Of course, the one who was most devastated of all was none other than Miss Yan’er herself.
Zhu Ping’an, still feeling the warmth of wine in his veins, followed the young maid through winding garden paths where erald trees swayed gently and blossoms of scarlet and gold perfud the air. At last, they arrived before a secluded building half-hidden by flowering branches.
“This way, please, Young Master Zhu,” the little maid said softly, bowing slightly as she gestured toward the doorway.
Zhu Ping’an stepped inside—and imdiately gained a whole new understanding of what luxury ant in the Yan household. This… this was supposed to be a washroom? The floor was laid with fine carpets; delicate porcelain vases brimd with fresh flowers; lush potted plants breathed life into the air. Even the faintest trace of odor was absent, replaced instead by the subtle sweetness of so rare incense.
“Please, Young Master Zhu.” The little maid halted in the main hall and pointed with her slender hand toward a side room.
Zhu Ping’an assud that was the n’s lavatory. He nodded politely in thanks, then strode toward it.
Since there were ladies waiting outside, he didn’t dare linger too long. As he reached the doorway, he lifted his hands to unfasten the smooth silver sash at his waist. After all, his back was turned to the maid—there was nothing indecent about it.
He ant to be quick—swift and discreet. The sooner this was over, the better. Pushing the door open, he lifted the hem of his robe, preparing to loosen his trousers. Ancient trousers, unlike those of modern tis, were loose and tied beneath one’s outer robe—so had an open crotch, so did not. His happened to be the latter sort.
Thus, when Zhu Ping’an entered, he was holding his belt in one hand and pulling at his waistband with the other, just about to relieve himself—
Remove Ads“KYAA! You shaless scoundrel! Lecher!”
The shriek pierced the air like a dagger. Before Zhu Ping’an could even blink, the sharp clang of steel echoed in the room—swords and cudgels clattering to the floor.
He froze. Then, looking up, his gaze locked with that of Miss Yan’er, her face flushed crimson, her teeth clenched as she glared daggers at him. Behind her stood seven or eight young maids in military attire—each one covering her face in embarrassnt, their weapons scattered at their feet. Evidently, in their haste to shield their eyes from the scandalous sight of Zhu Ping’an’s half-loosened robe, they had dropped everything they’d been holding.
“Uh… what the—?!”
Zhu Ping’an felt his stomach sink. Why is Miss Yan’er here?! And why in Heaven’s na do they have weapons—was this supposed to be a trap? A washroom or an ambush? Are they planning to kill just because I accidentally saw her body that one ti? Surely not!
Whatever the case, one thing was certain—he had to get out. Fast.
Cold sweat broke across his forehead; in an instant, the wine’s pleasant haze vanished. Without daring another glance, he dropped his robe, turned on his heel, and strode out, fumbling to tie his silver sash back into place as he went. In his haste, he nearly tripped over the threshold—so when Ouyang Zishi and Luo Longwen saw him erge, he was staggering and disheveled, as though fleeing for his life.
Inside, Miss Yan’er was on the verge of collapse.
Last ti, when she had been bathing, Zhu Ping’an had accidentally barged in—leaving her humiliated, furious, and flustered beyond words. Though she had tried to capture that “thieving scoundrel,” he had tricked her and escaped unscathed. She’d burned with sha ever since.
But fate, it seed, had eyes. During the grand parade celebrating the new scholars, Miss Yan’er had recognized the new Zhuangyuan—the very sa Zhu Ping’an—as the man who had sneaked into her bath.
So she had devised a plan, instructing her trusted maid to lure him in, intending to teach the rogue a painful lesson.
Who could have expected that Zhu Ping’an would so perfectly “see through” her little sche—and then, as if to mock her, perform that utterly indecent gesture right in front of her? Once again, he had humiliated her—and once again, slipped away!
She had ant to punish the thief… yet ended up being shad by him again!
