Before the first light of dawn reached Chuigong Hall, the sky remained a murky, bruised gray.
A line of military officers, all fifth rank and above, stood in formation outside the hall. Most had never set foot inside Chuigong Hall before; this was the hallowed ground of the civil officials, a place where, in the past, they hadn’t even been allowed to touch the threshold.
Today, however, was different.
“Damn it, am I really going to enter Chuigong Hall to discuss politics in this lifetime?” an old adjutant muttered, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the surrounding pavilions. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”
“Stop talking out of your ass!”
A vice-general beside him gave him a heavy shove. “Could the Chancellor’s command be fake? He’s the one who shouldered the burden to make this happen.”
These military men, promoted from the border armies, possessed simple minds. they valued directness and cold steel. They didn’t understand courtly power struggles or the nuances of factional warfare.
In their eyes, the world was simple: whoever fed them and kept their brothers alive was a good person.
They didn’t care if the scholars called Gu Huaiyu a treacherous official or mocked him with nicknames like “Gu the Cat” or “Gu the Thief.”
The moment the decree for “Military Participation in Governance” was issued, Chancellor Gu became their greatest benefactor—a savior sent by the heavens themselves.
“I heard the Chancellor is as beautiful as an immortal in a painting?” a younger guerrilla general whispered, seeking gossip.
“Bullshit!” the old adjutant spat. “A man who can suppress a whole court of civil officials must be a titan—eight feet tall and ten spans wide! He probably has a face full of battle scars…”
Amidst their rowdy chatter, a familiar figure emerged from the hall doors.
Pei Jingyi, dressed in black martial attire, stepped out into the morning light.
“Oho! The favorite is here!”
“General Pei!”
“Jingyi, my good brother!”
In an instant, two or three dozen officers swarmed Pei Jingyi, surrounding him completely.
Lao Yan, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, lunged forward first, his large hand gripping Pei Jingyi’s arm in a vice. “I knew you were a dragon among men from the start!”
“Give your old brother the inside scoop. Is the Chancellor looking for more men? These old bones of mine…”
Before he could finish, several border generals pushed in to interrupt:
“Get lost, Yan! Brother Pei, you know my boys are all veterans of a hundred kills. Pass a word along for me…”
“Don’t any of you try to snatch this! I don’t care about a high rank. Even if I’m just serving tea, fetching water, or writing reports for the Chancellor, I’ll take it!”
Pei Jingyi’s shoulders ached from the constant slapping, and his ears rang with their booming, coarse voices.
With a sudden surge of strength, he wrenched himself free from the crowd and barked with a cold face, “Everyone, fall in line!”
But these killers weren’t about to listen to him. They swarmed back in an instant, chirping away as they pried for information on the Chancellor’s likes and temperament—looking for all the world like a pack of starving wolves circling a prime piece of meat.
Not far away, members of the Pure Stream faction watched with cold detachment.
Qin Zijin, dressed in a plain white mourning robe, stood with his hands behind his back. He spoke softly, “Do you all remember the words of Zhuangzi?”
The others blinked, but before they could respond, he continued, “The frog in the well cannot speak of the ocean; the summer insect cannot speak of ice.“
A Hanlin Scholar beside him immediately caught the drift. Stroking his beard, he smiled. “Minister Qin’s words are marvelous. Though I fear those brutes haven’t even heard of Confucius, let alone Master Zhuang.”
Several Pure Stream officials chuckled into their sleeves.
Qin Zijin’s gaze drifted over the jostling military officers, finally settling on Pei Jingyi in the center. He shook his head with regret. “It truly is a pity for General Pei. A son of a heroic lineage, yet his ‘bright pearl’ has been cast into the shadows…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Pei Jingyi, who had been facing away, suddenly turned his head. His sharp gaze pierced through the air like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Qin Zijin’s expression shifted. He instinctively took a half-step back.
He had always prided himself on his refined composure, never losing his cool even during the fiercest court debates. Yet, in this moment, a chill ran down his spine. A thought flashed through his mind:
Why did Gu Huaiyu keep such a bloodthirsty beast by his side?
Does he not fear the day he gets bitten?
“Open the Hall—!”
A sharp, high-pitched cry shattered the silence. The heavy doors of Chuigong Hall slowly groaned open.
Palace attendants carrying red and gold lanterns filed in. The flickering lights wound like a dragon up the steps and into the main assembly hall.
The military officers, who had been laughing a moment ago, fell instantly silent.
Their expressions became solemn, their footsteps as light as if they were treading on clouds.
They peeked at the interior: the gilded dragon pillars standing tall, the blue jade floor tiles gleaming with a cold luster, and the intricate sandalwood carvings behind the imperial desk. It felt as if one could see the very majesty of the Son of Heaven at a glance.
This was a place they had never stood before.
In the two hundred years since the founding of Great Chen, they were the first group of military officers to cross this threshold with dignity.
Not as guards. Not as decoration.
But as officials participating in the governance of the realm.
The Imperial clan members were already seated. At the very head of them sat a middle-aged man with graying temples and a gentle expression. This was the brother of the late Emperor Rui and the uncle of Yuan Zhuo—the current Prince Xian.
Prince Xian’s gaze drifted impassively over the entering generals, lingering briefly on Pei Jingyi with an unreadable depth in his eyes.
The other royal relatives looked less than pleased, whispering to one another with sour faces.
“The Emperor arrives—!”
Eunuch Xu’s shrill voice rang out, and everyone dropped to their knees in unison.
Yuan Zhuo, dressed in bright yellow dragon robes, stepped into the hall. The young Emperor’s gaze suddenly froze as he scanned the Pure Stream faction.
