The number one sycophant of the Ming Dynasty

"This isn't just a coincidence, it's meticulous planning!" exclaimed Deputy Chief Zhou. "I heard that he went to the Sun residence a day in advance to ask Miss Sun what colors she liked, what kind of tea she loved to drink, what kind of ink she preferred, how high her prayer cushion should be, and what she was superstitious about."

"Every single detail was thoroughly investigated. Tell me, which of the previous officials who handled official business ever asked these questions?"

"They take the order and leave, then show up on the due date with a pile of junk. How can things not go wrong?"

She sighed, her tone tinged with envy: "I heard that after those noble ladies went back, they were all asking who this Supervisor Chen from the Court of Imperial Sacrifices was."

"Some people even said they would tell their families that they would hire people like this for future business trips."

"You didn't see it, Miss Sun was quite the star at the poetry gathering yesterday."

"Everyone fawned over her, even Grand Secretary Li's granddaughter suffered a setback."

"A minor official of the eighth rank managed to do such an outstanding job in such a small matter."

Shen Zhiyu picked up her pen again, her tone indifferent: "I understand. Is there anything else?"

Seeing that she didn't react, Deputy Chief Zhou awkwardly shut up: "N-nothing. I'll go back to work now."

"Um."

Deputy Chief Zhou stood up and walked to the door, then turned back, hesitated for a moment, and whispered, "Chief, speaking of which, didn't you meet that Supervisor Chen at the banquet at Prince Yu's residence? Is he really that capable of handling things?"

Shen Zhiyu didn't look up, her voice remaining calm: "We've only met a few times, I wouldn't say I know her."

"Oh." Seeing that she didn't want to say more, Deputy Manager Zhou tactfully closed the door and left.

The duty room fell silent.

Shen Zhiyu sat at the desk, holding a pen in his hand, but did not write anything.

The light from the window shone through and fell on her profile, which appeared cool and expressionless.

She picked up the document she hadn't finished reading, glanced at it twice, and then put it down again.

The image that appeared before my eyes was that of the young man.

At the banquet at Prince Yu's residence, he remained neither servile nor arrogant;

She remembered what he had said: "Don't worry, Master Shen, from now on we will advance and retreat together."

Advance and retreat together.

He thought of everything so carefully and handled everything so perfectly for that Miss Sun.

Throughout her years in the inner court, no one had ever asked her what her favorite color was.

She was wearing the official robes of a female official, which were blue, and blue was the color of the robes all year round.

The tea set she used was provided by Si Yansi; it was made of rough porcelain, and the spout was chipped. She had used it for three years, and no one had ever replaced it for her.

In winter, the charcoal fire in her duty room was never strong enough. Even though she was wrapped in a thick cotton robe, her fingers were still cold, and no one ever prepared a hand warmer for her.

She suddenly felt that the duty room was unusually cold today.

After a while, she suddenly realized that she was being a little ridiculous.

They were just on an errand, serving their boss's daughter. What does it have to do with her?

What right does she have to be unhappy?

They didn't have any special relationship; they had only met a few times and exchanged a few words in the carriage.

She turned around, walked back to her desk, and picked up her pen again.

He dipped his brush in ink again and continued reading the document he hadn't finished.

I read a few lines, then my mind wandered again.

He glanced down at the futon he was sitting on.

It was old, dusty, with worn edges, and felt hard to sit on.

She sat there for three years, and no one changed her seat.

She suddenly put down her pen, stood up, walked to the door, and pushed it open.

A cold wind blew in her face, and she shivered, but did not shrink back.

"Deputy Director Zhou," she called out.

Deputy Chief Zhou poked his head out from next door: "Chief, what's wrong?"

"Go to the storeroom and get a new tea set," Shen Zhiyu said calmly. "Also, have someone replace this futon I'm using."

Deputy Chief Zhou paused for a moment, then laughed: "Alright! Chief, you should have changed it a long time ago! I couldn't stand looking at that chipped teacup anymore."

Shen Zhiyu didn't reply, turned around and went back to the duty room, closing the door behind her.

She sat back down at her desk and picked up her pen again.

This time, she didn't lose focus.

……

The imperial edict from Jiajing was like a thunderbolt, catching everyone off guard.

Chen Han heard the news at dawn on the second day.

At that time, he was sitting in the duty room of the Guanglu Temple, having just finished writing the winter sacrifice plan.

According to his original plan, Prince Yu would follow ancestral customs during the Winter Solstice Heaven Worship Ceremony, and afterwards send a handwritten letter to the West Garden, thus fulfilling his filial duty and demonstrating his loyalty in a safe and watertight manner.

But with this imperial decree, he had to reconsider all his plans.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and his mind raced.

He's tired!

I'm so tired!

Serving as a subject under Emperor Hongwu (Zhu Yuanzhang) was a high-risk endeavor;

Serving as a subject under Emperor Jiajing (Zhu Houcong) is prone to madness.

This is just something they come up with on a whim.

He came up with such a great idea at the banquet at Prince Yu's mansion, and now he has to overturn it and start all over again.

The emperors Yu and Jing were to perform the sacrificial ceremony to Heaven on the same day.

Only the Jiajing Emperor could have come up with such a thing.

This is not a favor, but a test, and even more so, a clear-cut power struggle.

Emperor Jiajing put both of his sons on the stage at the same time, so that all the officials and the world could see who was more devout, more solemn, and more like a crown prince.

The winner is not necessarily made crown prince immediately, but the loser is basically out of the running.

What he had to do was help Prince Yu win.

But what does he have to win with?

He was just a low-ranking official of the eighth grade, and he had been in office for less than four months. He had to fight against Yan Song and his gang of old foxes who had been operating in the court for twenty years.

Even including my past life, I only have about forty years of experience.

Yan Song was already eighty years old, and had been the second-in-command of the Ming Dynasty for twenty years.

Why would you fight against someone like that?

Are you kidding me?

Chen Han opened his eyes, looked at the gray sky outside the window, and let out a long breath.

Historical records say that Prince Jing will take up his fiefdom next year, and Yan Song will fall from power the year after.

But that's history.

Having spent so many years in the county government office, he knew all too well the weight of the words "history book".

It was written by a person, written by the winner, and it has undergone countless revisions, polishing, and embellishment.

Moreover, the History of Ming was compiled by the Qing Dynasty. Who can say for sure how the Qing people would arrange the events of the Ming Dynasty?

The general trend might be accurate, but what about the details? The timing? What if he misremembered?

What if history took a different turn because of this butterfly effect?

He can't gamble.

He must treat everything as a possibility that "history may change".

The sudden imperial edict issued by Emperor Jiajing is clear evidence of this.

In his memory, this should have happened next year, but it has happened now.

Who knows if the next thing will also happen ahead of schedule?

Who knows if Prince Jing will be made crown prince by Jiajing because of his good performance at the sacrificial ceremony?

He can't gamble.

Then we have no choice but to fight.

Chen Han sat up straight, spread out a new sheet of white paper, and picked up a pen.

His mind began to rapidly dissect the matter.

The rules for the sacrificial ceremony to Heaven are rigid, but the people involved are flexible.

The same rules, when enforced by different people, can produce completely different results.

Just like when the county government organizes a large meeting, the procedures are the same, but some people can do it so well that the leaders can't find any faults, while others can make a complete mess of it.

The key lies in the details...