Held in the Lonely Castle Chapter 30

 

 Held in the Lonely Castle  

 Chapter 30

Translated by : DANMEI HEAVEN

   Court Bulletin

Three days later, Zhang Chengzhao brought me a court bulletin, gleefully announcing, "His Majesty is sending Wang Gongchen back to Yingzhou."

The bulletin, edited by the Court News Office, recorded imperial edicts, appointments, memorials, and war reports, disseminated to officials nationwide after review by the Bureau of Military Affairs.

The first item read: "Vice Minister of Rites, Hanlin Reader-in-Waiting, and Longtu Pavilion Academician Wang Gongchen has left the capital, appointed Pacification Commissioner of Gaoyangguan and Prefect of Yingzhou."

This was expected. The emperor, angered by Wang Gongchen’s gift to Noble Consort Zhang, wouldn’t keep him in the capital.

A pity—he hadn’t seemed like a sycophant. Perhaps, isolated and seeing Noble Consort Zhang’s favor, he’d reciprocated, unaware of the emperor’s disapproval.

The bulletin’s brevity contrasted with Su Shunqin’s detailed, opinionated editions, which had led to his downfall. I set it aside, asking Zhang Chengzhao how he’d obtained it.

He grinned. "I visited a friend at the Court News Office and took it when he wasn’t looking."

I smiled but warned him, "Don’t do it again. Palace attendants shouldn’t be caught reading court bulletins."

He waved dismissively. "Don’t worry—I’m stealthy. As long as you don’t tell..."

The princess burst in, snatching the bulletin. "I caught you! Let me see, or I’ll tell."

I handed it over. She read about Wang Gongchen and asked, "Is he good? Father praised his honesty, but giving Noble Consort Zhang such gifts seems corrupt."

The world wasn’t so black-and-white to her. Before I could respond, Zhang Chengzhao asked, "Princess, didn’t His Majesty assign you to memorize Record of Yueyang Tower and Record of the Old Drunkard?"

"Yes," she groaned. "So hard! I memorized them, but after sleeping, only scraps remain. Father expects me to recite them tomorrow—I could bash my head against a wall!"

Zhang Chengzhao feigned sympathy. "Take care—you’ll need energy to memorize Record of Canglang Pavilion tomorrow."

The princess gasped. "That too?"

Zhang Chengzhao pointed at Wang Gongchen’s name. "His Majesty assigns you works by those Wang Gongchen harmed."

The princess was aghast. Zhang Chengzhao explained how Wang Gongchen’s vendettas led to the authors’ exiles and their famous writings.

The princess sighed. "Wang Gongchen is awful."

Zhang Chengzhao agreed. "Exactly. If not for him, you wouldn’t have to memorize these. So now you know—good or bad?"

She laughed. "Making me memorize so much—definitely bad!"

Amused, I clarified, "Princess, officials can’t be judged by how much they make you study. People aren’t simply good or bad. Even the worst may do good, and the best may err. Wang Gongchen was diligent and honest, with notable achievements, but his attacks on reformists, especially the Jinyi Academy incident, were excessive—fueled by factionalism and spite. History will judge him harshly."

The princess asked, "What exactly happened at the Jinyi Academy?"

Zhang Chengzhao eagerly recounted how Wang Gongchen, as Censorate chief, had orchestrated the downfall of Su Shunqin and other scholars, leading to their exile and the academy’s decline.

The princess was indignant at the scholars’ arrogance but also amused by the incompetents who replaced them, like Yang Anguo, who mangled Confucian classics, and Peng Cheng, whose absurd edicts became jokes.

"The court has had such fools these years—all Wang Gongchen’s fault," the princess declared.

Indeed, the academy’s decline harmed the state. The emperor had sought to nurture talent, but Wang Gongchen’s vendetta had filled it with mediocrities.

