Yang Lun released Deng Ying and walked back to the shadowed window.
The memorial he had thrown lay beneath the side table, now an eyesore.
This was the first time he had erupted with such anger in the Grand Secretariat duty room. His fury was directed at many:
The stubborn Censor.
The Emperor cared only for power balance, not political integrity.
And the omnipresent Northern Disciplinary Court.
Yet in the end, only Deng Ying bore the brunt of his anger.
He had truly treated Deng Ying as someone without any backing and beneath his station. Unconsciously, he was certain that even if this misplaced anger burned him, Deng Ying would humbly endure it without causing any adverse effects on the current situation.
Years of association, all connections severed by that one knife, yet his trust in Deng Ying remained – though it had transformed into the confidence with which he freely humiliated him. Yang Lun was secretly alarmed by this, his insides churning, yet he could not express even a fraction of this to the man in palace robes before him.
He held his forehead, wiping away the hot sweat forced out in the first month, and said quietly:
“I’ll go find Huang Ran.”
After speaking, he snatched up the fallen memorial. Though he had intended to say nothing more, at the door he couldn’t help turning back, “Why won’t you simply sever ties with us and properly serve as a palace official?”
Deng Ying lowered his head, pressing the swollen spot on his face, “You may sever ties, but I don’t want to.”
Yang Lun shook his head with a bitter laugh, “People live by their integrity. You’re already in this state – no one will accept you. The more you do, the more the court suspects you. Like today, to delay the Northern Disciplinary Court, you used the Eastern Depot to extort money from the Huang family. The officials in the capital will only condemn you – no one knows you’re trying to save him!”
Deng Ying dropped his hand, “Do you think I still harbor delusions of a pure official’s reputation?”
“Then what are you seeking?”
Yang Lun used the memorial in his hand to point at Bai Huan’s calligraphy hanging behind him, “Look for yourself – this is the Grand Secretariat duty room, where the literary minds of the realm transform their ideals into national righteousness…”
“Yes.”
Deng Ying interrupted him, continuing quietly: “I disgrace this place by my presumptuous presence, deserving only contempt.”
Yang Lun’s throat quivered, suddenly feeling as if pierced by needles.
“I understand it all.”
Deng Ying stepped closer to him. “I even know what conflicts you internally, but I don’t know how to make you see me more clearly.”
“See clearly? What’s unclear?”
Deng Ying looked up, “In your eyes, the two who died from hunger strike while awaiting punishment with me at Nanhaizi last year brought honor to our brotherhood, while I, who survived pitifully, brought shame. Since I lived so pathetically, I should completely let go and properly serve as a servant – only then would you not feel such conflict upon seeing me.”
Yang Lun remained silent. Hearing his inner struggle voiced by Deng Ying brought a chill like spring water over stone.
“I haven’t managed that.”
Deng Ying’s voice was calm and gentle, “With my current status, maintaining a private friendship with you indeed brings you shame. You may rebuke me, but please don’t cut off my path forward. I know my eventual fate, but before that day comes, I wish to live bearing my guilt.”
Yang Lun exhaled a heated breath, looking down at Deng Ying with a slightly strained voice. “Can you survive like this?”
Deng Ying glanced up at Yang Lun, then lifted his robe and knelt, performing a deep bow to Yang Lun.
Yang Lun lowered his head, his hands suddenly clenching behind his back. Though he could almost guess why Deng Ying would do this, he still pressed the question: “What do you want to say?”
Deng Ying straightened up, “Zi Xi, more than shaming you, what I cannot forgive myself for is… my feelings for Yang Wan…”
He lowered his eyes, gazing at nothing in particular, “After our teacher’s death, I was completely shattered. I desperately wanted her sympathy – even just a little would have saved me then. Later, I developed other desires for her. I loathed myself for tarnishing her reputation, but she never rebuked me as you do.”
He looked up at Yang Lun, “Zi Xi, whether I can survive depends on how long you all can tolerate me, and how long Yang Wan is willing to forgive me.”
Yang Lun turned away, “Have you forgotten the oath you made to me in the Ministry of Justice?”
“No.”
Yang Lun slammed his fist on the wooden desk, sending up a cloud of fine dust. He turned and grabbed Deng Ying.
“Who the fuck told you to…”
He burst out with crude words, emotions high, yet still couldn’t say what he wanted to say. His voice caught, and when he spoke again, his fury had weakened, “Who the fuck told you to use my courtesy name?”
With that, he tucked Huang Ran’s memorial into his robes and left the duty room without looking back.
Dust particles glittered like gold in the light.
The empty Grand Secretariat duty room, bearing the greatest life aspirations and patriotic sentiments of the realm’s scholars, indeed held a certain awe for Deng Ying. Standing in the empty window light, his back chilled, he dared not linger.
He lowered his head to straighten his disheveled clothes, walked out of Donghua Gate, and headed toward the Inner Eastern Depot along the Imperial Provisions Office. Halfway there, he met Eastern Depot guard Qin Wende.
“Superintendent.”
Qin Wende clasped his hands in greeting.
Deng Ying glanced at the time, “Just returned?”
Qin Wende bowed, “Yes, Huang Ran is entering the palace for the banquet today. The Northern Disciplinary Court’s officers didn’t dare stop him. I left two men to watch his residence and returned first to report to the Superintendent.”
Deng Ying asked, “Did you investigate those drunken words?”
“Yes, they were confirmed. Most words were insignificant, but the crucial part was that drunken poem, written by Huang Ran himself. One line reads ‘I pray spring’s clarity descends today, Soon turning the world to three feet of ice.’ The Northern Disciplinary Court has it now. Depending on their interpretation, it could be seen as a rebellious poem.”
Deng Ying nodded, “Did you get your money?”
Qin Wende laughed, “Ha, our threats were empty – couldn’t scare him. Only his concubines were frightened enough to give us some jewelry. The rest is with his principal wife, probably mostly taken by the Disciplinary Court’s people by now.”