Chapter 052: The Annual Examination Brought Forward

Carrying the wooden box as he left the Duke’s residence, Xue Rui was in excellent spirits. The hundred taels of silver inside were no small sum and would greatly ease the financial strain brought on by the postwar inflation.

When he reached the city gate, there were far fewer carriages in line than before. After inquiring, Xue Rui learned that the court had already issued a notice to reassure the people. The most important point was to refute the rumor of the capital’s relocation to the south, urging citizens not to panic and promising that after the grand assembly the next day, the court would announce a series of measures to defend the capital. Another clause admonished all government officials that, without just cause, they were not to be absent from duty—violators would be punished according to the law.

Glancing at the time, Xue Rui realized the workday had already ended, so he did not return to the Directorate of Astronomy. Upon arriving home, his mother was nearly frightened out of her wits at the sight of ten gleaming silver ingots, suspecting her son had stolen them. Fearing she would worry, Xue Rui explained that his master’s mentor, Hu Zhong, had lent him the money to grease the wheels in his father’s rescue, which finally put her at ease.

Because of the official announcement, Xue Rui dared not be late or leave early anymore, so he arrived at the Directorate of Astronomy early the next morning. Perhaps all had seen the notice, for many astronomy students were already present when he arrived.

Just yesterday, several military dispatches had arrived from Xuanfu, along with lists of officials who had perished in the campaign. Among them, twenty-two from the Directorate of Astronomy had lost their lives, the highest-ranking being Xia Guan-zheng Liu Xin; the rest were students of astronomy.

Reading this, Xue Rui could not help but sigh. Liu Jin’s father had ultimately failed to escape disaster—who knew whether Liu Jin could bear such a blow? Fortunately, more than ten members of the Directorate had survived, including Wu Guansi Li Chenmiao, which was a small mercy amid the tragedy.

The remaining thirty or so were neither confirmed dead nor alive—whether captured by the Oirat or yet to be identified among the dead, they were listed as missing. Peng Deqing was among them.

“Good riddance to that scoundrel!” Xue Rui spat fiercely at the page. By now, everyone in the Directorate likely felt as he did: only Peng Deqing’s death could atone for the innocent lives lost.

He went to the archives to comfort Liu Jin and the others. As he was about to return to the Office of Autumn, word came that Chief Supervisor Xu Dun had summoned all students to assemble in the main hall, so he hurried over with the others.

With Peng Deqing absent, Xu Dun was acting as supervisor. Now, with so many dead or missing, morale was at its lowest, and no one had the heart to work. Xu Dun, worried about this, took turns with the other officials to encourage everyone until the students were somewhat revived.

During the meeting, Liu Jin and others requested leave to mourn for their fathers. Xu Dun, however, denied them, citing the Ming Code: students of the Directorate were exempt from extended mourning, allowed only brief leave for funerals. But for now, as the bodies of the deceased had yet to be returned to the capital, leave would only be granted when funerals were held.

Xu Dun had no choice. With forty or fifty men lost, every office was desperately short-handed, making even basic operations difficult.

Yet the calendrical compilation could not stop. Every year in the eleventh month, the court held the grand ceremony for presenting the calendar on the first day of the new moon. The Directorate had to offer the completed almanac to the emperor, who would promulgate it to the realm. Any delay could cost many their heads.

Besides being shorthanded, another crisis loomed: the compilation of the calendar was nearly finished, but because of the defeat at Tumubao, the summer section—compiled by the late Xia Guan-zheng Liu Xin—had been lost at Tumubao. There was no way to retrieve it now; they would have to start anew.

It was now almost September, just over two months before the presentation. If the summer section could not be finished in time, how could they answer to the court?

Xu Dun could only consult the officials of each office, reallocating students from the spring, summer, autumn, and winter offices, as well as those on duty at the observatory, to concentrate on the summer section under his own supervision.

Meanwhile, changes were underway for the hereditary students as well. With so many students lost, fresh blood was urgently needed just to keep the Directorate running. The hereditary students in the archives, as reserve astronomers, became all the more important.

