Chapter 23: The Pitiful Door and the Restless Emperor

As soon as he entered, Yang Xuan saw a middle-aged woman kneeling behind a low desk, her right hand gripping a disciplinary ruler, gently tapping her left palm.

This...

The woman kept a stern face. "I am An Ziyu."

"Greetings, Dean." Remembering how Bao Dong had said to light three sticks of incense for him, Yang Xuan couldn't help but feel nervous.

An Ziyu’s fingers twitched. The ruler spun dexterously between her fingertips. She glanced at Yang Xuan, speaking in a tone that sounded casual yet was anything but. "Why is the Imperial Academy so revered? It is because once its students leave, they become officials. But the Imperial Academy is not the Grand Academy. Why should you be granted a post?"

I have no idea!

Just as Yang Xuan was about to reply, An Ziyu tapped the desk with the ruler. "The Grand Academy and the like are official institutions—graduates can become officials. But the Imperial Academy is dedicated to the study of the profound. If you wish to serve, you must work even harder. Newcomers must be tempered—only by forging their character can they inherit the true legacy of our school."

The profound studies... Yang Xuan recalled the student who had fallen at the doorway.

He was distracted.

Smack!

A sharp pain shot through the back of his hand, and Yang Xuan jerked upright.

The ruler was still in An Ziyu’s hand. She maintained her stern expression. "New students at the Imperial Academy must go to either Changan County or Wannian County for training. Half the day is spent studying at the Academy, half working in one of the two counties. Where will you go?"

Hiss! Yang Xuan glanced at his swollen hand, inhaling sharply. An Ziyu continued, "The magistrate of Changan County enjoys refined conversation and is quite friendly to our Academy. Huang Wenzun, the magistrate of Wannian County, is arrogant. Yet he rose from being the emperor’s personal guard to magistrate—he’s not lacking in skill. Which will you choose?"

The emperor’s personal guard?

Yang Xuan noticed the disdain at the corner of An Ziyu’s mouth and understood that she did not think highly of Huang Wenzun.

"I’ll go to Wannian County."

An Ziyu was taken aback. "Why?"

Yang Xuan replied sincerely, "Dean, you once said: Without weathering storms, how can one behold the rainbow?"

"Our Academy’s students are assigned to various posts and can still be promoted. If you go to Wannian County..." An Ziyu paused, waved her hand dismissively, "Go, then."

In this context, "go" clearly meant "get out."

Promotions? Isn’t this just working while studying? No wonder the Imperial Academy is so popular. Yang Xuan made a quick exit.

"This young man, though destitute, remains undeterred—oh, how touching..."

Just outside, Yang Xuan suddenly remembered something and turned back.

"Dean...?"

An Ziyu was sobbing, waving him away. "Out!"

From outside came Zhong Hui's voice, "Dean An specializes in the pathos school of thought. She had a misstep years ago; now her empathy tends to overflow."

Understood!

Yang Xuan turned and saluted him, then asked, "Professor, if I study the profound, will I become like that?"

"Certainly not," Zhong Hui stroked his beard with a smile. "Our discipline is vast and profound, emphasizing non-action..."

Indifference, Yang Xuan finished silently for him.

Zhong Hui pondered for a moment. "In the past fifty years, only ten of our scholars have deviated."

Ten!

Yang Xuan’s legs felt weak. "Professor..."

Is it too late to withdraw now?

Zhong Hui gave him a meaningful look. "One every five years—is that many?"

Yang Xuan thought, not really.

Zhong Hui sighed, "The Academy enrolls thirty students a year, with sixty still studying—ninety in total. Is that many?"

"Professor, how many years is the course?"

Zhong Hui held up three fingers.

Three years?

One deviation every five years—indeed, not many.

Yang Xuan mused, "The Dean’s case is probably the worst, right?"

Zhong Hui shook his head. "Hers is the mildest."

...

Wannian County.

Magistrate Huang Wenzun was speaking with County Vice Magistrate Qiu Sheng, surrounded by several others.

