Cheng Chang had never studied Chinese history in depth, but he had a decent general education and understood the broad strokes of historical processes and political conditions.

For instance, this Privy Council before him—by modern standards, it was roughly equivalent to a Central Military Commission.

Using the Song Dynasty as a rough template, the Privy Council oversaw military affairs, headed by the Privy Council Commissioner, who managed military officials; the Secretariat and the Chancellery oversaw civil administration, headed by the Chancellor, who managed civil officials.

Civil and military duties were clearly divided, together governing the realm. If things got out of order—for example, during the Southern Song, the notorious treacherous minister Qin Hui, after becoming Chancellor, also concurrently held the post of Privy Council Commissioner, single-handedly controlling both military and state affairs. With everything decided by one man alone, and the emperor not doing much of anything, chaos was bound to follow.

Cheng Chang understood exactly why his father, Prince Cong, wanted him to come find a position at the Privy Council.

His “predecessor” had been an absolute troublemaker who couldn’t sit still without stirring up chaos—completely unsuited for civil office. If he took a minor military post at the Privy Council and found a chance to tag along with some general on a campaign, as long as nothing went seriously wrong, he could use connections to snag a bit of military merit, and Prince Cong could then petition to have him made heir apparent.

But Cheng Chang didn’t think that way. He figured that since he’d be idle either way, he might as well do something useful while serving.

His body from his past life had essentially bid farewell to martial arts altogether. In this life, though he wanted to temper his physique, going into actual battle was out of the question. He valued his life too much—in an age of cold steel weapons, blades had no eyes.

Besides, he had a whole household of servant boys in dire need of reform trailing behind him.

Cheng Chang had already thought it through clearly. Given his “predecessor’s” reputation, the Privy Council would only see him as a hot potato, eager to push him elsewhere. Combined with the standing of Prince Cong’s household, once he got to the Review Bureau, he’d only need to state his job preferences, and someone would naturally steer him toward a suitable department.

Whether this reincarnation had been a good draw was debatable, but finding a job, at least, was proving remarkably easy.

The guard led Cheng Chang all the way to the courtyard in front of the Review Bureau. Cheng Chang looked up to find three young women standing in the courtyard.

The one seated on the left was apparently someone of noble status, dressed in a light gauze silk dress, fully adorned with hairpins and jade pendants, with a maid standing attendant beside her. Looking at her features, she was beautiful indeed, but somehow lacked any spark—forgettable, unlike the young woman standing on the other side, who was as bright and clean-cut as Yun Xi.

Cheng Chang recognized Yun Xi and felt a small surge of pleasure—he genuinely had a good impression of this young woman. Just as he was about to greet her, the attendant maid spoke up with a sarcastic edge: “Says it’s official business—who knows if that’s even true? The very first day Second Young Master Pei took up his post, and here she comes chasing after him already. Does she think no one can see through such shameless intentions?”

Though she didn’t name names, the words cut sharp and to the bone.

Yun Xi stood with her eyes lowered, pretending not to hear.

It wasn’t that she truly wanted to endure this—she simply knew that getting into a quarrel with a mere maidservant right now would do her no good whatsoever. Her mind was still occupied with her brother’s matter; she wanted to get a clear answer from Pei Lan.

Yao Susu had always held herself with a certain aloof dignity, and upon hearing her own maid speak so harshly, her first instinct was to stop her—but in her heart, she too harbored some resentment.

Pei Lan was young and accomplished, of illustrious birth, handsome and gentle—she had always liked him. Over the years of their acquaintance, exchanging the occasional letter with him, she felt, from his brief words, that she held a place in his heart.

Yet all of Jinling knew that Pei Lan and Yun Xi had been betrothed to each other before birth.

Yao Susu wasn’t close with Yun Xi herself, but she was quite close with Yun Xi’s distant cousin Luo Shu, and from Luo Shu she had a general sense of Yun Xi’s character. She had assumed that, given the marquis’s daughter’s temperament, now that the household had fallen into such decline—poorer even than an ordinary merchant family—she would have too much pride to still marry into the Pei household, and ought to have requested the engagement be called off herself. Yet here Pei Lan was, on his very first day at his new post, and she had shamelessly come chasing after him at the Privy Council already.

