EES - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Recently, a change had become noticeable throughout Xuan's court, not only to the veteran ministers but even to the laziest officials.

Or rather, precisely because they were so lethargic, they could feel the change all the more keenly.

The young emperor, who had previously sat upon the high throne knowing nothing at all, suddenly began managing state affairs one day. That day, strictly speaking, was also the day the emperor first turned her attention to the imperial examinations. None of them took it seriously, assuming it was merely a sudden whim.

Yet every day thereafter, as edicts continued to pour down, the Three Departments, the Six Ministries, and the Twenty-Four Sub-Bureaus suddenly found themselves unusually busy.

Deputy Director Huang Yu of the Ministry of Revenue was perhaps the first to notice the workload creeping up on him, like water slowly heating around a frog.

On the first day, he simply received tasks passed down layer by layer from above. They were much like usual assignments, with the sole difference being a new deadline: 'must be completed today.'

Huang Yu thought this posed no difficulty. He carried on as usual, slacking off in the morning with a little casual work, taking a short nap after lunch, and chatting with colleagues for a while in the afternoon before resuming his duties.

But...

He had badly misjudged how much he could get done.

Normally, Huang Yu's tasks were rarely urgent. He would clock out right on time, leaving the rest for the next day without issue. Breaking work into segments gave him a false sense of ease regarding 'handling this amount of official business.' Consequently, when he started dragging his feet today, he lost track of time entirely. By the scheduled hour to leave office, he had not finished, with over half the workload remaining.

And these assignments demanded completion within the day.

Huang Yu might have been a slacker, but his caution was equally genuine. He dared not risk delaying important matters and causing serious consequences.

What else could he do? To fulfill his duties, Huang Yu stayed behind after hours, rushing to clear the backlog. He barely managed to submit everything within the stipulated timeframe.

When Huang Yu returned home that evening, he noticed many familiar colleagues living nearby arriving back much later than usual. Upon asking around, he learned they were all in the same boat. He even heard that numerous officials from the Ministry of Justice had received orders to retry certain cases from recent days due to wrongful or missed judgments.

On that first day, Huang Yu assumed it was merely an isolated incident, and his mindset remained relatively stable.

The next morning, after breakfast, Huang Yu went to the office. The moment he sat down, a colleague approached with a complicated expression and placed a stack of documents on his desk. "This is for today."

At that point, a bad feeling began to stir in Huang Yu's mind.

He opened the documents and indeed saw the same directive: must be processed and submitted today.

Huang Yu dared not slack off as he had the day before. He took the work more seriously, starting as soon as it arrived so he could finish it first and relax afterward.

By the time he finished all the assignments, only fifteen minutes remained before he could clock out. The workload was clearly greater than the day before.

A sense of crisis triggered alarms in his mind. He quietly observed his colleagues' workloads, noting their words and actions when they left office. He himself carefully avoided any discussion, shelving his previous habit of drifting, and handled slightly more work each day.

Day three, day four, day five... Each day brought a subtle increase in assignments. Thanks to the life-and-death pace of those few days, his processing speed improved accordingly, allowing him to barely cope.

As these days passed, Huang Yu noticed that across the Six Ministries, including the Twenty-Four Sub-Bureaus, aside from the top ministers whose positions remained unchanged, personnel shifts were rapid. Almost every day brought a new look: demotions here, promotions there. Some were inexplicably transferred to local posts, while others were suddenly caught embezzling or abusing power for personal gain, leading to their arrest and detention.

After a few days, Huang Yu unexpectedly received an edict promoting him from Deputy Director of the Thirteen Sub-Bureaus under the Ministry of Revenue to Department Director.

His wife and children were overjoyed, preparing a lavish dinner to celebrate. Huang Yu, however, felt not a shred of happiness.

Through days of covert observation, he vaguely sensed that the sovereign above was sifting through something. He had apparently passed the test, which was why he was retained and promoted. But would this screening stop after this wave of personnel changes? He did not know what the newly enthroned emperor truly intended, but his instinct to avoid danger and seek safety told him that the times were about to change.

In fact, it was exactly as they suspected.

An Lin's current project could be summed up in a single phrase: "weeding out the dead weight."

After all, new talent had not yet entered the pool. Even with the examination results released, this round would only yield about a dozen usable individuals. The current court still had to rely on the original staff to hold things together, so An Lin planned to screen a batch of capable people first.

Potential was like water in a sponge; you only knew if it was there by squeezing.

For some officials, applying pressure could unlock their potential, making them useful for the time being. An Lin assigned them different ranks and tasks based on how much stress they could bear.

