But this fame was truly difficult to seek. While transcribing and translating, Yang Wan experienced a sense of her modern life interweaving with the present.
She remembered falling seriously ill before sending her doctoral dissertation for blind review. The hospital couldn’t find anything wrong, but she couldn’t stop coughing and later began having recurring fevers—only sleep could alleviate the symptoms. Even so, she would often “bolt upright from her deathbed” in the middle of the night, ‘stubbornly’ crawling up to open her computer, afraid the thoughts in her mind would vanish in an instant.
When completely absorbed in something, one feels that everything else around becomes ashes burned by obsession, including one’s own flesh, gradually separating from consciousness to become a humble vessel, unworthy of attention.
Just as Yang Wan was halfway through transcribing her notes, the Ministry of Justice requested imperial permission to interrogate Deng Ying about the old Liuli Factory case for the first time.
That day, Beijing was drenched in heavy rain, and though it was chen hour, the sky was dark.
Black clouds hung overhead like an endless thick cloth, hovering wetly.
Rainwater rushed down the palace walkways, carrying fallen leaves, forming whirlpools in the depressions. When black boots stepped in them, water splashed like flowers. Bai Yuyang walked through a puddle holding an umbrella, his official robes’ hem completely soaked. Walking behind him, Qi Huaiyang said: “Last year’s snowstorm was severe, who would have thought this year’s rains would also be so heavy.”
Bai Yuyang didn’t answer him, instead turning to ask Yang Lun walking beside him: “What does Assistant Minister Yang think?”
Yang Lun silently watched the flowing leaves on the ground, not speaking.
“Yang Lun.”
Bai Yuyang called his name, and only then did he come to his senses.
“I await Prime Minister Bai’s guidance.”
Bai Yuyang stopped walking, “Your eyes are deeply sunken, didn’t sleep well last night?”
Yang Lun responded: “I was on duty in the duty room last night, didn’t leave the palace.”
Bai Yuyang raised an eyebrow: “Busy all night?”
Yang Lun knew he was asking rhetorically, so simply nodded without answering.
Bai Yuyang patted his shoulder, “You were classmates with Minister Qi, and took the imperial examinations the same year as Assistant Minister He. They’ve both worked in judicial positions—why not ask them to resolve your doubts?”
Yang Lun said coldly:
“I know my bounds.”
“Alright, alright.”
Bai Yuyang squeezed Yang Lun’s shoulder once, said nothing more, and turned to continue walking toward the Yangxin Hall.
Yangxin Hall was filled with lit lamps. The daily lecture at Wenhua Hall had just ended, and Yi Lang had returned through the rain in his carriage, though his clothes were still damp. He walked straight to the main chamber, while Heyu and Qingmeng hurriedly followed saying: “Your Majesty, please change your clothes.”
Yi Lang didn’t respond to them, sitting down at the imperial desk and picking up a brush to write silently.
Heyu wanted to say more but was stopped by Qingmeng.
The two withdrew to stand behind the screen, and soon the Emperor’s voice came from inside, “Heyu, where is the Director?”
Heyu hurriedly came forward saying: “The Director hasn’t returned from the Department of Imperial Ceremonial yet.”
Yi Lang put down his brush, “Summon the Director.”
Just as he finished speaking, a lamp was brought in from the corridor. Qingmeng quickly announced: “Your Majesty, the Director has returned.”
Deng Ying placed the lamp beside Yi Lang and bowed in greeting.
Yi Lang stopped writing and said: “Why wasn’t the Director at today’s lecture in Wenhua Hall?”
Deng Ying straightened up and replied: “Several Cabinet ministers requested an audience with Your Majesty to discuss governance. The rain was heavy today, so this servant personally delivered the drafted documents.”
He looked at Yi Lang’s clothes and rose to his knees saying: “Please let Your Majesty change first.”
Yi Lang nodded and went to the side chamber.
Deng Ying followed Yi Lang into the side chamber, rolling up his sleeves to help Yi Lang wash his face and change clothes.
While undoing the sash, the titles of the Cabinet ministers were announced from outside the hall. After hearing the eunuch’s report, Yi Lang lowered his head and said: “I don’t want to hear their political discussion today.”
Deng Ying knelt, arranging Yi Lang’s hem, “Why not?”
Yi Lang said: “I like hearing Minister Yang lecture about territories, fields, household registration, taxes, and official salaries. He explains things simply and clearly, I understand very well, but these past few days, Minister Yang hardly speaks. Minister Qi is discussing the Liuli Factory case and the Tongjia case, Director…”
Yi Lang looked at Deng Ying, “‘Using the pretext of building the imperial city to commit corruption’—this was one of the crimes recorded in the volume you wrote for me.”
“Yes.”
“‘Framing his teacher to escape punishment, leading to Master Zhang’s tragic death’—this was also included.”
“Yes.”
“‘Conspiring with the Department of Imperial Ceremonial to cruelly kill over eighty people from Tongjia Academy, forcing the sovereign father to reform the Eastern Depot.’ This too…”
“Yes.”
He answered “yes” three times in succession, but his hands never stopped their work.
Yi Lang’s voice caught, “Director.”
“This servant is here.”
“Did you do these things?”
Deng Ying straightened up, looking directly at Yi Lang.
“If they weren’t done by this servant’s own hands, how could I have written them down?”
Yi Lang was silent for a while, “Director, how do you want me to deal with you?”