Thus, Xu Dun decided to move the annual examination, originally scheduled for year’s end, up to three days hence, and ordered all hereditary students doing odd jobs to return to the archives to prepare for the exam.

This news caused much dissatisfaction among the hereditary students. Liu Jin and others had just lost their families, yet were being forced to take exams—how could they focus? Moreover, some had already repeated a year; with the exam moved up, their study time was reduced. If they failed again, wouldn’t that waste another chance?

But complaints were futile; the officials would not listen, and they had no choice but to accept.

Still, all agreed that, compared to them, Xue Rui was in the worst position. Counting on his fingers, he’d been at the Directorate only a month. Forcing him to take this year’s annual exam was truly throwing a duck onto the perch.

Yet Xue Rui himself was unconcerned. He even joked that during the exam, Fan Yan and the others could slip him the answers to ensure he passed. His optimism lifted everyone’s spirits, and the somber mood finally eased a little.

All morning, Registrar Peng Ying did not show up for duty. Xue Rui and the others guessed he’d probably been scared out of his wits and had already fled the capital.

After lunch, everyone returned to the archives to review their lessons. Near the end of the noon hour, a clerk entered, saying an inner official had arrived and specifically summoned Xue Rui.

Everyone was shocked, and Xue Rui himself felt uneasy. At such a critical time, what could a eunuch want with him at the Directorate? Could it be that Wang Zhen’s cronies, desperate in their final days, intended to drag him down with them?

He went to the main hall, announced himself outside, and glanced inside.

At the head of the hall sat a beardless, fair-skinned eunuch of about fifty, poring over a ledger. In both his lives, this was Xue Rui’s first time seeing a eunuch. Contrary to his expectations, this man had kindly features, lacking any trace of cunning or malice, wholly unlike those depicted in drama.

Seated on either side were several Directorate officials, their faces grave, as if the visitor brought ill tidings.

After reading, the chief eunuch beckoned, “Come in, young man, don’t just stand at the door.”

Though his voice was a bit shrill, it was warm and friendly, like an uncle calling to a nephew.

“Student Xue Rui, greetings to the Honored Eunuch and esteemed officials,” Xue Rui said, straightening his robes and bowing properly.

The eunuch looked him over and asked, “I hear the register for July has gone missing, suspected to be in the Chief Astrologer’s hands. Is this true?”

Xue Rui’s heart skipped a beat. This was a matter of life and death. If this man was one of Wang Zhen’s faction, he must want the book to destroy the evidence.

He must not hand it over!

Taking a deep breath, Xue Rui bowed and replied, “In answer to the Honored Eunuch, I have never seen the July register in the Chief Astrologer’s possession.”

At these words, the officials became anxious. Xu Dun, forgetting decorum, whispered urgently, “This is Lord Cheng’s chief attendant—answer truthfully!”

Xue Rui started, then realized this was none other than Cheng Jing, the chief eunuch serving Prince Cheng Zhu Qiyu.

Cheng Jing was quite different from other eunuchs. During the Xuande reign, the Prince of Han, Zhu Gaoxu, plotted rebellion; the Prince of Jin, Zhu Jixi, stockpiled over a hundred thousand bushels of grain to join him. But Zhu Jixi’s intentions were leaked by a palace servant and reported in secret. Emperor Xuanzong acted decisively, sending the Embroidered Uniform Guard to arrest Zhu Jixi, who was then demoted to commoner and imprisoned in Fengyang’s high walls. All his subordinates were implicated and executed as conspirators, save for one, Cheng Jing, who had only just taken up his post and was sentenced to exile.

The Cheng family had long been scholars and farmers. If Cheng Jing was exiled, his descendants would be barred from the imperial exams, so he begged for death rather than implicate his family. After much deliberation, Emperor Xuanzong commuted his sentence to castration and sent him to serve Prince Cheng Zhu Qiyu as a personal attendant.

Now, Cheng Jing had been at Prince Cheng’s residence for over twenty years and had earned Zhu Qiyu’s full trust. Though a eunuch, he had never lost the integrity of a scholar. He was modest, never overreaching as so many inner officials did, and even Prince Cheng himself respected him deeply.