ITIEQ C100 END

Chapter 100 – The End

“Your Majesty…”

An attendant trotted out from behind the screen. The Emperor, in plain clothes, sat at the main seat of Hanchang Hall, a memorial pressed beneath his hand. A senior old minister, granted a seat, was in the midst of measured deliberation with colleagues.

The attendant weighed his thoughts and finally leaned in to whisper in the Emperor’s ear. Xiao Yuanzheng’s heart stirred; he pressed the memorial and the inked mountains and waters showed.

“…”

“The Censorate and the Secretariat have many vacancies. The candidates we recommend are all of the great clans—top-tier in talent. May Your Majesty review them.”

“We, too, have a few promising juniors with sterling local records. If transferred to the capital, they could ease Your Majesty’s burdens.”

“Enough.” Xiao Yuanzheng toyed with a small seal and tossed it onto the desk; the sudden clink stilled Hanchang Hall. “I know Great Yong is rich in talent. Those you wish to sponsor—report them to the Ministry of Personnel.”

Since he had taken this seat, he had thundered through one purge of Prince Ying’s faction and corrupt officials, leaving many posts vacant. Now there were crowds pushing to squeeze in; the Qi and Chang factions jostled daily, squabbling till he had a headache.

The ministers traded glances and ended with cheerful bows. “Then we await Your Majesty’s decree.”

Xiao Yuanzheng set aside the memorial. “That will be all for today. If there is nothing else, you may go.”

Three feet of ice is not frozen in a day; all must be done slowly. He had known it since youth. When the few had left Hanchang Hall, he gathered in his irritability. “Is he still here… he hasn’t gone back?”

“He hasn’t left.” The little attendant lifted the bead curtain to the inner chamber. “The Director of the Academy Court is still waiting.”

Xiao quickened his steps. Were he not bearing the realm upon his shoulders, he would never have known how rotten Yong had grown within—offices sold, posts idled. These old ministers could talk in circles for half an hour over one point—and, given a sweet, keep grinding on.

The inner study still held lingering fragrance; he loved incense, but his grand-aunt had said it was imperial dignity and had the palace burn it daily. Filial piety first in Yong; over small matters he would not contend. Only Shen Qinghe—each time he came, he snuffed the incense first.

No one?

Xiao paced a quick circle, then saw the light blanket dangling by the flower lattice. He chuckled. Sure enough—a man sprawled on the little couch, snoring.

…

Shen Qinghe blinked awake; he didn’t even know when he’d fallen asleep. This batch of refined brew truly was extraordinary; waking, he still felt on a cloud. If put before the aristocrats, it would sell like hotcakes.

“Awake?” A bowl of sweet soup bumped his nose.

Hearing his voice, Shen remembered he’d come to see Xiao Yuanzheng; he sprang up in a roll.

Xiao dragged a chair to the couch, reading by a shaft of spring light. “You slept so long—how much did you drink?”

“The flavor was excellent—smoothly intoxicating. I’ll bring some for you next time.” He smiled sheepishly, sleep-creases faint on his cheek.

Xiao neither refused nor agreed—that meant he wanted it. Shen tallied joyfully in his head: if the Emperor loved it, brand it “Imperial Wine,” and double the price again.

“The Youth Palace exhibition was well done today, but most who came were still from the old gates. As if only these counted as people. Life is indeed richer in the capital than other prefectures, but what I planned before… was too much a leap to the skies.”

He laid out his thoughts; Xiao listened keenly, interjecting only when fit. Between a word and a phrase, some castles-in-the-air took on form. When Shen’s mind drifted again, Xiao rolled the scroll and tapped his palm—recalling him. “I hear you met Xiao Yuanxi and the others?”

Shen was surprised. “Yes. You knew? I didn’t stir trouble.”

“Stirring or not matters little.”

Shen thought. “You invited them to the palace feast?”

“Mm. A knock or two.” Xiao crossed one leg. “Take the capital’s reins—and many become too mild.”

“Wow.” Shen thought he looked impossibly handsome saying such “cool lines.”

Xiao burst out laughing; the earlier edge vanished. “What?”

“Boss, hugging your thigh is too comfortable. Be Emperor for life—and shield your little brother.” The strongest system bond in history—task, done without pain. Who could be luckier?

Xiao laughed in exasperation. “Shen Qinghe—could you hold a serious thought in that head?”

“Heh.” Shen braced both hands on the couch. “Before you took the throne, you must have longed for this day. Emperor, great minister—so much glory; surely it would be all spring breezes and no worries. Now your wish is fulfilled, and it’s not what you imagined. Every day is tedious; in word and deed you must always mind others. A misstep and you offend this one or provoke that—very troublesome.” A light wind wafted his loosely scattered hair. “So—when spring fully comes, I plan to go south.”

Xiao’s smile froze. “…You’re leaving?”

“Yup.”

“…”

“What, can’t bear it?” Shen laughed; his brows and eyes were clear. At the court’s edge, many were chained under family honor and rank; he alone had always been free—a bird.

Startled, Xiao looked aside at the sway of the youth’s shoe. “How long will you be gone?”

The impulse had come suddenly; Shen hadn’t thought it through. When he crossed into this world he’d been a student; here, he’d done greater things with his head tied to his belt. Now the great work was finished—time for a holiday.

“First to Changzhou; those enterprises have been free-running. Then to pay respects to Mother—and it’s been long since I’ve seen Grandfather; he must miss me. Lanting has fair waters and hills. In Xiapu they say a meteor fell—jade arcs scattered. Now’s just the season to catch…” The world was vast; he had so many places to go. He ticked them off on his fingers; Xiao listened and felt he wanted nothing—and wanted everything.

