Chapter 155
Yu Xiu, displayed in a cangue outside the Jinyiwei office for three months, was not there to enhance the Jinyiwei’s prestige but to demonstrate the Emperor’s resolve.
Never before had someone who falsely accused their superior been subjected to such public punishment at the Jinyiwei’s gates. The Emperor personally sentenced this person and placed the offender there to show the Imperial censors of the court just how capable and satisfactory the person he promoted was.
When Tan Lun was released from the Imperial prison, he submitted a memorial of gratitude, inevitably praising the ‘wise and just judgment of the Emperor’ and commending the Jinyiwei’s fair handling of cases and clean prison administration. Those court officials, already shaken by the incident of the Vice Minister’s return, now hesitated to submit further memorials against Xie Ying, fearing ridicule from their colleagues. They quietly abandoned their campaign.
As the number of impeachment memorials dwindled, a newly returned Censor-in-Chief and Surveillance Vice Commissioner from Shaanxi submitted a memorial. He recounted the dramatic improvement in Beijing’s public order since his departure and return, heavily praising the Jinyiwei— particularly Xie Ying, who had spearheaded efforts to crack down on unruly characters in the capital and promote good governance. Moreover, the memorial strongly refuted earlier accusations made from censors of “appointing officials based on a play,” vindicating the Emperor as a ruler who was fair in rewards and punishment.
As soon as this memorial was sent up, it sparked a wave of follow-ups, with others criticizing those who had attacked the Jinyiwei. They labeled the detractors as hypocrites cloaking themselves in moral righteousness, accusing them of using a trivial play to undermine the Emperor’s decisions, ignoring his principle of selecting talent based on merit.
Inside the Northern Administrative Office, the Northern Depot, this unexpected turn of events left its members in shock. They exchanged questions, wondering who could have orchestrated this. After much inquiry, several admitted to attempting to rally support but confessed they had only reached out to some ministry clerks or officials. None had managed to involve a censor yet. Some were still preparing to submit memorials, but had not actually submitted them yet.
Hmm… could it be that the Jinyiwei’s reputation has improved to the point where a censor would praise them unprompted? Or perhaps someone unwittingly saved the family of that Censor-in-Chief and former Surveillance Vice Commissioner?
It seems their city patrols weren’t in vain; they’ve yielded real benefits ah!
The Jinyiwei credited this accomplishment to themselves, further fueling their enthusiasm for city patrols. Meanwhile, the true mastermind behind the memorial praising the Emperor’s discerning judgment and subtly critiquing Liu Xu as “peddling false righteousness” was none other than Senior Grand Secretary Wan. He quietly kept his role and identity concealed and returned to drafting memorials that entailed his soft advertisements about a certain medicine that allegedly reinvigorated his vitality, enabling him to dominate two concubines in a single night.
On another front, the news quickly reached Cui Xie.
Naturally, it came from his Master, Academician Li Dongyang of the Hanlin Academy, who had overseen the creation of 《The Story of Wang Yao and the Pipa》, who personally shaped Xie Ying into a Song-dynasty-like incorruptible official, akin to Bao Zheng1. Li mentioned it during one of their evening lessons.
Academician Li’s feelings on the matter were conflicted.
While it was true that the Emperor’s decision to promote Xie Ying was defensible, it set a dangerous precedent of appointing officials based on a play, potentially encouraging fame-seeking opportunists to emulate this behavior. However, however…
That play was spearheaded by him, with Yang Tinghe as the lead writer, and it was a collective effort of nearly everyone at the Hanlin Academy. The character of Colonel Xie was crafted based on his real deeds, with only some minor embellishments. Apart from the fictionalized wedding arrangement, there was no falsehood in his portrayal. The Imperial censors’ criticisms were that Xie Ying had been promoted due to a theatrical production. Wasn’t this like accusing them—the creators of the play—of deliberately fabricating events to secure him an official position?
As cultured, well-mannered Hanlin scholars, when faced with this problem, they practiced self-reflection and would not throw their scripts at the heads of Imperial censors, demanding they read every line to see that not a word of flattery was untrue. However, they couldn’t help but harbor frustrations in their hearts.
Now that Xie Ying had resolved a major case brilliantly, and with figures like the Censor-in-Chief of Shaanxi and others publicly clarifying the situation, the scholars at the Hanlin Academy finally felt vindicated and a sense of relief.
There are still clear-headed people in this world!
