Chapter 376: The Appointment of Office
Of course, the one who was most devastated of all was none other than Miss Yan’er herself.
Zhu Ping’an, still feeling the warmth of wine in his veins, followed the young maid through winding garden paths where emerald trees swayed gently and blossoms of scarlet and gold perfumed the air. At last, they arrived before a secluded building half-hidden by flowering branches.
“This way, please, Young Master Zhu,” the little maid said softly, bowing slightly as she gestured toward the doorway.
Zhu Ping’an stepped inside—and immediately gained a whole new understanding of what luxury meant in the Yan household. This… this was supposed to be a washroom? The floor was laid with fine carpets; delicate porcelain vases brimmed with fresh flowers; lush potted plants breathed life into the air. Even the faintest trace of odor was absent, replaced instead by the subtle sweetness of some rare incense.
“Please, Young Master Zhu.” The little maid halted in the main hall and pointed with her slender hand toward a side room.
Zhu Ping’an assumed that was the men’s lavatory. He nodded politely in thanks, then strode toward it.
Since there were ladies waiting outside, he didn’t dare linger too long. As he reached the doorway, he lifted his hands to unfasten the smooth silver sash at his waist. After all, his back was turned to the maid—there was nothing indecent about it.
He meant to be quick—swift and discreet. The sooner this was over, the better. Pushing the door open, he lifted the hem of his robe, preparing to loosen his trousers. Ancient trousers, unlike those of modern times, were loose and tied beneath one’s outer robe—some had an open crotch, some did not. His happened to be the latter sort.
Thus, when Zhu Ping’an entered, he was holding his belt in one hand and pulling at his waistband with the other, just about to relieve himself—
“KYAA! You shameless scoundrel! Lecher!”
The shriek pierced the air like a dagger. Before Zhu Ping’an could even blink, the sharp clang of steel echoed in the room—swords and cudgels clattering to the floor.
He froze. Then, looking up, his gaze locked with that of Miss Yan’er, her face flushed crimson, her teeth clenched as she glared daggers at him. Behind her stood seven or eight young maids in military attire—each one covering her face in embarrassment, their weapons scattered at their feet. Evidently, in their haste to shield their eyes from the scandalous sight of Zhu Ping’an’s half-loosened robe, they had dropped everything they’d been holding.
“Uh… what the—?!”
Zhu Ping’an felt his stomach sink. Why is Miss Yan’er here?! And why in Heaven’s name do they have weapons—was this supposed to be a trap? A washroom or an ambush? Are they planning to kill me just because I accidentally saw her body that one time? Surely not!
Whatever the case, one thing was certain—he had to get out. Fast.
Cold sweat broke across his forehead; in an instant, the wine’s pleasant haze vanished. Without daring another glance, he dropped his robe, turned on his heel, and strode out, fumbling to tie his silver sash back into place as he went. In his haste, he nearly tripped over the threshold—so when Ouyang Zishi and Luo Longwen saw him emerge, he was staggering and disheveled, as though fleeing for his life.
Inside, Miss Yan’er was on the verge of collapse.
Last time, when she had been bathing, Zhu Ping’an had accidentally barged in—leaving her humiliated, furious, and flustered beyond words. Though she had tried to capture that “thieving scoundrel,” he had tricked her and escaped unscathed. She’d burned with shame ever since.
But fate, it seemed, had eyes. During the grand parade celebrating the new scholars, Miss Yan’er had recognized the new Zhuangyuan—the very same Zhu Ping’an—as the man who had sneaked into her bath.
So she had devised a plan, instructing her trusted maid to lure him in, intending to teach the rogue a painful lesson.
Who could have expected that Zhu Ping’an would so perfectly “see through” her little scheme—and then, as if to mock her, perform that utterly indecent gesture right in front of her? Once again, he had humiliated her—and once again, slipped away!
She had meant to punish the thief… yet ended up being shamed by him again!
