When the hour arrived, the doors of the Xuanzheng Hall opened, and the hundred officials walked into the hall, standing in order.
Gao Xi stood firm at the side of the dragon throne, dragged out his voice and shouted: “His Majesty has arrived—”
The hundred officials beneath the court knelt on the ground, shouting long live the Emperor. Meng Fu stepped onto the nine-layered stone stairs amidst this sound, turned around, and sat on the dragon throne.
How could she have thought that one day she would actually be able to sit in this position above ten thousand people, possessing the world’s highest and most supreme power.
In Meng Fu’s heart, a very strange emotion was spreading. After a while, she said in a deep voice: “All rise.”
After the hundred officials rose, Gao Xi, as usual, announced to the officials below the court to bring forth any memorials if there were matters, and to retire from court if there were none. Meng Fu silently sized up the officials below the court; among these people, some faces were familiar to Meng Fu, and some she had never seen before.
The scene before her was much better than she had imagined. This full court of civil and military officials—at least she wasn’t unable to call a single name. Meng Fu waited for a while, but no one spoke. She couldn’t be sure if it was truly that the world was at peace, or that the officials feared Li Yue’s prestige and didn’t dare to speak. Meng Fu asked: “Do all beloved subjects have no matters to report?”
Meng Fu thought, if that were truly the case, then the court session could be ended. But when this was heard by the ministers below, what they understood was: next, we’re going to have a good talk about the matter of performance evaluations.
They still cared a lot about the sentence Eunuch Gao had reminded them of before court outside Xuanzheng Hall—if His Majesty were to raise the matter of performance evaluations next, it would be nearly impossible not to provoke him. For now, better to stall this matter for a bit.
“Subject has a memorial to present,” said Minister of Revenue Qian Dongzhou, stepping forward.
Meng Fu recognized him and said: “Speak.”
Qian Dongzhou said: “In recent years, the foreign tribes in the northern border have feared the might of our Da Zhou and have gradually withered. The border wars have long since calmed, and therefore, this humble subject believes the military expenses sent to Dingzhou this year can appropriately be reduced by twenty percent.”
As soon as Qian Dongzhou’s words fell, Minister of War Qi Yunjiao stood up and objected: “What Lord Qian said is improper. Though there are currently no wars in Dingzhou, those foreign tribes have always been crafty. If we so much as slacken a little, they will surely seize the opportunity to come.”
Qian Dongzhou didn’t care and said: “I, however, feel that Lord Qi is worrying needlessly. My Da Zhou’s army is now strong in soldiers and horses. Even with a reduction of twenty percent in military expenses, what is there to fear in facing those foreign tribes?”
“Improper, improper! We must not forget how those foreign tribes invaded the borders of our Da Zhou in previous years just because they’ve quieted down these past few years.”
“Let me speak to all the lords about the necessity of reducing this twenty percent in military expenses—firstly, this…”
The ministers below the court thus began to argue fiercely. Just moments ago the grand hall had been utterly silent, and now it instantly became lively.
At first Meng Fu had worried they would ask her opinion, but they seemed to have completely forgotten her.
That was rather nice.
So Meng Fu quietly listened to their quarrel. Their topic shifted from whether to reduce this year’s military expenses, to how to repair the Great Wall, and then to the imperial examination two months later. There was not a single topic that could be peacefully resolved. The Secretariat and the Six Ministries took turns standing out to voice their opinions, while the Chancellery came out to smooth things over. The bustle in here surpassed even that of a duck-seller’s market.
Meng Fu didn’t find them noisy at all. She could just use this opportunity to better understand Da Zhou and the temperaments of these officials. That way, when she was asked something, she wouldn’t be unable to say even a single sentence. However, seeing them get so agitated, Meng Fu couldn’t help but worry a bit about the physical conditions of these ministers.
Before morning court, Eunuch Gao had reminded her to take care of her dragon body [“龙体” – a term used to refer to the Emperor’s health], but looking at it now, it seemed these ministers were the ones who more needed to take care of themselves.