They were simply writing a play based on the facts—how could that be construed as manipulating appointments? Were they now to avoid depicting such stories in plays altogether when persuading people to be good, just to prevent the Emperor from noticing and promoting someone in the future?
If plays could no longer tell moral tales, would they next be forbidden from writing such stories in essays?
Master Li’s teacherly, sensitive heart, stirred by indignation, began pounding fervently. During Cui Xie’s lessons on the Book of Songs, he veered away from his usual adherence to “Yichuan,” “Mingdao,” and “Lianxi” , those Neo-confucian teachings and invoked the phrase, “The sage expresses the heart; the gentleman expresses the sentiments.”
When discussing the 《Classic of Poetry》preface’s concept of ‘emotions are expressed and restrained by propriety’, he didn’t merely instruct Cui Xie to ‘temper emotion to align with the mean’. Instead, he openly declared, ‘That which enriches emotion enriches reason’ and ‘there are unreasonable emotions, but there is no reason without emotion’. He nearly leapt from the Confucian and Neo-Confucian philosophy of the Song and Ming dynasties—focused on curbing ‘nature’ and ‘emotion’ in pursuit of ‘purity’—straight into Wang Fuzhi’s Qing dynasty notion of ‘expanding emotion’.
Cui Xie, equally aflame with passion, wholeheartedly embraced his teacher’s ideas without hesitation.
‘Emotions are expressed and restrained by propriety’, but doesn’t that ‘restraint’ first require ensuring the ‘expression is not lost’? Today, after hearing about the changes in Imperial court affairs, Cui Xie felt a swell of emotion and could not help wanting to extol Xie da-ren. So why not follow his teacher’s guidance and indulge in praise first?
Cui Xie, burning as though carrying a hot coal in his chest, made his move the very next day. After finishing his studies, he first wandered past the Jinyiwei’s gates, where the bound Yu Xiu stood on public display. Seeing that the evening was still young when he returned home, he quickly summoned Steward Liu, the former village head and steward who now ran the tea shops. He instructed Steward Liu to arrange for those tending the tea stall to speak about Tan Lun’s case and, better yet, encourage the storytellers and performers frequenting their tea sheds to craft a tale or ballad about it to spread among the people.
The process of writing and staging a zaju2 play takes time, so they needed to make the most of the two-plus months while Yu Xiu was displayed in the cangue, using him as an example to achieve the best possible publicity effect!
The storyline didn’t need to overemphasize Xie Ying’s achievements. Instead, it was crucial to craft Tan Lun as a virtuous and just official. It was necessary to focus in detail on his feelings of grief and despair when he was falsely accused by Yu Xiu, arrested by the Jinyiwei, and brought into the Imperial prison, believing he would be tortured into a forced confession.
Historical references to falsely imprisoned virtuous officials of the past dynasty should be woven in, drawing comparisons to Tan Lun and stirring tears from the common folk.
Then, the turning point would arrive.
Upon entering the Jinyiwei prison, Tan Lun was not only not tortured—instead, he experienced meticulous care from the presiding investigator, Provisional Pacification Commissioner Xie, and his subordinates. Every cut and bruise he had from the journey was treated with ‘alcohol’, his wounds cleaned and securely wrapped, ensuring a swift recovery.
—It was especially important to emphasize that Provisional Pacification Commissioner Xie was the same celebrated figure sung in the plays, someone the people would instantly recognize.
Xie da-ren ran the Imperial prison with exemplary discipline. Tan Lun’s time there consisted of providing a few recorded depositions while staying in a meticulously cleaned private room with curtains on all sides. Provisional Pacification Commissioner Xie, admiring Tan Lun as a virtuous official, could not bear to see a righteous man unjustly wronged and submitted a late-night memorial to the Emperor to report the injustice and his grievances.
The wise and perceptive Son of Heaven immediately granted clemency, restoring Tan Lun to his post overseeing the mountain factory. Meanwhile, Yu Xiu, the one who falsely accused him, was pilloried outside the Jinyiwei headquarters to serve as a warning to the world.
If the common folk were skeptical, the man standing in shackles outside the Jinyiwei’s gates served as evidence. And if they believed this, they would naturally come to trust that Tan Lun was a virtuous official. One could also believe that Xie Ying was an excellent Provisional Pacification Commissioner, and the Emperor restored Tan Lun’s position because Xie Ying had resolved the case with clarity.
With countless examples from novels in Cui Xie’s hard drive as proof, this kind of character, who appears when loyal officials are wronged and oppressed, and the audience feels indignant yet helpless, effortlessly solves the mystery, captures the culprit, and clears the loyal official’s name, is the type of story most loved by the people.