The princess then mused, "Yunniang is like a censor—if I don’t eat well, she ‘impeaches’ me to Elder Sister. I should ask Father to make her one. Elder Sister, when I disobey, ‘impeaches’ me to Father or Mother—she’d be Censorate chief."

She turned to me, mock-stern. "You laugh, but you’re guilty too—reporting me when I skip studies. You’d be a deputy censor."

I bowed playfully. "Princess, I humbly request promotion to Hanlin Academician—to advise you, draft edicts, and explain classics."

A plum hit my forehead. "Teasing me again!" she scolded, but her smile returned.

Gazing at me, she suddenly said, "But Huai Ji, if you hadn’t entered the palace, at eighteen, you could’ve sat for the exams. With your learning, becoming a Hanlin Academician would’ve been easy."

My smile faded, emotions churning.

She unfolded the bulletin, studying the exam candidates’ names. "But then I’d never have met you. At best, I’d glimpse you from a tower during the palace exam, thinking, ‘That top graduate is quite handsome.’ And that’s all."

(To be continued)

Top Graduate

The scene the princess imagined indeed unfolded in March, though the handsome top graduate was not me.

Several days after the palace examination in the Chongzheng Hall, His Majesty presided over the Jiyi Hall, where the final results of the imperial examination were announced. By custom, the empress and palace ladies could observe the new scholars from the adjacent Taiqing Tower.

That day, the Taiqing Tower was adorned with colorful curtains and pearl blinds. The empress's seat was placed on the eastern side, with the princess seated beside her and the other ladies arranged behind them. Only Noble Consort Zhang, through her trusted eunuchs, had an additional seat set up on the western side, with similar curtains and fans, creating the illusion of two empresses from below.

Around four to five hundred candidates entered the palace for the announcement, forming two lines in front of the Jiyi Hall, all dressed in white robes, their pristine attire gleaming under the bright sky.

When the time came, the music ceased, and the candidates and spectators held their breath, awaiting the emperor's announcement.

Soon, the name of the top graduate, personally read by the emperor, was proclaimed by six or seven guards: "The first-ranked scholar—Feng Jing of Jiangxia."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the candidates before a young scholar stepped forward, walking unhurriedly into the hall with an air of ease.

Most of the palace ladies couldn't resist leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the new top graduate, but the distance made it difficult to see his features clearly before he entered the hall. They whispered among themselves, "Did you see his face?"

Pei Xiang, a eunuch serving in the inner palace, smiled and said, "This top graduate's appearance is likely the finest in our dynasty's history."

Pei Xiang was one of the most talented eunuchs of our time. His adoptive father, Pei Yu of the Zhenzong era, was a renowned poet, and Pei Xiang himself was well-read, having been carefully tutored by Pei Yu. His literary talent rivaled that of scholars, and he now served in the imperial library, overseeing book collation—a role nearly equivalent to a civil official. During the Mingdao era, when the emperor held poetry examinations, he once ordered Pei Xiang to compose a poem on the spot. Pei Xiang obliged effortlessly, earning the emperor's admiration. Since then, Pei Xiang had attended every palace examination, occasionally reviewing candidates' papers. Thus, he was well-informed about the new scholars.

His comment sparked giggles and exclamations from the ladies, their eyes alight with curiosity. Lady Miao, having grown up in the palace and witnessed several examinations, asked, "How does he compare to the top graduate from nineteen years ago?"

She referred to Wang Gongchen, who had earned his title in the eighth year of Tiansheng—nineteen years prior.

Pei Xiang replied, "Vice Minister Wang was only nineteen then—handsome but somewhat thin and youthful, like a green bamboo. This Feng Jing is slightly older, with a beauty devoid of coldness. Among the candidates, he stands out like a blooming cherry blossom."

The empress smiled. "Academician Pei's descriptions are as vivid as his paintings."

Pei Xiang bowed slightly. "I merely answer truthfully... Feng Jing's talent is also exceptional. He ranked first in the provincial and ministry exams before the palace examination. With today's result, he has achieved the rare distinction of topping all three levels."

