Another day of snow had fallen. The azure tiles and vermilion eaves of the Marquis Guanjun residence were all covered in pristine white snow, with accumulated snow over two feet deep on both sides of the bluestone pathways.

“Sister Li, look at my snowman—isn’t it beautiful?”

Qiao Wan had built a half-person-tall snowman in the garden, using two black agate buttons as the snowman’s eyes and a long carrot as its nose.

Before Qiao Zhao could answer, Binglu clapped her hands and laughed: “It’s beautiful! Much prettier than the one Chen Guang built.”

Chen Guang, who was holding a broom and rubbing his hands together, silently rolled his eyes.

Fine, he wouldn’t argue with a tasteless little girl.

Thinking this, Chen Guang, who had been dragged over as manual labor, wielded his broom to sweep up snow.

Binglu grabbed a handful of snow from the ground, formed it into a snowball, and tiptoed behind Chen Guang, stuffing the snowball into his collar.

Chen Guang jumped up, threw down his broom, and, while pulling out the snow, turned around with a dark face, shouting: “Sister Binglu, what are you doing?”

Binglu giggled and ran to hide behind Qiao Zhao.

Chen Guang looked helpless as he complained: “Madam, look at Binglu—she’s simply a crazy girl.”

Qiao Zhao nodded with a smile: “Yes, indeed quite outrageous. Binglu—”

“This servant is here.”

“Go kneel in the snow.”

“Yes.” Binglu crisply agreed, glared fiercely at Chen Guang, and ran off.

“Hey, hey, don’t go—” Seeing that Binglu completely ignored him, Chen Guang chased a couple of steps before stopping, turning to Qiao Zhao with a fawning expression: “Madam, please don’t punish Binglu.”

“How can that be? This girl is getting wilder and wilder, even daring to stuff snowballs into people’s collars. She must be punished.” Qiao Zhao said with a serious expression.

“Oh my, Third Miss, even I, the victim, don’t mind. Please don’t punish her.” Seeing Binglu about to kneel in the snow, Chen Guang became anxious and even used his old form of address.

“Well then, considering you’re pleading for her, I’ll reluctantly spare her this time.”

Chen Guang breathed a huge sigh of relief and ran excitedly to Binglu to claim credit: “Binglu, you don’t need to kneel anymore.”

Binglu snorted lightly, glanced at Chen Guang, and returned to Qiao Zhao’s side.

“Miss, let this servant help you inside. It’s cold out here.”

“No need, you go play with Wan Wan. I’ll watch.” Qiao Zhao sent Binglu off to play. Soon the little maid was having a snowball fight with Qiao Wan, and eventually even Chen Guang joined in. The snowy ground was scattered with footprints of various sizes and filled with joyous laughter.

Qiao Zhao stood beside a silver-clad osmanthus tree and glanced at the sky.

Familiar footsteps approached. A warm hand fell on her shoulder, and a man’s clear voice came: “How long have you been outside?”

“For a while now.” Qiao Zhao answered honestly.

Shao Mingyuan reached up to touch her cheek and smiled: “Ice cold. Let’s go inside.”

Qiao Zhao stood without moving: “Big Brother has been leaving early and returning late recently. Why is he busier near New Year’s?”

Shao Mingyuan took her hand and tucked it into his sleeve: “Brother-in-law was called to help in the Cabinet by Vice Minister Xu. At year-end, before the ministries seal their offices, the Cabinet has many affairs.”

The Cabinet indeed had many matters. Every New Year, the most labor-intensive task was reviewing memorials submitted by officials, large and small.

These laudatory memorials were ones Emperor Mingkang had to read through one by one. This was the most “diligent” time of year for His Majesty.

Qiao Mo was currently buried in piles of papers, organizing and categorizing with several colleagues.

Ministry of Personnel, Ministry of Revenue, Ministry of Rites… they needed to organize them by department and official rank for His Majesty’s review. It was said the emperor read them quite seriously, and when in good spirits, would even recite them aloud.

Since His Majesty read carefully, his subjects couldn’t be careless. Hundreds and thousands of memorials all needed to be reviewed individually, ensuring the content contained no taboos before being considered qualified. These qualified memorials would be rolled up, tied with red silk thread, and set aside.

“Time for dinner. Let’s go eat first, then talk.” An official stretched and stood up.

The others followed suit. One person laughed: “After reading so many of these, I can barely eat.”

“Enough, say less of such things. Be careful, the Chief Ministers hear you.”

Qiao Mo nonchalantly followed the others out to eat. After the meal, those people took their customary rest. He quietly returned while no one was paying attention.

The shelves held rows of memorials tied with red silk thread. Qiao Mo quickly extracted one and carefully unfolded it.

Vigorous and elegant characters met his eyes, compelling one to praise the outstanding calligraphy.

Of course, Qiao Mo had no mood to appreciate these. He took out blue vine paper of the same size, picked up a vermilion brush, and quickly began writing.

Shortly after, Qiao Mo set down his brush and carefully compared the two memorials. Confirming that from the first character to the last, they were virtually identical, he finally showed a satisfied smile.

The two memorials differed by only one character. Even if shown to the original author, he was confident the person couldn’t distinguish between them.

After the ink dried, Qiao Mo tied the forged memorial with red silk thread, tucked the original into his sleeve, and quietly departed.

Having completed this task, half of Qiao Mo’s anxious heart settled. What remained was waiting for Emperor Mingkang’s reaction upon seeing that memorial.

Regarding whether Emperor Mingkang would see that memorial, he was completely confident. The reason was simple—that memorial was written by Lan Songtuan, son of Chief Minister Lan Shan. As someone who ranked high in Emperor Mingkang’s mind, the emperor, who loved reading green words, certainly wouldn’t miss it.

Qiao Mo took out a handkerchief to wipe the red traces on his fingertips. Returning to the Marquis’ residence, he threw the original scroll into a brazier, burning it to ashes, and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Since entering the Cabinet as an assistant, he had been exceptionally diligent. Materials that others didn’t want to search, he searched. Documents others didn’t want to transcribe, he transcribed. His purpose was singular: to familiarize himself with the handwriting of all court officials.

By now, he dared not claim he could imitate all capital officials’ handwriting, but he could imitate the writing of those important ministers, especially officials connected to Lan Shan’s faction. Among these, he could most accurately replicate the handwriting of Lan Shan and his son.

“Young Master, Madam requests your presence in the flower hall for dinner.”

A servant came to deliver the message. Qiao Mo rose and brushed off nonexistent dust from his clothes, walking outside with a composed expression.

His sister had always worked hard for this family. Now it was time for him, the elder brother, to contribute.

Soon, those memorials were presented before Emperor Mingkang’s dragon desk.

After emerging from seclusion this time, aside from those old fellows crying poverty, nothing particularly unlucky had occurred. Emperor Mingkang was in quite good spirits. He first picked up the memorial placed most prominently, nodded with satisfaction, and continued to the next one.

Well, speaking of it, the writings of Chief Minister Lan Shan and Vice Minister Xu Mingda were often most to his liking. He wondered if anyone could surpass them this year.

Emperor Mingkang soon picked up Lan Songtuan’s memorial to read.

Seeing Lan Songtuan’s characters at first glance, Emperor Mingkang couldn’t help but nod.

Indeed, putting aside everything else, Lan Shan’s son’s excellent calligraphy truly brought joy to one’s heart upon viewing.

Of course, countless officials could write beautiful characters—this wasn’t considered any great skill. The key was still how well the memorial was written.

Looking at the content, Emperor Mingkang’s eyes lit up, and he couldn’t help but murmur the words aloud.