Even after arranging for this story to be circulated orally, Cui Xie felt it was still not enough. So, he instructed Shopkeeper Ji to hire someone to draft a new opera script titled 《The Headless Case of the Barracks》.
The protagonist of this tale remained Feng Yun, with Wang Yao making brief appearances as the supporting role. Xie Ying would only step in at the most challenging, deadlocked juncture of the investigation, giving a nudge and guiding them to drain the pond to recover the missing head.
However, because this script was written by a musician, the scriptwriting level was far inferior to the previous masterpiece. When Cui Xie read the script, he could not bear to let it stand alongside 《The Story of Wang Yao and the Pipa》 fearing it would tarnish the reputation of the first play and impact future sequels. Thus, he devised a clever workaround.
He instructed Cui Qi to take the script back to their hometown and have the portrait of the protagonist from the first play printed by the family’s new, untrained craftsmen. The illustrations would closely imitate those of the first play but there was no need to be too polished or be overly similar. The script would then be released under the name of a different bookstore, presented as if a small rural publishing house, envious of the success of the first play and its sales, had produced a pirated knockoff.
After all, their earlier publications, like 《Anthology of the Fragrant Diaries》and《The Six Talents and their Commentaries on the Romance of the Three Kingdoms》, had spawned numerous imitations and unauthorized reprints. Even now, versions like The Seven Talents, The Ten Talents, or The Twelve Talents’ Commentary on the Three Kingdoms were still in circulation. A sequel to Xie Ying’s story, even as a faux pirated edition, wouldn’t be anything new.
In fact, years down the line, it might even be collected by opera script enthusiasts and included in complete anthologies, ultimately restoring《The Headless Case of the Barracks》 to its rightful place alongside the original series.
—And while at it, have Cui Qi go home to visit his father so that they could be reunited after some time apart.
Xie Ying had just entered the Northern Administrative Office and now had to report for duty morning and evening. Unlike his time as a Colonel, he could no longer simply drill his men and head home. Even on the first and fifteenth days of the lunar calendar, he worked as usual. With their meetings becoming increasingly rare, all Cui Xie could do was quietly sing Xie Ying’s praises behind his back, no longer able to offer comfort in person as he once had.
After arranging all he could, Cui Xie still found himself with too much free time, nowhere to go, and no one to see. He could only hang a large sign on the wall that read, “3XX (meaning around 300) days until the provincial examinations,” and divided his time between attending the Imperial College accompanying classmates in preparation for exams, and spending his evenings either at Li Dongyang’s residence or locked away in his study.
It wasn’t until early October that he finally had a chance to see Xie Ying again.
But it wasn’t during a day off at home—it was on his way back from school when he spotted Xie Ying by the tea stall outside his family’s residence.
Though the Chenghua era had not yet reached the peak of the Little Ice Age3, the early October chill was biting. Steward Liu, with the approval of the Shuntian Prefecture and the backing of the Jinyiwei, had fortified the tea stall’s exterior with bricks and hung a new cotton curtain over the entrance. Passing by the stall, Cui Xie happened to see Xie Ying lift the curtain and step out. Their gazes collided midair.
Xie Ying was not wearing his usual yesa robes; instead, he was clad in a straight robed official uniform paired with a short-sleeved cloak. Though the title of Provisional Pacification Commissioner was still prefixed with the word ‘Provisional’, his rank had already advanced to fourth grade, and his crimson uniform highlighted his slightly ruddy complexion, making him look even more spirited than when he had worn green. On his feet were plain, thin-soled boots—whether or not he had added height insoles was unclear—but his figure remained as tall and striking as ever.
Cui Xie could not resist stealing a few glances before dismounting his horse. Walking closer, he clasped his hands in greeting, his voice inexplicably hoarse as he softly said, “Commissioner Xie, it’s been a while.”
Xie Ying returned half a salute with a warm smile, replying, “It is rare to meet like this—why not come inside for a cup of tea?”
Inside, the tea stall was warm and inviting, now remodeled into a proper little shop. Despite the improvements, the prices remained just as modest. And with the Jinyiwei’s reputation now rehabilitated, their handsome appearances had become a draw in themselves. They became living signs of the tea shop, making the tea stall more popular than even some larger establishments in the area.
Cui Xie dismounted from his horse, handed the reins to a nearby attendant, and, carrying his school satchel, stepped into the tea stall. He joined Xie Ying at a discreet corner seat and sat down to talk.
