"What's the meaning of this?" Zhao Xunan asked with a playful smile.
Lü Qingcai, the rotund president of Jade Capital's Spring Appreciation Poetry Society, sighed dramatically. "Young Master isn't the first scholar I've met who claims to disdain wealth, but even if he does, he'd never admit it outright. Scholars value their pride most—they need to show they're above such base concerns."
He leaned in, lowering his voice. "But you, Mr. Zhao… you're different. You're the first I've seen who'll say, 'If I want it, I'll take it.' Truly refreshing!"
Zhao Xunan chuckled, pouring Lü Qingcai another cup of wine. "If I desire something and you desire profit, why not let both be satisfied? Why push one away?"
Lü Qingcai's eyes lit up. He clinked his cup against Zhao Xunan's and drained it in one gulp. "Straight-talking as ever, Mr. Zhao. I like that!"
After a few more rounds, Zhao Xunan set down his cup. "Since we're being honest—why all this fanfare to welcome me?"
Lü Qingcai hesitated, then grinned. "Let's skip the pleasantries. The truth is, scholars like you are rare. If you join our society, we'll handle all your works, splitting profits five ways. Think of it as… mutual benefit."
Zhao Xunan raised an eyebrow. "Your name says 'Lightness,' but your actions scream 'Profit.'"
Lü Qingcai laughed, unoffended. "I lighten the burden of talent; I heftily pursue profit. Fair trade, wouldn't you say?"
Zhao Xunan clinked cups again. "Minister Li must have a grudge against me."
The two drank deeply. As the night wore on, Lü Qingcai's face flushed crimson. "Mr. Zhao—if you've got any masterpieces up your sleeve, hand them over to our society. Those poems'll sell like hotcakes!"
Zhao Xunan smirked. "Something even rarer than poetry."
Lü Qingcai's eyes bulged. "What could be rarer than a poem that moves emperors?"
"Something that'll make your society's coffers overflow and secure your place in history," Zhao Xunan said cryptically.
Outside the opulent building, Zhao Ping'er tugged at Zhao Xunan's sleeve, her face scrunched in confusion. "Master—those ladies' chests… why are they so big?" She glanced down at her own chest, then back up at the courtesans waving from the second floor.
Zhao Xunan's face darkened. He yanked her ear, dragging her away. "You're impossible!"
The "wine house" turned out to be a bustling pleasure den. Zhao Ping'er gaped at the women, her curiosity overriding her shyness. Zhao Xunan, meanwhile, seethed inwardly—he'd have to teach her about such things eventually, but how?
Finding a small, remote courtyard in Jade Capital cost fifty taels—a fortune that made Zhao Ping'er cluck like a hen. Zhao Xunan ignored her, hunched over documents.
The next morning, Zhao Ping'er stayed to clean while Zhao Xunan rode the mixed horse to the Ministry of Personnel. He handed a letter to a guard, turned, and left without entering. The same went for the Ministry of Rites.
The guards, recognizing the seal of "Mr. Mountains and Rivers," rushed to inform their superiors.
In the adjacent courtyards of the two ministries, Ministers Fang Zeru (Personnel) and Wu Peiyang (Rites) sipped tea.
Fang Zeru, sharp-featured, tore open the letter. "Zhao Xunan? He's skipping the Spring Examinations formalities? Just leaving a letter?"
Wu Peiyang, rotund and jovial, chuckled. "A man of letters does things unconventionally. Maybe he's making a grand gesture—first a formal notice, then a grand entrance on a lucky day."
Fang Zeru snorted. "Typical Rites Ministry—twisting everything into a ritual."
They read the letter. Both paled.
"Disaster!" Fang Zeru shot to his feet. "Prepare the carriage—we're going to the Imperial Palace!"
Meanwhile, Zhao Xunan stood outside the Heavenly Strategy Mansion, handing his scholar's credentials to a guard. "Zhao Xunan of Sichuan-Liang Province, here to register for the martial arts track of the Spring Examinations."
The guard stared. "Scholar, you should go to the Ministry of War for martial exams. This is the Heavenly Strategy Mansion—"
"I know the rules," Zhao Xunan said with a smile. "Six hundred years ago, during the War of Six Nations, two thousand six hundred and thirty-one scholars traded their robes for armor. Only seven returned, but they bought six hundred years of peace. Since then, scholars have been allowed to switch tracks. It's a tradition!"
The guard swallowed hard. "Wait here!" He ran off, returning moments later with a superior.
The superior read the letter, then another, and another. His face paled. "This… this is unprecedented!"
By noon, word reached the Imperial Palace. The young emperor slammed her fist on her desk, scattering papers. "Ridiculous! A man who could govern the realm wants to charge into battle? Has his brain rotted?"
Ministers Fang and Wu, summoned hastily, exchanged nervous glances.
"Your Majesty, it's true," Fang Zeru said. "He's the descendant of General Zhao Huaian, the hero of six hundred years ago. His blood runs with that of a war god—"
"Enough!" The emperor waved them off. "I won't let him throw away his talent. Tell him to focus on the Spring Examinations. In a few years, I'll assign him to a ministry. He'll draft the Six-Nation Treatise—that's where his legacy lies."
Fang Zeru and Wu Peiyang exchanged looks. They'd never seen the emperor so fixated on a single scholar.
But the emperor's resolve wavered as she thought of the past. Six hundred years ago, General Zhao Huaian had led two thousand six hundred scholars into battle… and only seven returned.
"Wait," she said suddenly. "Is there a connection between Zhao Xunan and General Zhao Huaian?"
Wu Peiyang bowed. "Investigations confirm it, Your Majesty. Zhao Xunan is his direct descendant."
The emperor sat back, staring at the letter. "No wonder…"
"Scholar Zhao, General Feng summons you!"
Zhao Xunan froze. The guard from the Heavenly Strategy Mansion stood before him, sweat beading on his forehead. "General Feng is impatient—he'll scold us if we're late!"
Zhao Xunan followed the guard through the gates of the Heavenly Strategy Mansion. Beyond the marble pillars coiled two silver-carved tigers, their eyes glowing with menace. Above the entrance loomed a blackwood sign: White Tiger Hall.
"This… this is a military command post," Zhao Xunan muttered. "Why am I here?"
The guard shoved him forward. "In General Feng's eyes, your switch to martial exams is a matter of state!"
Zhao Xunan stepped into the vast hall. Twenty yards ahead, a high dais held a massive desk. Behind it stood a man in armor, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"Zhao Xunan of Sichuan-Liang, here to register for the martial track," Zhao Xunan said, bowing.
"Why not kneel?" the general growled.
"Scholars with rank don't kneel under Great Qin law," Zhao Xunan replied.
The general slammed his fist on the desk. "Soldiers obey orders—or die. Kneeling is the first lesson. If you can't kneel for a general, how will you kneel for an emperor's command?"
His voice boomed through the empty hall, echoing even beyond the doors. The guard outside trembled, sweat pouring down his face. No one had ever spoken to General Feng like this.
The general leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "Explain yourself. If you're lying, I'll have your head!"