Trembling with rage, she could only glare at his retreating back and shout through clenched teeth, “Zhu Ping’an, you just wait!”
When the Minor Grace Banquet finally ended, Zhu Ping’an let out a long sigh of relief.
Thank Heaven—it’s over.
Remove AdsThe mont the gathering concluded, he wasted no ti in leaving the Yan estate, not daring to linger even a heartbeat longer.
Zhang Juzheng remained behind, bowing respectfully to Elder Yan Song and the Grand Secretary Yan before departing as well.
At dawn the following day, Zhu Ping’an once again donned his full ceremonial robes, every fold of his attire immaculate, and set off early for the Honglu Temple. For the next three days, all the newly appointed scholars would undergo training there—learning the intricate rites of court etiquette.
Honglu Temple, a fourth-rank governnt institution, was responsible for overseeing imperial ceremonies, banquets, and rituals. In a sense, it was akin to a “Central Party School” for the Ming court. During these three days, they would study the formalities of audiences, feasts, and sacrifices; upon completion, they would “graduate” and attend court on the fourth day to offer thanks to the Emperor Jiajing himself.
On the first day of instruction, the new jinshi were formally granted their official titles.
Unlike in the Qing Dynasty—where further examinations were required—the Ming Dynasty appointed officials imdiately after the palace examination. Thus, the nas were inscribed, sealed with the Ministry of Rites’ great red stamp, and delivered along with ceremonial robes to Honglu Temple for announcent and distribution.
As the Zhuangyuan, Zhu Ping’an, unsurprisingly, received the traditional appointnt of Hanlin Academy Editor (Xiuzhuan)—a sixth-rank position reserved for the top scholar of every examination year.
Zhang Siwei was appointed Hanlin Academy Compiler (Bianxiu).
Although the difference between “Editor” and “Compiler” was just a single character, the gulf in status was vast—the forr being of the sixth rank, the latter the seventh. Yet Zhang Siwei was elated beyond asure. To him, it was as if fortune itself had struck him on the head, for the position of Bianxiu was no common reward—it was typically granted to the second or third place of the first rank, or other promising scholars from the second or third ranks.
Thus, being chosen marked him as one of the rising stars of the empire.
The truth, however, was far simpler—and no one could have guessed it.
When Emperor Jiajing personally reviewed the appointnt list, his eyes fell upon the na Ouyang Zishi, and his brow furrowed.
“‘Yang’… ‘Yang’? The word ans illness,” he muttered. “How could my Great Ming harbor such a na within the Hanlin Academy—my very chamber of counsel? It offends the on of our state’s well-being! No, he shall be sent elsewhere—to the Six Ministries, perhaps. Better out of sight than vexing my heart.”
He crossed out Ouyang Zishi’s na with a stroke of the imperial brush. Then, as his gaze moved down the page, another na caught his eye—Zhang Siwei.
“‘If the four pillars collapse, the nation perishes,’” the Emperor murmured, recalling the ancient saying. “Then if the Four Pillars stand firm, shall not the realm endure forever?”
Remove AdsHe read the na again and again, a faint smile curving his lips.
“Zhang Siwei… the Four Pillars stand firm. An auspicious na indeed!”
And so, Zhang Siwei’s fortune was sealed by the Emperor’s whim.
anwhile, Wang Shizhen was assigned as an observing scholar at the Court of Judicial Review (Dali Temple)—essentially an internship position, filling vacancies as they arose.
The remaining scholars were distributed according to their rankings: the most exceptional few selected as junior Hanlin candidates (Shujishi); the middle ranks sent to observe in the Six Ministries or other key offices; and the rest dispatched to provincial posts for their apprenticeships.
Only Ouyang Zishi, despite his strong ranking and the powerful support of Yan Song and Yan Shifan, received an assignnt that shocked everyone—
He was sent to the Prince Jing’s household as an observer.
Ouyang Zishi stared at the appointnt list for a long, long while, unable to utter a single word.
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