Chapter 2: Night Visit to the Guesthouse

The twenty-seventh year of Xilong, summer...

After nightfall, Chief Steward Zhang of the Grand Secretariat arrived at the Hanlin Academy and, under the guidance of Compiler Tu Xijin, visited the imperial guesthouse where the newly appointed jinshi were lodged.

This nighttime visit was ordered by the current Grand Secretariat Chief, the “Crane Minister,” to identify promising talent.

“Have all the jinshi finished their meals?” Chief Steward Zhang asked, counting the windows still lit by candlelight.

“They’ve all eaten…” Director Tu replied politely. “They are the newly selected jinshi personally chosen by His Majesty. We dare not neglect them.”

“Director Tu, you’ve gone to so much trouble…” Chief Steward Zhang smiled slightly. “It’s late, yet you’ve taken the time to escort me—truly, I apologize.”

“Not at all, not at all…” Director Tu replied with tact. “We both serve the Crane Minister. His affairs are our affairs—how could we call it trouble? It’s only right, only right…”

As they spoke, the two arrived before a guest room. Director Tu said, “The occupant of this room is none other than the newly crowned zhuangyuan!”

A few days ago, in the palace examination, the jinshi zhuangyuan personally selected by His Majesty was surnamed Jiang, named Mingyu, styled Xingqiu, from Dongzhou, Nanping Circuit.

He is twenty-seven years old, with thick eyebrows and large eyes, handsome features, seven feet tall, and slender.

At this moment, he sat before a low table, writing a letter home to announce his good fortune to his mother.

Since Jiang’s mother could not read, Jiang Mingyu had to entrust the village schoolmaster to relay the letter’s contents.

Thus, the letter began in plain language: “Mother, your son has passed the imperial examination as zhuangyuan! But the official world is nothing like I imagined…”

Yet before he had written more than a few lines, a knock came at the door: “Tap-tap-tap.”

Jiang Mingyu opened the door and saw two gentlemen outside: one was Director Tu, who had been assigned to receive them that day; the other, older, with a long beard, ethereal and refined, wore a black silk robe embroidered with silver floral patterns—clearly a man of high status.

Seeing Director Tu still dressed in his crimson round-collar court robe, as if he had not yet left office, and now bringing this stranger along, Jiang Mingyu deduced the man must be wealthy or noble.

Jiang Mingyu did not dare to be careless. He bowed deeply and courteously ushered them inside to sit.

Once seated, the three began exchanging pleasantries and casual talk.

Director Tu and Chief Steward Zhang, seasoned veterans of officialdom, chatted easily and calmly; but Jiang Mingyu, new to this world, sat rigidly, awkward and unsure, forcing a nervous smile and nodding along, terrified of saying the wrong thing and offending someone.

Through Director Tu’s introduction, Chief Steward Zhang and Jiang Mingyu gained their first mutual understanding.

After fifteen minutes, Director Tu hinted: “Xingqiu, why is our cup still dry?”

At once, Jiang Mingyu leapt up, bowing repeatedly in apology: “I beg your pardon! I forgot to brew tea for you both! I’ll go prepare it at once—please forgive this humble student…”

“No rush, no rush…” Chief Steward Zhang interjected soothingly. “The zhuangyuan truly has noble character—even the tea provided by the Hanlin Academy is too precious to brew!”

Chief Steward Zhang had noticed from the moment he entered that Jiang Mingyu’s cotton robe had two small holes at the collar, and patches on the sleeves and elbows—he judged him to be from a poor family, unfamiliar with the refined customs of tea.

Jiang Mingyu lifted the tea canister, stared at it for a long while, then poured half its contents into the teapot. Afterward, he scratched his head and muttered: “Oh no—I have no hot water!”

Director Tu, both amused and exasperated by Jiang Mingyu’s rustic ways, quickly told him to stop fussing, then ordered a servant outside to bring tea.

After that, the three chatted for another half-hour, until the hour of Xu, before taking their leave.

After leaving the Hanlin Academy, Chief Steward Zhang hurried back to the Chancellor’s mansion to report.

At this moment, the Crane Minister was gathered in the mansion’s Daoist shrine with several maids, practicing cultivation together in the rear hall!