So, just like that, more than half an hour passed. These officials still hadn’t argued to a conclusion. Some of them had shouted themselves hoarse and still refused to yield. Some were so angry their faces were as red as a monkey’s butt. One old lord even clutched his chest and coughed non-stop while talking—Meng Fu really feared this lord would drop dead from overexcitement.
The officials had been arguing for most of the morning with no sign of stopping. Instead, they became more and more involved, more and more full of sincere emotion. They even dug up old sesame-and-rotten-grain matters from who-knows-how-many years ago, completely forgetting their original intention. They had just wanted to put on a show for His Majesty, to make it impossible for him to bring up the matter of performance evaluations.
But after arguing for so long, for some reason, they began to feel a hollow emptiness in their hearts. Just as some of them were rolling up their sleeves, ready to pull their colleagues’ hair, finally someone realized something wasn’t right—today’s morning court seemed to be missing something.
What was missing?
Was it that there wasn’t enough scolding?
Only now did the officials belatedly realize that the Emperor on the court had not spoken a single word all this time. In the past, by the time they quarreled the first time, the Emperor would have already gotten angry and scolded them till they were drenched in dog’s blood. [“狗血淋头” – an idiom meaning to scold someone severely and harshly]
How could it be allowed for them to chirp and chatter for such a long time like this?
These ministers had been too repressed under Li Yue, and so today, with His Majesty’s presence slightly weakened, they lost all restraint and let themselves go wild.
One official secretly lifted his head and glanced at Meng Fu, only to find that the Emperor on the dragon throne was quietly watching them. At once, he felt a chill on his neck.
Meng Fu noticed someone looking at her, so she raised her eyes and met that official’s gaze.
The official quickly lowered his head again and thought to himself: It’s over. My head is about to move houses. [“脑袋要搬家了” – slang for “I’m probably going to be beheaded.”]
Had they gone a little overboard in their arguing just now?
Why wasn’t the Emperor speaking?
Why wasn’t the Emperor speaking?
Could it be the Emperor was already brewing how to scold them?
If the Emperor didn’t speak for such a long time, then it surely meant he was preparing something big. Hadn’t Eunuch Gao clearly reminded them before court?
Why did they forget everything the moment their heads got hot?
This quietness from His Majesty was terrifying. Could it be they were about to be rewarded with a round of court beatings?
Most emperors throughout history, for the sake of their reputation among future generations, wouldn’t easily inflict punishment on their ministers. Even if they were scolded themselves, they would swallow the bitterness into their own stomachs.
But this Emperor was an anomaly. As long as he didn’t care for false reputation, no one could use that to restrain him.
The arguing officials gradually fell silent, one after another lowering their heads and looking at their feet, quietly pretending to be quails.
Meng Fu would rather they continue arguing. Now that no one was talking, the atmosphere had become somewhat awkward.
Meng Fu asked calmly: “Why has everyone stopped speaking?”
These words sounded more like mockery in the ears of the ministers. They could even imagine the Emperor’s next words: Weren’t you all quite talkative just now? How come you’ve all gone mute? Go on, keep talking!
They usually practiced the Doctrine of the Mean [“中庸之道” – Confucian principle of moderation and avoiding extremes], but now with just a bit of indulgence from the Emperor, they had gotten carried away. It really shouldn’t have been this way.
But such a rare moment of silence from the Emperor was too rare. So rare that they felt like they’d just seen the sun rise from the west.
They just… couldn’t help themselves.
The hundred officials quietly reflected in their hearts, while also guessing who would be the unlucky one to be the first to get scolded by the Emperor. Some regretted being too showy just now; others felt lucky they hadn’t spoken much.
However, the scolding they expected didn’t arrive. Meng Fu, sitting on the dragon throne, didn’t say another word.
