Chapter 403: The Prime Minister’s Banquet

You may wish it, or you may not—the banquet was set there waiting.

Even though Zhu Ping’an had every reason to dread attending, by the time the sun sank low in the western sky, he found himself trotting along after the other Hanlin scholars, following them out of the Hanlin Academy with a mix of resignation and dutiful anticipation. There was simply no way to skip it—the month’s salary had already been advanced! No matter how he felt about it, he had to eat at least some of that cost back.

He still couldn’t comprehend how lenient the Ministry of Revenue had been. The full month’s salary for every newcomer in the Hanlin Academy had been handed over just like that! Tonight’s feast was said to be a “welcome banquet” for the newcomers like Zhu Ping’an, but the funds for the wine came straight from those very salaries!

Now he understood why his eyelid had been twitching since noon—his entire month’s wages had been spent just like that!

The restaurant chosen by the Hanlin Academy seemed utterly unremarkable from the outside, just a plain quadrangle courtyard with a peeling signboard. Yet once inside, the scene was nothing like what the exterior suggested. The first courtyard they entered was modest, barely distinguishable from an ordinary guesthouse, but the second courtyard was a different world entirely. Expansive and elegantly arranged, it stretched across multiple connected courtyards. Miniature rockeries and delicate garden pavilions dotted the grounds, while attendants in matching uniforms moved with polished efficiency. It was a hidden oasis, a secret world tucked behind the plain façade.

This must have been a place frequented often by the Hanlin Academy. The innkeeper greeted Li Chunfang and his companions like old friends, bowing and using formal titles, while other government officials also dined here regularly. Li Chunfang and his party occasionally exchanged greetings with acquaintances, introducing Zhu Ping’an and the others politely.

Aside from the Hanlin Academy, officials from the Imperial Medical Bureau, the Ministry of War, and even the Jinyiwei were present that evening, though each group had their own separate quarters.

Li Chunfang led Zhu Ping’an and the others to their usual courtyard—the Ximo Pavilion. A small, quiet courtyard containing two private rooms spaced roughly three meters apart. One room was already occupied by several members of the Imperial Medical Bureau. Upon seeing Li Chunfang’s group, the physicians rose respectfully, offering greetings and even instructing the staff to send two jars of fine wine to the Hanlin guests, charging it to their tab. Li Chunfang responded with polite courtesy, while Yuan Wei coughed dismissively, exuding impatience and arrogance. The rest of the Hanlin scholars merely nodded in acknowledgment and moved on.

Through this simple interaction, Zhu Ping’an gained a vivid understanding of the hierarchy in feudal Ming society. Unlike modern times, doctors here were far from respected. Even those of the Imperial Medical Bureau were regarded with condescension by bureaucrats, their status still quite low in the eyes of the feudal officials.

Among the Imperial physicians, one young man remained seated, quietly sipping his tea without joining the flattery and politicking of his peers. He radiated a calm detachment, utterly unlike the sycophantic gestures of the others. Zhu Ping’an took careful note of him—this was an interesting physician, one worth remembering.

Once inside the private room, everyone took their places according to rank. Li Mo did not attend, claiming business in the Ministry of Personnel. Li Chunfang, being older and of higher rank, took the main seat. Zhu Ping’an was seated slightly forward, his own official rank dictating his position. Zhang Siwei and Zhu Ping’an were separated by several seats.

No sooner had they settled than two more guests arrived together.

One carried a faint scent of perfume and powder, entering with an elegance that immediately caught attention. Handsome—so strikingly handsome that Zhu Ping’an recalled meeting him before: this was Zhang Juzheng, whose first encounter had left Zhu Ping’an stunned. His meticulous grooming, the carefully applied fragrance, and flawless attire—all pristine and unwrinkled—made it impossible for anyone less refined to compete.

The other guest was unfamiliar to Zhu Ping’an. Handsome as well, but his air of superiority seemed even more pronounced than Yuan Wei’s. Indeed, anyone accompanying Zhang Juzheng in such a manner could hardly be ordinary. Zhu Ping’an felt a surge of curiosity about him.

“Suqing, Shuda, you’ve arrived! Had you been any later, a penalty of wine would have been in order,” Yuan Wei stood, greeting the two with a proud, self-assured smile.

For someone to command such respect from the ever-arrogant Yuan Wei, their capabilities must have been extraordinary—undoubtedly a figure of historical renown. Suqing? That name sounded familiar…

Zhu Ping’an’s mind raced.

“Hehe, Prince Yu had just opened his residence to receive the Classics. It was difficult to step away… but thanks to Shuda’s timely assistance, I managed to come today,” the man addressed as Suqing said with a polite smile.

Prince Yu? Suqing? The names struck a chord, triggering Zhu Ping’an’s memory. Suqing—the courtesy name of Gao Gong! So the proud man before him was none other than Gao Gong himself. No wonder he carried that air of haughty disdain.

Historically, Gao Gong had been a prodigious talent, extraordinarily self-confident and proud, just as his name implied: lofty and unyielding. Records described him as a child genius: at five he could craft perfect couplets, by eight he memorized the Confucian prefaces, and at seventeen he had topped the local examinations with mastery of the “Rites.” Such prodigious accomplishment bred a natural arrogance; he often looked down on everyone, superiors, colleagues, and especially subordinates. His habitual refrain: “You lot of fools…”

As Zhu Ping’an lifted his gaze, he caught that subtle glint of scorn in Gao Gong’s eyes while he laughed.

Interesting. Observing their interactions, Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but mentally trace the thoughts of Yuan Wei and Gao Gong:

Yuan Wei: I disdain these fools around me, but Suqing and Juzheng are worthy of my regard.

Gao Gong: I can’t even bring myself to regard you, fool.

After the brief pleasantries, Gao Gong and Zhang Juzheng took their seats. Fate, it seemed, seated Zhang Juzheng directly below Zhu Ping’an.

Zhang Juzheng, Gao Gong, Li Chunfang, Zhang Siwei—all four destined to serve as senior ministers in the Ming Dynasty. To think that he, Zhu Ping’an, sat at a table with four future pillars of the empire, drinking in their company…

The world was strangely wondrous. A subtle smile tugged at Zhu Ping’an’s lips.

Four future grand ministers at a single table—perhaps. Who could know what the future might hold?

Indeed, centuries later, a painter named Xu Beihong would immortalize this very banquet in a work titled The Banquet of the Ministers. Over five centuries, Xu created the painting from historical records, capturing the weight and significance of this gathering. No other banquet could rival the prominence of this table, nor gather so many of Ming’s future ministers, one of whom would elevate the empire to heights unmatched by any dynasty. Xu Beihong’s masterful composition, narrative, and artistry made The Banquet of the Ministers a timeless classic. A century after Xu’s death, the painting would fetch a record-breaking price at an international auction, surpassing even the famed Last Supper by ten million dollars, cementing its place in art history.