Chapter 9: Breach

The wooden tub steamed with vapor, filling the tent with warmth.

Wang Yang had just finished bathing and stood beside the tub, arms outstretched. Hei Han dressed him while Ding Jiu combed and tied his hair.

It wasn’t that Wang Yang wanted to experience the decadence of noble life—he needed to conform to the image of the Langye Wang clan, and he also had to learn how to dress and style his hair.

As for tying his hair, he had never grown his hair long in his entire life.

As for clothing, ancient garments differed from modern ones, and so did their methods of wearing.

The clothes he now wore were new, never worn by Xue Duizhu: a blue cotton short tunic and black baggy trousers. This outfit was hardly prestigious at the time and ill-fitting for Wang Yang, but still vastly better than his previous coarse hemp garments.

“Ow!” Wang Yang winced as pain shot through the back of his head. “Be gentle!”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be careful! I’ll be careful!” Ding Jiu’s thick fingers twisted Wang Yang’s hair—this process brought no comfort to either him or Wang Yang.

“Oof!” Wang Yang felt a sharp tug at his waist—Hei Han had tied the belt too tight.

“What’s wrong, Young Master?” Hei Han asked, oblivious.

Wang Yang sighed inwardly: others were escorted by beauties with incense; he was burdened by two rough brutes. He was about to dismiss them when the squad leader called loudly outside the tent: “Young Master Wang, our squad chief requests your presence!”

Wang Yang entered Xue Duizhu’s tent, flanked by Hei Han and Ding Jiu, led by the squad leader—and immediately sensed something was wrong.

Xue Duizhu had lost all his earlier deference and didn’t even rise to greet him. A stranger, a man in his forties dressed in clean indigo cotton, scholarly in bearing, sat watching Wang Yang with a faint, mocking smile.

Coupled with the squad leader’s earlier odd behavior, Wang Yang’s heart sank.

Did they suspect him?

Had his false identity been exposed so quickly?

The stranger smiled: “To behold the grace of Young Master Wang of Langya today is truly a fortune of three lifetimes.”

Though the words were flattering, their tone dripped with mockery—there was not a shred of respect in his voice.

Though nervous, Wang Yang knew he must not show fear. He placed his hands behind his back, stepped slowly forward, and said: “You. Stand up.”

The scholar’s smile froze.

Ding Jiu hurried to explain: “This is our squad’s scribe.”

“Scribe? You call him a scribe?” Wang Yang transformed into an Oscar-worthy actor, suppressing a laugh. “Anyone hearing this would think a noble scholar had arrived—yet it’s just a scribe! Hahahaha! Even the clerks of the Ministry of State Affairs dare not sit before me—how dare a lowly clerk like you sit and speak to me?”

The scribe’s anger flashed and vanished; he smiled: “Young Master has a bold tongue. But then again, your uncle is a Palace Attendant—naturally, you look down on all others.”

Trouble!

Wang Yang’s neck hairs stood on end—he instantly recognized his mistake.

It was the Palace Attendant!

In the southern court’s central bureaucracy, there was the saying “Three Platforms, Five Ministries.”

The Three Platforms referred to the Three Excellencies: Grand Commandant, Grand Tutor, and Grand Protector.

The Five Ministries were the Ministry of State Affairs, the Central Secretariat, the Door-Down Province, the Secretariat, and the Collecting Secretariat.

The Collecting Secretariat was headed by the Palace Attendant, hence also called the “Palace Attendant Ministry.”

As head of one of the Five Ministries, the Palace Attendant’s name would be recorded and transmitted to provincial and prefectural offices. With effort, one could easily verify it.

In his haste to intimidate the soldiers, he had acted without thought—he should never have given his “nonexistent” second uncle such a conspicuous title!

Don’t panic!

He had to fix this immediately!

Xue Duizhu could no longer hold back—he slammed his fist on the table, ready to order soldiers to seize Wang Yang.

Wang Yang blinked, feigning anger:

“So you’re mocking my uncle for not being a Palace Attendant? My family has been noble for generations—we rise by merit, attain high office without need for petty titles! So what if he’s not a Palace Attendant?!”

The scribe gasped: “What?! Your second uncle isn’t a Palace Attendant?”

Wang Yang spoke slowly: “Who told you my second uncle was a Palace Attendant?”

The scribe and Xue Duizhu both turned to the squad leader.

