Chapter 280: Heavy Rain During Grain Rain

After ascending the throne, the former emperor of Beiman believed he had accomplished four significant feats: unifying the royal court and imperial camps, establishing over a hundred post stations, digging wells in waterless areas, and setting up Red Army garrisons in major military towns and cities. Although the current empress usurped the throne, she did not alter these policies. While diligently refining these four areas, she conscientiously undertook two more tasks: separating military and civilian affairs (i.e., local military, civilian, and financial matters) and establishing fixed taxes and household registration. Additionally, she implemented measures like setting up the Office of Agricultural Promotion and compiling the 'Essentials of Agriculture and Sericulture.' Beiman's official system was far less developed than that of the Spring and Autumn Period. Every task required the emperor's immense personal effort and hands-on involvement. Thus, to Xu Fengnian, wearing the dragon robe held no appeal. Every family has its own difficulties. The Zhao imperial family of the Liyang Dynasty, who ruled the empire, was even more diligent, if not equally so. It is said that in recent years, the emperor personally reviewed thousands of characters of documents daily. One must remember this was an emperor ruling a family empire, not a scholar striving for literary achievements. Aside from other duties, merely presiding over court meetings daily to personally handle all minor and major affairs of the Three Departments and Six Ministries was enough to strike awe into the common people, who imagined being emperor was simply a life of leisure in the imperial harem.

It was late spring, the Guyu (Grain Rain) season, and heavy rain poured down on Tai'an City.

Previously, there was no custom in the capital of posting Celestial Master's scorpion-banishing talismans. However, with the rise of Zhao Danping, the 'Blue Scroll Prime Minister,' and widespread folk legends, especially after the emperor set an example, the entire city adopted the practice of writing talismans with cinnabar to ward off scorpions. Ordinary families would spend dozens of coins at Taoist temples to buy these talismans, seeking peace of mind through a small expense. Wealthy households naturally had connections to have Taoist masters personally draw talismans. As for aristocratic mansions, clever old immortals from the capital's grand temples would proactively send stacks of vermilion talismans to their doors, much like the enthusiastic tea offerings between Qingming and Guyu. At this moment, a short while before dawn at the fifth watch, a man in a crimson python robe walked through the deep imperial palace. In one hand, he held several yellow-backed, vermilion talismans, distinctly different from ordinary scorpion-banishing charms. His other hand hung inside his sleeve, holding a common oiled-paper umbrella.

He slowly walked through the corridors towards the Xuanwu North Gate of the imperial palace. The man was without eyebrows or a beard, with a head of snow-white hair. Two strands of his long, snow-like hair hung in front of his vibrant red python robe. The hand holding the talisman and tucked into his sleeve, at first glance, appeared simply well-manicured, pale and slender like a woman's. Upon closer inspection, however, fine red threads, like slender snakes, could be seen twisting and swaying endlessly at the cuff. Though it was only Guyu, perhaps due to the proximity of a lake, the area was filled with the croaking of frogs after the sudden downpour. At Xuanwu North Gate, there was a drum tower and a slightly dilapidated clepsydra room, each staffed by diligent eunuchs. Though this eunuch in the python robe had hair as white as frost, his face was well-preserved, making him appear youthful. His steps were utterly silent, like a red cat hunting mice in the night. Only a handful of eunuchs in the palace were qualified to wear crimson python robes. In terms of rank, they were led by the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial (Zheng Sipin, Senior Fourth Rank) and the Eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial (Cong Sipin, Junior Fourth Rank). Tai'an City's imperial palace boasted of a grand total of 100,000 eunuchs, an exaggerated figure, yet it subtly indicated the vast number of eunuchs serving the Zhao imperial family, who ruled the empire. This eunuch, whose attire alone suggested he was a powerful 'Diao Si,' arrived at Xuanwu Gate and affixed the vermilion talisman depicting a rooster pecking a scorpion. He was illiterate and naturally couldn't understand the intricate characters on the talisman. Before entering the palace as a child, he had no money for schools or private tutors. After entering the palace, he followed his master and was too busy to learn to read. Later, when his master became the ultimate sovereign, perhaps to avoid suspicion, he lost any inclination to study.

Standing beneath the gate, looking at the talisman personally penned by Zhao Danping of Longhu Mountain, the grand eunuch's lips moved slightly. He uttered three words that no one else could hear: "Scribbled nonsense."

