Chapter 16 Plaque

Tong Guowei truly did not understand the concept of a confidant.  

According to Mingzhu’s words, could it be that it wasn’t the Emperor who taught Hongyan, but someone else? And that this hidden figure had ulterior motives, even going so far as to investigate the Treasury Silver in the Nalan residence with such precision?  

Tong Guowei listened as if hearing a tall tale and chuckled dismissively, “Duanfan, your words are far too alarmist.”  

Duanfan was Mingzhu’s courtesy name. Mingzhu seemed to have anticipated this reaction and forced a bitter smile. “Does Lord Tong believe that, having lost face before the court, I am now desperate to fabricate rumors and spread them everywhere?”  

Tong Guowei remained silent, but his expression spoke volumes: Yes.  

Mingzhu: “…”  

Mingzhu nearly choked on his own breath.  

After finally calming himself, he said gravely, “I do have personal motives, but no matter how selfish they may be, they pale in comparison to the safety of the realm. When the nest is overturned, no egg remains unbroken. That person has eyes and ears everywhere—who’s to say they haven’t already uncovered the Hidden Silver in the Tong residence as well? The Crown Prince is the foundation of the state. If he is led astray, how can you and I save him?”  

His tone was utterly sincere, devoid of deceit, and the fear in his eyes was nearly overflowing. If Mingzhu was capable of such acting… Tong Guowei’s heart tightened. After a long silence, he finally said, “Thank you for the warning, Duanfan. I understand now.”  

Mingzhu sighed and did not press further. With a cupped-hand salute, he took his leave, though his retreating figure bore traces of unwillingness.  

Tong Guowei closed his eyes. A quarter of an hour later, he summoned a trusted subordinate and asked, “Where did Mingzhu go?”  

“Lord Nalan boarded a small black sedan. At a glance, it seemed to be heading toward Lord Ma Qi’s residence.”  

Tong Guowei gave a noncommittal hum and paced back and forth in his study before waving a hand. “There’s no rush to tally the silver. Tell them to pause for now.”  

He did not believe Mingzhu’s words, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution. It was better to wait and observe—there was no harm in patience, so why not?  

Few among the imperial relatives and high-ranking ministers were swayed by Mingzhu, yet like Tong Guowei, they couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt.  

Most adopted a “wait-and-see” approach, especially since the Crown Prince’s methods were truly intimidating. Who knew if they might end up like Mingzhu, suffering public humiliation?  

For those at the pinnacle of officialdom, face was everything. Thus, they unanimously chose to hold back and wait for the next day.  

Rewinding slightly in time, some imperial clansmen and relatives also received visits from Da Age and the Eighth Prince, including venerable figures such as Prince Yu Fuquan and Prince Gong Changning.  

These old princes had weathered countless storms—they were staunch loyalists who supported whatever the Emperor endorsed.  

Da Age struggled immensely in his dealings with them. Originally intending to sound them out, he nearly had his own secrets exposed instead. If not for the Eighth Prince’s efforts to smooth things over, his robes would have been drenched in cold sweat.  

In the end, they returned empty-handed, leaving Yin Zhi visibly frustrated, his face dark with displeasure.  

The Eighth Prince disapproved of his approach. They hadn’t even reviewed a fifth of the Ministry of Revenue’s records—why waste time making trouble for the Crown Prince? Besides, these seasoned princes were far too shrewd to be swayed by Da Age’s words!  

Yet Yinsi had no choice but to offer counsel and share the burden.  

After all, Consort Hui had raised him, and his birth mother resided in Yanxi Palace. In the eyes of others, he and Da Age were bound together—their fates intertwined in glory and disgrace alike.

The Eighth Prince suppressed his helplessness and quietly offered advice, “Big Brother, listen to your younger brother’s suggestion. Prince Kang, the heir of Prince Jian, and the various commandery princes are still young. Why not gather them for a banquet…”

Da Age leaned in to listen, his eyes gradually brightening before he suddenly clapped his hands. “You’re right.”

Unlike the older princes, they hadn’t yet mastered the art of restraint and placed greater importance on wealth. Take the hot-tempered heir of Prince Jian, Yaerjiang’a, for example. His father, Prince Jian, had been bedridden for a long time, leaving him as the sole decision-maker in the household now.

“Eighth Brother, oh Eighth Brother, you’ve truly done me a great favor,” Yin Zhi said heartily, slapping Yinsi’s slender shoulder with a laugh. “No time to waste—let’s get to work!”

Endless undercurrents surged through the night.

The next day, at the East Palace.

Hong Yan clasped his hands behind his back and scrutinized the young talents the Crown Prince had selected for him. After a moment, he fell silent.

Young they certainly were—barely around ten years old, with pleasant features and a hint of baby fat still lingering.

Talented they were too, exuding an air of scholarly refinement that practically spelled out “literary brilliance,” clearly future candidates for the top imperial examination honors.

Yang Bai, under such intense scrutiny, visibly tensed up. After hesitating for a long while, he ventured, “Y-Young Master, is there something… improper about this humble one?”

His voice was clear and bright, carrying an unmistakable innocence of inexperience. Hong Yan blinked, quickly piecing together the boy’s background: decent family, diligent studies since childhood, nearly turning into a bookworm.

“Who are you?” he asked slowly.

Yang Bai pursed his lips sheepishly, relaxing slightly. “This humble one is Yang Bai. My father is Yang Sheng, who serves His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Hong Yan suddenly understood. Yang Sheng was a trusted advisor to his father—a confidant, even. He had encountered him several times during discussions in the study.

Now, his father had chosen Yang Bai for him, someone who could also serve as a playmate close in age. Truly a thoughtful arrangement.

Hong Yan studied the young talent before him, unsure how to evaluate this display of ‘fatherly affection’ from the Crown Prince. After some thought, he asked, “Can you compose poetry?”

