Chapter 6: Tasting and Evaluation

[Mu Xiaoqi: Are you there?]

A notification pinged, and the other party quickly replied.

[Seal Eats My Spear: Here. You’re finally online! Sister Fei Fei hasn’t logged in these past few days. No idea what she’s been busy with.]

[Mu Xiaoqi: She’s probably preoccupied with the northern expedition. I heard she’s already joined forces with Li Yanxian, taken full control of Shaanxi, and is preparing to retake Bianjing. It’s a major event, so I didn’t want to disturb her. I’ll have to trouble you instead.]

[Seal Eats My Spear: Another matter with the qingzi? Of course, I’ll help. But your old boss is way too pushy.]

Indeed, the pressure to produce qingzi (imperial devotional writings) was relentless, and hiring ghostwriters wasn’t an option. Left with no choice, Mu Qi decided to collaborate with Lin Li, exchanging resources and favors. Although Ge Xiang (Xiangfu Ge) practically held all power, the emperor could still afford to keep two idle literati for amusement. The era’s literary fervor and veneration of Taoism made writing qingzi a common task—one that Lin Li’s exceptional writing skill could withstand even the pickiest scrutiny.

Mu Qi typed furiously:[Mu Xiaoqi: That’s right. I need it finished within three days. It’s urgent. Oh, and I’ve found the illustrated guide on rice cultivation you wanted; I’ll send it over tomorrow.]

After a moment of hesitation, the other party replied:[Seal Eats My Spear: …Thanks. By the way, do you have any chili peppers left from last time?]

Mu Qi, stranded in this world for years, had little choice but to focus on minor innovations. 

Among his ventures was acquiring chili seeds through overseas merchants, cultivating them carefully, and selecting edible varieties. Besides keeping some for himself, he gifted many to his two close friends, earning considerable praise from his foster father.

[Mu Xiaoqi: Didn’t I just give you ten pounds last week? Are you eating them that fast?]

[Seal Eats My Spear: It’s not me eating them.]

[Seal Eats My Spear: And don’t send anything mild. I need the spiciest kind, the kind that burns at both ends.]

[Mu Xiaoqi: …What?]

[Seal Eats My Spear: You know how the Xiangfu has been letting me review memorials and learn governance lately? Well, within a few days, someone couldn’t resist scheming. A petty official from the Xiangfu’s office—surname Li—had the audacity to submit a secret memorial accusing him of “abusing power, harboring ill intentions,” and urging me to take preemptive measures. Can you believe it?]

Accusing the prime miniter Zhuge of “abusing power and harboring ill intentions”? Mu Qi’s jaw dropped. Clearly, this Li fellow’s head was in serious danger.

Honestly, accusing the emperor of being a lazy fool would’ve been less risky.

[Mu Xiaoqi: …What the hell?]

[Seal Eats My Spear: I wanted to summon him to the palace, give him 200 strokes, and call it a day. But Dong Shizhong stopped me, saying private punishments would set a bad precedent.

Then I thought of sending an imperial doctor to administer two ounces of croton oil mixed with arsenic to purge his filth, but the Xiangfu’s in Chengdu right now. If I stir up too much trouble, he’ll intervene and might even pardon the bastard. So I need another solution.

Mu Qi, you have to help me out. Find the spicier chili you can—something that burns straight from the tongue to the intestines. I’ll wrap it in dumplings and make him eat it, teach him a lesson he won’t forget.]

After a moment’s thought, Mu Qi decisively replied:[Mu Xiaoqi: Got it. I recently saw a Guangdong merchant selling potted plants, which I suspect are the precursor to the ghost pepper. They’re said to be cultivated by Siamese farmers to deter elephants. Sounds potent enough. I’ll get some for you.]

Slandering the Ge Xiang? Talking nonsense?Mu Qi thought grimly, My brother’s father is my father. Insulting him is as good as cursing my own father—absolutely intolerable!

Lin Li was clearly delighted by Mu Qi’s swift agreement:[Seal Eats My Spear: Great! I’ll recruit a few more people to help write your qingzi. Guaranteed to satisfy your picky boss.]

