Chapter 269: Two Hundred and Seventy-Nine: Resigning Office in One Move, Known Throughout the Land

Two Hundred and Seventy-Nine: Resigning Office in One Move, Known Throughout the Land

That day, morning.

Ziwēi Palace, Fengge Song Zhengting.

A meeting of the Political Affairs Hall convened on schedule as usual.

The Political Affairs Hall was an administrative assembly attended jointly by the top officials of Fengge, Luantai, and Wenchang Tai.

The highest officials of these three provinces all held genuine chancellor authority—the very "Xianggong" the scholar-officials and common folk spoke of with delight.

But if only these three highest officials attended, there would be merely four or five people.

And their positions were exalted and powerful, not always filled, and not easily granted.

Thus, the female emperor of Great Zhou later appointed other officials to attend the Political Affairs Hall meetings, nominally titled "Tong Tong Pingzhangshi" or "Can Zhi Zhengshi," also called chancellor.

But these chancellor posts carried considerable water—they were appointed by the emperor to participate in the Political Affairs Hall, effectively a way to dilute the chancellor's power.

Today's attendees at the Political Affairs Hall included both categories, numbering about ten.

Master Di, as the highest official of Fengge and also holding the Luantai post, was the universally acknowledged Chief Minister of the court.

He "held the pen of the Political Affairs Hall," convening and presiding over today's meeting.

In the main hall, Master Di sat at the head, holding his brush and taking notes.

The court ministers sat in clearly ordered seats.

One agenda after another was presented in orderly fashion; the ministers debated vigorously.

Not long after, the sun rose high, and a certain fat old man laid down his brush, pausing the deliberations.

A group of palace attendants in colorful robes, their foreheads adorned with plum-blossom makeup, entered the main hall in perfect step, presenting imperial cakes and sweets as gifts from the empress, then bowed and withdrew.

The ministers took a brief rest, sipping tea and tasting the pastries, chatting about trivial matters.

Shen Shen Xisheng suddenly felt his official cap was too tight, slightly pressing against his chin.

He hadn't noticed earlier due to slight nervousness, but now, as the other chancellors relaxed, he became aware of it.

Yet in this setting, of course he could not raise a hand to adjust or scratch.

The Censorate was meant to supervise all officials, and must lead by example.

He was the Vice Director of the Censorate, and his conduct and attire needed to be stricter and more refined than ordinary censors.

Every time he went to court, merely dressing and adorning himself consumed half the morning.

Today, Shen Shen Xisheng's attire was especially formal, for he had important business to conduct.

At the very end of the hall, Shen Shen Xisheng sat upright, wearing a tall crown and a light crimson fifth-rank official robe.

The colorful-robed palace attendants, smiling and chatting, passed before him; he kept his gaze straight ahead.

Today, he participated in this supreme imperial decision-making meeting under the title "Can Zhi Zhengshi."

Previously, as Inspector of Jiang Nan, Shen Shen Xisheng had returned from patrol and, for his efforts in comforting refugees and investigating the Jiangzhou rice case, been granted this opportunity by the empress.

Though he was merely the lowest-ranking, insignificant presence.

Shen Shen Xisheng sat upright, his hand quietly slipping into his sleeve to feel a stack of memorials.

Hearing the laughter and chatter of the senior ministers around him, he glanced sideways at the front-row seats where Master Di and the other chancellors sat.

The atmosphere was warm and cheerful.

But Shen Shen Xisheng remained utterly alert, chewing over every word he heard multiple times.

Did he truly believe these smiling, amiable chancellors were harmless?

Among the dozen or so men in this hall were staunch loyalists of Li, former officials of the Former Dynasty; lackeys planted by Prince Wei and Prince Liang;

venerable elders who kept to themselves; and fence-sitters secretly aligned with the Wei clan;

even a "Can Zhi Zhengshi" promoted by Princess Princess Changle through her whispered praises before the empress.

Moreover, Prince Wei Wei Xusì and Prince Liang Wei Wei Sixing, the empress's two nephews, not only held princely titles with a thousand shi of fief income, but also held the title "Tong Tong Pingzhangshi," allowing them to attend this Political Affairs Hall meeting.

However, Prince Wei Wei Xusì had recently claimed a minor illness and did not attend today; only Prince Liang Wei Wei Sixing was present.

Shen Shen Xisheng glanced at Prince Wei's seat not far across the hall; the prince sat sipping tea, smiling toward Master Di.

This Prince Liang was impeccably dressed, his smile gentle, the picture of amiability.

