Chapter 333: Saving the Mansion from Collapsing (Requesting Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 333: Averting the Fall of the Grand Building (Seeking Monthly Votes)

After Mr. Yue Ming and Mr. Zhuo Ying had reached an agreement, they set off on their respective missions.

One ventured to the Censorate, another to the Prefect’s Office, while Ma Guan was instructed to pay a visit to Chen Yi at the Xiao family residence.

The three, accompanied by a throng of scholars from the academy, flooded out of the prestigious Yun Cloud Academy like a tide.

Beneath the gloomy clouds, a river of people flowed south along Kangning Street.

At the intersection of Chuanxi Street, they split into smaller groups, then divided again at Zhennan Street, forming two clusters stationed outside the Censorate and the Prefect’s Office.

In the meantime, scholars, having heard the news, arrived in numbers.

Mingling with the ignorant masses, they sought to uncover what had transpired in the previous night.

Li Si, tormented by the commotion, could not reveal the existence of the White Tiger Guard, so he summoned the Execution Commission to intervene.

The commissioners of the Execution Office, too, found themselves in a bind.

After much deliberation, the matter was referred to the authority of the red-sleeved official.

She adjusted her sleeves, gripped the hilt of her blade, and approached the gate of the Prefect’s Office with a stern demeanor.

After scanning the surroundings, she bellowed in a grave voice:

“This is a sacred precinct! All idle folk, depart at once!”

The four executioners accompanying her stood frozen, glancing sideways at her with a mixture of awe and embarrassment.

“The great landowner’s courage is truly admirable…”

Indeed, she was bold.

Yet bolder still were the scholars around her.

A gentleman from Yun Cloud Academy stepped forward from the crowd, bowed respectfully, and declared:

“Master Lingcheng of our Yun Cloud Academy has been detained by the Execution Commission. May I ask under what law he was arrested?”

“This is a matter of utmost secrecy; no explanation shall be given!”

“How then dares you arrest men?”

“The evidence is irrefutable!”

“What evidence?”

“No explanation shall be given…”

Facing over a hundred scholars, the red-sleeved official stood firm, offering not a single word of explanation.

The gentleman grew agitated.

“If you do not provide us with an answer today, we shall not depart!”

“Indeed, we shall not!”

“Well then, let us see what the Execution Commission is capable of…”

Upon hearing this, the red-sleeved official’s brow furrowed deeply, her fingers tightening around the blade’s hilt, clearly vexed by these scholars’ insolence.

Yet she could not yield.

Most of these scholars held official posts and wielded considerable family influence; any clash with them would bring her no small trouble.

She was forced to buy time, all the while internally berating the powerful commissioners.

Meanwhile, outside the Censorate’s gate, the situation was far more tranquil.

Chen Guan, though clad in official robes, displayed none of the Censorate’s dignity.

He lounged on the steps of the gate, chatting and laughing with those nearby.

“All of you have studied the classics; surely you’ve heard of the admonitions ‘Do not speak in the presence of the unholy’ and ‘Do not look upon the unholy’?”

“Maintain silence; when your master emerges, there will be news.”

“Censor-in-chief, might you tell us what has occurred?”

“What has occurred? I am also in the dark.”

“Then… you might step out…”

Chen Guan waved dismissively, smiling: “The air within the gate is foul; I’ve come out to breathe fresh air.”

“This…”

“Don’t linger. Either disperse now and return to your homes, or remain silent until news arrives.”

He cared little for what these scholars were up to; he simply knew that staying outside was preferable to remaining within the gate.

Of course, he could not reveal the truth to these scholars.

Not until the dust settled could he speak.

Lest some calamity befall them—should they flee or perish—it might bring trouble to those within the gate.

Chen Guan dealt with the surrounding clamor while occasionally casting glances toward the Censorate’s gate.

In truth, he took a grim satisfaction in the unfolding events.

Li Hong, unlike Zhuao, was the Provincial Governor of Shuzhou; his intellect, skill, and lineage surpassed Zhuao’s in every way.

