Chapter 268: Two Hundred and Seventy-Eight, the Master

Two Hundred and Seventy-Eight, the Master's Appreciation

Master Di held a faint, special affection for Longcheng County and the distant Jiangzhou.

It had been a quiet, unadorned refuge for his soul during the low point when both his official career and ambitions had failed.

Jiangzhou has long been a place of exile for disgraced officials.

Far removed from the power centers of the Two Capitals in Guanzhong.

Longcheng was the most remote county in Jiangzhou.

Adjacent to it, legend spoke of fleeting glimpses of divine maidens passing like a startled crane over the ancient Lady Yunmeng Marsh.

Master Di especially remembered the simple home-cooked dishes and pickled mustard greens there—delicious.

The folk customs were plain and taciturn, yet still carried the fierce, passionate spirit of Wu-Yue sons and daughters.

Unfortunately, the land was poor and waters harsh; floods occurred with unmatched frequency across the south of the river, tragically breeding superstition and spawning numerous illicit cults devoted to river spirits and deities.

Before his term ended and he was reassigned, Master Di left behind a remarkably clever water gate.

Cheap to build, highly efficient in flood control, its effects were immediate.

Yet now.

Someone had casually erased his water gate from Longcheng's map and replaced it with a new canal—deceptively simple in design.

Changed from blocking to diverting.

Turned decay into wonder.

"Butterfly Creek, Zhe Zhe Yiqu…? Breaking the butterfly's wing?"

On the desk in the study lay an unfurled map scroll, its creases from folding smoothed repeatedly by the withered palm of a fat old man.

One finger, its pad tracing the prominent straight canal on the map, slowly slid from the western starting point at the ferry to the eastern endpoint at the ferry.

As if meticulously simulating something.

After a stick of incense burned, the fat old man leaning over his desk suddenly leaned back, resting against the chair, and nodded:

"A lone child falls, the entire board awakens—this county is no longer poor land and cruel waters. The cruel waters are tamed; the mountains are no longer barren."

A faint smile appeared on Master Di's face as he turned his head.

Only then did he look at the letter delivered by Chenjun Xie Xun's disciple, apart from the brilliant map scroll.

Previously, the map scroll contained only the map and detailed depiction of Zhe Zhe Yiqu, with no mention whatsoever of its builder or promoter.

Master Di pulled out the letter, spread it open, lowered his eyes, and scanned it top to bottom.

Chenjun Xie Xun, dispatched to Jiang Nan to guard the deposed Prince of Prince Xunyang's family, was casually boasting about his favorite disciple.

Yet this time, the fat old man—recognized across the land as the leader of the Confucian school and receiving snowfall-like letters daily—did not hastily glance over and file away these self-recommendations or endorsements as he usually did.

He rose, walked to the bookshelf, murmuring: "County Magistrate of Longcheng, Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan…"

Master Di pulled a letter from a stack in the bookshelf, opened it, and reread it.

This letter was sent immediately by Vice Censor-in-Chief Shen Shen Xisheng upon his return to Shenjing Luoyang after serving as an imperial inspector in Jiang Nan, overseeing flood control and grain cases.

Besides detailing his Jiang Nan journey, this Vice Censor-in-Chief repeatedly praised a young county magistrate, and at the letter's end, he bitterly noted the man was "a high disciple of Chenjun Xie Xun."

Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan.

Master Di had a faint memory of him.

The third-place Metropolitan Graduate of the Jiushi Yuan year, his name was well chosen; he initially won Empress Wu's favor, then returned to the capital as a Censor after mourning his mother's death.

But apparently influenced by the Wei clan, he impulsively petitioned against the favored and arrogant Princess Princess Changle, openly defied the Empress in court, received seventy strokes of the cane, and was imprisoned.

This incident directly angered Prince Xiang, who lived in seclusion within the palace.

Princess Princess Changle was Prince Xiang's own sister, also of the Li clan, and naturally sympathetic to her paternal kin—Prince Xiang had spared no effort to court her as an ally.

Yet Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan came from the Confucian academy, naturally aligned with the conservative, pure-stream faction.

Leaving aside the fact that Princess Princess Changle's arrogance and lawlessness were undeniable—well, given Empress Wu's own example, what was wrong with the female nobility of the Zhou dynasty being proud and haughty?