Yet recently, the unrest in Yingzhou had thrown the Wei princes into chaos, temporarily calming them and reducing their scheming.

Shen Shen Xisheng turned his gaze away and waited quietly.

When an elderly minister with white hair, seated high in the front, recounted a minor anecdote from a few days prior, and everyone burst into genuine laughter—

Shen Shen Xisheng suddenly rose, took a stack of memorials from his sleeve, and presented them with both hands:

"Esteemed colleagues and seniors, several days ago, I re-examined the performance evaluations of local officials from the first half of the year by the Ministry of Personnel. I discovered a particularly intriguing performance report.

"The empress has repeatedly emphasized that the court lacks fresh talent and must recruit capable individuals regardless of background.

"I feel this local official's performance is remarkably outstanding, but my experience is shallow—I am uncertain whether I judge correctly. Now that I have free time, I humbly request your esteemed opinions on this report."

Shen Shen Xisheng walked forward, facing the sideways glances of all in the hall.

The purple-robed chancellors reacted differently: some were astonished, some showed no expression, and others immediately glanced at the fat old man at the very top, who sat with lowered eyes, still writing.

These reactions vanished quickly; the Vice Director of the Censorate held considerable rank—a fifth-rank capital official appointed directly by the emperor, a high-ranking minister—and his face must be respected.

The ministers, curious, took the performance reports and passed them around; only moments passed before sighs of admiration began rising through the hall…

Near noon, the Political Affairs Hall adjourned.

The fate of a young county magistrate seemed merely a minor interlude during the meeting's break.

Yet a newly drafted imperial decree appointing a sixth-rank prestigious capital official had already passed the Political Affairs Hall's resolution and was speeding toward Fengge.

It would soon join a stack of edicts on military and state affairs, presented to the empress's desk, where she or her chief scribe would mark it with a red circle or write the word "Chi."

At the entrance to the Fengge Grand Hall, among the dispersing ministers—

one elderly minister with white hair, who had strongly advocated for the report, paused, thought for a moment, and turned to his companion who supported him:

"This youth seems barely twenty. Such a young Shiyushi—surely the youngest in our dynasty, perhaps even since the Former Dynasty… Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan. When he arrives in the capital, I must meet him properly and see what manner of talent he is."

This boy seems barely past twenty—such a young Imperial Censor; he must be the youngest in this dynasty, perhaps even since the Li Qian era... Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan. When he arrives in the capital, old man I shall surely meet him properly—to see what manner of talent he is.

"Your Excellency, you were ill last year and away from the capital. This Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan caused quite a stir—he angered the empress and was demoted to county magistrate, yet now he's been promoted back. Truly, Your Excellency values talent."

He paused, then teased: "But Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan is indeed a strikingly handsome man, like a celestial being exiled to earth, and still unmarried. Heh—I hear Your Excellency has a young granddaughter who just married?"

Behind them, in the now-empty hall, Master Di calmly organized the morning's meeting notes, rose as usual, and delivered them to the empress for review.

Earlier, during the agenda that elevated the young county magistrate, he had remained silent, sipping tea or taking notes.

Only when everyone reached consensus and submitted their recommendation did the fat old man snap back to attention and utter one word:

Only after everyone reached consensus and reported their recommended official posts did the fat old man snap out of it, and utter but one word:

August, still before the height of summer.

The blazing heat not only scorched a Buddhist temple under construction in Jiangzhou, Jiang Nan Circuit.

Shenjing Luoyang too was baked by the sun, steaming hot since early morning.

Summer days were long and nights short; daylight had barely broken.

In Xiuwén Ward, outside the residence of the Vice Director of the Censorate, a carriage slowly departed the neighborhood, heading toward the towering, magnificent palace of Great Zhou.

Inside the carriage carrying the official to court, Shen Shen Xisheng, neatly dressed, had barely boarded when sweat trickled down his temples.

He dabbed his brow with a white silk cloth, drank some iced drink, then opened the carriage curtain and exhaled deeply.

Since two days ago, his brow had occasionally furrowed; now, too, he muttered softly:

"What could Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan possibly mean? He refused the imperial decree? Is he dissatisfied? Impossible…"

More than a month had passed since the Political Affairs Hall meeting during the break, where he had recommended the talent.

Shen Shen Xisheng had assumed he would soon see Magistrate Ouyang Rong in the capital—he was nearly certain, even looking forward to it.

The position of Shiyushi was one of only four precious slots under his direct authority.