Trembling with rage, she could only glare at his retreating back and shout through clenched teeth, “Zhu Ping’an, you just wait!”
When the Minor Grace Banquet finally ended, Zhu Ping’an let out a long sigh of relief.
Thank Heaven—it’s over.
The moment the gathering concluded, he wasted no time in leaving the Yan estate, not daring to linger even a heartbeat longer.
Zhang Juzheng remained behind, bowing respectfully to Elder Yan Song and the Grand Secretary Yan before departing as well.
At dawn the following day, Zhu Ping’an once again donned his full ceremonial robes, every fold of his attire immaculate, and set off early for the Honglu Temple. For the next three days, all the newly appointed scholars would undergo training there—learning the intricate rites of court etiquette.
Honglu Temple, a fourth-rank government institution, was responsible for overseeing imperial ceremonies, banquets, and rituals. In a sense, it was akin to a “Central Party School” for the Ming court. During these three days, they would study the formalities of audiences, feasts, and sacrifices; upon completion, they would “graduate” and attend court on the fourth day to offer thanks to the Emperor Jiajing himself.
On the first day of instruction, the new jinshi were formally granted their official titles.
Unlike in the Qing Dynasty—where further examinations were required—the Ming Dynasty appointed officials immediately after the palace examination. Thus, the names were inscribed, sealed with the Ministry of Rites’ great red stamp, and delivered along with ceremonial robes to Honglu Temple for announcement and distribution.
As the Zhuangyuan, Zhu Ping’an, unsurprisingly, received the traditional appointment of Hanlin Academy Editor (Xiuzhuan)—a sixth-rank position reserved for the top scholar of every examination year.
Zhang Siwei was appointed Hanlin Academy Compiler (Bianxiu).
Although the difference between “Editor” and “Compiler” was just a single character, the gulf in status was vast—the former being of the sixth rank, the latter the seventh. Yet Zhang Siwei was elated beyond measure. To him, it was as if fortune itself had struck him on the head, for the position of Bianxiu was no common reward—it was typically granted to the second or third place of the first rank, or other promising scholars from the second or third ranks.
Thus, being chosen marked him as one of the rising stars of the empire.
The truth, however, was far simpler—and no one could have guessed it.
When Emperor Jiajing personally reviewed the appointment list, his eyes fell upon the name Ouyang Zishi, and his brow furrowed.
“‘Yang’… ‘Yang’? The word means illness,” he muttered. “How could my Great Ming harbor such a name within the Hanlin Academy—my very chamber of counsel? It offends the omen of our state’s well-being! No, he shall be sent elsewhere—to the Six Ministries, perhaps. Better out of sight than vexing my heart.”
He crossed out Ouyang Zishi’s name with a stroke of the imperial brush. Then, as his gaze moved down the page, another name caught his eye—Zhang Siwei.
“‘If the four pillars collapse, the nation perishes,’” the Emperor murmured, recalling the ancient saying. “Then if the Four Pillars stand firm, shall not the realm endure forever?”
He read the name again and again, a faint smile curving his lips.
“Zhang Siwei… the Four Pillars stand firm. An auspicious name indeed!”
And so, Zhang Siwei’s fortune was sealed by the Emperor’s whim.
Meanwhile, Wang Shizhen was assigned as an observing scholar at the Court of Judicial Review (Dali Temple)—essentially an internship position, filling vacancies as they arose.
The remaining scholars were distributed according to their rankings: the most exceptional few selected as junior Hanlin candidates (Shujishi); the middle ranks sent to observe in the Six Ministries or other key offices; and the rest dispatched to provincial posts for their apprenticeships.
Only Ouyang Zishi, despite his strong ranking and the powerful support of Yan Song and Yan Shifan, received an assignment that shocked everyone—
He was sent to the Prince Jing’s household as an observer.
Ouyang Zishi stared at the appointment list for a long, long while, unable to utter a single word.