The tea stall’s menu had expanded considerably since Cui Xie’s original plans. While it still did not serve formal meals, customers could easily purchase ready-made dishes from nearby food vendors to accompany their tea. At one end of the stall, a storyteller stood on a makeshift stage, narrating the popular tale of Xie Ying’s clever handling of the Tan Lun case.
No one in the crowd realized that the very Xie Ying depicted in the story—a quick-witted officer who always effortlessly points out doubts and finds clues when the Jinyiwei officers are at a loss, was sitting right beside them. Even less do they realize that the chief editor of the Xie Ying case files was seated just nearby.
The storyteller, embellishing the tale as storytellers do, had added subplots involving Feng Yun and his wife, Wang Yao. When recounting how Feng Yun, sent to the Yi Prefecture timber factory to collect evidence, narrowly escaped a trap set by Yu Xiu’s accomplices, the listeners, who had heard the story numerous times and even visited the Northern Administrative Office to see Yu Xiu themselves, shouted fervently, “Quick, call for Colonel Xie!”
Hearing the exaggerated cries, Xie Ying glanced at Cui Xie, who was listening intently with his ears perked up. Unlike when he listened to these stories alongside his colleagues, Xie Ying now felt a faint awkwardness. He lowered his voice and murmured, “These are just wild stories spread around by the people…”
Cui Xie, equally self-conscious, also whispered back, “It’s not just them, this part of the story was something I asked them to include.”
The two exchanged a look and simultaneously burst into quiet laughter, covering their mouths and shaking their shoulders as their shared amusement dissolved any lingering awkwardness or unfamiliarity from not having seen each other in a while.
Once his laughter subsided, Xie Ying regained his composure and straightened his expressions, and motioned for an attendant to fetch some delicacies: freshly made fish roe pâté, goose breast, fried lamb intestines, roasted pork, five-colored rice cakes, and pear soup for Cui Xie. Though Xie Ying had just finished his meal, he kept his chopsticks moving with Cui Xie, while sipping from a cup of clear tea. As he watched Cui Xie enjoy his meal, Xie Ying casually brought up topics like the changing weather and picturesque spots in the capital worth visiting.
All the while, his fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of his teacup but they never left the rim. Occasionally, he dipped his finger into the water while talking and, on the table’s surface, traced fleeting characters, upside down, that evaporated almost as soon as they appeared:
“To meet the gentleman, my heart is glad.”
Footnotes:
- Bao Zheng: commonly known as Bao Gong (包公; Bāo Gōng; ‘Lord Bao’), was a Chinese politician during the reign of Emperor Renzong in China’s Song Dynasty. During his twenty-five years in civil service, Bao was known for his honesty and uprightness, with actions such as impeaching an uncle of Emperor Renzong’s favourite concubine and punishing powerful families. Bao Zheng today is honored as the cultural symbol of justice in Chinese society. ↩︎
- Zaju: a Yuan dynasty form of musical comedy ↩︎
- Colder temperatures China experienced during the global Little Ice Age, especially that in the final years of the Ming dynasty, resulted in the catastrophic agricultural failure and skyrocketing inflation that eventually led to popular uprisings and collapse of the Ming regime. The centuries-long period of global cooling that intensified in the early 1600s is thought to have contributed to the fall of the Ming Dynasty in China. ↩︎
TN: Hi everyone!! Been a while since we’ve seen some CX and XY interactions 🙂 hope you all are doing well and Happy Labor Day Weekend to my fellow Americans!
Update 12/23/24: I just updated it so that all my advance chapters for TMD are up on patreon (and will be continually updated)! Sorry for being so lazy with it and apologies for taking so long to do so. I had to organize a lot of my random documents after a long hiatus last year.
Announcement: We have set up a kofi and patreon account! If you would like to support us or get early access to advance chapters for Blood-Sucking Empress OR TMD, those options are available for you (in support us page)! I have just added a patreon tier for Transmigrating to the Ming Dynasty’s Imperial Examinations in which patreons can have access to a google document with ALL of my advanced translated chapters for the novel. Since I am a grad student, there should usually be at least 10 advance chapters in the document at a time, but depending on my schedules, there may be fewer or more. I’m currently extremely busy, but I have translated out some new chapters for you all! But, I will still post each week with the same schedule. Thanks!
Twin Dragons Translations 
Thank You for the new chapter (~￣³￣)~💕
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