In the Censorate, after the Director and the Vice Director, only the Shiyushi ranked higher, overseeing a group of ordinary Censorate Inspectors.

In the capital, countless officials of higher rank had fought desperately for such a post and failed to secure it.

But a few days ago, the Ministry of Personnel's envoy Song Hao returned to the capital, bringing back the original, unopened imperial decree.

He had refused the capital appointment.

The reason given was even more absurd:

He wished to continue managing water control in Jiang Nan, offering what little help he could to his fellow townspeople.

This young county magistrate, obsessed with water control, had entrusted envoy Song Hao to deliver a memorial from Longcheng County to the imperial court:

"Memorial on Ten Strategies for Water Control in Jiang Nan," accompanied by a map titled "Survey of Jiang Nan Water Systems."

This was… rather abstract.

Fine, fine—he likes hard-core stuff, huh?

The Ministry of Personnel officials were equally baffled.

Still, they submitted the ten strategies and the water map to the empress's desk.

Two days have passed, and the empress has given no response—like a stone dropped into a bottomless sea.

No one knows if she found it overwhelming and tossed it into the wastebasket…

Magistrate Ouyang Rong's move had utterly surprised his recommender, Shen Shen Xisheng.

Two days ago, he had immediately sought out Master Di, reporting the matter with deep concern.

He had even prepared to plead for his friend's disciple—but to his surprise, Master Di showed no displeasure.

In fact, the man who had remained expressionless when assigning Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan the Shiyushi post now unexpectedly chuckled, turned, walked to the window, gazed at the scenery for a moment, then turned back with good spirits and asked: "Shen Xisheng, what do you think?"

Even he, who had remained expressionless throughout assigning Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan the post of Imperial Censor, suddenly let out a rare chuckle, turned with his hands behind his back, walked to the window, gazed at the scenery for a while, then turned back with good spirits to ask, "Shen Xisheng, what do you think?"

"…" Shen Shen Xisheng.

How does he see it? What else could he see!

Magistrate Ouyang Rong refused the post of Censor-in-Chief, which even made Shen Shen Xisheng feel slightly humiliated.

After all, Magistrate Ouyang Rong was originally meant to be his direct subordinate; now that he refused the Censor-in-Chief post, it seemed like he was spurning good intentions—was he still dissatisfied with the position?

Inside the carriage, Shen Shen Xisheng shook his head slightly. It wasn't that.

After a moment of thought, he recalled the Master's laughter.

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

"Did the Master know all along? Could Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan, your nephew, have already been in contact with the Master—or is it merely unspoken understanding...?"

He glanced out the window; the carriage was passing along a bustling street beside the Luo River, alive all night with revelry.

Regardless, you kid have become even more famous now.

Shen Shen Xisheng chuckled and shook his head.

Just moments ago, as he prepared to leave for morning court, his virtuous wife—who normally stayed home to manage the household and raise children—asked him, while dressing him, whether he knew the young county magistrate who had refused a capital post. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

A seventh-rank county magistrate suddenly promoted to a sixth-rank prestigious Censor-in-Chief normally wouldn't spark much public attention.

At most, officials within the system would sigh enviously, and a few who had no hope of promotion would nurse bitter jealousy.

But a seventh-rank county magistrate turned down a meteoric rise, forfeited the record for the youngest Censor-in-Chief in this dynasty, and instead went off to the remote south of the Yangtze to manage flood control for country bumpkins—and refused to return.

This, this was explosive even by the standards of official resignations.

The gossiping masses, upon further inquiry, realized: this fool—no, this sage—who was he? Wait, Magistrate Ouyang... Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan? The Metropolitan Graduate and third-place Metropolitan Graduate of last year, the upright gentleman who had prepared his own coffin, dared to remonstrate with the throne, and was exiled to the south?

Name confirmed. Satisfied departure.

Until yesterday, this story of resignation had only been a minor topic of discussion among officials in the Ministry of Personnel and other imperial departments.

But since yesterday, for reasons unknown—perhaps because some officials, over dinner, told their wives, children, and servants the tale—news of Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan's refusal of the capital post had gradually spread to the neighborhoods of Shenjing Luoyang.

By today, the name "Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan" had become the number-one trending topic among Shenjing Luoyang's entertainment gossip, widely discussed on street corners and over tea and meals, overshadowing the recent scandal of a top Tang poet taking a friend to a brothel, ordering the top courtesan, and refusing to pay.

