Chapter 46: The Sovereign with Confidence (Please Keep Reading)

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Zhao Han was startled in his heart and quickly stepped forward, cupping his hands in salute: “I am newly appointed as a compiler at the Hanlin Academy. I pay respects to Minister Hai and all the esteemed officials present.”

The position of Hanlin Academician was ranked at the third grade of officialdom. All major imperial edicts were penned by the Hanlin Academicians, who also advised on confidential matters and served as chief examiners for the palace and metropolitan examinations.

Therefore, although a third-grade official, a Hanlin Academician often held authority over second-grade officials, and even first-grade dignitaries would show them some deference.

Hai Ning glanced indifferently at Zhao Han before continuing to reprimand the officials seated below: “Open your eyes and take a good look at Zhao, the third-ranked graduate!”

“His features are clear and refined, his spirit radiant—this is what an official of the Hanlin Academy should look like.”

“Now look at you all—each one listless and lackluster. How can you set an example for the younger generation?”

Several ministers felt like crying but had no tears; they silently recalled that when they first entered the court years ago, they too were full of vigor and spirit.

After Hai Ning waved them away, he allowed Zhao Han to step forward and respond. Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized him carefully.

“The quality of this third-ranked graduate truly improves with each passing year.”

“I have long heard of you. Your poem ‘Bamboo and Rock’ composed during the imperial examination deeply moved me.”

“A fine verse: ‘Though struck and ground a thousand times, still steadfast; no matter the east, west, south, or north wind!’”

“You are not yet twenty, already appointed as the third-ranked graduate by imperial favor; your future is limitless. Do not adopt their sluggish habits going forward.”

Zhao Han hastily nodded, cupping his hands: “I will keep your admonition close, my lord, and henceforth daily examine my conscience, living up to the emperor’s grace.”

“To live up to the emperor’s grace.”

“Well said! When I first entered the court, I was just like you!” Hai Ning laughed heartily twice.

Then, narrowing his eyes again, he continued to appraise Zhao Han carefully, a trace of puzzlement appearing on his face.

Feeling uncomfortable under the intense gaze, Zhao Han could not help but ask, “My lord, is there something amiss with me today?”

“No, no…” Hai Ning suddenly came back to himself, sighed lightly, and said calmly, “Just now when I saw you, I was reminded of an old friend.”

“He had features that resembled yours by six or seven parts in his youth, but he labored tirelessly and suffered repeated grievous injuries.”

“Though barely past fifty, his constitution is weaker than mine.”

“Every time I see him, my heart aches deeply.”

Zhao Han did not ponder further, taking it as a common reflection, and smiled faintly: “Your words are mistaken, my lord.”

“I observe you with your white hair and youthful face, full of vigor. Not to mention fifty, even a man in his thirties cannot compare.”

Hai Ning shook his head and gave a bitter smile.

The old friend he spoke of was currently seated on the Dragon Throne in the Wenhua Hall, reviewing memorials.

After Hai Ning gave a few brief instructions, Zhao Han proceeded to the main hall to write diligently alongside his colleagues.

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Ordinarily, Hanlin officials could leave the academy after completing their day’s work by the hour of Shen (3–5 p.m.).

But Zhao Han, as a newcomer to the Hanlin Academy, did not leave until the quarter past You (7:45 p.m.)—late into the evening.

On the way, Chang Qing frowned, her face full of doubt: “Master, I feel you were unusually silent today.”

“Could it be that the Hanlin officials are difficult to get along with?”

Zhao Han rubbed his brow: “I was just very tired. It will be better once I get used to it in a few days.”

Only now did he truly understand how robust Hai Ning’s constitution was, and how wronged the officials he had scolded today truly were.

“Master, you should rest well when you return. You have court early tomorrow,” Chang Qing whispered as a reminder.

—

The next day, at the quarter past Yin (3:15 a.m.), a thin layer of bluish-gray mist still shrouded Bianjing City.

Zhao Han was already dressed and headed straight toward the East Hua Gate.

