The grand hall was paved with polished large bluestone, its four walls dazzlingly white.
Massive nanmu wooden pillars rose tall, supporting a carved coffered ceiling.
Though the lighting was dim, the hall could easily hold over a thousand people.
Several young eunuchs dressed in blue robes sat behind a long desk, their faces pale as paper, lips red like blood, smiling with an eerie, ghostlike softness.
One of the young eunuchs, handsome and delicate in features, spoke softly as he questioned Lu Qian.
“Name?”
“Lu Qian, ‘Qian’ as in ‘on top of the mountain, and below it’.”
“Age?”
“Sixteen.”
“Gender?”
“Male.”
“Oh? Interested in entering the palace? Looking at you, so tall and mighty, handsome and dignified, you have great potential to become a senior eunuch attendant. Next door there’s a purification room—just a gentle cut. We have masters with over sixty years of experience tending to the process. I guarantee no pain at all; in just one day, you can be walking around again. Serving at the side of nobles as a eunuch—that’s quite the honor… tsk, tsk.”
“Uh, thank you for your kindness, little eunuch. I, Lu Qian, gender male.”
The young eunuch let out a soft sigh. “Ah, what a pity, really a pity.”
He looked over Lu Qian’s handsome face again and again.
Then he pointed to the three brothers from the Three-Tailed Black Scorpion clan sitting at the desk next to them, who were also registering their identities, shaking his head: “Such a talent, truly wasted.”
“Look at those three. Our family wouldn’t even give them this chance.”
“Look at their ugly faces; even if they got in, what noble would tolerate being scared like that? Not everyone has the qualification to serve nobles in the palace. Lu Qian, have you seriously considered it?”
The three brothers of the Three-Tailed Black Scorpion clan flushed red with anger and glared fiercely at Lu Qian.
They dared not lay hands on the young eunuch but their eyes, bloodshot six of them, stared venomously at Lu Qian.
The eldest of the brothers raised his right hand and slowly drew a line across his own neck.
Lu Qian shrugged innocently, hands tucked inside his sleeves, and smiled as he gave a polite bow to the young eunuch: “Thank you for your kindness, but for now I have no intention of entering the palace.”
The young eunuch looked at Lu Qian with regret: “Ah, what a pity. Such good material!”
He shook his head slowly, pulling his voice low and drawn out:
“Alright, just your name and age are enough. We won't even ask your background or what you did before. The Palace Guard—once you enter, don’t blame fate for whatever happens. Once inside, you are one of us.”
“All your past gets wiped clean. What lies ahead depends entirely on your luck.”
“A wolf traveling a thousand miles devours meat; a dog traveling ten thousand miles ends up eating shit. If you have the ability to rise, you’ll live gloriously, wearing fine clothes and feasting well. If not, one day you’ll die like a wild dog in a gutter. That’s your choice.”
“Once inside the Palace Guard, just remember one word: loyalty. Then nothing can stop you.”
“Of course, the family rules are strict. If you make a mistake, you’ll learn your lesson. Since you came to the Palace Guard, you must know its fearsome reputation. You wouldn’t be foolish enough to mess up, right?”
The Palace Guard’s efficiency was extraordinary.
Registration, listing, filing.
They measured every recruit’s body—height, build, even rough facial features—all recorded into file.
Two sets of fine white brocade robes, the Palace Guard uniform, were given on the spot.
White robes, black hats, black boots and belts, iron tokens of identity, and a standard three-foot-six-inch swallow-feather saber.
Lu Qian waited less than fifteen minutes in the hall before receiving his full set.
In a side hall next door, he changed into the uniform and officially became a low-level monitoring soldier of the Palace Guard.
‘Clack!’ The crisp sound of cloud plaques rang out.
From afar came a sharp voice: “All new recruits today, follow me.”
“Listen well.”
“The Palace Guard has its rules.”
“No matter how great you once were, no matter how proud, once in the Palace Guard you are a penniless new recruit, and you must obey.”
“If you obey, you will rise high.”
“If not, death awaits.”
“Remember, if you don’t obey, you will die!”
It was noon.
The heavens were merciful; the dark clouds dissolved, and a red sun shone brightly.
Inside Haojing City, snow on the rooftops melted under the warm sun, dripping from eaves with a ‘drip, drip, drip’ sound.
The whole city became damp and glistening.
At the southeast corner of the Imperial City in Haojing, next to the southern wall of the Guozijian (Imperial Academy), a lush forest of verdant cypress trees stood guard around a small mountain a hundred zhang high.
On top sat a delicate three-story pavilion.
The cypress trees were thick and green like clouds of smoke, while the slopes were dotted with gnarled old plum trees.
Though the weather was bitter cold, these old plums were spirited and bloomed wildly and unapologetically.
One by one, plum blossoms the size of fists released fragrant scent, their petals gleaming brilliantly under the sun’s rays.
‘Ding, ding, ding.’
On the third floor balcony of the pavilion, a white-haired old man with his long hair loose and chest bare, muscular and sinewy, beat two bamboo clappers with deafening force and sang loudly.
His posture was wild and carefree, untamed and unbound.
Several carriages passed through the cypress forest, arriving at the mountain’s foot.
Draped in a silver fox fur cloak, Bai Changkong stepped out of one carriage, brushing aside a plum branch blocking his path.
He listened to the old man’s singing on the peak for a moment, then clapped his hands in admiration: “Brother Gongyang, you’re in high spirits today. Is there some good news?”
Suddenly, the sound of clappers and singing stalled atop the mountain.
The shirtless old man walked to the balcony edge, looking down at the carriages below, and laughed heartily: “Finally, the sun is seen. Isn’t that good news?”
