Chapter 35#

Maneuvering#

Mijin hadn’t slept all night. He blew on that light feather; it drifted up, then fell back onto his chest.

Just like a certain someone.

The wind outside was fierce, but Mijin didn’t find it noisy. Mili Nan had asked him whether he’d ever put a wind-hood on Miluo, and he’d only said the wind on Xiangling Plains was never that strong. That was a lie—the wind on Xiangling Plains was fiercer than anywhere else.

Mijin had never put a wind-hood on Miluo. On all their outings, it was always Miluo who put one on Mijin. When his father wasn’t being lazy, they would leave Ayou Palace and go horseback-riding across the grasslands of the eastern tribes.

At that time, every tribe respected the Bright King. Wherever they went, hot curdled milk and fine wine were brought out in welcome. Miluo drank the chieftain’s wine, and he drank the herders’ wine too. When he went among the people and played his wooden lotus lute, they would sing along with him—that shepherd’s song.

The world vast and boundless, ten thousand miles of rolling waves.

The teacher Youye said to Mijin: “Naga, remember this scene. This was the best of times on our Xiangling Plains.”

Mijin was drinking sheep’s milk, swatting at mosquitoes biting him, and asked half-heartedly: “What counts as the best of times?”

“When all provinces are at peace, the people recover and rest. All tribes harmonious, cattle and sheep in herds.” Long Xiang stood behind Mijin, gazing at the crowd with longing in his eyes. “Crown Prince, isn’t this good enough? Just a few years ago we were still starving.”

“That’s not what ‘best’ means,” Mijin said, the long chain across his chest clinking, his tone carrying an unrestrained arrogance. “Next year will definitely be even better.”

Youye and Long Xiang both laughed. The teacher sighed playfully: “Long Xiang, this isn’t a lord who’s easy to fool. You two brothers will have your hands full in the future…”

Howling snow beat against doors and windows, and all of them were scattered by the wind. Mijin lay with his arms as pillows, watching that feather drift lazily back to his chest.

Next year.

Mijin lowered his eyes, listless.

What was wrong with what Chaque had said? He truly was good at being born—without that surname, he was just a wild dog of the Xiangling Plains. Now he was being used as a bargaining chip by others, and he still harbored hopes of finding genuine feeling in his heart. He wasn’t crazy; he was just arrogant. He still thought heaven itself should be his.

Look at yourself.

Mijin mocked himself to his heart’s content.

What do you have? He doesn’t even care about that life. Only you, with your self-importance, treat that guilt as sincerity, and you want to exhaust every effort to pay it back. Mi Wuye, and you still think you’re the Crown Prince?

Mijin threw the light feather away, closed his eyes, and feigned sleep.

Early the next morning, Long Shan came in and called Mijin awake: “My lord, today the Supreme One accepts the Upper Accounting. It’ll be crowded outside—let’s head over early.”

Mijin sat up in one motion. The eunuchs came in, bringing a copper basin for his washing. He picked up the cloth and asked Long Shan: “What time is it?”

Long Shan replied: “Two quarters into Chou hour.”

“That’ll do,” Mijin washed quickly. “No need for breakfast. I’ll go as soon as I’ve changed.”

He went behind the folding screen to change. When he came out, the eunuchs were tidying up the bedding, and that light feather had been picked up, about to be thrown away. Mijin passed by, his outer robe already on, and casually snatched the feather on his way.

What gives them the right to throw it?

Mijin stuffed the feather into his sleeve, expressionless.

He’d snatched this thing for himself; it was his, fair and square.

Last night’s wind and snow had raged all night. The snow on the road hadn’t been cleared yet, and the cold wind was still blowing. By the time Mijin arrived, the area outside the palace gates was packed with people. He exhaled a breath of fog and said to Long Shan: “Cross out all those words on your note and memorize the names instead. Everyone standing here today is a pillar of Zhonggu.”

The sky had not yet brightened. The officials stood in their formal robes, their expressions solemn, waiting outside the palace gates. This was known as dailou—waiting for the bronze water clock. When the clock reached Yin hour, the palace gates would open, and the officials would file in one after another, heading to Taiyuan Hall for court business.