She hadn’t decided what she ought to say. These ministers had argued for so long just now, and hadn’t even argued out a single conclusion.
The Xuanzheng Hall was deathly silent. It was the calm before the storm. The officials dared not even breathe too loudly. Even though it was the month of June, the air felt like it had frozen into frost. Under such uncertainty about what was coming next, quite a few ministers felt short of breath and in urgent need of treatment.
But Meng Fu hadn’t done anything. The reason these officials were like this was entirely because Li Yue had left behind a shadow that was far too deep. They might need a lifetime to heal.
The most terrifying thing in this world is probably scaring oneself, because only oneself knows best what one fears most in their own heart. The more silent His Majesty was, the more negative associations they made up on their own.
Someone even thought, maybe they should just go along with the Emperor’s will and bring up the matter of performance evaluations…
Seeing that some officials’ faces were pale as paper, cold sweat streaming, clearly unable to hold on and about to yield to His Majesty, Chancellor of the Central Secretariat Wei Jun’an hurriedly stepped forward. This Lord Wei was already over fifty this year. In the past few years, just to deal with the Emperor above, he had burned out more than half of his hair, and the remaining little bit didn’t seem like it would last much longer either. Even so, he still fought year-round on the front lines of opposing Li Yue.
Mainly because, during the late Emperor’s time, civil officials like them held great power in their hands. Most national policies were formulated by them. However, the current Holy One had a strong hand, and ever since ascending the throne, had continually suppressed these civil officials—many ministers simply couldn’t bear this reversal in fortune.
Lord Wei had once been full of confidence, believing that he would one day become the kind of powerful minister who could cover the sky with one hand. But after being tormented by Li Yue for several years, now all he hoped was that this Emperor wouldn’t make trouble for them for no reason.
Yet this humble wish still hadn’t come true. Their Emperor was getting more and more excessive.
Wei Jun’an was actually afraid in his heart too, but at this moment he absolutely could not retreat. His colleagues had said—whoever backs down first is a grandson. He was already over fifty; could he be their grandson? What’s more, this whole thing had mainly been organized by him. If he retreated now, what would his colleagues think?
Wei Jun’an silently comforted himself a couple of times, then went all in and asked Meng Fu:
“Regarding the matter of building the Great Wall, I wonder what His Majesty’s opinion is?”
He had already predicted what kind of fierce wrath from the Emperor he was about to face after asking this—after all, this matter had already been mostly settled half a month ago. What he was doing now was basically asking for a scolding. If the Emperor didn’t even scold him for this, then maybe the Emperor didn’t want to waste words on a dead man.
The colleagues very much admired Wei Jun’an’s courage and fearlessness. Gao Xi also thought this Lord Wei really had a death wish. He had clearly reminded them beforehand, so why did he still come now to tug at the tiger’s whiskers?
What—he wouldn’t feel satisfied unless he was carried out on a stretcher?
However, on the dragon throne, Meng Fu still remained calm. She had just listened for a while as they discussed the matter of the Great Wall below in court. She had some ideas, but wasn’t clear about Li Yue’s stance on the matter, so she said: “This matter shall be discussed again at a later time.”
Compared to when she first entered court, the taut string in Meng Fu’s mind finally loosened a little. That morning, Gao Xi had instructed her not to get angry. She had thought the ministers would raise some very thorny issues—but luckily, they hadn’t. She was quite glad that what they talked about wasn’t anything too serious.
Maybe it was one of the rare strokes of good fortune granted to her by the heavens.
But the ministers below the court weren’t as comfortable as Meng Fu. They felt like their hearts had been thrown straight onto the fire to roast. The Emperor said this matter would be discussed later—then wouldn’t that mean now was the time to discuss performance evaluations?
The Emperor had managed to suppress his temper all morning—if the performance evaluation issue didn’t proceed next, wouldn’t he go one by one and settle scores with them?
Your Majesty, please just scold us now!
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T/N: I want to see what Li Yue is doing now 🤣