Chapter 8: Recruitment

Outside the West Garden, the cold wind howled in eerie silence. High-ranking officials gathered by the palace walls wore peculiar expressions, exchanging no words. Only as they boarded their carriages did they exchange perfunctory gestures of courtesy before departing hastily.

Earlier, chaos had erupted within the palace, leaving everyone frozen in confusion. Shortly after, Li Zaifang stumbled out from behind a screen, trembling as he ordered the officials to be escorted out. 

Unsettled, they lingered in the cold wind for another quarter of an hour until a bruised and battered Wang Ben emerged to relay the emperor’s decree. According to Wang, the emperor had accidentally tripped on his robe and fallen but was now unharmed. The officials were instructed not to worry and were dismissed.

Though skeptical, the officials dared not voice their doubts in this restricted palace area and retreated silently.

Riding away from the West Garden on horseback, Mu Qi found a secluded spot and discreetly opened his system interface. It displayed the emperor’s status as “minor injuries,” as though the incident truly had been nothing more than a simple fall.

However, Mu Qi found it hard to believe. The emperor had practiced rituals like this for years, performing them flawlessly even with his eyes closed. How could he suddenly trip? Puzzled, Mu Qi decided not to dwell on it and leisurely rode home.

Why should an overworked employee care about their boss’s safety after an early dismissal?

As he rounded a corner, Xu Liben, the eldest son of Duke Xu, approached with a grin and matched his pace.“Old Seventh, you were on duty at the West Garden today? By the way, about the scholars you asked us to find the other day—I’ve got a lead!”

Mu Qi recalled casually mentioning his need for capable scholars while racing horses with noble peers a few days prior. As the heir to the prestigious Mu family, his casual remarks were not taken lightly.

He smiled politely. “Thank you, Brother Xu. May I ask who you’ve found?”

Xu Liben, brimming with pride, replied, “Actually, it was my father’s advisor who recommended someone. This guest scholar met a destitute man in the Beijing who has failed the imperial exams repeatedly. 

After exchanging verses with him, he realized this man possesses remarkable talent. Most importantly, the man is currently desperate and willing to work diligently for just five taels of silver a month. Isn’t that a bargain?”

The sight of noble heirs haggling over wages was laughable, yet Mu Qi was intrigued. Despite the wealth of the Mu family’s estate in the Beijing, his various ventures—hiring scribes, trading exotic seeds, experimenting with local technologies, and aiding his peculiar friends had drained his personal funds. The offer’s cost-effectiveness was too tempting to ignore.

“What is this man’s background?” Mu Qi asked, skeptical of the claim.

Xu Liben chuckled. “Old Seventh, don’t you remember? I mentioned him the other day—the scholar from Kunshan. He goes by the pseudonym Xiang Zhisheng, as his home is near Xiangjing Creek. He even has a collection of writings circulating in the market.”

Mu Qi froze, gasping. “Xiangjing… Xiangjing… Loquat tree!”

“What loquat tree? If you want some, I can have the Huguang Hall deliver it to you,” Xu Liben replied, perplexed.

After a moment of stunned silence, Mu Qi grabbed Xu Liben’s arm. “Thank you, Brother Xu! Please notify this Mr. Gui immediately. I will personally welcome him at my residence and treat him with utmost respect!”

Xu Liben was baffled. “Alright, I’ll relay the message… Wait, how did you know his surname is Gui?”

Though Xu Liben promised to contact Mr. Gui, the scholar often traveled to the outskirts of the Beijing for literary gatherings, so it might take some time. Unable to contain his excitement, Mu Qi instructed his steward to prepare a formal invitation and arranged for it to be delivered personally the next day.

Recruiting renowned scholars was like rolling for rare cards in a gacha game. You might not need them, but you couldn’t resist collecting them. Even if he couldn’t pull an SSR like Ge Xiang, securing a scholar with literary fame was still immensely satisfying.

To express his joy, Mu Qi dismissed his attendants, opened his system interface, and prepared to update his status to “Flourishing Like the Loquat Tree,” intending to one-up Liu Li’s frequent updates, quoting The Memorial to Zhuge Liang. However, just as the interface opened, a notification chimed:

“Congratulations! Your Power House Progress Bar has increased. Keep up the good work!”

Mu Qi: ?

Ever since he had exhausted himself years ago, pushing through anti-corruption reforms and technological advancements for a mere fraction of progress, he had resigned himself to apathy. Hearing this familiar notification now filled him with shock rather than joy.

What had he done recently to deserve this?

Baffled, he checked the details:“By preemptively removing Vice Censor Di Maoyan, you delayed the collapse of the salt administration: 

Progress +0.1%.By taking appropriate actions, you avoided a succession crisis in Joseon, preserving the court’s influence over vassal states: Progress +0.05%.Keep striving!”

Mu Qi was even more confused. The system, notorious for its stinginess, awarded progress only for direct and undeniable contributions. Yet he couldn’t recall any connection to Korea or the salt administration.

Was the system malfunctioning?

After dinner, Mu Qi downed half a bowl of milk to absorb heavy metals, then opened his chat interface to subtly brag about his latest “rare card.” But after sending a greeting, Liu Li’s reply came only after a long pause:

[Old Seven, the chili peppers you sent me earlier were excellent, but there’s no need to send any more in the future. Thank you, and sorry for the trouble.]

[Mu Xiaoqi: ?]

[Seal Eats My Spear: The Prime Minister (Xiang’s father) found out…]

Although it was just six words, they conveyed all of Liu Li’s frustration. Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Lin Li handled things with great caution, mindful of the potential repercussions. 
After obtaining some devil peppers from Mu Qi, he meticulously filtered out the pigments, leaving only the juice. 

