The Crown Prince’s Administrative Office was originally established to manage the internal affairs of the Emperor and Imperial Princes. After Emperor Jingyuan founded the nation, he designated it to assist the heir apparent, and thus it was built near the Eastern Palace.
After the scholar disturbance, Yan Ziyan questioned whether there was fraud in the spring examinations. His Majesty commanded him to serve as chief examiner, and for several consecutive days he remained buried in the Hanlin Academy, re-examining the examination papers from the provincial examination.
Yet the more he examined, the more helpless he felt.
The excellent essays in the provincial examination were indeed mostly from the hands of southern scholars.
It seemed Shen Xi’s words were true—there truly was a gap between scholars from the north and south. The so-called examination fraud might truly be merely a misunderstanding.
Yan Ziyan felt he was almost becoming obsessed from reviewing papers. When he returned to the Crown Prince’s Administrative Office and heard that the Left Censor-in-Chief had come to see him, his first thought was actually that Lord Liu was from the south—no wonder he had become Censor-in-Chief. Then, seeing Su Jin who had come with Liu Chaoming, he thought, this person is also from the south—no wonder she achieved the second-tier ranking as an imperial scholar.
Only after hearing the purpose of these two people’s visit did he come back to his senses. He looked at Su Jin twice and laughed lightly, “I wondered how a mere eighth-rank magistrate like you could have Ren Xuan allow you to question this official at the Meridian Gate at noon. So he gained such benefits. A fine transaction—using this official’s reputation to exchange for the Seventeenth Prince’s favor. The capital investment was merely your literary talent, and he made enormous profits with minimal cost. What a pity that back then Marquis Changping’s forces were invincible in the Central Plains, yet he produced a son who turned out to be a business schemer who doesn’t lift a finger for honest work.”
These words were spoken with bitter sarcasm, but thinking carefully, they revealed an understanding of the underlying logic.
Su Jin was not unaware. When she answered the essay question and went to find Ren Xuan, it was because she had a favor to ask—truly a case of one willing to strike and one willing to be struck. She had no intention of competing over superiority.
Yan Ziyan glanced at Su Jin again sideways, feeling that although this person appeared refined and reserved on the surface, unexpectedly possessed a decisive and resolute character. On the day of the scholar disturbance, if Su Jin had not ordered Yan Ziqi bound and sent back to the residence, who knows what trouble his reckless younger sister might have caused.
Thinking this, he casually asked, “Weren’t you injured?”
Su Jin hadn’t expected him to bring this up. She paused before saying, “After recuperating for several days, I’m much better.” She continued, “The Ministry of Justice sent word that several cases remain unresolved. This subordinate dared not delay and hurried to enter the palace early.”
What several cases?
A minor magistrate—the major cases related to her amounted to only the scholar disturbance.
These so-called several cases probably included Chao Qing’s disappearance as well, indirectly hinting at him.
Yan Ziyan heard the implication in Su Jin’s words and sneered coldly, “In this official’s view, you’re the one eagerly rushing into cases, aren’t you?”
He also felt that Su Jin, a mere magistrate, had repeatedly spoken disrespectfully to him. The bit of gratitude he’d felt earlier vanished completely, and he spoke harshly, “You were fortunate not to die at the scene of the disturbance that day. Proper recuperation is the right course. There’s no need to hurry into the palace early—the Ministry of Justice’s investigation doesn’t lack you as a witness. Moreover, with a few less troublemakers like you looking for problems, the capital would actually be more peaceful. Oh, looking at it this way, it truly is a pity you didn’t die that day.”
Hearing these words, Su Jin’s eyes curved slightly. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked calmly at Yan Ziyan, “My lord speaks truly. This subordinate’s death is insignificant. However, my lord’s eagerness for a subject’s death inevitably makes one ponder the reason—is there some compromising evidence in this subordinate’s hands?”
Yan Ziyan was instantly furious and raised his hand to summon someone to deal with this audacious creature.
However, Su Jin refused to yield. She had come today precisely to extract from Yan Ziyan the circumstances of Chao Qing’s disappearance that day. Provoking his anger was expected. If she feared this, why take this risk at all?
“Have you made enough trouble?” Just then, Liu Chaoming, seated at the head position, spoke in a grave voice.
Su Jin and Yan Ziyan exchanged glances, both swallowing the words that had reached their lips.
Liu Chaoming asked Yan Ziyan, “The essay the Seventeenth Prince submitted to the Hanlin that day—I heard His Highness the Crown Prince has already had the Academy Director transfer it to the Crown Prince’s Administrative Office?”
Yan Ziyan cupped his hands, “That is correct.” Unable to restrain his satisfaction, he said to Su Jin, “This official nearly forgot—whether this official has compromising evidence in Magistrate Su’s hands is truly unimportant. Rather, Magistrate Su has ready evidence currently held in this official’s hands.”
With that, he turned to retrieve the case file from the desk. Just as he was about to present it to Liu Chaoming, he suddenly withdrew his hand and asked with a puzzled expression, “Dare I ask how Lord Liu learned that the Seventeenth Prince’s essay was ghostwritten by Su Jin?”