If any party involved in supervising the construction of a Buddhist pagoda, currently in Shenjing Luoyang,

and who had just topped the charts from a thousand li away, heard this, he'd surely sigh: The people of Shenjing Luoyang still eat too well—they're bloated, salting their crotches, bored out of their minds.

Regardless, Magistrate Ouyang Rong had now become famous throughout the capital.

When buried in flood control, no one asks; one resignation, and the whole world knows.

But fame brings trouble.

In the divine capital at this moment, among court and commoners, in brothels and teahouses, those who prided themselves on purity sneered, calling Magistrate Ouyang Rong a hypocrite, a fraud seeking fame.

Yet in taverns and among literati, among butchers and street folk, some laughed and praised Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan as a true gentleman—honest to the core.

Even within the high-walled, vermilion-roofed mansions, at a private gathering of noblewomen who placed extreme value on family prestige and feminine refinement,

A young lady dressed in palace robes, whose talent rivaled that of immortals, tilted her chin, flung a green-skinned scroll against the vermilion wall, and, half-drunk, declared she would meet Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan—her poetic words alone could make him bow at her pomegranate-colored skirt.

Such haughty words suddenly made a small circle of unmarried noblewomen, their hair coiled high and eyebrows delicately tinted, cover their mouths and chests, giggling until their cloud-like tresses tumbled askew.

Yet one lovely young lady, with a Woduoji and moon-shaped earrings in her ears, did not laugh. She cradled a black cat, opened her lips, and coldly defended the upright gentleman she had never met, lightly mocking her companions... then came another round of playful teasing.

In Shenjing Luoyang, some were jealous; others yearned to meet him.

This kind of fame was truly unpredictable.

Shen Shen Xisheng, lost in thought, headed to the Purple Micro Palace for morning court.

Since the Yingzhou unrest, the Empress had remained diligent in governance, rarely retreating to the Shangyang Palace to indulge in music, male favorites, or the exotic elixirs and beasts offered by Yin-Yang alchemists.

Inside the grand hall where all officials gathered, Shen Shen Xisheng, standing near the front, lifted his eyes slightly.

He glanced at the old woman seated high upon the golden dragon throne,

and then at the upright, immaculate back of the Master, standing at the very front of the officials.

Before the Yingzhou unrest, under the encouragement of the two Wangs of the Wei clan, the Empress had planned a campaign to expand the empire's borders—but the Master had strongly opposed it.

The Master argued that the empire's focus should be entirely on internal reform and strengthening national power, not on costly, exhausting expeditions, citing the precedent of Emperor Taizong.

The Empress had naturally been resentful, but since the Yingzhou unrest exposed the vile conduct of the Wei clan's heirs... now that the rebellion had gradually been quelled, she had not mentioned any expansionist agendas for a long time.

Shen Shen Xisheng suddenly sensed something. He glanced again at the Master's steady back.

The entire morning court passed without incident.

In truth, most court sessions were dull; the real struggles and blade-flashes occurred beneath the surface.

If officials tore off their masks even in court, it meant they had reached the final stage—one side, desperate, had abandoned all pretense.

Yet Shen Shen Xisheng's back was drenched in sweat—he had prepared for this, wearing a thin inner robe. The West Market tailor, a Western merchant, had sworn the fabric was sweatproof.

The practical effect was excellent: no sweat stains would show through to the back, leaving maps for his colleagues to see.

Another small trick of the Censor's dignity.

Shen Shen Xisheng sighed. He had planned to gift Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan, his nephew, a new inner robe as a congratulatory present for his promotion.

After all, he couldn't be the only one suffering.

Too bad Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan didn't accept... never mind, I'll keep it for him.

Shen Shen Xisheng maintained his solemn expression and exited the hall with the other officials as court ended.

For these two days, no one had mentioned Magistrate Ouyang Rong's resignation or his Ten Treatises on Flood Control. The Empress seemed unaware; the court and capital remained silent, as if forgotten.

This calmness made his nerves tighten.

Shen Shen Xisheng joined a few colleagues from the Bao Li faction. After descending the palace steps, he scanned the crowd and spotted the Master's figure, then walked toward him with unspoken understanding.

At that moment, a palace maid with plum-blossom makeup hurried forward, stopped before a fat old man, bowed, and spread her palms, signaling something.

Master Di nodded and followed the maid away.

Some sharp-eared officials overheard fragments; a whisper spread instantly across the square.

The Empress had invited the Master to tour the Shangyang Palace.

All officials turned to stare.

or2 (Day one of early to bed, early to rise!)

(End of Chapter)