Others, however, were solid sponges: they slacked off because they were truly incompetent, with nothing useful to wring out of them. An Lin would either assign them to local posts or uncover charges and deal with them accordingly.

After half a month of such efforts, An Lin finally felt somewhat satisfied looking at the newly updated Register of Officials.

As for the suspicious discrepancy between her past and present methods... An Lin certainly hadn't forgotten to address it. Under her deliberate guidance, the entire court now believed she had previously been intentionally concealing her abilities. Her feigned ignorance of state affairs was merely a ruse to observe which ministers harbored hidden agendas, so she could record and settle scores later.

After all, before Junming's two older brothers and his father had passed away, they had hardly interacted with Junming, who was then just a leisurely prince, and knew little about him.

During these days at court, watching the shifting glances and expressions of the ministers in response to her edicts, An Lin felt that if they had a private group chat, they would surely be flooding it with messages.

The content would roughly read: [His Majesty previously seemed like a naive simpleton, who could have imagined his thoughts were so profound? Truly terrifying!]

Just thinking about it made An Lin want to laugh.

"Your Majesty," Grand Secretary Song Jinyuan, who had been kept behind for deliberations, sighed helplessly. "You have moved too much this time. The councilors of the Bureau of Memorials, battalion officers, vice-directors of the Left Remonstrance Office, regimental commanders of the Vanguard Camp, vice-ministers of the Chancellery... Once these positions shift, the handover of power within them will cause confusion for quite some time, exerting a considerable impact on the provinces as well."

"It's fine. I'm just scaring them," An Lin replied lightly.

Grand Secretary Song grew even more exasperated.

Out of respect for high-stat talent, and secretly unwilling to let these veteran ministers retire, An Lin would always politely invite a few Grand Secretaries to consult whenever she planned to rotate positions.

Of course, even if they disagreed, An Lin would always nod on the spot, saying, "All right, all right. I'll think it over some more," only to draft and dispatch the transfer orders afterward. Ironically, those being rotated were not immovable; the elders themselves agreed changes were necessary, just not at this precise moment.

Thus, An Lin's behavior planted a psychological suggestion in the veteran ministers: [His Majesty possesses the talent to govern, but he is too young and hasty. How can the realm survive without us?]

Take Grand Secretary Song, for instance.

The retirement plans he had made half a month ago were long forgotten. Hearing An Lin's light tone filled him with even greater concern than he had felt back when the emperor had shown no political aptitude at all.

Just as he was about to speak, the emperor seemed to anticipate his words and deftly changed the subject. "By the way, today is the day the results are posted, isn't it?"

"...Yes." Grand Secretary Song nodded hesitantly, deeply fearing another of the emperor's bizarre tactics, such as suddenly deciding to make them put on a talent show in the palace to determine the rankings.

"Did you discover any particularly noteworthy talents while reviewing the answer sheets this time?" An Lin asked.

The question was asked earnestly. Song Jinyuan recalled and answered carefully. "There is a scholar named Yang Sheng, whose literary talent is exceptionally outstanding. Though I need hardly mention it, Your Majesty likely already knows he is this year's Top Scholar of the Metropolitan Examination."

"...Aside from this scholar, there is another named Liu Guanglin. His policy essays are slightly weaker, but possess a touch of ingenuity. The method of land redistribution he proposed in his writing, though fanciful and impractical, could perhaps be adapted and applied in certain special regions after minor revisions."

"Oh?" An Lin became interested. "It seems you appreciate this scholar highly, Minister Song."

Song Jinyuan did not hide his admiration, speaking openly. "His poetry and prose suit my taste. His style is so versatile that he seems like a different poet every time. He can write both delicate and heroic verse, truly a heaven-sent literary prodigy. I wonder how many trials he has endured at such a young age to gather so much insight."

Coming from a Grand Secretary, those words were extraordinary praise for a young scholar.

Listening to this, An Lin fell into deep thought.

Versatile style, one person a thousand faces. This description sounded... Why did it evoke such a subtle sense of déjà vu?

An Lin pondered for a moment before asking, "Minister Song, do you still remember the poems that scholar wrote? Why not recite one for me to hear?"

Song Jinyuan recited a few lines of poetry.

Hmm... The verses sounded utterly unfamiliar. They were not by Li Bai, Du Fu, Su Shi, or Wang Anshi, nor any other poem An Lin recognized. Had she guessed wrong?

Moreover, although An Lin lacked extensive expertise in poetic appreciation, simply reading it aloud a few times revealed that it was genuinely excellent.

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