Twenty minutes later, the Crane Minister emerged from the rear hall, disheveled and breathless.

His Daoist robe hung half-open; his lower body bare. He grabbed a red cord, wrapped it around his waist, and tied the robe’s hem tight as makeshift trousers to cover himself.

Then, several maids, equally disheveled, giggled as they emerged from the rear hall. Seeing Chief Steward Zhang waiting in the front hall, they suddenly turned shy, raised their hands to cover their faces, clutched their robes and trousers, and hurried to a side hall, vanishing.

Chief Steward Zhang glanced sideways and counted—eight in total. He thought: The Crane Minister had just passed his fifty-eighth birthday; tonight, one against eight—truly formidable. He must have taken another pill.

The Crane Minister’s surname was Weng, given name Xian, styled Tian Tong, self-styled the White True Man of Taiji. He was learned and martial, skilled in divination and painting cranes, hence the imperial-bestowed nickname: Crane Minister, commonly called the Crane Minister.

“Did you meet the zhuangyuan?” the Crane Minister asked, slowly stepping onto his personal cushion and sitting cross-legged. He picked up a white jade pestle and tapped it once against a nearby gold-and-copper bowl—“Ching—” —the sound shattered the awkward stillness of the shrine.

“I met him,” Chief Steward Zhang replied.

Crane Minister: “What of his character?”

Chief Steward Zhang: “He has an extraordinary appearance and upright conduct—a promising youth from a humble family.”

At the word “humble,” the Crane Minister’s lips curled slightly. He asked: “True humble? Or false humble?”

Chief Steward Zhang: “True humble.”

“How so?” the Crane Minister said, plucking a lychee from a nearby table and handing it to Chief Steward Zhang.

Chief Steward Zhang took the lychee but did not peel it. He replied: “He knows nothing of tea rituals, speaks clumsily, wears patched clothes. Though literate and well-mannered, he is plainly inexperienced—all signs of a humble origin.”

The Crane Minister laughed heartily. “Excellent! This is exactly the man I seek!” He plucked three more lychees and handed them to Chief Steward Zhang. “Eat. You’ve traveled far—don’t be polite.”

This time, when Chief Steward Zhang took the lychees, he dared to peel one and ate it.

As soon as the lychee shell was peeled, a maid approached with a gold-flowered copper basin to catch the peel. Chief Steward Zhang stared—she looked familiar, as if he had seen her before.

When she brought the basin closer, he suddenly recognized her—she was one of the eight women who had just left the rear hall!

Now she was fully dressed, her hair neatly coiled, blushing demurely—indistinguishable from any ordinary maid in the Chancellor’s household.

Had he not seen her moments ago, he could never have linked this modest woman to the seductive, supple figure in the rear hall.

That seductive woman had worn a sheer red gauze, seemingly inviting, truly alluring.

Now this woman wore the standard maid’s attire, blushing demurely, composed and dignified—as if she were two different people.

These eight women were skilled in music and dance, graceful and alluring.

Yet in daily service to the Chancellor’s household, they disguised themselves as ordinary maids, indistinguishable from the rest.

Unless deliberately revealed, their true nature was impossible to detect.

This disguise revealed to Chief Steward Zhang another side of these women—the instant shift from alluring to dignified, as if they had changed identities. Such skill was masterful, their concealment flawless—no wonder they were the Chancellor’s secret weapon.

Chief Steward Zhang felt a flicker of curiosity: How many faces did these eight women truly possess? What roles did they play daily in the Chancellor’s household? It was baffling.

Clearly, the Crane Minister was profoundly inscrutable.

“Have you fully investigated the zhuangyuan’s background—his wife, children, family?” the Crane Minister asked.

“All investigated…” Chief Steward Zhang continued. “From Nanping Circuit, Dongzhou, age twenty-seven…”

“I don’t need those details yet!” the Crane Minister waved his hand. “Tomorrow, secure a residence near the Southern Courtyard of the Eastern Palace. Bring the zhuangyuan’s entire family to the capital. Handle the rest as you see fit.”

Chief Steward Zhang bowed in assent, clutched the remaining three lychees, and slowly backed away until he exited the shrine, then turned and left.