Chapter 814: Silent as a Cicada (3)

The autumn winds from the northwest rippled the seemingly calm waters of the capital's officialdom. Though the surface remained undisturbed, powerful undercurrents were already swirling beneath.

Sima Puhua, who had succeeded Lu Daolin and Yuan Guo as the Minister of Rites, returned to his office in Zhaojiaweng, adjacent to the Ministry of War, after welcoming the exceedingly arrogant young vassal king. The septuagenarian appeared remarkably frail and weary.

The six ministries of the Department of State Affairs, rebuilt at the beginning of the Yonghui era, were arranged side by side. In the Liyang Dynasty, left was honored over right, so the Ministry of Personnel, whose head was known as the Heavenly Official, was naturally at the leftmost end. Gu Jiantang, then Minister of War, surprisingly chose to place his ministry at the far right. Thus, from east to west, the order was Personnel, Revenue, Justice, Works, Rites, and War. This arrangement clearly showed how disfavored the Ministry of Rites was during the Yonghui era. Initially, there was even a saying in the capital that "an Undersecretary of Rites is as cheap as an Assistant Minister of another department." However, with the successive leadership of Lu Daolin and Yuan Guo as ministers, the Ministry of Rites gradually improved its standing. Nowadays, it was an unwritten rule for scholars from the imperial academies to emerge from the Ministry of Rites.

Since the second year of Xiangfu, Sima Puhua had stood straighter than even young officials at every court session, always seeming to wear a cheerful expression, even in late autumn. But today, the old minister's appearance upon returning to the office, in the eyes of the shrewd Ministry of Rites officials, was as if he had lost his soul. The old man, looking sickly, entered his room and sat down, immediately beginning to sigh heavily. He was so preoccupied that he didn't even notice Left Undersecretary Jin Lanting and the newly appointed Right Undersecretary Jiang Yongle arriving together; he just continued sighing.

Upon seeing this scene, Jiang Yongle's heart immediately sank. Local officials only knew that he, who had originally managed the Ministry of Rites' sacrifices department, was promoted to Undersecretary because he received excellent evaluations in the capital's assessment, overseen by the influential Yin Maocun and Chen Wang, thus distinguishing himself from his peers of similar rank in the Ministry of Rites. However, even the most minor capital officials knew perfectly well that Jiang Yongle secured this increasingly coveted position of Right Undersecretary simply because, in the matter of conferring a posthumous title for "Crippled Xu," he had, with incredibly good luck, guessed the late emperor's true intentions correctly. His proposed posthumous title "Wuli" was approved, and the so-called outstanding capital assessment was merely a pretense created by the imperial court. Some high-ranking officials and nobles in the capital who looked down on Jiang Yongle openly called him "Dogshit Undersecretary!" Previously, Jiang Yongle hadn't bothered to argue or try to make a difference. He had served in the capital for many years but always lacked deep connections; otherwise, he wouldn't have been caught up in the disastrous task of deciding that posthumous title. In Jiang Yongle's view, the rising tide of his Undersecretary position was the only tangible thing. If others were unconvinced, they should try stepping in dogshit too; could it turn their official badges into embroidered peacocks? However, when Undersecretary Jiang suddenly heard that the son of the one granted the "Wuli" posthumous title, the new King of Northern Liang, Xu Fengnian, had unexpectedly entered the capital, Jiang Yongle was terrified. Originally, he had harbored a secret ambition to compete with Jin Lanting, hoping he might even become the Minister of Rites himself. But now, how could he dare to be so arrogant? The Minister's seat was coveted, but his life was far more important. Therefore, walking alongside Jin Lanting, Jiang Yongle adopted a posture even humbler than a sixth-rank principal clerk, thinking that he absolutely had to seek advice from the Left Undersecretary today on how to consistently oppose Northern Liang yet still maintain a successful career.

The old Minister finally snapped out of his daze and motioned for his two deputies to sit down. Looking at the two Undersecretaries, Sima Puhua usually felt a degree of discomfort. One was old enough to be his son, and the other, even more gallingly, could be his grandson, yet their official ranks differed by only one level. He knew that as soon as he retired to his hometown, one of them would likely have their official badge changed to the second-rank Golden Pheasant. But today, the elderly man had no room for such trivial thoughts; instead, he felt a sense of shared predicament. The old Minister glanced at the door, cleared his throat, and then slowly began, "I presume both of you gentlemen are aware that I was suddenly ordered by imperial decree to welcome the King of Liang into the city today."

Jiang Yongle nodded vigorously, like a chick pecking at rice.

Jin Lanting, whose decision to grow a beard to express his aspirations was a widely discussed topic in Tai'an City, maintained an unchanging expression, truly living up to his reputation as "Third Master Jin of great demeanor."