Mijin entered the palace with the procession, while Chaque was watching from Celestial Listening. He lifted the small wooden tablet and asked Yuan Bocheng: “Why can’t I hear a single word?”

Yuan Bocheng pulled his outer robe tighter around himself: “This is a grand court session. The Palace Censor will patrol the ranks, and anyone whose attire is untidy or whose appearance is improper will be impeached. At this point, don’t even mention letting them speak—even a yawn, they wouldn’t dare.”

Just then, the officials filed into the hall and kowtowed to Mili Nan. Mili Nan took his seat, and the officials bowed again.

“So this is the Son of Heaven,” Yuan Bocheng said, yawning ceaselessly. “Listen to how impressive it is. No wonder Mili Nan wanted to rebel—back when he was a frontier garrison general, fighting the eastern tribes back and forth, he never had this kind of glory.”

Mili Nan was in good spirits today. His voice was steady: “Give Minister Du and Prince Fucheng seats. The rest of you may rise. The snow was heavy last night—you must have been cold waiting outside. When court is dismissed, I’ll have the eunuchs bring each of you a bowl of hot curdled milk. Drink it all before you leave.”

Servants ran back and forth under the corridor. Yuan Bocheng heard this and couldn’t help but chuckle: “Sanqing, this is what you should learn from. The fact that Mili Nan rose from a garrison general to Emperor is partly because of how he respects the worthy and cherishes the scholars.”

“Grand court deliberations—Ministers come first.” Chaque, now without reservations, asked again: “Lu Guanjie commands the outer army, and Mili Nan values him—I understand that. But why does Mili Nan hold Du Wei in such high regard?”

“The Chief Minister of Zhonggu has long been vacant. Du Wei, as Left Vice Director of the State Affairs Department, oversees its affairs—he’s essentially the Chancellor.” Yuan Bocheng shifted his weight against his armrest. “Moreover, Du Wei comes from the Du clan of Ningzhou, a prestigious and ancient house. Without him, how could an emperor of military background like Mili Nan attract so many talented scholars and capable officials?”

“Prestigious clans value ritual and propriety above all. Du Wei following Mili Nan—"—Chaque said, puzzled—“that goes against orthodoxy, doesn’t it?”

“I used to be an assassin, and sometimes I impersonated young men from prominent clans,” Chaque said matter-of-factly. “I memorized their genealogies—stacked together, they’d reach a man’s height.”

“A blessing in disguise, Sanqing—saves you the trouble of growing stubble.”

“Indeed. The genealogies of great clans are complicated. For them, only supporting the Nie family is considered orthodox—”

Because of the snowstorm, today’s Celestial Listening was different from usual. During the wait, [they] talked about Mili Nan, the garrison general who rebelled. Before him, people had raised banners in various regions one after another—it was just that Mili Nan succeeded. Think about it: with the hearts of the world so unsettled, how much authority does orthodoxy still hold? Besides, back when the Nie family conquered all rivals—

Chaque caught on immediately: “To prove he is the Son of Heaven.”

“Correct.” Yuan Bocheng was pleased. “Every Son of Heaven loves to claim he possesses extraordinary signs. Since the Nie family could call themselves divine serpents, the Mi family can call themselves black dragons. You support your Nie Emperor, I support my Mi Emperor—and I can even say that it was precisely because your Nie Emperor was foolish and immoral that the common people suffered. Now my Mi Emperor has divine favor; this is the new orthodoxy. Under such circumstances, Du Wei following Mili Nan—how could that be called a violation of righteousness?”

He had barely finished speaking when Ling Yue rushed in. The young servant boy held a tray aloft, panting: “Master, the roads outside are terrible to travel, and today is a grand court session—the news is far too much. Everyone’s having trouble relaying it in time; it’ll be delayed by a few quarters.”

Yuan Bocheng said nothing. Chaque said: “No matter.”

Yuan Bocheng then asked: “Young Master, why does it not matter?”

