Chapter 3

FYC 3: Known Across the Realm

After some more exchanges of pleasantries, Pan Bin got up to take his leave. Right before their departure, Tang Fan said to Zheng Ying, “Marquis, this matter is beyond the norm. For the sake of convenient examination, we hope to be able to take away the body of the good Don.”

Zheng Ying’s brow furrowed tight. He was evidently not too pleased. “Is there no other way?”

“To discover the cause of his death, this is where we need to start.”

“He’s the eldest son of I, Marquis Wu’an. How could he be treated the same as an ordinary man? His body will be kept at the Estate, and his displayed coffin will immediately be buried on the seventh day.”

The implication being: if you can’t find out the truth within seven days, my son won’t be able to wait that long, and will have to be buried.

Before Tang Fan could answer, Pan Bin said, “Of course, of course. The dead take priority, and it’s good for him to be buried and at rest. Restrain your grief and go along with fate, Marquis. We’ll take our leaves first, then.”

“Marquis,” Tang Fan said, “that maid named Ah-Lin, according to regulations, will also need to be taken to Shuntian Prefecture.”

Zheng Ying said nothing this time, bluntly waving his hand to have someone bring her and hand her over to a bailiff.

As soon as they left the Estate, Pan Bin scowled and scolded Tang Fan. “Runqing, you’ve really been too impulsive about things today!”

Tang Fan had a look of innocence. “Where did that come from, Sir?”

“You shouldn’t have said the latter of those words to him right then. Is there ultimately another reason for Zheng Cheng’s death? Well, that’s ultimately, too, nothing more than your speculation. What happens when you figure something out? Tell me, why did your attitude change so badly when he saw us off? He’s merely afraid that the killer is wading in his residence; at the time of his son’s death, he might have even been in contact with them.”

Tang Fan sighed. “Sir, if we sit back and observe without a care, I fear that will lead to a miscarriage of justice.”

Pan Bin was quite annoyed, thinking to himself, I gave you all these pointers, how do you still not get it? Zheng Ying’s own son died, and even he hopes to downplay this big event into something minor, so why would we work so hard for no reason? Furthermore, the Emperor will certainly have the thought to look after Zheng Ying’s feelings out of sensitivity for a meritorious official. If the Prefecture actually does uncover something at that time, it’ll only offend people.

Tang Fan was a bit exasperated, as well. Shuntian Prefects were truethird-rank[6] officials, no matter what one said, but Pan Bin was very timid, even being overcautious when investigating a murder case. It was little wonder that this gentleman had worked for so many years, yet hadn’t been able to rise further up from start to finish.

The two had dilly-dallied in the Estate for more than half the night, and when they came out, the morning drums had recently been struck outside, the number of early-rising pedestrians gradually rising. The air was still pervaded with the crisp chill of frost and dew that hadn’t yet withdrawn. Noticing that somebody had already set up a breakfast stall at the side of the road, Tang Fan smiled at Pan Bin. “Brother, working hard through the night should have made you hungry, too. How about I treat you to breakfast?”

Hearing him switch out the way he called him, Pan Bin’s originally cloudy mien nevertheless eased up some, and he felt his stomach rumble a bit.

Both of them were in plainclothes, so they weren’t eye-catching at all.

When the stall owner saw them find a place to sit, he didn’t come over, shouting from where he stood. “You two customers, what will you be eating?”

“Two bowls of mincepork noodles!” Tang Fan answered.

“Got it!” the owner shouted back.

Not long after, two bowls of mincepork noodles with steam coming off of them were arranged in front of them.

The hot broth, its aroma pouncing at the nose, had green and plump scallion tips scattered on its surface, which really made one’s appetite grow immensely.

Pan Bin and Tang Fan were truly hungry, wordlessly picking up their chopsticks and lowering their heads to eat.

Tang Fan’s manner of eating was refined, yet not the slightest bit slower in speed than Pan Bin’s. It was even a smidgen faster.

By the time Sir Pan had finished drinking the noodle broth, Tang Fan had already put down his chopsticks.

Before Pan Bin could think to open his mouth and scold him, Tang Fan said, “Brother, the truth of this matter is; even if the Marquis wants to suppress it, he might not be able to.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Can you still remember that huge incident that happened last year?”

Pan Bin thought about it, and then his face twisted up. “You’re saying…?”

He picked up a chopstick, dampened it in the broth, then wrote the word ‘west’ on the table.

Tang Fan nodded.

The word wasn’t in reference to the cardinal direction ‘west’, nor the Western Paradise’s ‘west’.

Rather, it was the Western Depot’s ‘west’.

When the Great Ming Dynasty was passed on to the present Chenghua Emperor, he became its eighth monarch.

When his father, the Late Yingzong Emperor, reigned, a major event occurred that was enough to get recorded in the annals of history — the Tumu Stronghold Crisis. To say it plainly and truthfully, an imperial eunuch called Wang Zhen wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t courted disaster by instigating Yingzong into a personal campaign against the Oirats; said Emperor actually listened to him, too, bringing a group of major officials with him on it. The end result was that the damned eunuch was killed, the Emperor was captured, and all the officials died until none were left. When the Oirats were about to invade Beijing, Yu Qian stood up on the precipice of danger, and only then could the national capital be preserved, preventing the Great Ancestor and Adept Ancestor[1] from getting angered into jumping out of their coffins and cussing out their unworthy descendants.

