[Waking up at 3 a.m. to attend court—this garbage emperor has no humanity.]
Xu Yanmiao tucked a stead bun into his chest, braced against the cold wind, and shuffled into the court hall. Finding a corner, he sat down and began nibbling on the bun while scrolling through the gossip provided by his system.
[The Provincial Investigating Commissioner has been fishing for fifteen days and hasn’t caught a single fish! Hahaha, his fishing skills are beyond terrible!]
[The Minister of War hasn’t bathed, changed clothes, or swapped his socks for seven days. Last night, his wife finally kicked him out of the bedroom. Honestly, it’s a miracle she tolerated it for seven days—if it were , I couldn’t last a day.]
[Oh, oh, oh, the Minister of Rites…]
“Ahem.”
Xu Yanmiao looked up and stood respectfully. “What can I do for you, Lord Zheng?”
The Minister of Rites, Zheng Peng, stroked his beard with a smile. “Xu Lang, where did you buy that stead bun? It slls delicious.”
“Oh, this is…”
After he explained, Zheng Peng shifted topics, asking if Xu Yanmiao hadn’t slept well last night—he looked tired. Then ca inquiries about whether his work was overwhelming, whether the cold weather and his thin attire indicated negligence by his household staff…
From food and clothing to philosophy and poetry, the conversation dragged on until it was ti for court. Only then did Zheng Peng stroke his beard again, chuckling as he bade farewell.
Xu Yanmiao sighed softly.
[So the Minister of Rites is a chatterbox? He talked so much I didn’t even have ti to check the gossip.]
[Whatever. Ti for court.]
Looking ahead, Xu Yanmiao noticed Zheng Peng walking away, his steps unusually brisk, as though sothing good had happened. He also spotted… the Minister of War gazing at Zheng Peng with what could only be described as a resentful expression.
[Hmm—]
[Could it be that the Minister of Rites and the Minister of War share a history of unspoken love? The “you love
but I married soone else while you sched to climb the ranks just to give
one sorrowful glance” kind of past?]
Thud!
The Minister of Rites tripped on his robe and fell flat on his face.
Xu Yanmiao quickly dismissed the wild thoughts in his head and joined the other officials in rushing to assist Zheng Peng. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Minister of War standing conspicuously far away, as though deliberately avoiding the scene.
[Hmm, is this… to avoid suspicion? This feels like a “there’s nothing here, really” mont…]
The Minister of War suddenly raised his voice. “Lord Zheng, are you all right?”
Zheng Peng replied at once, “I’m fine, Brother Li, thank you for your concern!”
One smiled, and the other returned the smile—both full of the polite insincerity typical of adults.
Xu Yanmiao took another bite of his bun, his eyes gleaming.
[This is unresolved tension! Unresolved tension!]
Forgive him; as soone dood to face charges of cheating in the imperial exams and likely to lose his head at the execution ground, all he could do was pass the ti indulging in gossip.
[See? I knew they had a scandalous history. One takes a fall, and the other can’t resist showing concern!]
[Oh, oh! And now their smiles are stiffening. Is it because they realized they’ve accidentally exposed their feelings? Damage control in progress?]
As the Minister of War finished inquiring after Zheng Peng’s well-being and turned to stride decisively toward the door, Xu Yanmiao squinted through the crowd at his retreating figure, blinking.
[Weird. Why does it feel like the Minister of War is fleeing? Why is he wiping sweat?]
Of course, Xu Yanmiao never took his little ntal dramas seriously. These musings were just his way of amusing himself on slow days.
[Could it be…]
Several officials walking past Xu Yanmiao suddenly tensed.
[…that sothing major is about to happen in court?]
But no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he heard several quiet sighs of relief around him. Xu Yanmiao stepped aside, confused.
Xu Yanmiao was a transmigrator.
A useless one, at that—unskilled in farming or manual labor, unable to distinguish grains, and barely able to run a kiloter without gasping for breath.
As for the typical transmigrator toolkit—slting iron, crafting gunpowder, building with cent, inventing hot air balloons, or designing steam engines—he couldn’t do any of that.
The only stroke of fortune was his system, though it wasn’t particularly useful. It rely provided endless gossip. Still, a golden finger was better than none. Unfortunately, the system itself…
[Hello? System? Can you hear ?]
[Fzz… fzz… System malfunction… fzz…]
It was yet another day when the system was out of order.
Shrugging it off, Xu Yanmiao straightened his official hat and followed at the end of the line to attend court.
His current body was seventeen years old—not exactly a prodigy. Originally, he had participated in the imperial exams just to gain experience. However, a rare flood disaster struck, affecting more than ten provinces. The emperor, moved by compassion, granted all exam-takers the title of xiucai (scholar) and allowed them to advance to the provincial exam.
Xu Yanmiao’s predecessor was one of them.
Since the pass rate for the provincial exam had been abysmally low—barely 10% over the past decade—the court had implented a series of policies to support unsuccessful candidates. These included allowing them to retain their scholarly title, enroll at the Imperial Academy, and either retake the exams until they passed or wait for assignnt opportunities, which might lead to governntal roles.
His predecessor’s luck had been extraordinary. Not long after entering the academy, he was plucked by the Ministry of Appointnts to fill a vacancy, becoming a siwu (clerk of the ninth rank) in the Ministry of Personnel.
In essence, his duties involved filing docunts, recording miscellaneous tasks, and distributing assignnts to various departnts.
[Soone like —a low-ranking official—why on earth did the Minister of Rites go out of his way to chat with
this morning?]
Reviews
All reviews (0)