Only four scholars in our dynasty's history had achieved this. The ladies, now even more intrigued, gathered around Pei Xiang to inquire about Feng Jing's background, age, and even the content of his examination essays. One bold maid asked outright, "Is the top graduate married?"

The crowd burst into laughter, startling the palace matrons, who hushed them. "Quiet! It's improper for the candidates to hear."

The ladies stifled their giggles, teasing the maid while eagerly awaiting Pei Xiang's answer.

And his answer did not disappoint: "Top Graduate Feng married years ago, but his wife passed away early. He has remained unmarried since."

"Oh..." the maids sighed, as if relieved.

The princess chuckled softly and whispered to me, "What does his marital status matter to them? They can't marry him—why do they care so much?"

I smiled without answering. Having spent time with the maids, I could guess their thoughts. Though they knew marriage was impossible, facing a handsome man, they naturally hoped he would remain single, leaving room for their fantasies.

The top five scholars were announced by the emperor, while the rest were called in batches by eunuchs. After the announcements, the scholars bowed with their edicts, and the proclamation continued: "Bestow upon the scholars green robes and tablets."

The robes and tablets were piled in the corridors outside the hall. The top five followed the top graduate out, assisted by eunuchs in donning pale yellow silk robes over their green official attire, tied with light yellow sashes, and receiving white tablets. The hundreds of other scholars rushed to claim their robes in the corridors, donning them hastily over their white robes, creating a chaotic scene far removed from the top five's composure, much to the ladies' amusement.

Once robed, the scholars were led back to the hall to express gratitude. Soon, the top graduate led the scholars out again, guided by eunuchs to the Taiqing Tower to pay respects to the empress.

The eunuch leading them gave no specific instructions. Glancing at Noble Consort Zhang's side, I briefly wondered if Feng Jing could distinguish the empress's position, given the nearly identical setups. But Feng Jing merely glanced upward before turning eastward and leading the bow.

Lady Miao, likely sharing my thought, remarked with a smile, "This top graduate has sharp eyes."

Pei Xiang smiled. "If he couldn't distinguish between primary and secondary, he wouldn't deserve the title."

The empress smiled and ordered attendants to exempt them from further formalities, presenting them with dragon-and-phoenix tea cakes and seven-treasure tea for the examiners.

After the scholars withdrew, Feng Jing remained, waiting until the others had left before rising, bowing again to the empress, and retreating slowly before turning away.

During this, the young maids behind the pearl blinds crowded the railings, their eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed, watching Feng Jing depart with visible regret. The princess, petite and somewhat reserved, hadn't pushed forward earlier. Now, as Feng Jing left, she grew anxious, leaning toward the railings and using her fan's jade handle to part the blinds for a better look.

Perhaps too flustered, her hand trembled, and the fan slipped, twirling through the air before landing near Feng Jing.

Feng Jing paused, glancing back at the tower, tracing the fan's descent. His lips curved into a smile as he stood still for a moment, offering the onlookers a picturesque sight.

Compared to the top graduate of nineteen years ago, Wang Gongchen, Feng Jing's beauty carried warmth. The former was as cold as moonlight, while Feng Jing's smile was gentle and radiant, exuding quiet confidence. His pale yellow and green robes, paired with his refined features, evoked delightful imagery—willows and apricot blossoms in spring, a galloping horse in the breeze.

When the fan fell, the princess started, withdrawing her hand briefly before curiosity drew her back. She parted the pearl blinds again, her gaze lightly resting on the handsome man below.

Feng Jing tilted his head slightly, his lazy smile half-hidden as he squinted, whether to avoid the sun's glare or to bask in it, no one could tell.

Their eyes met. The princess, as if scalded, quickly lowered her hand, letting the blinds shield her face. Her hasty movement drew laughter from the ladies, but she offered no retort.

