Chapter 90
All kinds of rumors and all manner of stories were circulating in the Imperial Palace, and Feng Zhiwei even heard that the Hu Zhuo Prince had been scared away by Young Madam Feng’s ugliness, or that Miss Feng had been incredibly unreasonable and driven the Prince away, but in the end most people believed that it the culprit was the young lady’s notorious mother, the infamous, eloping shrew.
When Feng Zhiwei heard this final rumor, she had to take a moment of silence to honor her innocent mother’s sacrifice.
But right after, she had to take a moment of silence for herself — she had unintentionally become famous, and now her name was more famous than the greatest beauty of Dijing, Hua Gongmei, daughter to Minister of Personal Hua Wenlian.
But regardless, her double life had entered an easy stage. With peace at home, she could focus on her new Imperial task — the Tian Sheng Emperor was embarking on a new venture, commemorating his political and military achievements with a new “Records of Tian Sheng”, a compendium that would include classic, historical records, philosophical writings, astronomy, geography, historical relics, folk customs, and other noteworthy works.
The Vice-Prime Minister Hu Shengshan was editor-in-chief, Qing Ming Academy Head Xin Ziyan and Feng Zhiwei’s alias, Vice-Headmaster Wei Zhi, were assistant editors, and the three of them were in charge of assembling a group of talents from Qing Ming Academy and the Imperial Academy.
All sorts of talents were gathered together in a single hall, charged with the task of a magnum opus that would surpass all predecessors and allow no successors.
With the plan of presenting the book to the Tian Sheng Emperor on his next birthday, the group of editors had gathered in a side palace near the Imperial Archives. The editors had been given temporary residences within the Imperial Palace compound, allowed the great honor of resting within Palace walls while on their task.
During these days, Feng Zhiwei often traveled back and forth between Qing Ming Academy and the Imperial Palace, and so she had guards stationed around Cui Fang Residence in her Qiu Mansion home. While she claimed ill, the guards would scare off any passerby, using their Kung Fu to “haunt” the area, and the Qiu Mansion staff were soon convinced that Fifth Concubine’s ghost had come back to haunt the area.
On one of these mornings, Feng Zhiwei had just arrived at Qing Ming when the translucent white pants of a beautiful middle-aged man filled her vision: “Little Zhi, Little Zhi...”
“Does Headmaster have any orders?” Feng Zhiwei politely greeted, sure that the lousy man was up to no good.
“Little Zhi, don’t be so distant.” Xin Ziyan complained, eyes dancing as he took her hand. “Ai ya, I was just talking about you. Really, Little Zhi, it’s been so hectic around here lately. Scholar Hu is busy with the military resources and reports, and I have my hands full with the compendium, I really can’t manage Qing Ming Academy as well. Do you think you’ll be able to take on the Politics and History department for me?”
Feng Zhiwei smiled. With war so close, Ning Yi had shifted his focus to Qing Ming’s Military College, cultivating the powerful military resources. More and more, the good-for-nothing rich young monsters in the Politics and History department had lost their value — with Ning Yi’s current political status and secure position, these relationships were no longer so important, so Xin Ziyan could easily hand over the Department to Feng Zhiwei.
After all, without any one dealing with the spoiled young masters, the brats had been up to no good. They were truly thankless burdens, and if she dealt poorly, she might even upset all manners of high level officials.
Did this old man think she’d had it too easy and wanted to laugh at her?
“Headmaster!” Feng Zhiwei exclaimed, looking deeply into Xin Ziyan’s gleaming eyes. “You’ve really run yourself ragged, your face is all yellow and your eyes are drooping in exhaustion.”
“Exactly.” Xin Ziyan shamelessly agreed, frowning deeply and using her sleeve to wipe his nose. “You must have pity on me...”
“The students of the Politics and History Department have lofty backgrounds.” Feng Zhiwei replied, frowning even more deeply than the headmaster. “My words are like the breeze, and I cannot scold or beat them, I really cannot manage this...”
“You can beat and scold.” Xin Ziyan easily replied, carefully wiping his nose. “I’ll take full responsibility.”
“Alright.” Feng Zhiwei’s frown immediately disappeared as she agreed, sweeping away and stealing Xin Ziyan’s new handkerchief, wiping some imaginary sweat from her face before balling up the expensive cloth and hiding it away. “This little brother will force himself to help you this one time...”
The headmaster squatted in the chair like a hoodlum, eyes turning from Feng Zhiwei’s vacated seat to her happy silhouette as she walked away, and he suddenly wondered if, perhaps, maybe, possibly, it seemed likely that... he had lost this exchange...
“Dappled Horse coat, at least a thousand gold coins...”
Gossip and chatter filled the dining hall with noise even after closing hours, and though only some minutes remained before afternoon classes, a large group of people were still gathered around playing games, punishing losers with various humiliating tasks. Laughter and jeers filled the heavens.
These rich and powerful young masters had no hopes of passing Imperial Examination but had been granted official rank because of ancestral contribution. When Xin Ziyan had personally watched over the academy, these students had still behaved themselves, but now that the Headmaster was too busy to manage them, the young masters were growing rowdier by the day.
As their spirits roared to the skies, a curious and courteous voice approached the outer rims of the horde: “Brothers, what are you all doing?”
“Are you retarded, you don’t know finger-guessing?” One of them called back casually.
“You want to play? One tael of silver per round, ten taels buy-in.”
“I have no silver, but will this do?” The voice replied good-naturedly, passing a token through a gap in the crowd.
The young man squatting in the chair grabbed the token and slapped it on the table, examining the object carefully. It was an identity token of the Academy’s top officials, and the words “Vice Headmaster” were emblazoned on the bronze material.
The man paused and turned, looking into Feng Zhiwei’s smiling face.
“Young Master Yao, you’re in good spirits.”
“You.” The young man was Yao Yangyu, the unfortunate son of Grand Secretariat Yao Ying whose fingers had been broken by Gu Nanyi. He had been stunned by the token, but when he recognized his mortal enemy Wei Zhi, an overpowering fury swelled within him. He sneered, his voice dragging as he spoke:
“What do you want? The Vice President wants to play? Ten Silver Liang, the same price for everyone...” He called out, picking up the token and tossing it aside. “This trash token is worth nothing!”
The token landed on the grand with a crisp, audible clang, and the hall fell silent.
“Worth nothing?” Feng Zhiwei echoed, her smile still plastered on her face. “Crafted by Imperial artisans under the supervision of the Internal Affairs Committee, granted personally by His Imperial Majesty and bestowed upon me personally by your father... I’d like to sell it for ten taels, but His Majesty will not allow it, your father will not allow it, and our lofty Tian Sheng Dynasty’s Imperial Law will not allow it — You will pick it up!”
Her smiling words transformed instantly, flashing from amusement to angry ferocity in the blink of an eye, her fury slashing through the crowd like a bolt from heaven, nature’s fury wielded by human force into a sword strike that struck indomitably at its target. The gathered layabouts were struck into stunned, quivering amazement, forced into silence.