Chapter 009: How Dare You Defy Me

Chen Li explained, “You don’t understand—our Imperial Observatory has an important role. Whenever the army marches out, the Observatory always sends officials to accompany the troops. They help select auspicious sites for encampments, guide the army at night by reading the stars, even forecast the weather. Before battle, they divine omens of fortune and disaster, offering advice to the generals. For example, whenever Emperor Taizong campaigned to the northern deserts, he always brought Lord Huangfu along—not only to avoid getting lost in the desert, but also to adjust tactics according to the weather. This time, with His Majesty personally leading the campaign and such a grand affair being made, if the Observatory didn’t send more people to accompany the emperor, it would surely be seen as disrespectful.”

“Did your family elders go with the army?” Xue Rui glanced at the others.

“My father went,” someone answered.

“My father wanted to go, but the Director wouldn’t allow it,” another said.

“My father’s legs aren’t good, so he didn’t go.”

Others chimed in, one after another. Roughly speaking, among the dozen or so hereditary students, about half of their fathers had joined the expedition.

Liu Jin and the others had left a good impression on Xue Rui—they seemed like people worth befriending. If he could, he wished he could prevent tragedy from occurring, but the situation was beyond his control; he was having trouble looking after himself, let alone saving others. He could only pray silently that everyone’s loved ones would return safely and unharmed.

After lunch, everyone returned to the archive room.

According to Liu Jin, after lunch, Peng Ying would usually take a nap and let them study on their own; they just had to hold out until the end of the afternoon shift at three o’clock, then they could go home.

But today, Peng Ying did not stick to his usual routine.

Just as the hereditary students were fooling around, Peng Ying strode into the archive room, a book in hand and a grave expression on his face.

“What’s going on?” The students were baffled.

“Judging by the look on his face, is he planning to give us a lecture?” someone guessed.

“He’s probably here for me,” Xue Rui thought, his heart tightening. Something unusual was bound to mean something was amiss. Peng Ying hadn’t managed to give him a hard time that morning—he was surely up to something now.

Peng Ying entered, slapped the book onto the table, and announced loudly, “Quiet! What I’m about to teach you today is extremely important. Listen well. If you can’t answer the questions later, don’t blame me for being merciless with the ruler.”

As he spoke, he drew a wooden ruler from his sleeve and placed it heavily on the table.

“So it’s really happening,” Xue Rui thought, shaking his head. This man’s intentions were always so transparent. Peng Ying would definitely call on him to answer questions, seizing the chance to vent his spite.

“Very well. Today we’ll be studying the ‘Kaiyuan Book of Divination’…” Peng Ying began to read from the book.

Xue Rui listened in utter confusion. He didn’t even have his own copy of the book, and had to borrow paper and brush from others. With Peng Ying droning on, it was as if he were speaking a foreign language.

Glancing around, he saw that only Liu Jin and a few others actually had copies of the book, and they seemed to be struggling too—jotting down what they didn’t understand as quickly as they could. The rest looked as lost as he was, all bearing expressions of discomfort, shrouded in confusion.

Peng Ying lectured for nearly half an hour. At first, Xue Rui tried to jot down a few terms, but soon gave up entirely, resigned himself to lying low. No wonder everyone said Peng Ying was unfit to teach—at this rate, out of the seventeen or eighteen hereditary students this year, not even half would pass the annual exam. The rest would just have to try again next year.

Finally, Peng Ying finished his “celestial” lecture. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief—except Xue Rui, who felt like he was facing a formidable foe, for his ordeal was about to begin.

Peng Ying was no fool. If he wanted to give Xue Rui a hard time, he wouldn’t start with him directly. Instead, he called on a student named Lu Wen: “What is ‘Venus crossing the sky’?”

Lu Wen, a bit nervous, stammered, “Venus crossing the sky, also known as ‘Venus seen by day’, means Venus is visible in daylight, shining alongside the sun—hence, crossing the sky.”

Peng Ying nodded approvingly. “Good, you were paying attention. Sit down.”

Then, pointing his ruler at Xue Rui, he said, “Your turn. What is the ecliptic, and where does it lie in relation to the equator?”

Xue Rui, of course, understood the concept; but when Peng Ying had read that part aloud earlier, he hadn’t committed the original wording to memory, and now he didn’t know how to phrase it properly.

Seeing Peng Ying’s displeasure, Xue Rui could only answer in his own words: “The ecliptic is the path the sun travels over the course of a year…” He spoke at some length.

His answer differed greatly from what was written in the book, and everyone assumed he was wrong.

“Nonsense!” Peng Ying’s face darkened, and he turned to Liu Jin. “You answer.”

Liu Jin glanced helplessly at Xue Rui, then replied, “The ecliptic is the sun’s path. Half lies outside the equator, half within; it crosses the equator at an angle of five degrees…”

“Good, you may sit,” Peng Ying said, his expression softening. He then turned back to Xue Rui. “One more question. If you can’t answer, don’t blame me for being merciless.”

“When Mars enters the Stomach constellation, how does the ‘Jingzhou Prognostications’ interpret it?” Peng Ying asked, adding, “I read this out—twice, in fact. Surely you remember it?”

“I remember nothing!” Xue Rui nearly cursed aloud. There were at least a thousand omens in the ‘Kaiyuan Book of Divination’—how could anyone remember them all, especially if they weren’t paying attention?

Still, Peng Ying was being truly devious. He had indeed repeated that particular omen twice, but Xue Rui hadn’t expected to be tested on it and hadn’t paid any mind—now there was no way he could answer.

“Sir, I don’t know,” Xue Rui admitted readily, accepting his punishment—after all, it would just be a few strikes on the palm, nothing he couldn’t bear.

“When Mars enters the Stomach, it means the nation is plotting in secret, but nothing comes of it. If Mars enters the Stomach in the third month and remains for over a hundred days, the granaries will be empty and the country will be at war, blood flowing for a thousand miles,” Peng Ying recited, then strode over to Xue Rui, ruler in hand, sneering, “No wonder your father calls you lazy and ignorant. At first I doubted it, but now I see it’s true. You know nothing of your studies and don’t even try to improve. If I don’t punish you today, how can I set an example? Hold out your hand!”

Xue Rui couldn’t be bothered to argue and simply extended his palm.

With vengeance in mind, Peng Ying sneered, raised the ruler high, and brought it down as hard as he could.

Crack!

A sharp sound rang out in the archive room.

“That was so loud—did he break his hand?” The students gasped, all eyes turning to Xue Rui.

“Huh?” Peng Ying felt his own hand go numb. Looking down, he flew into a rage. “You dare dodge?”

At the last second, Xue Rui had withdrawn his hand, and Peng Ying’s ruler had struck the table with full force, making an enormous noise.

Furious, Peng Ying raised the ruler to strike again.

But as soon as he lifted his arm, Xue Rui seized the ruler from him, his own anger flaring. He grabbed the ruler in both hands and, with a sharp twist, snapped it in two, tossing the pieces to the floor.

“You—you insolent brat!” Peng Ying stumbled back, his face flushing a deep purple, shaking with fury.

The students in the archive room stared in shock. No one had expected Xue Rui not only to snatch the ruler, but to break it in two—something they had all dreamed of doing, but never dared attempt.