He looked up at the sky, expecting another downpour. Pitying the newly reddening peach blossoms and the freshly sprouted green buds, he silently raised his umbrella and walked back. As the fourth watch approached, near the clepsydra room, an old eunuch from the Palace Directorate hurried towards the drum tower, carrying a time tablet with gold characters on a blue background. Along the way, eunuchs of all ranks, regardless of their status, would stand aside respectfully when they saw him. Even eunuchs inside rooms with open doors were expected to rise. The profession of a eunuch, often shrouded in mystery to the world, truly had too many rules and intricacies. Once, a highly favored grand eunuch accidentally bumped into a eunuch from the Palace Directorate, causing him to miss the drum-beat for the watch. The grand eunuch's former head attendant had become the Chief Eunuch of the Imperial Stables and addressed him privately as 'father.' The on-duty eunuch was instead framed, bitten back at, and beaten to death. When Han Diaosi learned of this, not only was the hot-shot eunuch subjected to private torture and flaying, but also the Chief Eunuch of the Imperial Stables. This kind of major incident, which even terrified court ministers, was merely met with a smile by His Majesty the Emperor, who was accustomed to personally handling all matters, both imperial and domestic. As for the avalanche of impeachment memorials from censors and remonstrance officials, he dismissed them with the four words: 'My personal household matter.'

At this moment, the old eunuch on his way to the drum tower to deliver the time tablet, who had been immersed in the respectful deference of all eunuchs he encountered, suddenly saw the crimson python robe and white hair turning the corner. His hair instantly stood on end. He dared not stop, but merely bent his waist and lowered his head, shortening his strides but quickening his pace, which paradoxically made him seem to move slower. The white-haired eunuch in the red python robe slightly turned his shoulder. The two eunuchs, whose statuses were worlds apart, brushed past each other. The old eunuch dared not even breathe loudly. Good heavens, how could he not be afraid? When the new emperor, who had been left among the common people, entered the palace, this very man had, in a fit of rage, killed over four hundred eunuchs who dared to privately discuss the emperor's identity. Among them was the Chief Eunuch of the Bureau of Military Affairs, one of the twenty-four yamen, who had originally been a trusted confidant.

This crimson-robed eunuch, known for his ruthless methods, was naturally the chief of all one hundred thousand eunuchs, the 'Human Cat' Han Diaosi, one of the 'Three Scourges of the Dynasty' alongside Xu Xiao, the Human Butcher, and Huang Sanjia.

The drum for the fifth watch sounded, signaling dawn.

As the first drop of water fell from the clepsydra, agile young eunuchs rushed to the palace gates to report that dawn had arrived. Thousands of large red lanterns were hung high almost simultaneously, illuminating the imperial palace, making it brightly lit and vibrant. Han Diaosi walked quietly amidst them. By the time the second drop of water fell from the clepsydra, he had arrived precisely before the emperor. Upon entering the room, he kept his head bowed, only able to see a pair of yellow and purple intermingled boots from the Imperial Robe Bureau. Apart from the colors symbolizing nobility, they were no different from ordinary cotton shoes. Inside the room, attendant eunuchs were helping the man don his imperial yellow dragon robe. The man listened to the rain outside the window and chuckled gently, "Rain during Guyu cleanses and purifies all things; it's a good omen."

Han Diaosi, still bowing, his two hanging strands of hair almost touching the cool bluestone floor, softly said, "Reporting to Your Majesty, the Prince Regent sent some pre-rain toona sinensis into the palace yesterday."

The man remained silent. The atmosphere in the room was stagnant, with only the rumbling sound of rain outside the window. After a long pause, he finally chuckled, "Although pre-rain toona sinensis is as tender as silk, he clearly sent it for you, his grand master, not for me. There's no need to gild the lily."

Han Diaosi bowed even lower.

The man took off one of his yellow and purple cotton shoes and playfully threw it at the grand eunuch. He burst into laughter, saying with a hint of helplessness, "Just bring three catties then."

Han Diaosi, in his crimson python robe, nodded. The tips of his white hair bent to the floor as he picked up the cotton shoe, then scurried a few steps to hand it to an attendant eunuch before the emperor. He then stepped back a few paces and stood still, speaking in the soft tone characteristic of eunuchs, though his voice was purer and less unsettlingly effeminate than some others. He whispered, "Your Majesty, forgive me, the Prince Regent only sent two catties of toona sinensis."

The man, who had just taken the shoe back and was about to put it on himself, threw it back again, laughing and scolding, "Then bring both catties. You, as a grand master, won't get to enjoy any of it."

The grand eunuch in charge of the imperial seal and several other powerful eunuchs, all in crimson python robes, were already waiting quietly outside the door. Standing along the corridor line, with wind-driven rain slanting and heavy rain splashing against the railings and into the hallway, their shoe surfaces quickly became soaked. These grand eunuchs, the highest-ranking eunuchs, were waiting to accompany His Majesty the Emperor southward. During their journey, they would first walk along a 'Dragon Path' symbolizing the boundary of the inner palace, then bypass two more palaces before reaching what the common people called the 'Golden Luan Hall' for today's morning court.

Before the morning court, several newly promoted imperial diarists would join the procession. These were young, new faces, yet even the grand eunuchs greeted them with smiles, a stark contrast to how high-ranking officials and nobles previously dismounted their horses or palanquins when encountering them in the palace.

