Chapter 11: The Young Lord’s Brilliance
Chapter 11: The Young Lord’s Brilliance
Outside the Nanhe Bo Mansion, Deng Jian was still looking around anxiously.
The eunuch had taken the Young Lord away. Deng Jian hadn’t dared to stop him, but inside he was frantic with worry. He knew the Young Lord’s personality well – if he said he wouldn’t take the exam, then he absolutely wouldn’t. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he spotted the Young Lord approaching.
“Young Lord… Young Lord…” Deng Jian hurried forward, his face beaming.
Fang Jifan felt a little uneasy. He wasn’t sure if he had answered well. These Policy Essays, to be honest, depended entirely on whether they pleased the examiner’s taste.
Seeing Deng Jian, he slipped back into his wastrel persona, whistling and swaggering even more: “Stop all that screeching!”
Deng Jian hastily bowed respectfully, grinning. “Did the Young Lord attend the Examination?”
Fang Jifan nodded.
Deng Jian froze. Though forced to go, this wasn’t like the Young Lord’s style at all! A wave of anxiety washed over him. Could being forcibly taken have triggered his brain illness again? Worried, he stammered, “But… but didn’t the Young Lord once say that anyone who went obediently to the Military Review was a turtle’s grandson?”
Fang Jifan gave a cold snort. “I went, all right. But this Young Lord submitted early.”
Deng Jian gaped for a second, then his eyes lit up. Joyfully, he declared, “The Young Lord truly is the Young Lord.”
He felt that the Young Lord had probably messed up again, yet Deng Jian felt an inexplicable warmth in his chest. It was a feeling of solid comfort. He smiled contentedly.
Deng Jian’s face radiated happiness as he followed Fang Jifan into the courtyard. In the distance, Fang Jifan spotted Xiang’er, struggling to carry a heavy basket of laundry towards the washing area. “Little Deng Deng,” he remarked, “isn’t our little Xiangxiang supposed to be sick?”
“Yes, she is.”
Seeing Xiang’er moving with such difficulty, limping badly, Fang Jifan felt a pang of pity. He quickened his pace and approached her. “Little Xiangxiang, what are you doing?”
Xiang’er looked up at Fang Jifan. Whether from illness or shyness, she instantly lowered her head, setting down the laundry basket to curtsy. “Young Lord, this slave is washing clothes.”
Fang Jifan frowned sharply, his brows drawing together. “Doing laundry while sick?”
Xiang’er hesitated nervously.
It was Deng Jian who chuckled and answered for her. “Young Lord, it was ordered by Manager Yang.”
Fang Jifan’s teeth practically itched. That Manager Yang was a real tyrant! How could he make someone suffer like this? Fang Jifan could usually play the spoiled, irresponsible young master and ignore things, but this was beyond what he could tolerate.
His voice turned stern. “Summon Manager Yang!”
Deng Jian found this strange, but seeing the anger on the Young Lord’s face, he didn’t dare question it. He hurried off to fetch Manager Yang.
Before long, Manager Yang arrived, his large belly jiggling as he trotted over, a sycophantic smile plastered on his face. “How can I serve you, Young Lord?”
Fang Jifan took a breath to steady himself, a plan already forming in his mind. First, he pointed squarely at Xiang’er. “Xiang’er! What is the meaning of this? You are sick, yet you dare flaunt yourself before me? If this illness passes to me, your punishment will be unforgivably severe!”
Xiang’er paled in terror at his words. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes as she frantically dropped to her knees, pleading guilty and begging for mercy.
Manager Yang, assuming Fang Jifan was solely blaming Xiang’er, eagerly joined in. Glaring fiercely at her, he snapped, “Did you hear the Young Lord? How dare you offend the Young Lord’s sight? Watch your hide!” Then, his expression melting into oily obsequiousness, he turned back to Fang Jifan. “Isn’t that right, Young Lord?”
Fang Jifan snapped his fan shut. In one swift motion, his arm lashed out, delivering a sharp slap across Manager Yang’s fleshy face.
Crack!
The flat sound of palm meeting cheek echoed cleanly, lingering for a tense moment on the fat man’s jowls.
Caught completely off guard, Manager Yang stumbled back a step. He clutched his stinging cheek, staring at Fang Jifan in utter disbelief and betrayal. “Young Lord… you….”
Fang Jifan ground his teeth, his voice a hiss between them. “Remember this well. Here in the capital, no one – absolutely no one – is allowed to sink lower than this Young Lord!”
Manager Yang was practically scared witless. He never imagined he had somehow outshone the Young Lord in depravity and earned his resentment! Panicking, he stammered, “D-dare not, dare not! The Young Lord is the low… no! The Young Lord is the most magnificent!”