Below, Feng Jing picked up the fan, studying it with a smile. He held it by the handle, gently brushing the surface as if to wipe away the shadows cast by his hat and tassels.

Above, the princess stared ahead silently, the shimmering pearl blinds casting shifting patterns of light on her face, her cheeks gradually flushing.

The empress sent a maid to retrieve the fan. Feng Jing bowed, presenting it with both hands raised to his brow before stepping back respectfully.

When the maid returned the fan, the princess refused it. "It's been touched by an outsider. I don't want it anymore."

Lady Yu laughed. "Oh? Since when does the princess care so much about propriety?"

The crowd erupted in laughter. Flustered, the princess muttered, "I can't be bothered with you!" She grabbed my hand. "Huai Ji, let's go." Pulling me along, she hurried downstairs to the rear garden.

As we walked, I glanced at her, noting her glistening eyes and flushed cheeks.

This was her first true encounter with male beauty. The fan incident, had it occurred in the Tang Dynasty, might have become a romantic tale—back then, top graduates could marry princesses.

Looking at our clasped hands, I thought of the fan she'd abandoned after Feng Jing touched it. A previously vague realization crystallized: her lack of hesitation in touching me stemmed not just from familiarity but, more importantly, from not seeing me as a man.

I took a deep breath of the fragrant March air, blinking hard to keep the moisture in my eyes at bay. Her affectionate gesture had never pained me so deeply before.

After the announcements, the emperor traditionally bestowed wine and food upon the scholars, presenting the top graduate with a silk whip and a fine horse, escorted by seven guards. That evening, the imperial couple hosted a banquet at the Shengping Tower.

But before the banquet began, a eunuch reported: "Your Majesty, guards at the Donghua Gate report that the top graduate was surrounded by servants of powerful families upon exiting. They forcibly diverted him—his whereabouts are unknown."

The emperor was stunned. "Outrageous! In broad daylight, at the palace gates! Which family's servants were they?"

The eunuch hesitated, but Noble Consort Zhang, uneasy, coughed lightly. "Your Majesty, my uncle mentioned inviting Feng Jing to his home, admiring his demeanor. Those servants must have been his. Though their methods were crude, his intentions were good. Feng Jing will surely be returned safely after the banquet."

Her "uncle" was Zhang Yaozuo, her father's cousin. With her favor, Zhang Yaozuo had risen rapidly, recently appointed as the chief finance minister, drawing officials' ire. His forceful invitation to Feng Jing was clearly more than a simple gathering.

The emperor understood. After a pause, he asked, "How many of your cousins remain unmarried?"

Noble Consort Zhang smiled. "Four."

The emperor sipped his wine, saying nothing more.

Noble Consort Zhang, studying his expression, ventured, "Since Feng Jing is at my uncle's, could Your Majesty bestow imperial wine upon him as a special honor?"

The emperor glanced at her. "Very well."

Delighted, she ordered servants to select fine wine and delicacies for Zhang Yaozuo's residence.

The other consorts watched silently, exchanging knowing glances. After the banquet, they whispered disdainfully about Zhang Yaozuo's attempt to force a marriage, securing both a son-in-law and a future ally for Noble Consort Zhang.

The princess overheard and grew worried. "Will Feng Jing agree?" she whispered.

Recalling Feng Jing's deference to the empress earlier, I answered confidently, "No."

The next day's news confirmed my prediction. Zhang Yaozuo's wife entered the palace early, her face stormy.

Her account of Feng Jing's refusal spread quickly through Noble Consort Zhang's maids. Stripped of embellishments, the story went thus: Zhang's servants escorted Feng Jing to their residence, where Zhang Yaozuo and Wang Zhi greeted him warmly, proposing marriage. Zhang even produced an imperial-gifted golden belt, fastening it around Feng Jing's waist, claiming, "His Majesty approves." When palace eunuchs arrived with wine, it seemed to confirm the emperor's endorsement. But Feng Jing remained unmoved. Zhang Yaozuo, impatient, listed his daughter's lavish dowry. Feng Jing smiled without looking, returning the belt. "Marriage requires parental consent. My mother isn't in the capital—I dare not decide alone."