At this, Yang Bai’s eyes lit up. With slight excitement, he replied, “In response to the Young Master, this humble one excels at poetry. At five, I began studying under Mr. Ruan Ting…”

Poetry happened to be Hong Yan’s weakest subject. Who Mr. Ruan Ting was remained unclear to him, but he pretended to be impressed, showering Yang Bai with praise until the boy’s ears turned bright red, waving his hands in flustered denial, practically steaming with embarrassment!

Despite his flushed cheeks, Yang Bai hadn’t forgotten his father’s instructions. Softly, he said, “From now on, this humble one will follow the Young Master. Whatever you require, just say the word.”

Though it wasn’t quite what he’d envisioned, Hong Yan eventually accepted reality. His round face broke into a friendly smile, radiating approachability. “Enough with ‘this humble one’—just address me directly. Do you have any expertise in gold and silver?”

Before Yang Bai could feel touched, he froze in place.

Expertise in gold and silver? What kind of question was that?

As a proper, upright scholar, he shook his head vigorously. “Gold and silver are vulgar things of material greed—”

“What vulgar things? In a new environment, you must adapt your thinking,” Hong Yan interrupted disapprovingly. “Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll lend you my study. Compose poetry on the theme of gold and silver—ten or eight pieces, all with uplifting messages. No meals until you finish.”

Yang Bai, ten years old this year, stood stunned by the domineering presence of the imperial eldest grandson.

Dazed, Yang Bai walked into the study and absentmindedly picked up a brush. After a long while, he stared blankly at the three large characters “Ode to Gold and Silver,” tears welling up in his eyes.

Was this what his teacher had warned him about—being trapped against his will? He was tainted.

The Emperor hadn’t seen Hong Yan for two days and missed him dearly.

The morning court session had been uneventful, and the Emperor seemed oblivious to the undercurrents beneath the surface. Upon returning to the Hall of Heavenly Purity, he asked Li Dequan, “Is Yuanbao still assisting his Fourth Uncle with duties today?”

Li Dequan, well aware of the Emperor’s intentions, replied, “The young prince is still in the East Palace.”

He then sent someone to fetch Hong Yan and took the opportunity to briefly inform the Emperor about Yang Bai’s situation, adding, “It’s quite a coincidence—this young Master Yang is exceptionally talented and happens to be the beloved student of Academician Wang…”

The Emperor was taken aback. “Wang Shizhen?”

“Indeed.”

The Emperor set down his brush, his expression complicated. “He hasn’t adopted his teacher’s philosophy of ‘the officialdom is treacherous, gold and silver are filth, and reclusion is true happiness,’ has he?”

Li Dequan tried to recall Academician Wang’s world-weary face and finally chuckled. “Young Master Yang is only ten years old—surely not.”

The Emperor sighed in relief, half his worries dispelled. He resumed reviewing a few memorials when a palace attendant announced the arrival of his eldest grandson.

The moment Hong Yan saw his grandfather, he showered him with sweet words, coaxing the Emperor into laughter as he lifted the boy onto his lap.

Seizing the opportunity, Hong Yan shyly made a request: “Hanmafa, may I practice Dong style calligraphy again?”

The Emperor gladly agreed and ordered someone to bring the copybooks. Then he asked kindly, “Is there any particular character you’d like to practice, Yuanbao?”

“Yes, Hanmafa. How do you write ‘Zhen’ (the royal ‘I’)?” Hong Yan asked eagerly.

The Emperor personally demonstrated, writing the character stroke by stroke. “‘Zhen’—the left side is the character for ‘moon’…”

Hong Yan continued asking questions, and before they knew it, an hour had passed. Calculating the time in his mind, he said obediently, “I won’t disturb you any longer. Oh, may I take these sheets you wrote back to my room?”

“Of course! Take them wherever you like.” The Emperor felt an indescribable warmth at the request, especially when those moist, auspicious phoenix eyes gazed up at him, softening his heart.

Hong Yan was overjoyed. “Thank you, Hanmafa!”

“Why this sudden whim? Now you’re looking for craftsmen again.”

In the study, the Crown Prince raised an eyebrow at his son, but the Fourth Prince interjected first: “Fourth Uncle knows a few skilled artisans in the Ministry of Works. What do you need them for, Yuanbao?”

Hong Yan thought for a moment, then shook the papers in his hand. “To make plaques.”

“Plaques? That’s simple.” Yinzhen was as good as his word. He immediately took Hong Yan out, and within an hour, two freshly made plaques, covered with red cloth, were placed before them.

Before the Crown Prince and Fourth Prince could express their curiosity, He Zhuer arrived with joyous news: “Your Highness, Lord Prince, Minister Suo has come to repay the silver!”

The Crown Prince stood abruptly. “Invite him in at once!”

Suo’etu, dressed in court robes, carried a wooden box with trembling hands.

“Your Highness, this contains exactly 370,000 taels,” he said slowly, suppressing his heartache. “Please… count it.”

The Crown Prince, observing his demeanor, felt a surge of solemn respect.

“You’ve worked hard, Grand Uncle.” The Crown Prince accepted the box and sighed. “Grand Uncle, you are truly a pillar of the state.”

Suo’etu handed over the money and received praise, but his smile was uglier than crying. It wasn’t until Hong Yan tugged at his robe that he finally looked down: “…”

Hong Yan pointed at the two plaques on the ground and said with restrained pride, “Take a look.”

With trembling hands, Suo’etu struggled for a long time before finally pulling off the two red cloths.

He focused his gaze and saw—

Eight gilded characters in total. The left plaque read “The Emperor’s Right Arm,” while the right one bore “Pillar of the State”—both inscribed in the Emperor’s own handwriting!!