Chapter 83: Good News-Above Chang'an(Sir Dybala)

Zhang Hong was stunned. After being humiliated, fury burned in him, but a childhood spent observing officialdom had taught him the rigid hierarchy of bureaucracy. He wanted to strike back, but fear of breaking the rules and taboo held him in check. He had expected Yang Xuan to reason with him. What he hadn’t foreseen was that Yang Xuan would use his fists to make his point.

The affair had blown up. The county magistrate of Chang’an, Zhao Dun, came out upon hearing the commotion, and Yang Xuan tossed him a final remark.

“Don’t ever ask the Imperial Academy for favors again.”

Then he simply took Zhou Ning and Zhang Hong away.

On the way, Zhang Hong’s voice caught in his throat. “I thought I could fit in easily, but it’s so hard.”

Zhou Ning adjusted his glasses. “Did Yang Xuan’s lesson help?”

Zhang Hong shook his head. “I can’t hold it in.”

Zhou Ning looked at Yang Xuan.

“I told you to swallow your losses quietly. If you can get payback, do it; if not, bear it,” Yang Xuan said, finding Zhang Hong a bit obstinate.

No, it was more than that—he had an overwhelming sense of superiority.

“But I can’t endure it,” Zhang Hong said, clenching his fists.

“Why must you endure?” Yang Xuan frowned.

“Because you told me to,” Zhang Hong replied.

“When you truly can’t stand it anymore, then don’t,” Yang Xuan shook his head. “This isn’t about causing trouble. It’s about humiliation. If you’d fought back yourself, the county authorities would have tried to minimize the impact by disciplining Qu Dong—otherwise, who would dare take up a post in Chang’an in the future?”

Zhang Hong was dumbfounded.

“This is the bureaucracy, not the Imperial Academy. You’re clever, but here, you’re surrounded by people even cleverer. Wit alone is useless; what matters are experience, tactics, and connections.”

Zhang Hong lowered his head. “It was my fault.”

“Right and wrong don’t matter.” Yang Xuan, seeing Zhang Hong’s willingness to admit fault, decided to explain further.

“The previous magistrate of Chang’an bore no grudge against the Imperial Academy. In those days, whoever went there often found a good future. But you didn’t go.”

It wasn’t that they didn’t go—the scholars of the Academy were too busy with idle debates to care.

“Then Zhao Dun took over. He’s the Emperor’s man—do you understand? The Emperor has joined forces with the four major clans to suppress the Left Chancellor’s faction, and the Imperial Academy is the first to suffer.”

Zhang Hong bowed, remembering his earlier attitude toward Yang Xuan. Shame overwhelmed him, and he bowed again. “I will remember your lesson.”

Zhou Ning, however, remained worried. “Yang Xuan, you used force. Chang’an County won’t let this go.”

Yang Xuan looked at her.

Music swelled in his ear.

His lips twitched, and he smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

Zhou Ning said, “I’ll be going back now.”

After she left, Yang Xuan growled, “What song are you playing?”

Vermilion Bird replied, “The hero and heroine are deeply in love—moving and touching, isn’t it good?”

Yang Xuan was furious. “Ghostly Romance!”

The green light flickered. “I picked the wrong track.”

“What did you mean to choose?”

“The Butterfly Lovers.”

Things had indeed gotten out of hand.

Zhao Dun arrived at the government office of Wannian County.

The two magistrates shouted at each other in the office, and the officials outside listened in terror, half afraid they’d come to blows.

“He must be severely punished!” Zhao Dun panted in rage.

“I take full responsibility for this,” Huang Wenzun transformed into a super nanny, shouldering everything.

Zhao Dun stormed off, breathless, while Huang Wenzun escorted him out, smiling as if nothing had happened.

“Forgive my recklessness, and thank you for covering for me,” Yang Xuan came to express his gratitude.

Huang Wenzun smiled kindly. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Back in the office, Cao Ying bowed. “My lord, your timing was impeccable.”

The Old Fox followed in. “What do you mean?”

Cao Ying stroked his beard and said, “Qiu Sheng is gone, and Huang Wenzun has no confidants left in the county. Finding a new one is no easy task—he’d have to offer incentives, but as the county constable, what could tempt anyone now? So his only option is to win hearts. By protecting you, he’s sending a message to the others…”

The Old Fox understood. “It’s like two people looting a tomb, each afraid the other will kill them for the treasure. So, one goes in first to show he means no harm.”

A decent analogy.

Yang Xuan asked, “What will happen to that man?”

A trace of world-weariness appeared in the Old Fox’s eyes. “He’ll be kicked in, to keep his master company.”

Human nature often cannot bear testing—best not to test it at all.

Liang Jing arrived.

“Zitai!”

“You’ve grown even plumper,” the Old Fox remarked as Liang Jing entered.

“Brother Liang!” Yang Xuan feigned delighted surprise.

“Come, let’s drink,” Liang Jing said, pulling Yang Xuan along.

“Hey! I didn’t ask for leave.” Yang Xuan called back, “I’m off to patrol the streets.”

Several junior clerks bowed. “Thank you for your hard work, Inspector.”

Cao Ying’s cheeks twitched. He left with the Old Fox, muttering, “I wonder, when he sits up high in the future, will all those people be left dumbfounded?”

“And what excuse will he use then?” the Old Fox wondered.

Cao Ying pondered. “Returning to the harem to sow the seeds of posterity.”

