Echoes of My Heart Throughout the Court

Chapter 180: Interrupting Someone’s Sleep? Prepare for Divine Retribution! (1 / 2)

Marquis Yongchang endured his punishment, each stab of the blade leaving a bloody hole. He merely bit down on a cloth and let out muffled grunts—never a scream or plea for mercy.

— Normally, such punishments would not be administered, but Marquis Yongchang himself insisted on adding an extra sentence to his original punishment.

Although he retained his title, he suffered numerous setbacks. His eighty adopted sons—those who needed to be captured were captured, and those who deserved punishment were punished. Those guilty of heinous crimes were executed without a word of plea from the marquis. When the ordeal concluded, he brought out a jug of wine, drank a bowl with his sons, and severed their father-son bond.

Eighty adopted sons—essentially equivalent to forming a clique of eighty people, each a robust and capable military general.

They should have separated long ago.

The old emperor pondered for a moment. Today’s air was too heavy with the scent of blood; an otherwise good celebration banquet was ruined.

He needed to lighten the mood.

“Empress,” he asked Empress Dou, seated beside him, “what do you think we should do to cleanse the air of today’s bloodshed?”

Empress Dou replied, “Give out rewards.”

The old emperor coughed. “Something else.”

Empress Dou: “…”

[So stingy.]

The old emperor: “?!”

He widened his eyes in shock.

How had Xu Yanmiao overheard his private conversation with the empress?!

He glanced over to see Xu Yanmiao sitting calmly at his seat, his gaze fixed on the air as if observing something invisible.

—He must be using the system’s artifact again.

The old emperor shot Xu Yanmiao a meaningful look but continued speaking to Empress Dou. “Rewarding people costs too much. We’ve already rewarded the soldiers. If we also reward the civil officials, the private treasury will be excessively depleted.”

So what if he was stingy? Even though they’d discovered a gold mine, other expenditures still demanded funds! Save where you can!

After deliberating, the old emperor decided on a reward that required no silver or gold, just a symbolic honor. “I’ve heard rumors of untapped talent in the countryside. This reflects poorly on you all for failing to recommend the virtuous and demote the unworthy. Now that everyone is gathered here for the celebration banquet, I command each of you to recommend at least one person, be they a scholar or a soldier.”

Xu Yanmiao reflexively lowered his head to the bamboo slip where he had just written down some names.

[Who would dare recommend someone right now?]

Then it dawned on him: [Oh! The ministers don’t know about the screen incident or the matter with the eighty adopted sons. It must seem like a coincidence to them, like pulling one turnip and dragging up the whole patch.]

But we know.

The ministers all lowered their heads and stared at their desks.

Ah, such a fine cup of tea. The color was vibrant, the texture smooth, and the whiteness so pure. The tea leaves were plump and tender.

Ah, the embroidery on this silk belt looked a little crooked. Better take another good look.

Ah…

In any case, their heads remained bowed, and their mouths stayed shut. No one dared to be the first to recommend anyone.

The old emperor, unperturbed, drawled, “Anonymous.”

The emperor’s version of “anonymous” involved officials whispering names to scribes, who would then write down the recommended person and their qualifications without revealing the recommender’s name.

He set a firm requirement: “Each of you must recommend at least one person.”

Xu Yanmiao was particularly troubled. After much contemplation, he still had no idea whom to recommend.

—He had never paid attention to such things before!

He nearly scratched his head bald before cautiously submitting a name. Then he began quietly observing others.

One glance and his heart sank.

It seemed… everyone else looked quite confident.

The incense in the burner slowly burned to ash as slips of paper were collected and delivered to the emperor. At first, the emperor perused them himself, but soon he handed them to a eunuch to read aloud for everyone’s benefit.

“A recommendation for Guozijian academician Zhai Shang. Despite the rigors of his studies, he buys baked flatbread from the market and eats as he walks. As a learned scholar, he humbles himself, delights in simple pleasures with the common folk, and exemplifies sincerity and approachability. He would make an excellent official.”

Xu Yanmiao’s eyes darted around, searching for people.

Lian Hang whispered, “The one sitting right behind Marquis Yangwu is Dr. Zhai.”

Xu Yanmiao quickly recognized Marquis Yangwu and soon identified the person behind him. His expression grew peculiar. “Why does it seem like that doctor doesn’t look very happy?”

Lian Hang raised his hand and coughed lightly into his fist. “Does Xu Lang truly think this counts as ‘sharing joy with the people’?”

Xu Yanmiao froze. “Huh? Doesn’t it?”

“For an official, such behavior might be considered undignified. If no one notices, or if the observer doesn’t mind, it’s fine. But if someone sees it and uses it as grounds for impeachment, it could very well lead to being demoted or sent out of the capital. Right now, someone is using a recommendation as a pretext for an impeachment attempt.”

It was like the saying about the “five-day marital duty”—everything was fine until someone with an agenda came along. Then you’d be doomed.

—Of course, in a rule-by-man society, it ultimately depended on the emperor’s opinion.

Xu Yanmiao’s pupils quaked.

[I’m doomed! I’ve done this countless times! Not only have I walked around eating flatbread, but I’ve also snacked on meatballs, sunflower seeds, duck feet, chestnuts… Whatever street food I see, I eat it!]

[What if someone saw me?]

The censors: “…”

What a big fish.

But…

They sighed silently.

This one couldn’t be touched. Better to focus on finding faults in others.

Zhai Shang cast a resentful glance at Xu Yanmiao. Though he knew Xu Lang hadn’t done it intentionally—and that Xu Yanmiao had a divine artifact far beyond his own reach—it was hard not to feel envious and bitter in the moment.

The old emperor tried to recall who Zhai Shang was. Unable to place him, he remarked blandly, “Zhai Shang’s behavior lacks decorum; disqualify him.”

Had the emperor remembered him, felt a fondness for him, or found him useful, the matter might have been brushed aside.

Such was the cold reality of officialdom.

—In other words, no one could say this wasn’t a recommendation. If the emperor deemed the behavior to be sincerely humble and approachable, the recommended individual could rise. If not, it simply meant the emperor didn’t want them.

By now, Zhai Shang had resigned himself to the outcome. He stood, bowed deeply, and said, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your grace. This humble servant feels unworthy and ashamed for failing to meet Your Majesty’s expectations. I shall no longer present myself before the throne and only wish for Your Majesty’s long-lasting health and peace.”

The eunuch moved on to the next anonymous recommendation: “I recommend Zhao Li, brother of Marquis Hongyang and a disciple of Prime Minister Dou. Though he holds no official position, he is a scholar of immense talent and vision, capable of securing the empire for generations to come.”

Even Xu Yanmiao could tell something was off.

Given the old emperor’s temperament, this kind of recommendation—with phrases like “brother of Marquis Hongyang” and “disciple of Prime Minister Dou”—was anything but genuine.