Chapter 10: Admonition

Although Zhou Zhicheng’s plan was extremely stinky, his reasoning had some merit. Xu Shaohu quickly instructed the censors to submit a memorial, citing the emperor’s edict and urging all officials to emulate the emperor’s virtues and be diligent and frugal. 

The faction of the “pure stream” followed suit, and within a few days, they made quite a stir.

This approach was clear: it aimed to suppress the extravagant behavior of Yan Fenyi, using the guise of frugality as a tool. With the emperor’s decree backing it, Yan Fenyi was unlikely to respond.

However, when this wave of pressure reached the emperor, it did not stir up any significant response. The Feixuan Zhenjun merely flipped through the memorials before asking Li Zaifang:

“Has Yan Fenyi reacted?”

Li Zaifang respectfully knelt and reported, “Yan Ge Lao has been reclusive these past few days. Since returning to his residence, he hasn’t seen anyone, only inviting the Imperial Physician for a check-up. Even while ill, he’s been writing about his experiences with medicinal pills.”

Feixuan Zhenjun intended to smile but inadvertently pulled at the white cloth on his nose, twisting his expression slightly.

Although he had issued an edict stripping Yan Fenyi of his position, it was only due to the ridiculous theories in the demon book, with the anger directed at Goryeo, not a personal grievance against Yan. Now, the old official was serving the nation, diligently studying elixirs, and this immediately restored some of the Zhenjun’s favorable feelings.

That said, he didn’t mind the pure stream’s advice. The Zhenjun’s public persona was that of a ruler who wore only a handful of outfits each season, loving the people with frugality and humility, never daring to outshine the emperor. 

Now, someone was creating momentum, urging all officials to look up to the emperor’s great virtues, which would only enhance the emperor’s image. He was naturally pleased to see this and might even reward the pure stream to encourage their enthusiasm.

To make this clear, the Zhenjun spoke:

“I see no harm in the ministers of the cabinet. All are loyal, no traitors here! In the future, such memorials may be sent directly to the Office of the Imperial Censors.”

After deposing the Prime Minister, the emperor had taken over all administrative affairs, handling countless matters daily. However, throughout history, no emperor had the energy to review each memorial personally. Most official memorials were sent to the Cabinet or the Office of the Censors for review, with a simple acknowledgment such as “Noted.” 

Now that the emperor had personally read through these memorials, it was indeed an extraordinary honor.

Li Zaifang bowed and accepted the order. The emperor then asked:

“Have you found any clues with the people I instructed you to assign?”

Li Zaifang carefully reported, but the circles in the Beijing were so small that there was little news to share. 

The emperor casually listened to a few lines before dismissing him with a wave, adjusting his robes, and resuming his meditation. This left Li Zaifang feeling perplexed. Compared to the emperor’s earlier aggressive and erratic behavior in the Qingliang Hall, this calm and composed demeanor was bewildering—it felt as though a different person had taken the throne.

Where had the frenzy of urging him to monitor the high-ranking officials gone? How was he supposed to carry out the work now?

Feixuan Zhenjun might have understood Li Zaifang’s thoughts, but he didn’t care to address them. Over the past few days, the Zhenjun had gritted his teeth and repeatedly reviewed the demon book. 

After enduring the mental assault of its wild criticism, he had gradually unraveled some details. 

Although the demon book insulted him in the harshest terms, it wasn’t personally targeted at him. In fact, the book seemed to indiscriminately attack all living things, pouring out its resentful anger. Especially in the chapters labeled “Morning Shift” and “Forced Overtime,” the rage was so intense it could have struck the dogs raised in the Western Garden.

He wondered what kind of experience the exiled Zhenjun had gone through to harbor such deep resentment—was it even deeper than that of an ancient suppressed demon?