A palm fell over his and pressed them down. Xiao’s eyes fixed on his. His voice sank: “You really wish to leave the capital so much?”

Shen, surprised at the strength of it, blinked. “Is… that not allowed?”

“You are now Director of the Academy Court.”

“Ah…” Does the Director get leave?

Xiao seemed to deflate, hand to brow, and waved the other weakly. “Very well. Go, then.”

Fair enough—the realm was rebuilding; a month’s leave was scant. Shen did not bear a sinecure. Factions bristled; clans were gathered—none easy to handle. If he truly walked away, Xiao would have one less arm to lean on.

“Sigh, I dreamed too sweetly—forgot how hard the days are. Brother Xiao, just now you were joking.”

Xiao still held his brow—but his voice rose. “Already decided not to go?”

Shen sighed. “Private interest must yield to public good. However dull the capital—I have friends with me.”

“…Mm.”

Shen caught the point. He had just been all smiles, and at “leaving” had not looked pleased at all.

With a clatter he flopped back. “Truly—being with a sovereign is like being with a tiger. His Majesty changes face on a whim—how is a man to live.”

Xiao held his tongue—then threw the scroll at him. Shen played up the pain with an “ow.” “Whose face? Who else dares be so unruly in Hanchang Hall—don’t you know your place?”

Clutching his chest, Shen played tame. “I know, I know—Brother Xiao treats me well; I’ll be forever grateful.”

Xiao decided he had too much leisure to think up nonsense and waved a command like a ruthless capitalist. “Save the sweet talk for later. A mountain of rubbish memorials on the desk—come help read.”

Shen howled and played dead on the couch.

Xiao patted his cheek. “Hurry.”

…

He read in the palace three straight days—one batch of memorials sent off, another arrived—most without meat. From a mountain of useless words they pulled two useful lines and sent replies. Shen truly suffered.

Xiao would not let him go—eat and sleep in Hanchang Hall. Unexpectedly, the Lantern Festival palace banquet offered a breath.

He sent for his official robe and changed layer by layer with palace maids’ help. Shen yawned lazily and glanced back—Xiao leaned against the screen watching. He had changed to dark robes; coils of tight dragon roundels rose from hem to chest. Shen’s eyes were greedy—majestic.

Xiao waved a hand before his eyes. “Stunned?”

“Mighty. Overbearing.” Shen shot a thumbs-up.

Xiao tilted a smile, looking him up and down. “You, on the other hand, are improperly dazzling.”

The palace women hid their amusement. Improper? They had never seen a pair of such striking, vivid lord and minister. Moreover, His Majesty and Young Lord Shen had good hearts; serving in Hanchang Hall was a plum posting.

The palace had many fine things. The elder sisters were generous, hanging gold and jade to his belt like spending water. He looked into the bronze mirror—tongue clicking. He stole a glance at Xiao. “Well, I’ll go ahead. You’re the Emperor—should come last.” He could guess seven or eight tenths of why the feast had summoned the clan back to the capital—time to play the Emperor’s card.

“No need. We go together.” Xiao casually motioned for another jade gui to be hung.

Shen: “Uh…? Somehow… feels odd.”

“Nothing odd.” Xiao glanced at him. “You’re my own appointment. Who will know?”

“That’s true.” Shen’s brows eased—then pinched again. “Why does it sound like I’m freeloading?”

“Come.” Xiao tugged his sleeve. Funny, really—Emperor with few trinkets; a subordinate jingling all the way—frugal indeed.

They stepped out, flanked by palace ranks. Ahead stood the arranged rows of clan and ministers, straightening hems to bow. Speaking to a thousand never made him nervous—but such eyes from all sides still dampened his palms.

Nine palace gates opened in succession. Closest to him, Xiao walked unhurried. How he had been in the Northwest—so he was now. On the surface, the capital spoke harmony; in private, the whisperers said “nature hard to shift”—the new sovereign would continue the Xiao line’s old road and end poorly. He might have heard these gusts—but he only chuckled and never set them in his eyes.

Shen admired him. In the Northwest, he commanded countless respect and love; in the tents, he was the spine; wherever he went, all eyes followed—the slayer of the rebel prince, all the more. Such a man was born for great works.

And this man turned to say, “The imperial physicians say your spleen and stomach are weak. Don’t touch the cold dishes at table—especially wine.” He emphasized the last. “After, I’ll have them make you yuanxiao.”

“As you command.”

Xiao shot him a look—light and heavy.

Shen nearly choked on a laugh.

Not to mention—besides, they had a fine friendship.

If it was for Xiao Yuanzheng, he would gladly give his all in aid.

At that time, Shen did not yet know what obstacles the future might bring. He only looked forward. As the ministers lowered their eyes, he and Xiao stepped shoulder to shoulder—forward.

The long way lay level; their steps were slow—and firm.

Three chimes; the bell called the carriage.

The sun neared its fall; the new moon had arrived.

The End.

Footnotes:

1. “Director of the Academy Court” (司成令): A high scholarly-administrative post in the fictional Yong, overseeing education and examinations, echoing historical roles like the Hanlin or Imperial Academy leadership. 
2. “Youth Palace” exhibition: A state-sponsored showcase for young scholars and artisans; here it highlights the tension between open merit and entrenched gate-keeping by great clans. 
3. “Qi/Chang factions”: Two court blocs standing in for shifting power alignments at court; not direct historical references but analogous to literati vs. aristocrat factions in imperial China. 
4. “Jade gui” (玉圭): A ceremonial jade tablet, symbol of rank and authority, hung as ornament in court attire. 
5. “Yuanxiao” (元宵): Sweet glutinous rice dumplings eaten at the Lantern Festival; the Emperor’s dietary warning ties to traditional Chinese medicine notions of spleen/stomach weakness.