At the tavern, Liang Jing wasted no words and ordered food and wine to be served without restraint.

“If you still have any good stuff in your kitchen and don’t bring it out, I’ll smash your shop!” he threatened, the sort of domineering customer who made the owner beam with joy. The owner himself prepared the freshest fish, sliced it thin, and brought it out with dipping sauce.

Liang Jing picked up a piece, rolled it in the sauce, and tasted it carefully.

“This sashimi is delicious. Here, Zitai.”

Just as Yang Xuan was about to take a piece, Vermilion Bird’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Parasite warning.”

He swirled the fish with his chopsticks and pushed the whole plate to Liang Jing. “If you like it, have some more.”

Liang Jing eyed him, chewing slowly, and after a long pause, nodded. “Fine.”

The two exchanged a few cups of wine, then Liang Jing put down his chopsticks and cleared his throat.

Now the real drama would begin.

Yang Xuan thought to himself, This so-called Imperial Uncle is flush with new wealth—does he want a share?

“Zitai!”

Liang Jing looked troubled.

“Just say it, Brother Liang,” Yang Xuan smiled.

Liang Jing sighed. “It’s actually good news. Today I heard from a friend in one of the Six Ministries—there’s an opening for a county magistrate. I know you’ve run afoul of the He family, and your days in Chang’an are on borrowed time. The Noble Consort cares, but there’s little she can do from the palace.”

“She can’t reach beyond her grasp, can she, Xiao Xuanzi? Ask him if he’s serious,” Vermilion Bird said cheerfully.

Yang Xuan tuned out Vermilion Bird’s mischief, his mind wholly fixated on one thing.

County magistrate!

The position his little circle had discussed endlessly—now it was within reach.

“The place is called Taiping County—a lovely name. The magistrate appointed this year fell gravely ill. If it drags on, he won’t make it.”

There was something else in Liang Jing’s eyes—Yang Xuan thought it was pity.

“Taiping County is a fine name,” Yang Xuan hinted.

“Ah!” Liang Jing drank, set down his cup, and said, “But I looked into it—things aren’t so good there. It’s in chaos.”

Chaos? That was just what Yang Xuan wanted—a place in turmoil to build his foundation amid the disorder.

“The Consort has it hard, too,” Yang Xuan said. “Good places never fall to our lot.”

Liang Jing lowered his head in guilt. The Noble Consort had just risen to power, with no trusted allies at court. Finally, she’d managed to nurture one—yet he was only a county constable.

“It’s a tough place, they say.”

“The harder, the better to prove one’s worth.”

“How many are vying for the post, Brother Liang?” Yang Xuan asked.

He guessed at least a dozen.

Liang Jing raised one finger. “Chen Prefecture is remote, close to Northern Liao. No one’s fighting for it.”

A place of risk and opportunity!

Yang Xuan bowed. “I’d ask you to look into it for me, Brother Liang.”

“Consider it done.”

The two drank heartily. Later, Liang Jing asked the restaurant to bring in two familiar courtesans, but one was indisposed, so only one came.

“Let’s enjoy together!” Liang Jing said grandly.

“Refuse him—you and he are not of the same ilk,” Vermilion Bird murmured.

Yang Xuan hurried home.

“Meeting—no, council!”

Everyone gathered. Yiniang bustled in and out, filling the table with sunflower seeds and tea.

The Old Fox grabbed a handful of seeds and munched contentedly.

Cao Ying seemed a bit hungry, reaching for a pastry, but Wang Lao’er’s hand beat him to it. Cao Ying glared, then withdrew, letting him have it first.

“Ahem!” Yang Xuan cleared his throat. “Today, Liang Jing brought news—there’s an opening for a magistrate.”

A sharp gleam flashed in Cao Ying’s eyes. “May I ask where, my lord?”

“Chen Prefecture, Taiping County.”

“Chen Prefecture…” Cao Ying froze. “That’s on the frontier with Northern Liao—most officials shun such places. Taiping County…I can’t recall ever hearing of it.”

The Old Fox said, “Staying in Chang’an isn’t wise right now.”

Yiniang nodded. “Every day at the market, I hear the gossiping women say even the common folk know the nobles are fighting.”

All agreed they should go to Taiping County.

Yang Xuan sat up straight. “I’ll tell Liang Jing tomorrow—I’ll take the post in Taiping County.”

“Good, good!” Wang Lao’er clapped with joy, demolishing a plate of pastries in a flash.

“That boy can certainly eat.”

Cao Ying patted Wang Lao’er’s head affectionately, brushing crumbs from his clothes.

“By the way,” Yiniang suddenly remembered, “what will happen to our Yuanzhou Noodles shop if we leave?”

Cao Ying answered calmly, “I have an idea—give Liang Jing a share. As long as the Noble Consort holds favor, who would dare cause trouble?”

A fine suggestion.

All eyes turned to Yang Xuan.

He shook his head. Cao Ying tensed, wondering if he’d been too eager to offer advice.

The Old Fox asked, “Are you worried people will say you’re riding the Consort’s coattails?”

“No,” Yang Xuan replied slowly. “I just don’t trust human nature.”

He looked at them and said, “Back in my village, I had a few friends. We’d play together every day. Once, a traveling merchant needed a guide and paid five coins. The three of us agreed to split it evenly, but after we got back, each took one coin, and we fought over the remaining two—after that, we never spoke again.”

He lifted his teacup. “From then on, I knew—never talk money with friends.”