Fang Jifan put on a look of disdainful dismissal and glanced at the trembling Xiang’er. “You’ve made such a grave error, and you still stand there weeping? I sentence you now to confinement in your quarters for three days! Do not step outside your door! If you disobey… if you dare disobey…” He glared pointedly at Manager Yang, “…I shall make an example of him!”
Manager Yang: “……”
Deng Jian shot a fearful glance at Manager Yang, his throat bobbing. It took him several long moments to force out a shaky smile. “The Young Lord is brilliant!”
Xiang’er seemed utterly terrified. Believing the Young Lord detested her, that this punishment stemmed purely from his dislike, her eyes reddened with unshed tears. She meekly acknowledged his order and limped away towards her quarters.
Watching her small, weakened figure retreat into the distance, Fang Jifan unconsciously pulled out his Xiangfei Bamboo Fan and fluttered it slowly as a sigh echoed deep inside. He always felt miserable about stepping into another’s shoes and adapting to that person’s troubled life rhythm. But in this moment, he realized how many others in this world suffered far worse than he ever had.
The original wastrel had undoubtedly committed countless misdeeds. Well… perhaps it was time for Fang Jifan to start making amends for some of them.
…
Inside the Forbidden City’s Warm Pavilion.
Outside the doors, Zhu Houzhao, Crown Prince of the Great Ming Dynasty, was currently craning his neck and peering furtively inside. His shifty eyes scanned the interior. Almost instantly, an authoritative voice boomed out from within: “Enter.”
Zhu Houzhao stuck out his tongue ever so slightly, then quickly composed himself into the dignified bearing befitting the Crown Prince. He stepped across the threshold and into the pavilion. Instantly, he knew he had chosen a bad moment. His Imperial Father sat high atop his desk. Flanking him on either side knelt several of Zhu Houzhao’s erudite imperial tutors.
These tutors were all esteemed ministers famed for their integrity and forthrightness during the Hongzhi Reign. Precisely because they were upright, they rarely spared the Crown Prince pleasant looks.
Just as Zhu Houzhao was about to perform the formal rites, the Hongzhi Emperor waved it off. He hadn’t seen his only son in several days. Now, seeing him, a faint, benevolent smile touched the Emperor’s lips. “Imperial Son, Minister Liu was just telling Us you managed to master the ‘Discourse on Discerning Traitors’?”
The address ‘Minister Liu’ referred to Liu Jian, the Grand Secretary of the Grand Secretariat and leader of the Cabinet. He sat slightly behind and to the Emperor’s left—a stately looking man with somewhat plain features. He gave a small, respectful nod of acknowledgment towards Zhu Houzhao.
Liu Jian held the position of First Grand Secretary. He was also concurrently the Grand Mentor to the Crown Prince, responsible for Zhu Houzhao’s education. He occasionally visited the House of the Crown Prince to monitor the heir’s studies. Lately, the heir-apparent had exhibited some improvement, bringing the elder statesman a measure of comfort.
Hearing the question, Zhu Houzhao’s eyebrows gave an almost imperceptible twitch upwards. He quickly adopted a grave expression. “Your Son and Servant feels deeply ashamed.”
The Hongzhi Emperor’s smile deepened, kindly. “It is clear you applied your mind. That is commendable.”
He then gestured. “Sit beside us while We consult Our ministers.”
Zhu Houzhao’s heart groaned inwardly, but he obediently knelt down beside his father’s desk.
The Hongzhi Emperor resumed speaking. “Regarding the Examination held several days ago, the Imperial Guard submitted over ten exceptional Policy Essays. Lately, Our thoughts have been consumed by the troubles in the Southwest… Ai… The Southwest disturbances are truly a chronic ailment plaguing Great Ming. For a hundred years, the imperial court has put down rebellion after rebellion. We receive reports of victory every year, yet invariably, news of fresh unrest follows hard on their heels. It is endlessly vexing. You Ministers are Our trusted pillars of state. Surely, you share Our profound disquiet?” The Emperor paused briefly, choosing his next words thoughtfully. “Today was opportune. Many young scions sat for the literary examinations. We set the Policy Essay question on this exact topic, perhaps hoping… just perhaps, that one might offer an unexpectedly insightful prescription.”
Liu Jian and the other ministers all offered faint, knowing smiles. Yet, their smiles seemed reserved, more obligatory gestures of compliance than expressions of genuine agreement. Their view held that His Majesty, while sagacious, and they themselves, diligent ministers, had yet to uncover a truly fundamental solution. How could children, mere youths, be relied upon for fresh insights?
This examination, populated largely by the sons of prestigious military nobility, would likely yield Policy Essays that barely touched the quality of even ordinary Xiucai essays. Simply being literate, composing decent handwriting, having a coherent flow from beginning to end without necessarily showcasing profound understanding—that itself would constitute excellence.