Zhuao had stumbled into a trap set by the White Tiger Guard through his own folly.

Li Hong, however, had seen his prospects crumble as his subordinates were systematically dismantled by Chen Yi, his downfall sealed by a single man.

What intrigued Chen Guan was this: Li Hong likely remained ignorant of “Li Wu’s” true identity even until his death.

Such a death shrouded in mystery, how could it fail to amuse him?

As Chen Guan pondered these thoughts, a calm voice echoed behind him:

“Censor Chen.”

He turned.

His eyes widened as he saw Liu Hong standing on the steps outside the Censorate, gazing down at him.

Well, that was that.

Though Liu Hong wore a magnificent red official’s robe and black jade belt, his appearance had undergone a dramatic transformation.

His once-thick hair was now nearly white, neatly gathered and coiffed, his topknot secured with a hairpin at the back, his face etched with deep wrinkles, revealing the countenance of an aged man.

Most striking were his eyes, clouded and weary, like those of a withered elder suffering from a grave illness.

Chen Guan blinked in surprise as Liu Hong’s face twisted into a smile—half-laughing, half-not.

“Censor Chen, you’re blocking my path.”

Chen Guan straightened, bowed slightly, and replied, “Lord Liu.”

Liu Hong glanced at him and said, “Censor Chen, kindness to the people is a noble thing, yet remember this.”

“You serve as Censor-in-chief; as an official, you must uphold dignity. Excessive humility and adherence to propriety invite contempt from ruffians.”

Chen Guan hesitated, meeting Liu’s gaze.

“The Lord instructs me.”

Liu nodded, then stood with hands clasped behind his back, walking directly into the crowd.

He was lean, his breath faint, yet he seemed to possess the strength of ten thousand jin.

Each step he took caused a dozen people directly in his path to step aside, bowing low in greeting.

In fewer than ten steps, Liu Hong had waded through the crowd, heading toward the East Market.

The scholars and commoners gathered outside the Bureau of Land Administration remained silent, no longer the clamorous rabble they had been moments before.

Not a single soul dared meet his gaze.

Only when Liu Hong had walked far enough away did they dare speak, their voices barely a whisper.

“Governor Liu… his bearing truly strikes fear.”

“I, too.”

“Why, when he glanced at me just now, I felt my strength drain away—I nearly stumbled.”

Scholars or commoners alike, they stood no chance before Liu Hong, who had cultivated his inner energy at home.

Chen Yunfan watched Liu Hong’s slow, rain-soaked figure recede into the distance, his expression peculiar.

He was certain that this Liu Hong’s prowess surpassed even his former self, though the old man’s form was undeniably worn.

That bearing—he had only witnessed such a presence in three individuals:

Chen Xuanji, the patriarch of the Chen family, and Chen Zhu, the censor.

The second was composed, unruffled as one who drifts through deep waters.

The third, Chen Xuanji, was different—imperious, as though the world itself had ceased to hold meaning for him.

All things, all people, were beneath his notice.

Though Liu Hong’s demeanor had been calm, Chen Yunfan frowned, his mind elsewhere.

He turned away from the scholars, stride firm, and entered the Bureau’s gate.

Li Huigu approached swiftly.

He gave no greeting, merely sought to pass.

Chen Yunfan grasped his arm.

“Huigu, where are you off to?”

Li Huigu wrenched free, but to his surprise, Chen Yunfan held him fast.

“My apologies, brother Chen, I must hurry—I have urgent matters.”

“To follow Liu?”

“Yes… er, how did you know?”

Chen Yunfan released him without answering, pointing eastward.

“Go after him, quickly.”

Li Huigu rubbed his wrist, and without further delay, sprinted in the direction indicated.

Chen Yunfan glanced once, then hurried toward Yang Ye.

He sought answers about Liu Hong’s strange behavior.

Past the side chambers, he entered the main hall, where Yang Ye and Yue Ming-sheng conversed in hushed tones.