During Chenghua’s father’s abduction, because the former was still young at the time and the nation could not be left without a monarch for one day, Yu Qian and a group of officials established Yingzong’s little brother — that was, Chenghua’s uncle — as Emperor, in order to avoid suffering the Oirats’ threats and extortion.

Consequently, the immoral Oirats surprisingly set Yingzong free to come back. One mountain couldn’t tolerate two tigers; how could Chenghua’s uncle give his older brother the seat once more? For that, he placed him under house arrest.

On a certain night several years later, Yingzong ascended in a palace rebellion with the backing of several major officials. Feng shui changed the direction it flowed, now rotating so that it was Chenghua’s uncle who was demoted and imprisoned.

In no more than a few years’ time, Yingzong perished, it circulated again, and then the title of Emperor ultimately fell upon his son, the Chenghua Emperor.

When Chenghua, who nearly didn’t get the throne, had just ascended, the administration was still described as ‘well-managed’, but good things didn’t last forever. He wasn’t diligent in politics to begin with, and once a lazy person got used to being chronically lazy, it was difficult for them to become hardworking.

It was said both inside and outside of Court that Consort Wan was currently the source of the calamity, but Tang Fan didn’t see it like that. No matter how much of a scourge one woman could be, her ability was still finite. If it wasn’t for the Emperor taking all advice at its word, what use would even dozens of treacherous Consorts be? For that matter, Consort Wan’s arrogant domineering was only in the harem, and had no great influence in the Court’s presence. Lastly, Chenghua himself didn’t want to work, pushed off all Court matters to its officials due to his fondness for alchemy, and was extremely doting and trusting towards eunuchs, which then caused the Dynasty, inside and out, to be in disorder day after day.

Tang Fan shook his head, a bit exasperated. Their teacher had once previously commented to him about his study-brother, saying that Pan Zibin “doesn’t finish things sufficiently, plans for things mediocrely, and retreats before the battle is even fought when he encounters anything.” Now that he brought that to mind, it was, indeed, extraordinarily fitting.

On Pan Bin’s end, he feared that Tang Fan would make trouble on his own initiative, so he urged him to go in the opposite direction. “This matter with the Estate will definitely be presented as a memorial, so wait for His Majesty to pass any edicts down before you say anything else about it! You absolutely must not run off to the Estate and go asking for Zheng Cheng’s corpse!”

Tang Fan bust out laughing. “Do you view me as someone as impulsive as that, Brother?”

Pan Bin wasn’t happy. “I do. Our teacher even said that you were ‘docile and refined, having the flair of a gentleman of old’, which, mixed in with that astonishing set of words you just said at the Estate, instead makes you seem all the more brash!”

How did a truethird-rank Shuntian Prefect and a minor sixth-rank official come to call each other fellow students?

This was quite normal, actually, as they both had the same teacher, Qiu Jun.

Qiu Jun could be considered a jack of all trades. Not only was he good at serving as an official, but he had also dabbled in history, science, economy, and even medicine, his knowledge far-reaching. With a hefty abundance of writings, he became widely-known to all at once, and received quite the amount of respect from intellectuals. If people of the time could have worshipped him as their teacher, that would truly be three lifetimes’ worth of luck.

Pan Bin was a disciple that Qiu Jun had accepted in his early years. It was ridiculous to say aloud; the disciple’s political career had gone smoothly and he was now a truethird-rank Shuntian Prefect, while the teacher was still a fourth-rank Chancellor at the Imperial Academy. Yet, the status of a teacher and his student was still present, so even if his official’s rank was higher than his teacher’s, Pan Bin still had to grasp the respectful etiquette of a disciple as usual before him.

Three years prior, during the eleventh year of Chenghua, Qiu Jun was appointed to preside over the Sheep of Twists[5] edition of the provincial exam. Tang Fan had participated in that very exam; first, he placed fifth in the provincial, then soon scored first of the second bracket with flying colors in the palace exam.

In spite of the imperial exams[7] being held once every three years, there was an untold amount of talents that would step up to replace those that had fallen, also wasting their time on it. Tang Fan getting fourth place while being just shy of crown age was already enough to make the scholars of the world envious.

Rumor had it that Chenghua had wanted to venerate Tang Fan as the Prime Scorer, but didn’t, because Chief of Cabinet Wan An said that he was way too young, and it would be better to shift his ranking back so as to avoid having the young man get overly joyous and fail in life due to being over-praised; it had to be kept in mind that the vulgar wind would inevitably break the beautiful trees of the forest.

Feeling that that made sense, the Emperor changed the ranking, shifted Tang Fan to fourth place, and joked with regret, “Tang Runqing’s literary grace and academic knowledge are both of the highest quality. It is hard to come by one both so young and so intelligent. If he was placed as Prime Scorer, it would be very likely that all Prime Scorers from now on, when they came to stand beside him, would cover their faces in shame!”

Thus, three years ago, despite Tang Fan not receiving Prime Scorer in true, his name spread around the realm due to the Emperor’s statement.