True to his word, Lin Li delivered the drafts by the third afternoon. After reviewing and refining the language, Mu Qi submitted them just in time for the emperor’s deadline during his duty shift.

That night, he went to bed early, only to be awakened at the third watch by his steward. Still groggy, he freshened up, donned formal attire, and took ginseng and a sliver of aloeswood to sharpen his focus. With his personal servant’s help, he mounted his horse and braved the chilly wind, slowly making his way to Huixi Palace, where the old Taoist was temporarily residing.

Inside the brightly lit Qingliang Hall, Chief Eunuch Li Zaifang personally welcomed them at the gates, while several ceremonial scribes escorted the ministers’ sedan chairs. Despite his noble lineage, Mu Qi’s presence barely caused a stir.

 A few eunuchs tended to his horse, tidied his attire, and handed him warm towels to wipe his face and hands, easing his stiffness from the cold.

Once presentable, Mu Qi fastened his purely ornamental sword to his waist and followed the procession into the main hall of Huixi Palace. 

The moment he stepped through the door, he was greeted by a warm breeze. 

Looking closer, he saw that screens and drapes had been set up on all sides to block the winter chill. Seven or eight gilded copper basins filled with steaming water were placed around the room, making it feel like spring inside.

This is truly peculiar. Whether it’s the result of mastering his cultivation or overdosing on alchemical pills to become some kind of biochemical entity, the old Taoist priest, after years of enlightenment, gradually achieved a body impervious to heat and cold.

 Even in the freezing early mornings of the imperial capital, where the temperature barely reaches two or three degrees, he could stroll about in a thin Taoist robe, braving the biting winds with ease and composure. 

His audience chamber required no charcoal fires or warming braziers, a truly admirable feat.

But the northern chill was relentless. Even fiery-tempered scions of noble families like Mu Qi could barely withstand the icy gusts, let alone seasoned ministers in their sixties and seventies. 

No matter how much fox fur and mink wool they layered under their court attire, as soon as the weather turned cold, they couldn’t help trembling during their vigil, their teeth chattering like clappers in a rapid drumbeat.

In the past, when Mu Qi stood guard with others in the hall, he couldn’t help but harbor malicious speculation. He often thought that the Feixuan Zhenjun deliberately kept the hall so frigid as part of a strategy to exhaust the elder ministers. 

The cold might provoke illnesses such as colds, fevers, or respiratory issues—an efficient way to wear down the aging cabinet members. By natural selection, this approach weeded out those who clung to power for too long, preventing them from unsettling the emperor.

With such an established precedent, the newly added brocade curtains and warming braziers in the hall came as a shock. When Yan Ge Lao entered first and halted abruptly, he turned to look at Li Zaifang.

“Steward Li.”

Li Zaifang bowed respectfully, his tone gentle. “This is His Majesty’s decree. The ministers are advanced in age, and it’s cruel to have them braving the cold winds during their duties. 

Henceforth, the hall will be furnished in this manner. The ministers need not express their gratitude.”

Despite this assurance, the ministers still bowed to the screen in the main hall before cautiously taking their seats. The moment they sat down, a pleasant warmth enveloped their backs. It turned out the cushioned chairs, lined with wolf pelts, had been preheated with hot water bottles.

Yan Ge Lao was unfazed, but Xia Yan and Xu Shaohu immediately felt a soothing warmth in their stomachs, calming them significantly. A few days prior, their digestive systems had rebelled against the medicines they had taken, leaving them with persistent diarrhea for two or three days. 

No matter how much ginseng or angelica they consumed to restore their energy, the icy morning winds during court sessions left their intestines twitching and cramping. 

Now, with something warm against their frostbitten bodies, they finally felt a wave of relief.

Exchanging glances, Xia and Xu understood this gesture well—it was a subtle reward from the emperor, acknowledging their diligent compliance with his medicinal regimen.