“Today at Celestial Listening, it’s all things we already know about.” Chaque brushed aside the small wooden tablet on Ling Yue’s tray. “First, that the Upper Accounting is bound to have problems. Second, that Mili Nan intends to assign Mijin a post. These two things colliding together—it could very well be deliberate on Mili Nan’s part. Could he be trying to use our hands to remove the Lu clan of Yongzhou?”

Yuan Bocheng pressed his palms together: “Now that you’ve perked up, you’re actually sharper. But he’s the Emperor—if he wants to remove a Revenue Minister, wouldn’t it be just one word? Why bother us with the trouble?”

“You just said it yourself. Mili Nan respects Du Wei—both because Du Wei truly has ability, and because behind Du Wei stands the Du clan of Ningzhou. By the same logic—” Chaque propped his chin on one hand—“that Revenue Minister, Minister Lu, also has the Lu clan of Yongzhou behind him. With the world not yet settled, and Zhonggu needing to invoke divine signs to argue its legitimacy against Dazhen, the fact that Mili Nan won’t use a single word to remove this Revenue Minister must mean he doesn’t want to offend these aristocratic clans lightly.”

“Ayeh is truly in a good mood today,” Yuan Bocheng said to Ling Yue. “Go, have your young master’s cloak ready.”

“I’m not going out,” Chaque said.

Yuan Bocheng ignored him and said: “The fact that you could connect them all together proves my lecture today wasn’t wasted. That’s right—Mili Nan doesn’t want to offend these aristocratic clans lightly. But if they become too presumptuous, Mili Nan will show them a thing or two.”

“You’ve been extending credit to those Yongzhou guests,” Chaque said without moving, “precisely waiting for this day.”

“After Mili Nan ascended the throne, all key positions in the Three Departments were filled by scholars recruited from the aristocratic clans across the various regions—Ningzhou people among them the most. Why? Because Du Wei is formidable. He braved universal condemnation to follow Mili Nan back then. By every sense of propriety, Mili Nan must reciprocate the favor—to Du Wei and to the Du clan behind him.” Yuan Bocheng stood up. “The bond between these two men runs deep, Xiao Que. Don’t underestimate it—for the sake of that bond alone, Mili Nan wouldn’t touch the Du clan. But there are only so many positions in the central government, and the aristocratic clans also control regional prestige and regional standings. Out of the original six provinces, four belonged to them. If you were in his shoes—wouldn’t you be anxious?”

“Mili Nan still has his own core troops,” Chaque’s eyes shifted. “Oh—most of the Mi clan’s own people are military men. Fine for fighting wars, no good for holding office.”

“Precisely. Look at Lu Guanjie—he can also serve as Governor of Haozhou; that’s the struggle between the core troops and the aristocratic clans. But let him additionally oversee affairs in the Department of State Affairs? He wouldn’t dare. He’s afraid he’d lose the military power in his hands!” Yuan Bocheng turned around. “But if you don’t use those with military merit, no one else has the prestige. Send them to the provinces—how would they contend with the aristocratic clans?”

“Wait a minute—” Chaque suddenly slumped over the desk—“that Tian Ruping, he let his troops plunder in Yuanzhou and was cursed to that degree. It turns out it wasn’t because he’s stupid—it’s because he was playing dumb too?”

“His mind is narrow; he was never a magnanimous man,” Yuan Bocheng said, looking down on this Tian Ruping, his false father curling his lip. “But you’re right. At his age, doing something like that in Yuanzhou—even if he didn’t realize it, couldn’t the advisors following him have realized it? It’s simply that he didn’t want Yuanzhou. He took a terrible tumble there, and that place was given to Diao Qin by Miluo. If it fell back into his hands—well enough if he could govern it; but if not, he couldn’t even fight a war anymore.”

Chaque tilted his head, his tone mischievous: “Heaven sends down Mijin.”

“Mm-hmm.” Yuan Bocheng looked back at Chaque. “You really guessed right. These two things colliding together—it is deliberate on Mili Nan’s part. The reason he’s making a move against the Lu clan now is because the person from the Mi clan best suited to spar with the aristocratic clans has arrived.”