Echoes of My Heart Throughout the Court

By the time Xu Yanmiao and the others returned to the capital, it was already late January.

In court, the emperor graciously praised them, sighing dramatically: “You’ve all worked so hard. For the sake of Fujian’s calamity, you couldn’t even spend the New Year with your families…”

[Does that mean we’ll get vacation time?!]

The emperor: “…”

That familiar sensation of being abruptly stumped.

After a pause, the emperor, his tone tinged with weariness, said: “In that case, for the next two or three days, you may return home to reunite with your families. There’s no need to attend court or handle government affairs. Once you’ve rested, resume your duties.”

The Minister of Justice’s eyes suddenly widened.

“!!!”

The emperor, a notorious miser when it came to granting leave, had actually given them a holiday! Even though it wasn’t a long one, it was still a holiday!

Liang Rui bowed deeply to express his gratitude.

He also felt relieved that he was no longer the naive rookie he had once been.

He recalled how, back when he had first entered officialdom and was still inexperienced, his superior had expressed sympathy for their department’s hard work and offered them some time off. Back then, in his foolishness, he had earnestly declared that he didn’t feel overworked and that he wanted to dedicate himself to serving the people. He even suggested that the holiday be given to his colleagues instead.

At the time, he had naively assumed that his colleagues also wanted to work for the public good since none of them went home. He’d even been delighted by their shared sense of purpose. Later…

Liang Rui paused, skipping over the part where his colleagues had set him up in retaliation, leaving him clueless as to what he’d done to offend them.

Meanwhile, Xu Yanmiao outwardly appeared calm, politely expressing his thanks. However, inwardly, he was ecstatic and nearly bursting with joy.

After granting the holiday, the emperor moved on to rewards, as merit should always be recognized.

The Minister of Justice had no room for further promotion in rank, so his accomplishments were recorded toward a future ennoblement.

For Liang Rui, the Clerk of the Ministry of Justice, his contributions didn’t quite qualify him for a promotion yet.

“Gao Huachun, Clerk of the Ministry of Revenue, is hereby promoted to Langzhong of the same ministry.”

“?!”

Princess Wanshou felt her breath catch.

“Gao Huachun” was her full name, but to hear it spoken so formally, solemnly, and tied to an official promotion—this was a first.

Not as “Lady Gao,” not as “Princess Wanshou,” but as…

Gao Huachun!

“The Clerk of the Ministry of War, Lian Hang, is hereby promoted to Yuanwailang of the Ministry of War’s Carriage Division.”

A jump from the ninth subordinate rank to the fifth subordinate rank?!

Lian Hang felt momentarily stunned, as though struck hard in the chest.

Promotions in the court often involved dramatic leaps. There had even been cases of clerks directly jumping to become prefects of a region. Still, experiencing such a leap personally left him dazed.

He knew well that other clerks were still grinding their way up the ladder. His predecessor as Clerk of the Ministry of War had taken nine years to earn a promotion. How long had he been in his position?

Lian Hang glanced sideways at Xu Yanmiao, fully aware of who had made his rapid promotion possible.

“The Clerk of the Ministry of Personnel, Xu Yanmiao, is hereby promoted to Yuanwailang of the same ministry.”

“Additionally—”

Xu Yanmiao blinked.

[Additionally…?]

The emperor looked at him with a subtle shift in his expression and added,

“…he is also appointed as Shizhong.”

Xu Yanmiao couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

The title Shizhong was an honorary position, one that carried no real power on the surface. But in modern terms, it was akin to being the emperor’s personal secretary—a role of immense prestige.

In other words, even the prime minister would think twice before offending a Shizhong. After all, they were constantly in the emperor’s company and could easily sway the emperor’s opinion with a casual remark.

Xu Yanmiao could feel many eyes fixed on him.

He could sense their confusion, which mirrored his own.

[Why was I made Shizhong?]

[Was having me review memorials not enough?]

The officials: “!!!”

Their internal thoughts echoed his words. After repeating them a few times in their minds, they collectively gasped.

To the emperor, it seemed… Xu Yanmiao was no longer just a revered figure to be venerated from afar.

When had this happened?!

This level of favor—it had to come from genuine affection and closeness, didn’t it?

Some senior officials weren’t surprised, though. They understood that, whether for good or ill, catching the emperor’s attention was already half the battle. The other half depended on timing, opportunity, and personal connections.

In stories, a ruler might show love by finding a scapegoat for their beloved. But in reality, an emperor, who held supreme power, would shower their favorite with the best.

History had proven this time and again.

In the distant past—a certain emperor split his authority in half to share it with the empress.

Even further back—another emperor outright declared he would pass the throne to his male favorite.

Closer to now—one emperor created a new position solely for his cherished minister, elevating them to “second only to the emperor,” forcing even the prime minister to bow to them.

And more recently—an emperor, hearing accusations of treason against his beloved prime minister, simply turned to the accused and said, “Handle it yourself.”

In short…

The officials silently dug through historical precedents for guidance.

Should they start showing deference to Xu Yanmiao before the emperor formally declared his favor? Or should they first figure out what Xu Yanmiao liked and work to build rapport?

—Xu Yanmiao’s position was sensitive. Technically, they shouldn’t approach him. However, ignoring a favored minister would seem odd, especially since the emperor’s appointment of Xu Yanmiao as Shizhong was an implicit acknowledgment that others could interact with him.

Still, they needed to tread carefully.

What did Xu Yanmiao like, anyway?

Watching other people’s drama?

That didn’t seem like a good starting point. Next.

Complaining about the emperor being stingy, frugal, and harsh on officials?

Uh, no. Moving on.@@novelbin@@

Eating meat?

It was currently the New Year season, so most households likely still had plenty of preserved meat.

Wait—were they really going to send him preserved meat as their first gift?!

The officials collectively pictured their servants politely delivering a calling card, leaving behind preserved meat, and stating which official’s household they represented.

The mental image left them in shock.