Being in favor with the emperor was, of course, a good thing. Yet, they also realized this meant the imperial prescriptions would likely never cease. At this thought, a familiar ache stirred in their intestines.

After waiting quietly for a moment, the sound of a bronze chime echoed outside the screen in the main hall. The assembled scholars rose in unison, adjusted their robes, and bowed deeply.

 The noble scions standing guard at the door also placed hands on their sword hilts and bowed. Mu Qi, alongside a dozen colleagues, bent low and stole a glance at the screen. 

As expected, a figure clad in a flowing blue Taoist robe emerged, flanked by eunuchs. The lack of brocade curtains outside the screen allowed the cold wind to billow through, making the light robes ripple gracefully, lending an ethereal air.

The Feixuan Zhenjun, known as the Qingmiao Emperor, had cultivated for many years. His simple robes, leisurely stride, and minimalist retinue emulated the carefree style of ancient sages. 

But one had to admit, no matter how capricious or petulant he might be, the emperor possessed the charisma to pull it off. In his youth, he was a “dragon chapter and pheonix watch,” a veritable heartthrob. 

Even in his older years, his refined demeanor and dignified poise still radiated charm. His presence, clothed in unadorned robes, exuded a celestial elegance.

Even Mu Qi, embittered by the heavy metals in the elixirs and endless overtime, couldn’t deny the emperor’s looks, though he grumbled that the emperor’s robe style resembled a giant moth. 

Still, his complaints couldn’t overshadow the emperor’s innate allure.

To exaggerate slightly, strip away the emperor’s imperial attire and place him in the modern era—his face alone could secure him a comfortable living, at least on par with a scholar or actor.

The bronze chime rang several more times. With its lingering echoes, the “giant blue moth” floated to the front of the hall. Everyone immediately prostrated themselves, shouting their praises.

The Feixuan Zhenjun smiled faintly, but his sharp eyes scanned the gathered ministers, his gaze probing for any unusual expressions. 

Yet, his scrutiny revealed nothing amiss. Without a word, he motioned for the ministers to rise and walked to his throne, where he sat cross-legged.

After the ministers had thanked him and taken their positions, the emperor adjusted his sleeves and discreetly gripped the small booklet hidden within them.

“I heard some of my esteemed ministers have not been feeling well, yet you all came today. How commendable.”

Yan Ge Lao clasped his hands and replied, “Your Majesty’s concern humbles us. It is but a minor ailment; how could we let it delay the affairs of the court?”

The emperor nodded with a faint smile. A eunuch immediately knelt forward, presenting a stack of gold-embellished cyan paper. From afar, Mu Qi caught a glimpse and smirked inwardly. 

What ‘court affairs’? In the emperor’s hands, state matters always take a backseat to celestial poetry.

The emperor typically took a quarter of an hour to read these compositions, giving Mu Qi ample time to slack off. Lowering his gaze, he covertly opened the system’s thought input module, ready to vent his frustrations through commentary.

The Feixuan Zhenjun shook out his sleeves and reached for the celestial poetry, only for the booklet in his sleeve to grow unexpectedly warm. A faint, mechanical voice devoid of discernible tone spoke in his ear:

“Lao Deng reading celestial poetry again? Did Heaven’s Court wake up to find themselves bumped to second place?”

The emperor’s fingers trembled, nearly dropping the pages. His hand froze mid-air, his mind reeling in shock.

It’s here!

The person behind this bizarre booklet was indeed among the several dozen individuals present in the hall!

Despite his years of cultivation, the emperor’s expression betrayed him, shifting unpredictably through hues of green, red, and yellow, a kaleidoscope of emotions difficult to describe. The ministers seated nearby, astute as they were, immediately sensed the peculiar atmosphere. 

A quick glance at the emperor’s unreadable face left them alarmed.
How could reading celestial poetry make him this upset?

The small booklet buzzed again, its timing impeccable, and another notification appeared:

“Why does Lao Deng’s expression look so weird? Did someone slip a public security petition into the celestial poetry? Damn, that’s genius!”

The emperor’s breath hitched. A public security petition? And what in Heaven’s name is that?!