The unresolved betrothal hanging between Yun Xi and Pei Lan had long been a thorn in Yao Susu’s heart, and now, with her maid voicing it aloud, she genuinely felt a bit of the resentment vented.

Seeing her mistress’s tacit approval, the maid grew even bolder, continuing, “My lady often teaches this servant that a person should always know their place and read the room. Right now, someone has already been asked to leave the office, yet still lingers about without leaving—has she no eyes to see, no sense of Second Young Master Pei’s meaning?”

At these words, before Yun Xi had reacted at all, Cheng Chang, standing at the courtyard gate, was the first to frown.

He called out, “Constable Yun,” and strode into the courtyard.

The three women in the courtyard turned and, seeing Cheng Chang, were all startled. Yao Susu, who had once been harassed by the drunken Young Prince before, shrank back behind her maid before bowing in greeting. “Greetings to the Third Young Master.”

Cheng Chang seemed not to hear her at all. Ignoring Yao Susu’s half-bow and the maid kneeling on the ground, he walked straight up to Yun Xi and, sparing her the formality of a bow, greeted her warmly and casually, “Constable Yun, here on official business?”

Yun Xi nodded. “Yes.”

Cheng Chang continued, “Oh, mind telling me what it’s about?”

Yun Xi pressed her lips together and simply said, “Reporting to the Third Young Master, it’s merely some unresolved family matter.”

At this moment, Pei Lan and Yao Hangshan, having been told by the guard that the Young Prince of Prince Cong’s household had arrived, came out to greet him, bowing together and inviting him into the office, where they offered him tea.

Pei Lan said, “Has the Third Young Master already decided on a post he’d like? If not, I’ve drafted a few military positions here for you to look over and see which suits your fancy.”

He handed over a document as he spoke.

Cheng Chang took it without looking, setting it aside casually, and asked, “I saw three young women standing in the courtyard when I came in—it looked like they’d been waiting a long while for official business. Won’t the general invite them in?”

At this, Pei Lan exchanged a glance with Yao Hangshan.

Yao Hangshan laughed. “The Third Young Master perhaps didn’t look closely—the young ladies in the courtyard are this official’s daughters, here today to visit their father, not on official business.”

“I suppose I didn’t look closely,” Cheng Chang said, then asked, “All three are your daughters?”

The smile on Yao Hangshan’s face froze.

He had heard before that after the Young Prince’s fall into the water, something seemed off with his mind—he seemed to have grown forgetful, generally different from before.

Seeing his reaction now, he genuinely couldn’t tell what to make of it.

Yao Hangshan glanced at Pei Lan, who stepped to the door and murmured a few words to the guard. Before long, the guard led all three women back inside.

Yao Hangshan wasn’t sure what Cheng Chang meant by this, but Cheng Chang understood exactly what they had meant by their own actions.

Bureaucratic airs, typical bullying of the weak by the strong, dragging one’s feet on matters—every era has its share of this.

In his past life, he had worked at a multinational corporation, and because he was diligent and capable, he’d been promoted to department manager within just a few years. The company had sent him abroad to headquarters for training, where he’d spent three months studying advanced management, learning how to lead subordinates, how to manage upward, how to maintain a balanced middle ground while still having sharp edges when needed—knowing when to conceal one’s blade and when to let it show.

But the present situation was different. This was a feudal era, where imperial authority reigned supreme, and he was the Young Prince of Prince Cong’s household—who did he need to fear?

Still, he had no wish to offend anyone unnecessarily, so he asked, “Which of them came first?”

Before Pei Lan could answer, he added, “First come, first served in all things. General, why not help them with their business first? Mine is a small matter—it’s fine if it waits a bit.”

With that, he picked up his tea and began sipping it slowly, cup by cup, and genuinely seemed content to wait.

The old Young Prince had been ostentatious and unruly, never able to sit still for a moment. But this twenty-first-century Cheng Chang was actually a quiet person by nature—easygoing, but not one for many words.

Today he wore a blue robe embroidered with pale cloud patterns; aside from the costly jade pendant at his waist, he wore no other ornaments at all, which only made his face all the more strikingly beautiful.