Next, Sima Puhua spoke some unremarkable official platitudes. Such bureaucratic talk, during regular office discussions, the septuagenarian could drone on for an hour or two without pausing for breath; this was a sign of his mastery of bureaucracy. But today, the old Minister did not ramble on. He paused, reached out to stroke an imperial given tianhuang paperweight, and after a moment of silence, seemed to exert great effort to utter a single sentence: "As we parted ways, the vassal king told me he would visit our Ministry of Rites when he has time."

Jin Lanting remained composed.

Jiang Yongle, on the other hand, was dumbfounded, unsure if it was his imagination. He kept feeling that after the Minister spoke, he had, intentionally or unintentionally, glanced at him with an expression full of pity, as if looking at a condemned wretch.

Sima Puhua lowered his gaze and nonchalantly added, "That person also said he wanted to reminisce about old times."

Jin Lanting narrowed his eyes, stroked his meticulously groomed beard, and smiled faintly, "Oh?"

Jiang Yongle was sweating profusely. Reminiscing, was it with Jin Lanting? Or with himself? Or was it to sweep up all the presentable officials in the Ministry of Rites in one go?

The old Minister's two bony fingers unconsciously stroked the smooth, warm tianhuang auspicious lion paperweight. He wasn't sure if it was because its texture resembled the skin of his newly acquired beautiful concubine in her prime, or if he was simply basking in the vast imperial benevolence.

It was true that the young vassal king said he would visit the Ministry of Rites, and it was also true that he wanted to reminisce. However, Sima Puhua omitted a detail: the new King of Liang had, in fact, exchanged many polite pleasantries with him, a high-ranking second-grade official. Nowadays, the "Xiangfu New Officials" like Gao Tingshu and Fan Changhou likely had no idea, but only the more seasoned "Yonghui Old Officials" knew of a significant joke from early on in Tai'an City's official circles. It concerned a batch of warhorses contributed by Northern Liang from Qianli Pastures. Sima Puhua, then an Assistant Minister in the Ministry of Rites, upon reading a memorial stating that the Northern Liang horses were nearly six feet tall, burst into laughter and immediately shared the amusing anecdote with a large group of his colleagues. Sima Puhua didn't forget to comment, "These Northern Liang horses are truly huge, comparable to the manure-hauling mules in our Tai'an City. The world is indeed full of wonders, and Northern Liang is the strangest of all." However, when the Liang horses arrived in the capital, Sima Puhua, a scholar who had never held a knife in his life, finally realized that the height of warhorses was measured not to their heads, but only to their backs!

This enormous blunder had caused Sima Puhua to be unable to hold his head up for many years. However, as Lord Sima's official rank rose, it was mentioned less and less. Unexpectedly, today, the young vassal king reopened this old wound, saying with a smile to the Minister, "Minister, I wonder where in the capital there are manure-hauling mules nearly six feet tall? I must see them for myself; only then will this trip be truly worthwhile, wouldn't you agree?"

How could Sima Puhua respond then? He could only lower his gaze, smile awkwardly, and remain silent. Was he supposed to nod and agree?

At this moment, the old Minister felt increasingly stifled the more he thought about it. The old man, who always considered himself to have excellent self-control, unconsciously tightened his grip on the paperweight.

Jiang Yongle was already contemplating whether to feign illness and take leave. If that didn't work, he'd grit his teeth, take a hard fall, and end up with a bruised and swollen face!

Jin Lanting finally spoke, but his words left Jiang Yongle completely confused. "Minister," he began, "my residence just received a few baskets of autumn crabs from Chunshun Lake, which are at their plumpest right now. Whether steamed or seasoned with locust salt, they are excellent. When might you be free, sir, to sample them with me?"

The old Minister hummed in acknowledgment, a smile appearing on his face. "I hear that Gao Bangyan, known as a poetic genius, recently composed an exquisite poem about tasting crabs that has spread throughout the capital and is considered a masterpiece. With wine, crabs, and poetry, among a few close friends, what could be more delightful!"

There was an element of luck in Jiang Yongle becoming the Right Undersecretary of the Ministry of Rites. But after spending a long time in the Ministry of Rites, where everyone excelled at speaking in riddles and euphemisms, his cultivation in this area was actually not bad. After a moment's reflection, he understood Jin Lanting's hidden meaning, only slightly slower than the Minister himself.

In the poem by the newly appointed second-place graduate, Gao Tingshu, which the old Minister mentioned, there was a crucial line: "Just coldly observe the crab, and see how long it can run rampant!"

But Jiang Yongle immediately grew worried again. The logic was sound, but the immediate crisis was that the arrogant "Northwestern Big Crab" was about to barge into the Ministry of Rites. Sima Puhua was deeply entrenched in Tai'an City and held the eminent and transcendent position of Minister. Jin Lanting was the late emperor's trusted retainer, handed over to the current emperor, and enjoyed the Emperor's full backing. The two of them could weather the storm, but Jiang Yongle was merely a Right Undersecretary of awkward rank. If that vassal king truly wanted to make trouble, whom would he target if not him? He didn't know how long the Xu family would run rampant, but he knew that he himself was very likely to be carried out of the Ministry of Rites horizontally very soon!

Jin