Alright, he might not know about the security of the law, but he certainly knows about Jia Yi’s “public security policy”, which famously states: “Of the affairs of the world, one causes weeping, two cause tears, and six cause deep sighs.” 

It describes the state of the world as so dire it moves one to tears—a scathing critique of the Han Dynasty. Judging by this example, if someone were to counterfeit a public security policy today, it certainly wouldn’t be to sing praises of the illustrious virtues of His Excellency Feixuan Zhenjun!

Gritting his teeth for a moment, he suppressed the storm in his heart and cast another sweeping glance around the hall. Alas, everyone present kept their heads down, their eyes lowered respectfully, giving no hint of any “banished immortal” or “demon” in their midst.

The act of “body dissolution” is a significant matter among immortals; its secrecy is expected. 

Still, Feixuan Zhenjun, now interrupted, had lost all interest in appraising the qingzi. He flipped through the catalog compiled by the eunuchs and, after a brief glance, raised an eyebrow.

“Why is Yan Ge Lao’s submission placed at the very end today?”

At this, the two Grand Secretaries, Xia and Xu, immediately twitched their eyebrows. The bureaucracy has its order: the Directorate of Ceremonies collects qingzi in strict sequence according to the time of submission, with no room for error. If something was misplaced, it was undoubtedly intentional.

—So, Yan Fenyi is stirring up trouble again!

Yan Ge Lao promptly stood, his expression tinged with unease.”Your Majesty, I arrived late today and submitted it tardily. I beg Your Majesty to punish me.”

The emperor blinked, his foul mood lightening somewhat. After ruling for so many years, he naturally understood Yan Fenyi’s petty tricks. 

Yet, as one astute diary once put it, this emperor, raised under the adulation of courtiers, was essentially a spoiled and self-indulgent “elderly giant baby.” He couldn’t help but enjoy being flattered with such effort. Even if it involved underhanded means, he was inclined to tolerate it.

For instance, he was well aware that this qingzi was likely a joint effort by Yan Fenyi and his son, Yan Donglou. But so what? If Yan Donglou had a knack for crafting qingzi, why should he expose it?

The emperor smiled and gestured for the eunuch to turn to the final submission. As expected, it made an immediate impression, capturing his attention at once:

“The Bright Queen of Ming Dynasty who rules the heavens descends from lofty skies; Yellow buds and dragon-tigers manifest their signs, radiant and resplendent as the genesis unfolds…”

“Yellow buds” and “dragon-tigers”—clearly describing the process of alchemy! The emperor read aloud with a wide smile.

But just as he finished, the little booklet in his hand chimed softly with a note:

“‘Holding up maid to Zhao Huixi, summoning flames to burn brightly’—this happens to be one of Yan Donglou’s most famous works. Among the qingzi of this dynasty, it would easily rank in the top three. A pity, really.”

“But rumor has it that certain phrases involving ‘infants,’ ‘maidens,’ and ‘red dragons’ were inspired by Yan Donglou’s escapades in brothels. Allegedly, he even penned the text using the brothel madam’s eyebrow brush… Who knows if it’s true?”

The emperor, who had been about to praise Yan Fenyi: ?!!!

“Frankly, this borders on salacious gossip. But considering Yan Donglou’s personal life was reportedly even more scandalous, it’s hard to discern fact from fiction. According to records, after years of debauchery in brothels, he ‘suddenly contracted a grave illness,’ leaving his skin riddled with sores like a leper—an unmistakable sign of venereal disease.”

Feixuan Zhenjun, the emperor, suddenly felt a chill down his spine. Despite priding himself on immunity to all poisons, he instinctively took a step back, putting more distance between himself and the qingzi penned by Yan Donglou.

Meanwhile, Yan Ge Lao, still standing with his head bowed, blinked in confusion.”Your Majesty, did you just step back… seriously?”

Zhenjun remained silent for a moment before waving his hand dismissively.”They’re all good. Have them sent for burning. State matters are pressing—I won’t read any further.”