He should have sided with the Li clan and the Li Qian dynasty, yet he turned his blade inward, stabbing his own side?

Pushing a vital ally toward the deadly enemy Wei clan, caring only for right and wrong, not loyalty?

Where did this fool who only understood right and wrong come from?

Prince Xiang was furious; the message sent at the time was to let Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan fend for himself, to let the loyal Li ministers not interfere, to let him die in prison—it would even please Princess Princess Changle and help the matter fade quickly.

But Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan was a graduate of the Bai Lu Dong Academy and a high disciple of the virtuous Confucian scholar Chenjun Xie Xun, widely respected across the scholarly world.

So, including Shen Shen Xisheng, several senior officials from Bai Lu Dong quietly submitted petitions, joined by the roaring public opinion of Shenjing Luoyang's literati… and ultimately rescued him.

Yet Empress Wu still exiled Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan to the remote Jiangzhou, appointing him a lowly county magistrate.

Though he gained the reputation among the world as a righteous gentleman.

He had also angered Prince Xiang and Princess Princess Changle; most of the loyal Li ministers in court reached a consensus: they dared not help him further, and chose to leave him be.

Later, only Chenjun Xie Xun still cared for this favorite disciple, often recommending him.

But he dared not hope for more—his disciple's safety was enough; he treated the exile as a trial in the provinces to smooth his edges, and was deeply grateful to friends like Shen Shen Xisheng for their aid…

That storm was not large, but not small either.

Master Di did not inquire much; at the time, he was occupied with something far more important.

So it was Shen Shen Xisheng and several other ministers who had worked to intervene.

Yet Master Di silently approved.

Beyond preserving the Confucian tradition of censors speaking truth to power,

He truly wished to observe whether the Empress's attitude had shifted.

Since Empress Wu ascended the throne, seized her son's imperial position, ruled with might, appointed her Wei clan, ruthless officials, and Yin-Yang Qi-refiners, and violently purged the court after replacing Li Qian with Zhou,

"The rivers have been clear, the seas calm" for too long—Master Di had not seen such a bold, fearless young man in ages.

He had dared to prepare his own coffin, offend the Sacred Countenance, defy the Princess, imply criticism, and insult both mother and daughter together.

Since the Wei clan sought to use Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan to attack Princess Princess Changle and smear the loyal Li ministers,

He would use Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan's case as a stone thrown to test the waters.

Master Di wanted to see whether the Empress, who had long held firm control of the court and believed her legitimacy secure, had begun to care about her reputation after death, about the notion of "eternal holy fame."

Emperors who loved grandeur usually cherished their image—even the superficial one.

In the end, amid the roaring scholarly world and widespread public sympathy in Shenjing Luoyang, the Empress, though furious, ultimately suppressed her urge to kill.

Later, she even used Princess Princess Changle's own plea for mercy—"Do not grant him a chance to be remembered in history"—as an excuse to let him live, stepping down gracefully.

And nominally, she promoted him, exiling him from the capital.

It seemed the Empress, now aged, had finally begun to consider matters of legacy and posthumous reputation.

And her previous ruthless acts had begun to be carefully whitewashed.

The recent widespread praise of a peaceful, prosperous age was the clearest example.

She was striving to emulate the glory of Emperor Taizong.

Master Di sighed and shook his head.

Regardless, now that he saw the Empress's shifting mindset, he could begin slowly advancing on topics previously too sensitive to mention.

Thus, Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan's petition against Princess Princess Changle, though mixed in benefit and harm, had indeed yielded significant results—even if the young man had stumbled into it by accident.

Yet Master Di did not like a young man who only understood right and wrong.

Because lying down and merely discerning right from wrong is easy;

Standing up, acting, and getting things done—hard.

Moreover, sometimes discerning right from wrong is difficult too,

Even sages may not be able to resolve it clearly.

In his youth, reading ten thousand scrolls, he found that discerning right from wrong had confounded countless heroes throughout history.

Yet it was like a potent tonic that easily became addictive, thrilling young men until they spent their days merely debating right and wrong, neglecting their true duties. Thus, even in youth, he vowed never to become a so-called upright official who only knew how to discern right from wrong…

Outside the study window, a grove of trees rustled together, their rustling entering the room and lifting the corner of the fat old man's letter.