Feixuan Zhenjun was skilled in compromise. If someone personally insulted him and his family, he would certainly be furious and have the offender executed on the spot. However, if the insult was aimed at the entire court and the people, the Zhenjun would self-soothe, feeling that it wasn’t such a big deal—since it wasn’t directly targeting him, it didn’t threaten his imperial authority. As long as it didn’t threaten his rule, everything else was negotiable.

Moreover, the book also held a three-part hope for imortality through dissolution, which he couldn’t completely ignore.

A significant portion of the book’s content was smeared with ink, with annotations suggesting that this was done to follow “privacy rules” and hide sensitive information. 

The emperor couldn’t understand what “privacy rules” meant but guessed that the book was deliberately concealing the identity of its author. Out of respect for the unknown powers of an Zhenjun, Feixuan Zhenjun hesitated to push too hard in his investigation, fearing that it might lead to trouble.

Moreover, if one could truly take advantage of the opportunity to ascend directly to the heavenly realm, then in the future, one would be colleagues in the heavenly court. Between colleagues, it’s not good to make the relationship too strained!

Furthermore, some of the explosive information provided in the log was even more detailed than what the Imperial Guards had uncovered, and it could truly touch the Emperor’s heart. 

It had its own unique usefulness. Just the other day, when the Emperor revisited a particularly enraging part of the book, he discovered that the culprit, Di Maoyan, had used embezzled funds to buy a rare jade sculpture overseas, burying it in the courtyard for future use in securing an official position. 

The Emperor mulled over this for several days and felt that the Qingliang Hall was indeed a bit empty. It would be perfect to decorate it with such a jade statue, so he decided to promptly arrange for a house search.
·
After dismissing Li Zaifang, the Emperor leisurely took out the book, intending to further study the list of people to be investigated, including Di Maoyan and his associates. However, to his surprise, the book suddenly became warm, and a few new pages appeared:

【Today I received a report that Xu Shaohu indeed instructed someone to submit a memorial discussing frugality in governance. Sigh, no matter how much I tried to avoid it, I couldn’t escape this one.】

The Emperor raised an eyebrow and turned the page. After calming his mind, he found this “gossip-like” update rather interesting:

【In itself, there’s nothing wrong with frugality. But under the political atmosphere created by the old Taoist priest, how could it truly be feasible to implement frugal governance? The situation grew more intense, and the Yan Dang, retreating to advance, allowed the Qingliu faction to take over the finances, attempting to cut down on expenses.

Taking control of finances was certainly satisfying, but the task proved difficult. The old Taoist priest at the top wanted to use cinnabar and gold powder to write official decrees; the ceremonial office below managed the weaving bureau, and in between, there were tens of thousands of acres of farmland owned by the Xu family that needed upkeep. 

How could expenses be reduced? The Qingliu faction had no choice but to go after softer targets. The Emperor’s two sons might inherit the throne, so they dared not make any bold moves. Instead, they simply reduced Princess Si Shan’s benefits, even withholding her marriage reward…

The Emperor could not act, and the chief eunuch could not act. What was it like to bully a helpless woman? The most tragic part was that the eunuch in charge of arranging the princess’s marriage, discontent with the reduction in rewards, secretly accepted bribes from Lord Zhang Zhu of Fu’an and arranged for his ill-tempered son, Zhang Chengzu, to marry her. This became the beginning of the princess’s tragic life… I heard that many of the “divorced princesses” in later literature were inspired by this—truly a hellish joke.】

The face of Feixuan Zhenjun darkened. Of course, he didn’t care about his palace maid’s barely noticeable daughter, but the betrayal of imperial blood by an eunuch was something that still stung his pride.

【The consequences were even more severe. At the time, considering that the Emperor had already moved to the Western Garden and that the Forbidden City was full of neglected concubines, the Qingliu faction, in their resolve, cut down the palace’s expenses and drastically reduced the number of attendants. 

The result? They slashed the budget and only a year later, three of the main halls were struck by lightning and caught fire, spreading uncontrollably. 

