Ten days passed in the blink of an eye.
On another rare day off, Xu Yanmiao tidied himself up a little, put on so appropriate attire, and silently headed out to socialize.
[Why can’t I just spend my once-in-ten-days break quietly at ho?]
[Invitations, seriously? Can’t they just treat as if I were dead?]
[Is this what it ans to be helpless in the world of politics?]
He complained all the way there.
anwhile, in the workshop, soone secretly made a suggestion to their military officer father: “Why don’t we sabotage this banquet for Bai Ze? He could co back to rest, and he might even owe us a favor.”
The military officer was tempted but eventually shook his head.
“Better not ddle in Xu Yanmiao’s affairs. We’re only here to ensure his safety, not to make decisions for him. If we ss things up… think about the last guy who was publicly exposed for having hemorrhoids, and then…”
Before his father could give another example, the son shuddered and quickly begged for rcy.
“Alright, Dad, stop it!”
Humiliation in officialdom could haunt you for a lifeti, especially when your political rivals made it their hobby to remind you of it.
Xu Yanmiao rented a carriage and arrived at a location in the Taoyuan area. The place was unmistakably owned by soone rich and influential, as vast peach orchards stretched out in every direction. When the wind blew, the shadows of the flowers rippled like waves.
Scholars and literati strolled within, either composing poetry or painting while playing the zither. It was an exceptionally refined gathering.
“Oh no!”
Xu Yanmiao let out a quiet hiss.
“I forgot to check if this was a literary salon. If they ask to compose a poem in public, I’m dood!”
The key issue was that the original owner of this body could do it—poetry was part of the imperial examination syllabus! While his works might not have been dazzling, producing a decent, rule-abiding poem was no challenge for a graduate of the exams.
Xu Yanmiao made up his mind: if it turned out to be a literary competition, he would down copious amounts of wine and pretend to pass out. Being mocked for drunkenness was better than standing awkwardly under the spotlight.
“Xu Lang!”
The host of the event, a younger cousin of Marquis Hongyang, ca forward to greet him. The man wore a thin and flowing robe, exuding an air of celestial elegance.
Smiling, the host welcod Xu Yanmiao: “I’ve long heard of your reputation, but eting you in person surpasses the rumors.”
Xu Yanmiao instantly perked up and switched to social mode.
After exchanging polite greetings, the host moved on to greet other guests, leaving Xu Yanmiao to find a seat.
As Xu Yanmiao turned away, the Marquis’s cousin glanced back at him with a complicated expression.
I’m sorry, Xu Lang, but I really need to make a na for myself and showcase my talent to the emperor.
Besides, it’s just a minor embarrassnt for you. It’s not like it will hurt you. You’re still a nineteen-year-old palace attendant, and His Majesty won’t dismiss you over such a trivial matter.
The mont Xu Yanmiao sat down, he started delving into gossip for his own amusent.
Socializing? Building a reputation? For a salted fish like him, such things didn’t exist.
He wasn’t in a hurry to get promoted anyway. Just treat him as part of the background.
[Let’s see…]
[Oh, I get it! No wonder Liu Xueshi took several days off, claiming a recurrence of hemorrhoids—it turns out he was caught using his wife’s eye cream to treat them! It nearly caused a dostic incident, so he had no choice but to take leave.]
[What kind of eye cream is bold enough to be used there? Aloe, green tea… Anti-inflammatory and moisturizing without being greasy. No wonder he used it daily.]
Marquis Hongyang’s cousin noticed the top scholar (zhuangyuan) sitting alone in a daze and imdiately approached to chat.
“Brother Tang! Long ti no see. I’ve heard that you, at the age of twenty, not only achieved the highest rank in the imperial exam but were also exceptionally appointed as a section chief in the Ministry of Rites. Your talent is truly unparalleled. I’m impressed… Brother Tang?”
—After all, according to tradition, the zhuangyuan was typically assigned to the Hanlin Academy as a compiler.
The top scholar snapped out of his shock over the “eye cream for hemorrhoids” revelation and forced a polite smile.
“Brother Zhao, you flatter …”
[Hahaha! Why would anyone go fishing, only to get slapped across the face by a fish’s tail? I’m serious—this Censorate official goes fishing every ti and never catches anything. The one ti he did, he got slapped! At this point, it’s not a skill issue—it’s a curse. Maybe it’s ti to pick a new hobby?]
Marquis Hongyang’s cousin: “?”
Why did the top scholar stop mid-sentence?
The zhuangyuan struggled to pull his attention away from the gossip.
No, I can’t let this distract ! I’m in the middle of a conversation!
He resud speaking with the eloquence that had earned him the top spot in the exam, seamlessly continuing, “Brother Zhao, your words embarrass ! At the age of fourteen, you had already read and analyzed the Analects, including comntaries by Cheng, Zhu, and Zhang. By fifteen, you authored Pruning the Branches, thoroughly critiquing their flaws…”
[Wait! Hold on! Am I really supposed to know this? And what about Cui Yi’s secret stash of 4,000 taels—am I even supposed to know where it’s buried?]
The mutual flattery paused briefly. The zhuangyuan abruptly decided to end the conversation and quickly concluded: “Your book gained widespread acclaim in the literary world, while my ager talent is no match for your brilliance!”
Just as Marquis Hongyang’s cousin smiled and prepared to respond, the zhuangyuan suddenly looked embarrassed.
“Brother Zhao, is there a restroom nearby?”
Marquis Hongyang’s cousin: “…Huh?”
Seeing no response, the zhuangyuan added, “I think I may have eaten sothing bad last night…”
“…”
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