeng cursed inwardly but put on a fawning smile, bowing and scraping: “Constable Zhu, we were on night duty last night and are just going back to rest.”
Zhu Chengzhu expressed surprise: “You two were on night duty last night? How come I didn’t know about this?”
Zhu Guangxiao’s eyebrows immediately raised.
The order for last night’s duty was issued by Zhu Chengzhu himself. After Li Yuchun was imprisoned, Zhu Chengzhu had “enthusiastically” accepted them both.
Zhu Chengzhu was deliberately making things difficult for them.
“Yes, yes, yes, we must have remembered wrong,” Song Tingfeng nodded repeatedly, bowing low. “We’ll go back right away, right away.”
Zhu Chengzhu had originally wanted to take this opportunity to teach these two a lesson, but seeing Song’s utter servility, he shook his head and laughed.
He called out to the two again, drawling: “You two will be on duty tonight then. Work hard. You’re both friends with Xu Qi’an, the hero of Great Shang, all highly skilled individuals. The capable should do more work, right?”
This was denying them rest, intending to work them to death.
Song Tingfeng’s fists clenched and unclenched several times, his face twitching slightly, but he dared not offend the other party. He bowed and said, “Understood, understood.”
He immediately turned and led Zhu Guangxiao into the yamen.
From behind, Zhu Chengzhu’s sneering voice came: “Useless.”
Around them, the night watchmen who had hoped to see Song Tingfeng act like a man looked disappointed, showing expressions of frustration.
They didn’t dare to perish together with the enemy, so they hoped others would, using others’ sacrifices to satisfy their discontent.
Just at this moment, from the yamen entrance came a “tsk tsk” sound: “Such great official authority, Constable Zhu.”