Palace Fighting: Naive Concubines' Ascent to Power-Chapter 495: Act Low-Profile

However, before she could say much, Huang Zude had already arrived...

As Huang Zude left the Imperial Medical Bureau and headed towards Canglan Court, someone concealed their presence and hurried off. Soon, a certain place within the palace received news that Canglan Court had requested the attendance of an Imperial Physician.

A woman sat at the desk, dressed in a plain-colored pipa-sleeved gown with a matching pattern embroidered only at the crossing of the collar, which lent her an aura of extraordinary softness and serenity.

Her eyebrows and eyes were calm, and she copied Buddhist scriptures with steady strokes of her brush on the paper. From afar, she resembled a painting steeped in tranquility and elegance.

When she finished copying a volume of scriptures, the woman set down her brush and took a handkerchief from the palace maid nearby to wipe her hands. The corners of her mouth slowly curled up, her phoenix eyes losing their calm and becoming bright and beautiful in an instant.

She softly opened her vermilion lips, "There’s no need to look any further, just listen to father. It is enough for this palace to quietly await the good news."

"Yes."

"Any news from my cousin?"

"None." The palace maid’s voice remained calm and undisturbed.

"That’s fine, you may leave."

Many eyes within the palace had been cleared out, which was normal. Besides, during this troubled autumn, stillness was preferable to action.

The woman did not think further, dismissed the maid, and picked up the freshly copied scriptures with a smile brimming on her face. As she looked over them, her thoughts drifted to far-off places.

But she had learned to be patient. She didn’t need to do anything; she just had to wait, and what she wanted would naturally come to her.

There was more good news: after years of care, her body was ready for pregnancy, and with a secret medicine in hand, she only needed to think of a way...

This was something that no one in her quarters knew. She did not trust them.

The woman breathed out a long-held sigh, feeling a lightness she had never experienced before; even her headaches had not plagued her for a long time.

This woman was none other than Noble Consort Xue, who had been silent for so long.

Since that day, many of her informants in the palace had been removed, but fortunately, some who had pledged their loyalty to her had not betrayed her.

Returning to her quarters on that day, she had a splitting headache and, overwhelmed with rage and sorrow, she had almost fallen ill but was fortunately soothed by her father’s comfort.

Her father truly deserved to be her father. What she had struggled to accomplish in the palace for many years, she achieved due to the news from her father, which finally allowed her to settle down and stay calm.

In these days, Huaqing Palace was silent. Noble Consort Xue had not stepped out of her palace even once, keeping a very low profile and claiming to be recuperating from illness, shunning visitors.

She chuckled lightly and elegantly placed the scriptures down, then gracefully walked out of her study.

The curtain fell, and the wind that picked up flipped the corner of the scriptures, revealing the small script that was handsome and elegant. Upon closer examination, each character’s beginning and end possessed a hidden sharpness.

Within the harem, the undercurrents flowed silently, and conspiracies and schemes were methodically advancing...

Outside the Imperial Academy, at Shanxue Square.

Lian Musu still sat with closed eyes, lost in silent contemplation. The morning had passed, and she maintained her composed demeanor, showing no intention of beginning to write.

The earliest onlookers outside Shanxue Square couldn’t bear it anymore and had dispersed, but new waves of people eager to watch the drama kept arriving. News of the retake at Shanxue Square had spread throughout the Capital, attracting an ever-growing crowd.

Wave after wave came, but finding Lian Musu motionless, they grew bored and left in waves as well.

The newcomers, however, were noticeably more young ladies, daughters-in-law, and older women. They had all heard that the candidate taking the retake was quite handsome and had come to witness the excitement.

Scholars had all heard what the question was, and each newcomer performed the same ritual—a walk over, a squeeze in, a stand and look, followed by a helpless shake of the head, then a squeeze back out. Once at the edge of the crowd, they’d heave a long sigh and walk away in small groups, lamenting.

"Too difficult, this is truly too difficult. The Jieyuan from Taiyuan Prefecture is finished. What does it matter if he is as handsome as the gentle breeze and bright moon, or if he can debate with Minister Qin? The question from above didn’t seem to want anyone to pass at all. Alas."

"What a pity, such a good man, such a waste, alas..."

In the second floor of the study, Minister Fan paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, then looked out at the people below—still no movement. He couldn’t help himself and said, "Why hasn’t he started writing? Could it be that the question I set was too difficult?"

As it is said, excessive concern leads to chaos. He had gone from initial complacency to his current agitation.

The others glanced at each other but kept silent. Only Minister Fan could utter such a statement. They knew better than to speak out of turn, keeping their thoughts to themselves even if they agreed.

Minister Qin had long since found an excuse to slip away and wasn’t here.

Among the people present, only Feng Lianian reacted. He sneered straightforwardly, "Does this old guy really not know if it’s difficult or not?"

The question wasn’t hard. Anyone with the given word could write a grand essay with flair, but the difficulty lay in the fact that there were so many sages’ sacred texts to compare with—next to the sages and wise men of old, who wouldn’t pale in comparison?

This old fellow was clearly making things difficult on purpose!

Minister Fan glanced at him, too anxious to bother arguing, and sat down again. He picked up his cup of tea to drink and then realized his belly was already full of tea.

When he changed the question, all he wanted was to see how a lame candidate would actualize the principle of "justness" in his heart, whether he was truly worthy of Minister Fan’s special regard—not to make things difficult. He certainly didn’t wish to lose a pillar of talent for the court.

It was only right for him to be forgetful at his age, and even His Majesty hadn’t stopped him.

Thinking of this, Minister Fan grew restless: "I don’t ask for much, if only he can produce a one, two, three, no matter how it turns out, I will acknowledge him as my disciple."

Please stop torturing him; just make any kind of move. He’s old and can’t take it.

Feng Lianian scoffed, "Minister Fan sets the question and Minister Fan is anxious. At your age, if you still don’t have a young successor with any resolution, perhaps you shouldn’t take on any disciples to avoid leading them astray."

Minister Fan was burning with impatience and didn’t entertain these words. He got up, saying, "It won’t do; I must go down and see for myself."

He got up and left.

Feng Lianian poured himself a cup of tea and leisurely added, "Does Minister Fan really think that by going down and taking a look, he can make amends?"

Minister Fan’s steps halted, and he blew on his beard then suppressed his frustration. With a snort, he ignored Feng Lianian and proceeded downstairs.

Feng Lianian took his teacup and let out a long sigh before sipping: "This lame candidate is truly having an ill-fated year. Being forced to retake the exam is bad enough, but to encounter such a question and be surrounded by so many onlookers while trying to focus is no easy feat. Now all he needs is to settle his thoughts, gather the essence of his ideas to break through the question. Yet there are those who cannot bear to see this and wish to interrupt, how sad and pitiable, utterly deplorable."

He sipped his tea as he spoke.

Minister Fan’s raised foot could not descend, and he withdrew it.

Feng Shuzi was right, he couldn’t go.

After pondering, Minister Fan returned and sat down in front of Feng Lianian. He pretended to neaten his beard and spoke deliberately, "What did Master Feng mean by his remarks just now? Tell me, if you will."

He was now bewildered by the matter and could use Feng Shuzi’s analysis.

Feng Lianian put down his teacup, turned his face away not looking at him, and replied indifferently, "I dare not, I dare not. How could I presume to show off in front of Minister Fan?"

The crafty old man also has his day, huh.