Sitting there now, with his composed, unsmiling expression, he seemed almost as cold as frost—yet the spring light lingering at the corners of his eyes lit up his entire being with a radiant glow.

Everyone in the room, seeing the Young Prince like this for the first time, was momentarily stunned.

After a moment, Pei Lan was the first to recover, and asked Yun Xi, “Does Constable Yun have any further business to attend to?”

Yun Xi wasted no time and said at once, “Might I ask the general, has something gone wrong with my brother’s title inheritance? Why—” she glanced at Yao Hangshan, “did Lord Yao say the matter is all but settled already?”

Pei Lan sighed. “I was afraid you’d grow anxious, which is why I didn’t explain the details just now.”

“Three years ago, when Zhaoyuan defected, the court originally intended to hold Yun Luo accountable. Later, Prince Cong, worried about delaying the war effort and shaking military morale, proposed that the case be postponed until after victory was achieved. Now that I’ve returned to the capital, with this case still unresolved, His Majesty naturally wants to look into it. But as you know…”

Pei Lan hesitated at this point. “The urgent letter that could prove Yun Luo’s innocence has still not been found. The Sui soldiers I brought back as witnesses all gave testimony unfavorable to Yun Luo. Upon hearing this, His Majesty grew somewhat angry and ordered the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice to conduct a thorough investigation. I visited the Court of Judicial Review yesterday, and they said the case cannot be delayed any longer—within a month at most, they must give His Majesty an answer. Based on the current evidence… it seems highly likely that Yun Luo will be found guilty.”

If found guilty, the title inheritance would be hopeless.

But whether or not the title was inherited, Yun Xi actually didn’t care much. At this moment, she could only think of something far worse.

“Then my father…”

Pei Lan’s voice lowered. “I’m afraid the old Marquis of Loyalty and Valor will also be implicated because of this.”

“Why?” Yun Xi said. “The entire Yun family has been loyal and heroic, every man of the family has perished defending our borders against invaders. My brother took up arms at the age of thirteen, risking his life time and again, earning countless military achievements. Now he has died in service to the nation, and there is clear evidence proving his innocence, yet just because the Court of Judicial Review is eager to close the case, must he—must our entire household—suffer this unjust disgrace?”

Her words carried deep grief and indignation, and when she finished speaking, the entire office fell into silence.

Cheng Chang couldn’t help but set down his teacup, raising his eyes to look at Yun Xi.

Looking at this young woman, she appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen—old enough by ancient standards, perhaps, but in modern terms, she’d be just a girl freshly entering college, not yet stepped out into society.

Born into the Marquis of Loyalty and Valor’s household, a family of considerable prestige, and yet now fallen into such dire straits.

He watched her—though clearly grieving, her spine remained straight and unbent, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her clear eyes glistening with unshed tears, her lips pressed tightly together, as though holding back a thousand unspoken grievances.

He had expected she might freeze up like this, or perhaps angrily demand that the general before her clear her brother’s name—hadn’t that maid just implied there was some history between the two of them?

But in the next moment, Yun Xi’s tightly pressed lips relaxed. She bowed, offering an apologetic gesture, and said hoarsely, “Third Young Master, Lord Yao, General Pei, please forgive me—I spoke out of turn just now.”

Yao Hangshan said nothing, and Pei Lan said gently, “It’s fine. Since the matter is already settled, you needn’t take it too much to heart. As you yourself said, the Marquis of Loyalty and Valor’s household has been loyal and heroic through generations—surely even if His Majesty must take action, he’ll show leniency out of respect for the old marquis, at most a light punishment. Don’t worry too much.”

Pei Lan then asked, “Anything else?”

Yun Xi lowered her eyes and answered, “No, nothing more. Thank you, General.”

Cheng Chang looked at Pei Lan, puzzled in his heart.

That’s it? The matter left this unclear, and it’s just considered resolved like this?

He didn’t believe that a Great General and a Privy Council Commissioner standing right here would have absolutely no way to help.

Yun Xi stepped back two paces, about to bow and take her leave.

“Didn’t you say there’s evidence that could prove her brother’s innocence?” At this moment, Cheng Chang spoke up, looking at Pei Lan and Yao Hangshan with an air of easy indifference. “Is there truly no room left to turn this around at all?”