Palace Fighting: Naive Concubines' Ascent to Power-Chapter 445: What If I’m Not Out of Practice?

Such a diligent scholar, so young, insisted on making people write characters that convinced him. Wasn’t this yet another challenge and difficulty?

Minister Jia hurriedly advised, "Let it be, no need to write anymore."

Why trouble a junior who deserved admiration, insisting on making him look foolish?

Lian Musu, however, smiled and said, "It doesn’t matter, it’s a good opportunity to ask the teacher for some pointers."

As he spoke, he went to the desk, unbothered, spread out the paper, and began grinding the ink and moistening the brush.

Seeing that he could not be persuaded, Minister Jia said no more, thinking it was also an opportunity for him to make amends and see how the young man wrote. If necessary, he could offer some pointers to help the young man avoid some detours and ensure he learned solidly.

Scholars cherished their own brushes and ink stones, seldom willing to let strangers use them. Feeling guilty, Minister Jia offered his own for writing, to avoid further trouble.

Lian Musu was somewhat surprised. He hadn’t even started writing, but he could already feel a change in Minister Jia’s attitude, unsure why.

He did not refuse, thanked him, and began to calm his mind to eliminate distractions. His whole demeanor changed from gentle to resolute, his eyes focused with determination as he picked up the brush and began to write, his movements fluid like clouds and flowing water.

An expert’s skill is apparent as soon as they begin!

The onlookers gathered around the desk, their eyes unblinking as they watched, occasionally exclaiming in awe. Brother Lian wasn’t much older than them, but the gap between individuals was immense!

Minister Jia’s eyes widened in disbelief as he watched, his heart stirring intensely. His previous presumptions were completely wrong; this young man’s mastery in calligraphy was exceedingly high, not at all inferior to someone who had practiced for decades. His writing was even more spirited than Master He’s!

A question arose in his mind, dumbfounded: What if this young man said he was out of practice, how if he were not?

Lian Musu continued to write smoothly and without pause, and the phrase "With a flourish of the brush, the universe is painted; with the drag of a dragon and snake, the seasons are written" appeared vividly on the paper.

Having finished one sheet, he did not plan to stop his brush but quickly moved the completed paper aside. The students by his side, already thoroughly convinced, hurriedly took the still wet paper and placed it properly.

Lian Musu looked up at Minister Jia, his eyes emitted an arresting light, and said, "Teacher, watch carefully."

After saying this, Lian Musu dipped his brush in ink again, his demeanor transforming once more, as if a sword was unsheathed, sharp and clear, and he began to write rapidly.

Upon hearing the reminder, Minister Jia quickly held his breath, his eyes fierce, unwilling to blink even once. Having copied Master He’s characters for many years, he could certainly discern the essence.

The more he watched, the more astonished he became, as if enlightenment dawned on him like a sudden epiphany. He had said he was missing something vital, and now he knew what it was!

Within the palace.

The Emperor had just arrived at the Star Palace and sat down, had just taken a sip of tea to moisten his throat, barely glanced at a few memorials, his seat not yet warm, when he heard a report that the Minister of Rites and the Minister of Personnel, among others, were coming, which gave him a headache.

These two had clung to a trivial issue and argued endlessly during the imperial court session, to his great annoyance. He had dismissed the court, not expecting them to seek him out afterward.

He reflected, perhaps influenced by Little Concubine’s recent temper, he had been too lenient of late, emboldening these court officials to bring even the most trivial matters before him.

Particularly, the Minister of Rites, this cunning old man, relying on his age to sell his seniority, and extremely adept at reading emotional cues, knew when to be relentless and when to back down, slippery like an autumn fish, truly giving the Emperor headaches.

Despite this, the Emperor held great respect for this elderly man. Indeed, the cunning elder had fought hard in the Imperial Court for many years, extremely accurate in his understanding of human nature and the situation. At the unstable times during the early days of the Emperor’s reign, he had, regardless of his aged body, provided tremendous support.

Therefore, the Emperor had a very high tolerance for the Minister of Rites. On regular days, he would listen to him, but the same could not be said for others...

The old man’s vitality was also extraordinarily strong. There had once been rumors of his critical illness, claiming he was at death’s door.

When the news reached the palace, the Emperor rushed to visit, but upon arriving at the Fan Residence, he saw the old man drinking porridge and doting on his grandchild, showing no signs of a dying man.

Since then, the old man seemed to become even more spirited, returning to attend court meetings that he hadn’t been to in a long time and often coming to find him, now and then having a cry...

The Emperor knew what the cunning old man was thinking; he was just worried about not being able to protect his descendants after a hundred years. He had also once said privately that as long as the descendants of the Fan Family did not engage in corruption, as long as he was in power, no one would dare touch the Fan Family.

Nevertheless, the old man continued to do things in his own way, saying he wanted to serve the Imperial Court and work tirelessly until his death.

It was fine, really. With such a cunning old man present, the court could be more stable, and the Emperor thus did not urge him further.

Soon, a group of people arrived inside the Star Palace. Fearing that the Minister of Personnel would preemptively accuse him of wrongdoing, the Minister of Rites, disregardful of his frail body, walked at the forefront, moving swiftly, hardly resembling a man of seventy or eighty.

The Minister of Personnel, snorting coldly through his nose, secretly ridiculed the Minister of Rites for regressing as he aged, judging others by his own low standards.

The Minister of Rites, however, paid no mind to these trivial words. As soon as he stepped into the threshold of the Star Palace, he called out loudly, "Your Majesty, you must stand up for your old servant!"

His voice was filled with sorrow, and as he spoke, tears began to flow. By the time he walked to the center of the hall, his tears had become a torrential downpour. Crying and wiping his tears, he tremblingly knelt down and performed a kowtow, as if he had suffered great injustice.

Following behind, the Minister of Personnel was choked with anger, his blood pressure rapidly rising, his face and neck turning red, almost losing control and bursting out with curses, condemning the old scoundrel, a vile person who would even deceive his own uncle!!!

The others, a beat slower, also entered the hall and performed their bows.

The straightforward Military General performed his salute crisply and couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement, finding it very impressive. These civil officials changed faces incredibly fast; just moments ago they were all bluster, and in the blink of an eye, they were as sorrowful as if they had lost a mother. He decided to share this observation with everyone once he got back.

The Emperor had long gotten used to such behavior and remained unmoved, simply saying indifferently, "Everyone, rise." He did not respond to the Minister of Rites’s earlier remark.

He couldn’t be bothered to even ask what the matter was, as he had long understood this old man’s ways. Serious matters were not handled with such dramatic displays, but with tantrums and rolling on the floor, the kind that became more intense the more one inquired about it.

At such times, the Emperor would do whatever he was doing, occasionally offering a brief reply, and when the time felt right, he would advise a few words and send him away to conclude the matter.

However, the Emperor had many matters to attend to today and didn’t feel like pandering; he decided to listen for a few moments and then send the people away.

The crowd gradually stood up. The Minister of Rites quickly stepped forward, his throat already crying out "Your Majesty ah," ready to loudly express his grievances, when suddenly a Young Eunuch hurriedly entered from outside, apparently with something to report.

The Emperor, quick to act, raised his hand to stop the Minister of Rites from speaking and directly asked the Young Eunuch, "What is the matter?"

Let’s not have someone cry; once they start, it’s more trouble to make them stop. Better to hear the matter first.