He mixed it with bean paste and brown sugar, wrapped it in glutinous rice, and shaped it into sweet, fragrant, and flawless glutinous rice balls. These were then gifted to the conniving, scheming Assistant Minister of the Prime Minister’s Residence, Li Miao, ensuring he couldn’t utter a word after eating them.

Even though Li Miao’s venomous tongue was infuriating, Liu Li didn’t have the decisiveness to eliminate him. Instead, he opted for this punishment, as removing Li Miao’s head was currently off the table—thanks to the Prime Minister’s interference. To ensure safety, Liu Li even adjusted the dosage, which theoretically shouldn’t have caused any major issues.

But Liu Li had underestimated a millennium of evolution. Sichuan Chengdu during the Three Kingdoms era wasn’t the same as the modern city, where years of battling fiery hotpot and spicy rabbit dishes had fortified stomachs and developed gastroenterology to unprecedented levels. 

The pepper’s spice, derived from cornelian cherry and ginger, was incomparable to modern spice levels.

So, when Li Miao devoured seven or eight of those rice balls in one sitting and washed them down with hot water, the soaked pepper residue immediately took effect in his stomach. 

The aftermath? It’s better left unsaid—but according to scribes working in the same office, they thought someone nearby was slaughtering a pig.

Li Miao’s agonized wails naturally drew the Prime Minister’s attention. After investigating, the Prime Minister entered the palace that very evening to advise the Emperor. Liu Li, however, was prepared and remained unconcerned. The other ingredients in the rice balls were innocuous, and the source of the peppers was untraceable. 

Even if suspicions arose, who would dare question the Emperor himself?

Yet, before Liu Li could relax, the Prime Minister said one sentence:”I heard there are some rice balls left from His Majesty’s gift to Li Miao. May I try one myself?”

Liu Li immediately caved, confessing his little scheme.

[…And then the Prime Minister lectured me for half a day.] Liu Li grumbled, full of grievance: [He said ministers are duty-bound to offer criticism, and even if their opinions are wrong or unpleasant, underhanded methods should not be used against them. Affairs of the court must be handled openly and honestly, without resorting to deceit. If a minister deserves criticism, it should be public and straightforward. 

But—but this man was clearly spreading malicious rumors! He even insinuated in his memorial that the Prime Minister was colluding with Eastern Wu to frame Li Yan… How could such accusations be made public? It’s outright insulting!]

[Mu Xiaoqi: And what did the Prime Minister say?]

[Seal Eats My Spear: The Prime Minister said he has lived his life with nothing to hide and does not fear a single memorial. He also said that if Li Miao were spreading these rumors privately, it would constitute divisive behavior akin to Su and Zhang’s actions, warranting severe punishment. 

But since he voiced them openly in a memorial, it’s part of his duty—even if his words are harsh, they are not criminal. As long as he is willing to speak publicly, he should be allowed to do so.

I wasn’t happy about it and argued that Li Miao was a conniving opportunist, listing all his misdeeds and insisting he should be expelled from court. But the Prime Minister persuaded me otherwise, saying that even if Li Miao’s intentions are questionable, his errors should be refuted openly with evidence, clarifying doubts among court officials and uniting them. That’s what a ruler should do…]

Sigh. To deal with someone like Li Miao, who spouts nonsense and spreads rumors yet can’t be swiftly punished—it’s stifling.

Clearly, Liu Li was quite aggrieved, venting more than usual. However, as Mu Qi stared at his lengthy rant, he remained stunned for a while before typing:

[Mu Xiaoqi: Publicly refuting, uniting everyone… This is classic “unity-criticism-re-unity.” A textbook example.]

[Seal Eats My Spear: Huh?]

[Seal Eats My Spear: Why does that sound so familiar?]

[Mu Xiaoqi: Of course it’s familiar. It’s a mandatory political science concept for graduate exams! It’s the cornerstone of organizational work! You arrogant seal, how dare you grumble to me! Tell me—who else in this world would so patiently and painstakingly teach you the “dragon-slaying arts” of governance, step by step, spoon-feeding you to become a competent emperor? A zero-to-hero transformation—where else can you find such a course? And you dare complain?!]

[Mu Xiaoqi: Ungrateful seal, take my spear!]

Mu Qi unleashed his tirade, panting in exasperation, torn between jealousy and frustration. 

The three of them had stuck together, supporting each other through thick and thin, but their starting points differed. 

His own father, injured and in retirement, served the late emperor’s mausoleum in Jinling and was rarely seen. Zhao Fei, though of noble birth, was said to be an orphan surrounded by turbulence and lacking trustworthy family. But Liu Li—oh, Liu Li—

Having the Prime Minister is like having a treasure!

Faced with such harsh realities, Mu Qi and Zhao Fei could only seethe silently. Occasionally venting their frustration at Liu Li’s luck was entirely understandable.

Liu Li seemed to hesitate before responding:

[I know the Prime Minister always has my best interests at heart… I was just grumbling privately. What’s the harm in that?]

Mu Qi rolled his eyes, almost sneering aloud. Truly, the favored are fearless. Even among ordinary monarchs and ministers, let alone a ruler and his prime minister, such closeness was unheard of. 

Take their own non-communicative Lao Deng and his relations with the Prince Yuwang Jing or Princess Sishan—

And they’re blood relatives!

Perhaps sensing the tension, Liu Li quickly changed the subject:

[Alright, I need to remind the Prime Minister to drink his sour jujube soup. By the way, why hasn’t Sister Zhao Fei logged in yet? I need to ask her something.]

Mu Qi chuckled but didn’t respond, instinctively glancing at the gray avatar labeled “Deposed Emperor rubbing hemp.” If he remembered correctly, Zhao Fei had been offline for half a month. Could the battle for Shan Prefecture really be so grueling?