“…The late Liu Po-mo must have learned of this matter.”

“I, too, never imagined the arrests last night would tie to him. Lingchuan… a pity.”

“Wicked deeds breed ruin, and Po-mo—long ago, at the Mid-Autumn Poetry Gathering, I sensed his discord with Lingchuan.”

“Do you recall?”

Yue Ming-sheng paused, then nodded slowly.

“That night, a scholar from Lingchuan’s academy spoke sharply. Lingchuan, intentional or not, offered Po-mo a few words.”

Yang Ye sighed.

“In hindsight, the signs were there.”

He glanced toward the door, saw Chen Yunfan, and gestured him in.

“Tell me, where did he go?”

Chen Yunfan entered, bowing lightly as if merely to listen.

Yue Ming-sheng glanced at him.

“Let him go. Escape or wander, I care not. We cannot stop him.”

Yang Ye bowed in agreement.

Uncertain, Chen Yunfan asked, “What did Governor Liu say before leaving?”

Yang Ye hesitated, then sighed.

“He spoke, yet it was in riddles.”

“He said, ‘To stand tall, one must harden the heart. He failed here, and thus fell to this fate.’”

“Harden the heart?”

Yue Ming-sheng added, “Po-mo also said, ‘The younger generation may prove formidable—but who is he?’”

Chen Yi.

Chen Yunfan’s mind seized the name, his brow furrowing.

“Where is Liu Hong going?”

Yang Ye and Yue Ming-sheng shook their heads.

“Unknown…”

Chen Yunfan’s face darkened.

Yet his feet rooted firm, refusing to chase Liu Hong.

He understood.

If Liu Hong truly sought to ensnare Chen Yi, it would be his own undoing.

Little Yi, my nephew, come watch the spectacle. Do not disappoint your uncle.

In truth, no one foresaw Liu Hong’s design—nor did he himself.

From the Bureau’s gate, he walked eastward, then veered south at the alley’s end in the East Market.

Rain fell steadily, wind howled, yet he moved with the ease of one sweet to honey, unhurried through the throng.

Occasionally, he nodded at those bowing; rarely did he linger.

Yet when something caught his eye, he paused, watching.

Sometimes he’d sit like an old man, chatting with common folk—sharing tales of the past, discussing present hardships.

“Grain prices need not rise—the magistrate will clamp down on merchants.”

“The coming festival brings peace and prosperity.”

“Your son studies hard. If funds are tight, I have some silver coins. Let him attend a private school for a year.”

When Li Huigu found him, Liu Hong handed silver to an elderly woman.

He glanced at the child, patting his head, then waved at Li Huigu.

Once the younger man approached, Liu Hong turned westward, his coat trailing.

Even here, amidst the pleasure quarters of the southern city, Liu Hong maintained an appreciative demeanor, looking for all the world like a mere traveler.

Strolling about, taking everything in.

Li Huaigu followed half a step behind him, keeping pace with every movement.

It was not until the two of them rounded Spring Rain Pavilion and turned northward that Liu Hong finally spoke:

"Since this old man was promoted to Provincial Governor, I have lacked the leisure to look closely at this city."

"Not that I was unwilling, but rather that my gaze was fixed forward, and ever upward; it became difficult to lower my eyes to look at the ground beneath my feet."

Li Huaigu was slightly taken aback, at a loss for words.

Paying him no mind, Liu Hong murmured to himself, "This old man is like you, the third-ranked scholar of the fifth year of the Anhe era."

"I was twenty-seven then. In a flash, sixteen years have passed, and this old man went from the Capital Prefecture to Jizhou, and from Jizhou back to Shuzhou."

"It took a full twelve years before I finally sat in the seat of the Provincial Governor."

Looking at the houses growing gradually shorter on either side, he said with quite some emotion, "It seems fast, a stroke of good fortune, but in truth, it falls far short of certain others."