Huang Wenzun, in his early forties, was quite stout, his expression cold and imposing.

"Southern Zhou spies have crossed the southern border. At their pace, they should be near Changan. We must act quickly."

"Your Excellency!" Wannian County's chief constable, Tang Xiaonian, entered, his face grim. "Yesterday afternoon, my men and I attempted to apprehend the spy, but he escaped. One of our men was gravely injured."

Huang Wenzun, once an imperial guard, was naturally skilled. He asked calmly, "Was it an ambush?"

Tang Xiaonian nodded, fists clenched. "The spy is adept at concealing himself in any environment, striking suddenly before fleeing far away..."

Qiu Sheng interjected impatiently, "Did you set an ambush?"

Tang Xiaonian hurried to explain, "Your Excellency, we were short-handed..."

He glanced at Qiu Sheng, then fell silent.

Qiu Sheng had served as county bailiff since he was thirty; twenty years had passed, and he remained in the same post. He lacked initiative, and no magistrate had ever rated him favorably. Nearing fifty, this was likely his last chance, so he echoed Huang Wenzun in everything.

Qiu Sheng looked at Huang Wenzun, his smile cautious. "Your Excellency, it's best not to press further. If too many die, the higher-ups will surely blame us."

Huang Wenzun asked, "Where are the Imperial Academy students?"

Tang Xiaonian replied, "Yesterday they were here, but today they’ve all called in absent."

"Your Excellency," a minor official announced, "Someone from the Academy has arrived."

Yang Xuan followed the official in, puzzled. "Aren’t there other Academy students here?"

The official asked, "Are you new?"

Yang Xuan nodded. The official sneered, "They’re all on leave."

He glanced back, saw Yang Xuan roll his eyes, and warned, "When you see the magistrate, show respect and don’t flick your horsetail whisk."

Yang Xuan instinctively flicked his whisk.

Then smiled apologetically.

He entered the duty room.

"A mere youth?" Qiu Sheng grumbled. "The Academy students are always on leave, completely neglecting their duties. If the Southern Zhou spy makes a mess this year, the Academy will be to blame."

Once assigned, Academy students were semi-affiliated with the county government. To earn promotions, they needed favorable evaluations from their superiors.

This was a rule set by Emperor Wu, to ensure that these so-called profound scholars actually performed their duties—a testament to his painstaking efforts.

Yang Xuan followed Tang Xiaonian to the front yard.

Tang Xiaonian was tall, with a square face and an air of righteousness.

Inside the duty room were two constables.

"The one with the horse spear is Zhao Guolin; the one reading is Wen Xinshu, an excellent archer."

Zhao Guolin seemed taciturn and broad-shouldered, but Yang Xuan knew that wielding a horse spear was no trivial feat—this man must have a background.

Wen Xinshu looked under twenty, smiling as he rose to greet them. "Chief Tang, you look even more heroic today."

Tang Xiaonian’s face remained cold. "This is Yang Xuan, new from the Imperial Academy. Don’t be fooled by his youth—I have no idea how capable he is."

A clear show of authority.

Zhao Guolin stared silently at Yang Xuan, the horse spear in his grasp trembling ever so slightly, exuding a heavy aura.

Wen Xinshu, still smiling, extended his hand. "Anyone who makes it to the Imperial Academy is a talent. Come, let’s get acquainted."

At that moment, Yang Xuan thought of two rams locking horns in courtship.

This was no time to shrink back; if he did, no one would respect him from then on.

He reached out his hand.

The two shook hands.

Wen Xinshu smiled and tightened his grip.

Yang Xuan looked at him calmly.

"Let go," commanded Tang Xiaonian, sitting grandly.

"We are supposed to be four—each covering a direction—but Old Second Chang is badly injured and may not return for a year or more." Tang Xiaonian nodded at Yang Xuan. "Students of the Academy have their abilities, so this afternoon, you’ll join us in our investigation."

...