Su Jin felt frustrated inside. What was this mess? Hadn’t he obtained the original essay from Ren Xuan and submitted it to the Ministry of Justice, thus summoning the Imperial Censorate?
However, as this thought flashed through her mind, Su Jin suddenly sensed something was wrong.
If Yan Ziyan had presented the original essay to the Ministry of Justice, how could Shen Tuo not guess that the other party in this case was the Seventeenth Prince?
Looking at it this way, the Eastern Palace and the Ministry of Justice seemed to be conducting separate investigations, unaware of each other.
Liu Chaoming said, “You need not know.”
Yan Ziyan continued, “Then dare I ask Lord Liu, if the evidence is verified, how will Magistrate Su be dealt with? This official heard that six months ago, the clerk Sichen who ghostwrote for the Fourteenth Prince was beaten to death with the plank.”
Liu Chaoming said, “Past precedents serve only as reference and should not be blindly imitated. After the Imperial Censorate completes its investigation, punishment will naturally be determined according to the crime.”
Yan Ziyan pondered for a moment, believing he understood Liu Chaoming’s implied meaning, and thus said, “According to the Censor’s words, even if this crime doesn’t warrant death, it should still result in dismissal and exile, correct?”
As he spoke, he suddenly cupped his hands in a bow to Liu Chaoming, his white sleeves with wide cuffs stirring up a clear breeze: “Lord Liu, although this subordinate finds Su Jin quite disagreeable, I have also heard that on the day of the scholar disturbance, the Yingtian Prefecture Vice Magistrate hid in the Confucius Temple with a group of bailiffs, the Eastern and Western City Military Commissioners blocked the road halfway and wasted time dealing with a few ruffians without distinguishing priorities, and the Ministry of Rites officials at Vermillion Bird Lane not only failed to help evacuate the citizens but all hid in teahouses, afraid of being harmed in the slightest. Only he rode forth alone, though foolishly attempting to reverse heaven and earth in his own limited power, stupidly truly thinking himself someone important, but… this subordinate wishes to retain this person for the court.”
Having finished, he turned around with raised brows and cold eyes to look at Su Jin, saying, “Su Jin, this official is several years your senior. Let me teach you a principle: others’ words cannot be entirely disbelieved, but neither can they be entirely believed. As the saying goes, one may paint a tiger’s skin but not its bones. Do you know who those people were who hid trembling in the teahouses that day when you were risking life and death in those noisy streets and lanes, never coming out to look at you once from beginning to end? Some may call you brother and friend, which doesn’t prevent them from stabbing you in the back.”
He paused, slightly raising his chin, then softening his tone somewhat: “Of course, your actions don’t prevent this official from thoroughly disliking you at heart. This official is unaccustomed to owing favors. Watch carefully—this official will help you only this once, not for any other reason, but because you made decisive choices that day to protect my younger sister’s safety.”
Having spoken, Yan Ziyan strode purposefully to the western corner of the hall. He first opened the lamp cover, then moved to burn the essay in his hand over the flame.
White paper and black ink ignited upon contact with fire.
Just at that moment, whether by heavenly design or not, the hall door was suddenly pushed open. The gust of wind it brought blew the paper with the essay to the ground, and the small spark that had just ignited from the paper’s corner was instantly extinguished.
The newcomer wore crimson cap and robes embroidered with a five-clawed golden dragon. Behind him followed Zhu Nanxian and Zhu Shisan. Without asking, one could know this person was the Great Sui’s heir apparent, Crown Prince Zhu Minda.
All three people in the room immediately knelt to pay respects to Zhu Minda.
Zhu Minda merely said, “Censor, rise.” His gaze fell on the paper on the ground with one burned corner. He laughed coldly and said, “What’s this? Who dares to destroy evidence behind this Crown Prince’s back?”
The hall fell silent. Fine beads of sweat instantly appeared on Yan Ziyan’s forehead.
Zhu Minda briefly glanced at Yan Ziyan and commanded, “Yan San, pick up the paper from the ground and present it to this Crown Prince.”
Yan Ziyan responded with “As commanded,” and when he rose to retrieve the essay, his face had already lost all color.
Zhu Nanxian was like a confused monk, still unable to comprehend exactly what situation was unfolding before his eyes.
Earlier, Shisan had come to find him, saying he’d angered the imperial brother and asking him to mediate, also mentioning that Magistrate Su of Yingtian Prefecture was also involved. As they were talking, the Eastern Palace personal guards came to summon Shisan, saying Magistrate Su was at the Crown Prince’s Administrative Office and the Crown Prince commanded him to come for interrogation.
Which other magistrate surnamed Su was there in the capital office? Only upon hearing this did Zhu Nanxian follow in bewilderment and urgency.
Seeing Yan Ziyan’s fingertips trembling faintly as he picked up the essay, and Su Jin’s fingers pressed against the ground slightly curled as if about to bore through the floor, Zhu Nanxian had an epiphany and thought, oh, the problem likely lies with this paper whose corner was licked by flames.
Indeed, it should be burned, Zhu Nanxian thought.
Thus, at the very instant Zhu Minda was about to receive the essay, Zhu Nanxian snatched it away and stuffed it into his mouth—