“Too bad, too bad, Bai old ghost, your granddaughter—our old friends have had eyes on her for years, with families carefully selecting good sons for her. Yet you refuse them and insist on marrying the son of a soldier.”
“A precious pearl cast away, a fresh flower placed on cow dung.”
“You say you are a man of your word, admirable as that is, but it’s a pity for little Bai Weishuang.”
Bai Changkong smiled but cursed inwardly.
His granddaughter’s business was a mess.
Hmph, their grandsons might want to marry her, but Bai Changkong himself would never dare to marry her off.
Taking this child with him would only create enemies, not in-laws!
If it weren’t for Bai Weishuang’s broken virtue and premature pregnancy...
The shirtless old man, Gongyang Yao, was an excellent potential father-in-law—the Gongyang clan in the Dayin kingdom was a leading family in civil culture, mainly specializing in the “Law” tradition, and in recent years had become the most popular, powerful, and influential reform faction.
Though the Gongyang clan was not as prominent as the Zhu clan behind Zhu Yu.
The Zhu were descendants of the “Sage.”
But a Gongyang ancestor, three generations before the founding of Dayin, was revered as the “Second Sage.”
More importantly, the current Grand Minister of Justice of the Dayin Martial Court was a direct descendant of the Gongyang clan.
The Minister of Justice’s position was lofty and carried great real power.
If not for Bai Weishuang’s own missteps, marrying into the Gongyang lineage would be the best match.
Clearing his throat, Bai Changkong spoke loudly: “Brother Gongyang, restrict your words to goodness. The young Lu at our family is quite remarkable. Not to mention other things, his calligraphy surpasses even our sons’ skills.”
Gongyang Yao suddenly dropped his tone considerably and chuckled awkwardly: “This is true. But as for his calligraphy—what school is it from? I’ve never seen this style in any ancient steles or model books. Strange, strange. Could it be a style he created himself? If so, Bai old ghost, you’ve found a treasure!”
Bai Changkong stroked his beard and smiled without replying.
From the other carriages, other distinguished elders stepped out slowly.
They all began discussing Lu Qian’s unprecedented calligraphy over the plum trees on the hillside, speaking with Gongyang Yao.
Bai Changkong’s expression became better and better with each passing moment, his spirit lifting.
This mountain was called “Cuiwei.”
The pavilion on the mountain was named “Caiwei.”
Here, the eighteen great scholars and teachers of Haojing gathered quarterly to hold the Caiwei Review, a sacred place for appraising the young talents of Haojing’s civil culture.
Bai Changkong had already prepared.
He had spoken with several old friends and decided that today, he would harshly promote Lu Qian’s reputation here.
His granddaughter’s marriage must not be botched.
Within a short time, Lu Qian’s fame would be boosted and known throughout the land, a brilliant rising star in civil culture, a great talent, a wise man.
Helping Lu Qian’s name would be helping Bai Lu’s name.
After their marriage... if Lu Qian got into trouble, according to Dayin customs and common belief, it would be seen as Bai Lu’s great fortune, and Lu Qian simply could not bear the “blessings” of Bai Lu, thus the “early demise after the wedding.”
Once Bai Lu bore a child... ah, this child would be no simple matter.
Lu Qian’s talent, combined with Bai Lu’s blessings, their child would be the essence of heaven and earth—a celestial pearl, a divine unicorn, “one born with the mien of a great sage”!
In three years, Bai Lu would remarry into the Zhu family carrying this “unicorn child.”
Now tell me, isn’t this dowry powerful?
Tell me, would the Zhu family dare treat Bai Lu with any disrespect?
Tell me, how would Zhu Yu’s legitimate son stand a chance competing with this ‘unicorn child’?
Bai Changkong’s gaze was cold, like a drawn sharp blade.
Hands behind his back, he strode step by step up the white jade stone stairs toward the mountain pavilion.
At this moment, his mind calculated how to squeeze Lu Qian to the utmost.
Using Lu Qian’s blood, his life, his soul, and his name to patch holes and pave a glorious future for his beloved granddaughter, clearing a sky-high path for the Bai family.
As for whether Lu Qian lived or died—
“Ungrateful mutt! If you’d agreed to break off the engagement back then, none of today’s troubles would have happened.” Bai Changkong thought angrily, “Well, it’s good, good. Fortunately, you didn’t break it off. Fortunately, you have some real book-learning!”
He couldn’t help but blame his granddaughter a little.
Why did she secretly make peace with Zhu Yu?
Secretly making peace wasn’t too bad, but to secretly conceive a child without marriage, and to only tell him once it could no longer be hidden—that was wrong!
A neigh sounded suddenly.
A youth dressed in tight-fitting arrow-sleeved clothes and a black cloak rode a chestnut warhorse, galloping wildly through the woods, his face filled with alarm as he charged forward.
Ten or so zhang from Bai Changkong and the others, the youth suddenly leapt off his horse, flipped in mid-air, landed steadily, and dashed two strides to Bai Changkong’s side.
“Master Bai!”
The youth whispered close to Bai Changkong's ear, speaking two words.
Bai Changkong’s face turned an unstable mixture of red and white before finally flushing purple-red.
A trickle of fresh blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
“Yu Changle… eunuch thief, you’ve gone too far!” Bai Changkong roared hoarsely, slamming his palm onto an old plum tree nearby.
A thunderous crack rang out.
The plum tree, as thick as a water jar, shattered to pieces under his palm.
The trunk, branches, petals, and stamen exploded into powder finer than flour.
The assembled scholars and Gongyang Yao atop the mountain all turned pale.
(The chapter ends)