Morning court in the current dynasty followed old traditions: the emperor attended personally, without interruption due to harsh weather or natural disasters. However, for most low-ranking capital officials, it wasn't considered particularly arduous, as they only needed to attend the grand court every five days and the new moon/full moon courts. Officials living on the aristocratic streets near the imperial city likely rose at the fourth watch. Other officials, for grand courts, if they couldn't afford a mansion closer to the imperial city—where land was extremely precious—would probably have to set off in the middle of the night and travel through a good part of the capital to avoid missing court. Today, due to heavy rain, all civil and military officials had brought rain cloaks. They stood cloaked, waiting for the main gate to open. Because it was a grand court session, not only dukes, marquises, imperial sons-in-law, and nearly a thousand capital officials were present, but also many hereditary meritorious and titular officials came as per custom, totaling about fourteen to fifteen hundred people. They stood densely packed in the rain outside the imperial city gate, raindrops the size of soybeans drumming loudly on their umbrellas.

This was a scene of court attendance unique to an era of peace and prosperity.

In this unprecedentedly vast empire, countless political decrees were entrusted to them to be disseminated to every corner of the territory.

After the bell sounded, these powerful court officials and capital officials would abandon their umbrellas and proceed. After passing through the city gate, no shouting or spitting was allowed. Attendants before the emperor who were ill or coughing were permitted to withdraw from court. The enforcement of the former often varied by individual; low-ranking officials, if caught, would naturally be expelled by inspecting guards and eunuchs. In the past, many descendants of meritorious officials paid no heed to this rule, whispering disrespectful remarks to long-time acquaintances among officials on their way to the palace steps before entering the hall. It was only after Grand Secretary Zhang gained power that this bad habit was eradicated, making each court session increasingly solemn and dignified. Grand Palace Attendant Jin Lanting stood alone with his umbrella. Most capital officials, who greatly disliked him, privately joked that he was 'not a crane among chickens, but a chicken among cranes.' This was especially true after this minor official, who had achieved a sudden rise, suffered from diarrhea during one morning court and nearly suffocated. Fortunately, unlike officials below the fourth rank who had to kneel outside the hall and were not allowed to see the emperor, Jin Lanting's unusual condition was noticed by His Majesty, who specially permitted him to withdraw, thus avoiding a huge embarrassment. Consequently, this Palace Attendant, who had painstakingly built connections with several important figures by selling treated Xuan paper, became a permanent laughingstock for the capital's nobility during their tea breaks. Especially after Huan Wen was remotely appointed as Sacrificial Wine of the State and Military Commissioner of Guangling, there was no longer a single high-ranking court official above the fourth rank in the vast capital willing to let Jin Huangmen enter their mansion—all because this fellow, in his ill-fated decisions, had chosen to associate closely with Beiliang.

Jin Lanting, who had entered the capital full of ambition as an acting Grand Palace Attendant, had long lost his initial scholarly idealism. His rough edges had been smoothed, and he no longer paid attention to the overwhelming ridicule. He clearly remembered the envious and jealous gazes he received at court the day after Sacrificial Wine Huan had invited him to his residence. Jin Lanting extended a hand outside his umbrella; raindrops stung his palm. He, who usually kept his face hidden by his oiled-paper umbrella, slightly raised it, observing the myriad officials who formed small cliques of acquaintances, listening to their lively conversations. This 'Treated Xuan Paper Gentleman,' collectively ostracized by capital officials, subtly stood on tiptoe. Due to his noble status, he was allowed to enter the grand court strictly by rank, proceeding in single file, which meant he was close to the main gate of the Imperial City. Thus, Jin Lanting noticed several prominent umbrellas. One belonged to Grand Secretary Zhang Julu, whose tall stature meant his umbrella towered several inches above others. Beneath his umbrella, besides this 'pillar unique in three centuries,' was Sun Xiji, the Left Deputy of the Chancellery, who could have skipped court but insisted on attending. Presumably, Grand Secretary Zhang was concerned about the elderly Sun's health and helped him hold the umbrella to ward off the rain—an immense honor, no less significant than His Majesty allowing the old deputy to sit during court.

Jin Lanting withdrew his cold hand, lowered his eyelids, and clenched his fist.

He secretly glanced at a minister nearby who also hailed from Beiliang, Yan Jiexi, the Vice Minister of Rites, who was also an imperial relative. The latter, originally the Governor of Lingzhou in Beiliang, happened to look his way as well, and their gazes met briefly before quickly averting.

Jin Lanting subtly withdrew his gaze, took a deep breath, and his eyes hardened with determination. He wanted to be a remonstrating minister.

And the traitorous official he was about to impeach today, who had been detrimental to the state, was none other than Xu Xiao, the King of Beiliang, who had once helped him secure an official position in the capital!

He knew that after the morning court, regardless of whether the heavy rain stopped, he would shake the court and the entire political arena, and his name would be celebrated throughout the land.

Meanwhile, Xu Fengnian entered Juzhou.