Zhang Yaozuo offered to send for her, but Feng Jing replied, "My mother has already arranged a match. I cannot disobey her. Please choose another worthy family for your daughter."

When pressed for details, Feng Jing claimed ignorance. Zhang Yaozuo, realizing the refusal, had no choice but to let him leave.

Days later, the emperor made his stance clear: Wang Zhi was demoted to prefect of Hongzhou.

Feng Jing's refusal only heightened his reputation. Commoners praised him, and noble families sent matchmakers to his doorstep. Whenever he ventured out, embroidered balls rained upon him, necessitating increased guards.

Soon, the princess and I witnessed the city's adulation at Jinming Pond.

That day, the princess's grandaunt, the Grand Princess of Wei, slipped while bathing, injuring her arm. The emperor sent the empress, princess, and Lady Miao to visit, with me accompanying them.

The grand princess, kind and gentle, pleaded for her servants' exoneration. The empress complied, sparing them punishment.

On the return journey, the princess rode with the empress while I followed on horseback. At Jinming Pond, the road was jammed with spectators.

The empress sent a servant to investigate. He returned, saying, "The top graduate and scholars are exiting the Qionglin Garden after the banquet. Crowds and matchmaking carriages have blocked the road."

During the banquet, families with unmarried daughters would send carriages to intercept young scholars, even abducting them for marriage discussions—hence "matchmaking carriages."

Normally, the imperial procession drew stares, but today, the crowd barely noticed, their attention fixed ahead.

As the path slowly cleared, guards announced the top graduate's approach. Dozens of yellow banners fluttered, each inscribed with a line of poetry. Through the throng, Feng Jing appeared on horseback, clad in green and yellow, his hat's tassels framing his flawless features.

Spotting the empress's carriage, Feng Jing dismounted and bowed deeply.

Two maids parted the carriage curtains, allowing the empress a clear view through the gauze.

After studying Feng Jing and the scholars behind him, the empress asked gently, "Top Graduate, where is your palace flower?"

New scholars traditionally wore flowers on their hats after the banquet. All but Feng Jing bore this adornment.

Feng Jing lowered his head. "Someone threw something from a building, knocking it loose..."

The empress was astonished. "Someone dared strike the top graduate?"

A eunuch stepped forward, smiling. "A young lady's embroidered ball struck his hat. The flower was snatched before it hit the ground."

Glancing up, I noted the noble families' colorful awnings, concealing eager maidens. Feng Jing must have endured many such projectiles.

"Top Graduate Feng is truly remarkable," the empress said, then ordered a peony from her carriage's awning be given to him.

The flower, a "flat-headed purple," was freshly picked that morning. A maid fastened it to Feng Jing's hat, and he bowed in gratitude.

As the carriage departed, the princess discreetly lifted the curtain, watching Feng Jing, her lips curving slightly.

Recognizing her, Feng Jing smiled and bowed gracefully, his charm undiminished.

Back at the palace, the empress recounted the spectacle to the emperor, who laughed. "Such chaos over a handsome scholar. Perhaps we shouldn't appoint such striking top graduates in the future."

His tone, though chiding, held paternal pride.

Lady Miao, likely thinking of Li Wei, sighed. "Your Majesty also admires Feng Jing? Had he lived in the Tang Dynasty, he might have become a prince consort."

The emperor smiled. "I'd gladly make him one, but I lack a second daughter. Even if I did, I couldn't compete with the commoners—or those old ministers—in securing such a son-in-law."

The princess listened silently, perhaps too shy to speak, her youthful infatuation awakened by Feng Jing.

Returning to Yifeng Pavilion, she sat silently on a swing, lost in thought before suddenly asking, "Is Li Wei truly as dull and ugly as they say?"

(To be continued)