The squad leader stammered: “I remember... I remember it was...”

Wang Yang fixed him with a cold, threatening gaze: “What? I clearly told you my second uncle was a Palace Attendant’s Deputy! You exaggerated his rank—what’s your motive?”

Excluding honorary titles, there was normally only one Palace Attendant in charge of the Palace Attendant Ministry, though occasionally two held the post—never more than four.

But there were many Palace Attendant’s Deputies, plus Extra Palace Attendant’s Deputies and Regular Palace Attendant’s Deputies—sometimes reaching over a dozen!

Though unfamiliar with Southern Qi history, Wang Yang knew the political systems of the Six Dynasties were deeply inherited—he deduced Southern Qi’s structure from Jin and Song precedents, and it matched closely.

He didn’t believe this scribe knew every single Palace Attendant’s Deputy’s name!

The scribe snapped at the squad leader: “Tell the truth, now!”

The squad leader fell to his knees: “I... I... I don’t know!”

The scribe turned anxiously to Hei Han and Ding Jiu: “Hei Han, Ding Jiu—what exactly did... Young Master Wang say?”

Ding Jiu strained to recall; Hei Han hesitated only two seconds before kneeling and bowing: “Your Excellency, Young Master Wang said ‘Palace Attendant’s Deputy.’”

Wang Yang was surprised—had he misremembered?

“You—you’re sure?” The scribe’s voice trembled.

Hei Han bowed his head: “Absolutely certain. I remember clearly—those four characters. I even wondered: I’d heard of ‘Palace Attendant,’ but what was a ‘Deputy’?”

Wang Yang didn’t know why Hei Han lied—but now wasn’t the time to question it. He nodded: “At least someone has sense.”

Ding Jiu still couldn’t recall the two characters after “Palace Attendant.” But seeing Wang Yang praise Hei Han, he quickly added: “I remember too! It was ‘Palace Attendant’s Deputy!’”

The scribe leapt to his feet and bowed deeply to Wang Yang:

“Wang Luo of Zhijiang—unaware of your noble status, I spoke rudely and offended you. I beg your forgiveness!”

In the Northern and Southern Dynasties, people introduced themselves with their native place before their surname. Nobility or commonality could often be judged by that alone.

For example, the Wang surname was noble only if from Langya or Taiyuan; lesser branches like Beihai, Shanyang, or Donghai were insignificant. This Wang Luo, though bearing the Wang surname, was rendered worthless by the addition of “Zhijiang.”

Wang Yang coldly said: “This is not your seat. Get out.”

“Yes, yes, Noble One, please calm down!” Wang Luo rose quickly, wiped the seat with his sleeve, and gestured for Wang Yang to sit.

Wang Yang sat as if no one else were present. Wang Luo asked cautiously: “May I ask, Young Master, your uncle’s given name is...?”

Wang Yang smirked, mimicking the arrogance of webnovel protagonists: a third of disdain, a third of thinly veiled anger: “Do you think you’re worthy to ask the name of my elder?”

Wang Luo bowed so low he dared not lift his head, stammering: “I was impulsive, I was impulsive.”

Wang Yang glanced at the dazed Xue Duizhu: “What did you mean by slamming the table, Xue Duizhu?”

Though confused, Xue Duizhu saw how drastically Wang Luo’s attitude had changed—he knew something was amiss and hurried to say: “I was rebuking Wang Wen Shu for disrespecting the Young Master!”

Wang Yang sneered: “You’re a man of propriety, Xue Duizhu. But ‘scholars and commoners do not sit together.’ Our sitting side by side violates ritual.”

The Northern and Southern Dynasties placed supreme value on lineage. There was a saying: “Scholars and commoners are as far apart as heaven and earth.”

Even if Xue Duizhu rose to high office one day, he would still never be accepted by aristocratic clans. It had nothing to do with rank—only bloodline and lineage.

Wang Luo quickly signaled Xue Duizhu; Xue Duizhu sprang up instantly, nearly knocking over the table in his haste.

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Note: The Palace Attendant also had subordinate titles: Assistant Palace Attendant and Extra Palace Attendant. Had the protagonist been well-versed in Six Dynasties bureaucracy, he could have exploited this to deceive them; had the scribe understood the upper hierarchy, he wouldn’t have dared to judge the protagonist’s fraud based solely on “Palace Attendant.” As it was, both were half-informed—perfectly matched, back and forth.