They almost burned the old Taoist priest, who had returned to the palace for a fasting ceremony, into a roasted pig. Speaking of which, the old Taoist priest had a strange connection to fire. He had been burned three times over the past ten years, yet miraculously escaped each time. 

Perhaps the Fire God in Heaven would also be astonished by how difficult it was to kill him…

By the way, it’s said that this fire nearly affected the Great Canon, I…

“According to privacy regulations, the following content is not displayed”】

The Emperor’s face quickly turned sinister. If betraying a princess only hurt the Zhenjun’s pride, the fire disaster had struck at his most terrifying weakness—he had spent a lifetime cultivating, was it only to improve the texture of roasted pig?

Once personal safety was involved, the Zhenjun’s reaction was extraordinarily sharp. He suddenly turned his head and glared fiercely at the pile of memorials sent by Qingliu, his eyes almost shooting sparks.

He had made up his mind—today, he must find errors in these memorials and send a few of these Qingliu scoundrels to Yunnan to watch elephants grind their teeth!

He took a long breath, stretched out his hand, and poked at the book, hoping to see more. The book seemed to have “touch control” because normally, a poke would change something.

But this time, the book rejected him, repeatedly displaying the same message:

【Contains private content; request invalid; please do not click again】

【Contains private content; request invalid; please do not click again】

【Click limit exceeded, server overloaded, please try again later】

The Emperor finally lost his patience. “I command you to respond!”

【Server overloaded; please try again later】

“I, Feixuan Zhenjun, Qingmiao Emperor, Ten Thousand Years Emperor, command you to respond!”

The book was silent for a moment.

【The system cannot remember so many names】

The Emperor was furious, clicking madly, poking and pinching. After a while, the text in the book finally changed.

【Click limit exceeded, server roasting 404 not found, preparing to roast again…]

In the end, the enraged Zhenjun still didn’t get any coherent response.

·
After several failed attempts, the weak server of the system finally crashed. After several futile attempts to restart, the system automatically pulled up the most frequently mentioned names from the logs and tried again.

That evening, after dinner, Xu Ge Lao dismissed his attendants and sat alone in a quiet room, deep in thought. This was the “self-reflection” technique he had learned from Yangming’s philosophy, requiring him to review his actions before bed to identify and rectify mistakes.

But for some reason, tonight he felt unusually restless and couldn’t calm his mind. He opened his eyes and saw a flash of white light. An old book fell from the sky, landing perfectly in front of him.

As a seasoned scholar of decades, Xu Ge Lao, despite facing this undeniable strange and supernatural occurrence, remained composed. He took a deep breath, calmed his chaotic thoughts, bowed to the heavens, and cautiously opened the cover of the book.

No matter what this omen or anomaly was, he thought, it was best to see the situation before reacting.

…A quarter of an hour later, the housekeeper brought in a bowl of ginseng soup as usual. But after knocking and entering the room, there was a loud crash, followed by a scream:

“Lord Ge, Lord Ge! Someone, quickly, Lord Ge has lost consciousness!”
·
The Xu family was thrown into chaos that night, and by the next day, the news spread like wildfire throughout the city, creating a huge stir; even the Western Garden was almost shaken by the news of his illness. 

Compared to the attention and grand spectacle surrounding the prime minister (Xiang) family, another name that appeared repeatedly in the journals seemed completely insignificant.

At the second quarter of the Wu hour, the chief palace maid of Shuhua Hall prepared hot water and sent someone to invite Princess Zhishan for a bath. 

The emperor had not seen his daughter for seven or eight years, and the servants had become neglectful, not paying much attention to her daily life. Even the palace maids in charge were unwilling to personally check on her.

Nevertheless, when the princess finally appeared, the chief palace maid was still very surprised: 

“Your Highness, why are your eyes swollen?”

“… It’s nothing,” the princess replied quietly. “My face was itchy, so I rubbed it a bit. It’s nothing serious.”

She silently took the hot towel and stopped speaking.