Master Di glanced at the map of Zhe Zhe Yiqu fluttering in the wind, lost in thought:

"Not merely one who discerns right from wrong…"

The next day, Master Di rose early, attended morning court, and as usual, led the entire court in paying homage to the Empress.

After court, the Empress detained him, summoned him to Ren Shou Palace, granted him a brocade stool, and sat beside her to receive foreign envoys who bowed in submission, praising her with reverence; the Empress propped her chin on her hand, visibly pleased, bestowing the lavish gifts befitting the Celestial Empire, while Master Di sat beside her, expressionless…

Half an hour later, the aged Empress finally released the fat old man, permitting him to return to his office.

Master Di slowly returned to the Fengge Hall, sat at a small desk by the window, and arranged counting rods.

Below, the two rows of Fengge officials occasionally glanced toward the upper seat.

Master Di bowed his head, calculating accounts as usual.

As the Chancellor, every move he made was watched by countless eyes—some hostile, some friendly—guessing his motives and pondering his thoughts.

Master Di was long accustomed to it.

The day passed without incident.

At Mao Er Ke, Master Di rose and, as always, exited the hall first.

But this time, he slowed his pace slightly, walking slowly; passing the Censorate, he happened to meet Vice Censor-in-Chief Shen Shen Xisheng, also leaving duty.

"Master." Shen Shen Xisheng bowed.

Master Di, hands behind his back, gave a soft "hmm" and walked ahead.

Shen Shen Xisheng followed without a word.

The two seemed to be heading the same way—to Yingtian Gate—and happened to veer off from the main thoroughfare's crowd.

During the short walk, Master Di, without turning his head, spoke a few words to Shen Shen Xisheng.

The latter paused slightly; before he could ask more, the two drew near Yingtian Gate. Master Di stepped forward to greet the purple- and crimson-robed ministers, leaving Shen Shen Xisheng behind him.

The Censor-in-Chief's expression grew thoughtful.

The next morning.

A young Censor from the Censorate, carrying a document, strode confidently into the Ministry of Personnel.

The young Censor requested access to this year's performance reports submitted by all prefectures and counties of the Jiang Nan Circuit—every detail, to be taken away entirely for his superior's review.

The Censorate held authority to supervise all officials, including reviewing the records used for promotions and evaluations; such archival requests were not unusual.

The Ministry of Personnel clerk glanced at the seal and signature in the lower right corner of the document, confirmed its authenticity, then turned and led the men to the archives to retrieve the files.

The night air was cool as water.

Inside Jishan Neighborhood, a modest, unassuming residence—where the daytime bustle of carriages and horses had long since faded—only grew slightly quieter by midnight.

At this moment, the Chancellor's residence within was dimly lit.

This stood in stark contrast to the brightly illuminated, all-night-lit mansions of the wealthy nearby, and the splendid vermilion pavilions along the riverside of Luoshui and the waterside Changjie, glowing with colorful lanterns.

Indeed, in Shenjing Luoyang, the current Chancellor and a technologically skilled woman who sweated easily could live in the same neighborhood.

Shenjing Luoyang's streets crisscrossed, its neighborhoods adjacent; the special neighborhood system facilitated governance. Though curfew restricted movement between neighborhoods, Shenjing Luoyang remained the most prosperous city of the age, housing a million souls.

The curfew only limited movement between neighborhoods—it imposed no restriction on the unique nocturnal life within each individual neighborhood.

The noisy brothels along the nearby Luoshui did not disturb the silence within a certain study.

Master Di quietly flipped through pile after pile of memorials and performance reports.

On the desk, a single lamp burned, its faint glow illuminating the names of Jiangzhou's officials on the memorials and reports.

Even on one memorial, the four characters "Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan" flashed briefly.

All submitted memorials regarding the Longcheng flood control and Zhe Zhe Yiqu project were here.

Among them were also the performance reports recording evaluations and observations of officials at all levels of the prefecture and county.

All centered entirely on the construction, origins, and details of Zhe Zhe Yiqu.

Though Shenjing Luoyang lay ten thousand li from Jiang Nan, the full picture of the young county magistrate's quiet construction of Zhe Zhe Yiqu slowly assembled in the mind of the fat old man, his eyes half-closed in the lamplight.

Master Di never relied on hearsay.