Upon arrival, a long line of officials stretched like a dragon before the inspection courtyard, where the imperial guards were checking identities one by one.

Just then, Sheng Hong stepped down from his carriage.

Seeing Zhao Han’s figure, he walked over directly and patted his shoulder, smiling softly: “You wear the official robe far more handsomely than I did in my youth.”

Seeing Sheng Hong, Zhao Han took a half step back and cupped his hands: “Father-in-law.”

Stroking his beard with a smile, Sheng Hong lowered his voice: “Your first court appearance today—be careful in every detail.”

“Don’t let the censors catch any mistakes, and especially hold your court tablet firmly.”

Zhao Han nodded: “Your son-in-law understands.”

Soon, the officials arranged themselves by rank in two lines, each holding a court tablet, treading upon the bluestone imperial path, passing through layers of palace gates, and heading straight to the Chuigong Hall.

Given Zhao Han’s current rank, he naturally stood at the very end of the civil officials.

Looking at the high-ranking ministers ahead dressed in purple robes and holding jade tablets, a flicker of envy crossed his eyes.

In Chuigong Hall, after the officials paid their respects, the emperor sat solemnly upon the Dragon Throne, clad in ochre dragon robes, dignified and imposing.

“The emperor’s complexion grows healthier by the day.”

“Yes, I wonder which imperial physician is responsible. Truly a miraculous recovery.”

“…”

The fifth-grade officials before Zhao Han whispered softly among themselves.

After the successive grief of losing children, the emperor’s body had grown weaker day by day.

Yet for nearly half a month, they had noticed the emperor’s complexion growing ruddy, and the gloomy aura between his brows dissipating considerably.

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On the Dragon Throne, Zhao Zhen suppressed the joy in his heart, maintaining the majesty expected of an emperor.

His gaze involuntarily passed through the sea of court officials to rest on Zhao Han at the farthest end.

After a moment, he withdrew his thoughts and, as usual, began to listen to the various ministers’ memorials.

Unconsciously, it was nearly the hour of Chen (7–9 a.m.).

Just as Zhao Zhen was about to announce the court’s dismissal, Minister of Rites Han Zhang spoke loudly: “Your Majesty, I, the old minister, have a matter to report!”

Hearing Han Zhang’s voice, Zhao Zhen frowned sharply: “The hour is late. Do not cause unnecessary trouble.”

“If it concerns private palace affairs, come to the Wenhua Hall and speak with me directly.”

Minister of Personnel Xue Pu, holding a jade tablet, then spoke: “Your Majesty, I have requested several audiences with you in Wenhua Hall.”

“You were either discussing antiquity or painting with me, so Minister Han and I could not bring ourselves to be so bold.”

“Ten years to grow trees, a hundred years to nurture people. I earnestly beseech Your Majesty to promptly adopt a prince of the imperial clan.”

At this, the entire hall fell silent.

Zhao Zhen, instead of his usual sharp rebuke, merely fixed them with a deep gaze.

He had heard such words so often over the years that his ears were nearly calloused.

“Your Majesty, the succession remains undecided, which truly shakes the foundation of the realm.”

“For the sake of the Great Zhou dynasty, I must risk my life to petition Your Majesty to adopt an imperial scion and examine his virtues!”

Having spoken, Han Zhang raised his court tablet high, then knelt deeply, kowtowing thrice.

The civil and military officials present also knelt in unison.

Among them were those who remained neutral, indifferent to the succession issue.

After all, at such a critical moment, standing aloof could easily earn resentment.

Zhao Zhen replied coldly: “Though you harbor loyal advice, the Spring and Autumn Annals say: ‘A minister must not carry out his own will.’ Are you now forcing a palace coup?”

“We dare not!” Han Zhang and Xue Pu answered in unison.

“Enough, enough. Both of you are learned scholars; I will not argue with you.” With a legitimate heir now in place, Zhao Zhen felt confident. After a cold sneer, he threw the question back to them.

“Which imperial scion do you think I should adopt?”