The Imperial Academy’s Director of Studies, Ning Yayun, played the zither, the notes lingering in the air.

An Ziyu knelt beside him, fingering the fire striker in her sleeve, tempted to burn the ancient instrument.

Ning Yayun looked up. Though his hair and beard were streaked with white, his features remained striking, the handsomeness of a man in his thirties. With a gentle smile, he seemed an ageless gentleman.

"The Academy and the Wang family, through the Left Chancellor, are now half-allies. Wang Douxiang just sent word—this youngster is quite sharp. I believe the Academy has grown too lax..."

"Ahem," Zhong Hui coughed dryly. "Director, our Academy is a gathering of carefree souls."

A hint of resignation flashed in Ning Yayun’s eyes. "If we take the court’s grain and salary, we must serve. So said Emperor Wu."

"So you’re sending this newcomer?" An Ziyu objected. "Director, have you become obsessed with your zither lately?"

Ning Yayun looked at her in silence. An Ziyu muttered, "The Academy really has grown idle these past years, lacking ambition. Fine, I will go and stir things up."

Zhong Hui blanched. "Dean!"

Bang!

An Ziyu slammed the door on her way out, the force setting the papers and even the scholars’ beards in the room fluttering.

Ning Yayun pressed the strings, and all within fell silent. He spoke slowly. "The wind has risen. I sense a vortex forming—one that could swallow all of Changan. The Academy has grown complacent; it’s time to restore its spirit. Since the boy is sharp, let him test the waters."

"A vortex?" Zhong Hui was puzzled.

Ning Yayun lightly stroked the strings. "A vortex the Academy cannot avoid."

He picked up his teacup, sipped, and gazed toward the imperial city, his voice drifting. "That emperor is restless—he always was, and now more than ever."

...

"Prepare to depart."

Tang Xiaonian led the team. "You three, wait ahead."

Yang Xuan and the others quietly stepped outside.

Bang!

The door slammed shut.

After a moment, the sound of the door opening again.

Bang!

It slammed once more.

Bang!

Bang!

Yang Xuan glanced at the ever-amiable Wen Xinshu.

Wen Xinshu shook his head. "Chief Tang is just being cautious."

Yang Xuan tiptoed to peer over a cluster of flowering trees and saw Tang Xiaonian.

Tang Xiaonian was yanking the door handle, pulling, pushing, shoving repeatedly...

He stepped back, then pushed again.

What is he doing?

Soon after, Tang Xiaonian rejoined them. "Let’s go!"

After a few steps, he looked back, as though wanting to return.

"Chief Tang," Zhao Guolin said gravely, "the door’s shut. I checked."

"Oh," Tang Xiaonian finally gave up.

They headed to a village outside the city.

"It was right here yesterday," Tang Xiaonian said, standing before a patch of dried blood and pointing at an earthen wall. "The spy appeared abruptly from there—just one slash..."

Wen Xinshu laughed, "Fortunately, Chief Tang drove him off in time. By the way, Chief, how is your wife lately?"

Yang Xuan saw a shameless flatterer in action.

Tang Xiaonian sneered. "My daughter is quite well."

"That’s..." Wen Xinshu launched into a string of compliments, making Yang Xuan’s eyelids twitch.

This one clearly had his eye on Tang Xiaonian’s daughter and wanted to become his son-in-law.

The usually silent Zhao Guolin suddenly hefted his horse spear onto his shoulder.

At the same time, Yang Xuan felt a chill crawl down his spine, his scalp prickling.

Shing!

He drew his broadsword and, without hesitation, slashed toward Tang Xiaonian’s side.

Clang!

A figure materialized abruptly—his clothes a mottled gray-yellow that blended perfectly with the surroundings. He wore a mask of the same hue, with only his eyes exposed.

At that moment, those eyes stared at Yang Xuan in astonishment.

...

Just finished writing and haven’t polished it yet. If you spot any issues, dear readers, please point them out and I’ll revise them. Thank you.