"To speak not of the distant, but of the near—take the Residence of the Marquis of Dingyuan."

"Xiao Fengchun is a mere martial artist, yet relying solely on his lineage and bloodline, he easily attained the rank of Marquis."

"He, you see, can effortlessly obtain what the likes of us strive a lifetime for, while we so often strive a lifetime only in vain."

"How unjust is that?"

Though complaints laced the words, Liu Hong's tone remained unvarying, as if he were merely recounting a perfectly ordinary matter.

"Therefore, since coming to Shuzhou, this old man has had no eyes for anyone else, aiming only to be the 'first' among my peers."

"Even more, to erase the gap between the Liu family of Jingzhou and the Xiao family."

"Regrettably, this old man has failed..."

Hearing his words, Li Huaigu felt nothing but a profound shaking in his heart.

This was the first time he had heard Liu Hong's past in such explicit detail.

Even if he had heard rumors before, none carried the shock of Liu Hong speaking them with his own lips at this moment.

As if sensing something, Liu Hong turned his head to look at him, smiling as he asked, "Counsellor Li, do you have an ambition?"

Recovering himself, Li Huaigu hesitated, "This lower official studied from youth for the sake of..."

Liu Hong raised a hand to cut him off, "To save the mansion as it collapses, to rescue the myriad citizens from fire and water?"

"Yes."

"Heh, this old man once did too."

Li Huaigu froze for a moment, looking at him in astonishment.

Liu Hong smiled, withdrew his gaze, and paused on Chuanxi Street to look eastward toward the Xiao family estate, asking:

"But have you ever thought, in times of peace and prosperity under heaven, how many common people need saving? If the mansion does not fall, no matter how great your abilities, how much of them can you actually deploy?"

"Even if you compare yourself to the ancient sages and capable ministers of old, you can only bend your back to the trivial affairs of the marketplace."

"This is the ultimate destination of our generation of scholars."

As Liu Hong spoke, he began walking toward the Xiao estate, the mirth in his voice vanishing piece by piece.

"Counsellor Li, come, follow along, and bear witness for this old man."

Li Huaigu watched him walk forward with steady strides, yet his own feet felt as though they were poured full of lead.

It was not until Liu Hong had walked more than ten paces that he gritted his teeth and followed.

However, within his heart, he continuously denied what Liu Hong had just said.

Scholars in a prosperous age could still be capable ministers, could still act for the common people, and protect a region.

A chaotic age... to hell with a chaotic age!

When Li Huaigu was young, it happened to be a time of barbarian invasion; he had seen nine out of ten households left empty, and he had seen the white funerary silk hanging before every gate in the alleys.

If one were to deliberately do things against the ultimate principles of the sages just to display talent and rival the ancient wise men, it would be worse than acting like a beast.

Liu Hong naturally cared nothing for whatever thoughts Li Huaigu held; arriving outside the Xiao estate, he smoothed his robes and called out clearly into the vermilion gates:

"Liu Hong of the Provincial Governor's Office comes to visit Marquis Xiao."

The voice carried inside the gates, and the third steward, Lu Guan, without a moment's hesitation, hurriedly opened the main door and clasped his hands:

"Lord Liu."

Liu Hong nodded with a smile, "Trouble yourself to announce me."

"Please wait a moment, Lord Liu, I shall go at once..."

Before long, from within the Quiet Residence came the voice of Old Master Xiao.

"Invite him in."

Lu Guan received the command, came to the front yard, and led Liu Hong and Li Huaigu all the way toward the Quiet Residence.

Along the path, armored guards and servants all bore solemn expressions.

Liu Hong looked past them as if they were nothing, walking ahead with complete composure.

The pattering rain, imperceptibly growing a bit heavier, struck the tiles atop the long corridor.

The pitter-patter sound echoed endlessly.

Within the Spring Lotus Garden.

Chen Yi had already sensed it; he turned his head to look over, a smile hooking the corner of his mouth.

"This one arrives, it seems, quite early."