Not even from trusted juniors like Chenjun Xie Xun or Shen Shen Xisheng.

"Hmph."

Master Di let out a light laugh.

He flipped through the memorials submitted by officials regarding Zhe Zhe Yiqu, and now understood why this water conservancy project—benefiting the present and future generations—had sparked not even a whisper of discussion upon reaching Shenjing Luoyang, among the Ministry of Personnel and the Three Departments and Six Ministries.

It was due not only to the negligence of the senior officials in the Ministry of Personnel responsible for evaluating local officials' performance.

But also because the entire feedback channel for assessing local officials' achievements had become almost completely rigid and clogged.

In these memorials, the majority of inspectors from Jiangzhou Prefecture, and the officials of the surrounding counties benefiting from Zhe Zhe Yiqu, lavished praise without restraint.

Yet some offered vague remarks, or praise laced with criticism—such as Jiangzhou's Inspector Wang Wang Lixian.

Look: in other prefectures across the Ten Circuits, performance reports submitted to the Ministry of Personnel were uniformly glowing, in perfect unison, exaggerating wildly.

Their achievements, worth only three-tenths, were inflated to ten full points.

But Zhe Zhe Yiqu? It was genuine ten-point achievement, glittering with merit.

Yet some quietly pulled the strings behind the scenes, producing mixed reviews—some praise, some criticism.

To the Ministry's evaluators, such a report might merit only five points—unless the evaluator possessed some knowledge of waterworks, and could recognize true value.

The fat old man set down the stack of memorials, shook his head, and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

After a moment, he opened his eyes, turned silently, and picked up the plain, solitary memorial resting beside him.

He flipped through it again.

This memorial bore the signature: "Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan."

It was the work of Longcheng County's chief official—Chenjun Xie Xun's beloved disciple.

And among all the officials submitting performance reports, he was the most bizarre.

Other prefectural chiefs at least knew to boast of their own accomplishments.

But Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan? He had entrusted the entire process of praise entirely to the deputy county magistrate, the cunning County Secretary Official Diao.

His memorial contained not a single word of flattery—only row upon row of numbers, as if he feared the Ministry's officials, sipping tea in leisure, might actually understand it.

The candle's orange glow illuminated the dense, scribble-like numbers on the young county magistrate's memorial.

The candlelight emitted an orange glow, illuminating the dense, tadpole-like numbers on the young county magistrate's memorial.

The fat old man suddenly smiled.

His fingers, holding the memorial, unconsciously tapped the cover, as if counting on an abacus.

This young junior loved to throw numbers around—luckily, Master Di himself was most familiar with numbers.

"Also likes to do accounts, does he?"

Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan had carefully calculated a ledger in this memorial.

He calculated how much silver and grain his Longcheng County had saved the Jiangzhou Prefecture and the imperial court through disaster relief and flood control, how many refugees had been fed.

He calculated how he had reversed-supplied neighboring disaster-stricken counties, even replenishing Jiangzhou's depleted public granaries.

He calculated how Zhe Zhe Yiqu and the new ferry, built with minimal imperial funding and funded by rice merchants, would annually increase the hidden income of Longcheng's people and return how much commercial tax to the court…

One by one, line after line of figures, the young county magistrate had listed plainly, plainly, in black ink on white paper.

This was the truest boast of a local magistrate.

Yet this honest memorial had lain quietly at the bottom of a dim archive in the Ministry of Personnel, untouched, as fresh as the day it was written.

It had never been passed upward to the Empress or any of the Chancellors in the Council of State.

Had it not been for Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan's own powerful patron—a renowned Confucian scholar from the Five Surnames and Seven Clans who had recommended him—

Master Di closed the memorial, letting out a faint sigh.

"An excellent seedling, capable of being a master chef—I nearly missed him. Must 'grab' him back. Cannot let him go."

"How should I place him? Recall him to the capital and nurture him closely? Or give him a path upward nearby… though that family's risks are considerable…"

He stared at the empty study before him, silent for a long while, then suddenly reached out and pushed the entire pile of memorials and reports three feet forward.

The faint breeze from the fat old man's gesture—this silent invitation—made the single candle flame on the desk flicker wildly, yet never extinguish.

Facing the empty room, he smiled slightly:

"Choose for yourself."

(End of Chapter)

(End of Chapter)