Lighting a Lantern at Your Brow - Chapter 9

Cheng Chang had never formally studied Chinese history, but his general cultural knowledge was decent. He understood the broad strokes of historical timelines and governmental structures.

Take the Privy Council before him, for instance—in modern terms, it was essentially the equivalent of the Central Military Commission.

If you used the Song dynasty system as a reference: the Privy Council handled military affairs, led by the Chief of the Privy Council, who oversaw all martial officials. Meanwhile, the Central Secretariat and the Chancellery were in charge of civil governance, led by the Chancellor, who managed the scholars and ministers.

Civil and military divisions were clearly delineated, jointly responsible for running the country. But if those boundaries got blurred—say, like in the Southern Song, when the infamous traitor Qin Hui held both the positions of Chancellor and Chief of the Privy Council—then all power was concentrated in one man’s hands. If the emperor failed to intervene, chaos was bound to follow.

Cheng Chang understood perfectly why his father, Prince Cong, had sent him to the Privy Council to seek a post.

His “former self” was a scourge of Jinling—if he wasn’t stirring up trouble, he wasn’t satisfied. The type that could never sit still, and definitely wasn’t suited for a civil position. Getting assigned as a military official here, tagging along on a campaign or two with a general—so long as he didn’t cause too much havoc—could easily score him a bit of military merit. That’d be enough for Prince Cong to petition for him to be formally named heir.

But Cheng Chang didn’t see it that way. He figured: well, I’ve got time anyway—might as well do something meaningful.

In his previous life, his health had ruled out anything physical. In this life, though he wanted to build up his strength, charging into battle still wasn’t on the table. He valued his life—this was an era of cold weapons, and blades didn’t discriminate.

Not to mention, he had a whole group of half-reformed servants trailing behind him.

Cheng Chang had already thought it through: with his past self’s reputation, the Privy Council would likely want to push him off as quickly as possible. Given the standing of Prince Cong’s household, all he had to do when he got to the Inspection Office was state his intentions—someone would surely help shuttle him to a more “appropriate” bureau.

Whether this new life was a good draw was still up in the air, but when it came to job hunting, things couldn’t be easier.

The guards led Cheng Chang to the courtyard outside the Inspection Office. When he looked up, he was surprised to see three young women standing there.

The one seated on the left appeared to be of noble status, dressed in a gauzy smoke-colored gown adorned with delicate jewelry, with a maidservant at her side. Her looks were fine, but lacked distinction—forgettable, unlike Yun Xi, who stood off to the side with a clarity and presence that made her striking.

Cheng Chang recognized Yun Xi and felt a flicker of happiness—he had a good impression of her. Just as he was about to greet her, that maidservant spoke up with a deliberately sharp tone: “She said it’s official business, but who knows if that’s true? Coming straight here the moment Lord Pei starts his post—as if no one can tell what’s really on her mind.”

She didn’t name names, but the meaning was clear—and cutting.

Yun Xi stood with her eyes lowered, as if she hadn’t heard a word.

It wasn’t that she truly wanted to tolerate it. But she knew that arguing with a maid here and now wouldn’t benefit her in the slightest. She still had her brother’s matter weighing on her heart—she needed to question Pei Lan directly.

Yao Susu had always prided herself on her grace, and she’d originally meant to stop her maid. But the truth was, she was holding in anger too.

Pei Lan was young and accomplished, of noble lineage and elegant appearance—someone she had admired for years. Over time, they’d exchanged a few letters, and from those bits and pieces, she’d convinced herself there was something mutual between them.

But everyone in Jinling knew about Pei Lan’s betrothal to Yun Xi.

Yao Susu wasn’t close with Yun Xi, but she had ties with her distant cousin Luo Shu, and had heard a great deal from her. She assumed that, given the downfall of the Marquis of Zhongyong’s family, this once-proud daughter of nobility would withdraw quietly and break off the engagement. Instead, here she was, shamelessly showing up at the Privy Council the moment Pei Lan started work.

Yun Xi and Pei Lan’s unresolved engagement was a thorn in Yao Susu’s heart, and now that her maid had said it aloud, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

With her mistress silently condoning it, the maid grew bolder: “My lady always says one must know their place. Someone’s already been dismissed from the office but still lingers—can’t she see Lord Pei’s meaning?”

Before Yun Xi could respond, a frown tugged at Cheng Chang’s brow.

He called, “Constable Yun,” and stepped into the courtyard.

All three women turned to look at him, startled. Yao Susu had once been harassed by the drunken young prince and shrank behind her maid, only then offering a bow. “Peace to you, Third Young Master.”

Cheng Chang acted as though he didn’t hear, walking straight past them. He ignored both her and the kneeling maid, and greeted Yun Xi alone with a friendly, casual tone, “Constable Yun, here on business?”

Yun Xi nodded. “Yes.”

He continued, “Oh? May I ask what kind of business?”

Yun Xi pursed her lips and answered calmly, “A personal matter that remains unresolved.”

At that moment, Pei Lan and Yao Hangshan came out, having heard from the guards that the young prince from Prince Cong’s manor had arrived. They greeted Cheng Chang with formality and invited him into the office, serving him tea.

Pei Lan asked, “Has Third Young Master considered what sort of post he might prefer? If not, I’ve prepared a list of military positions. Please take a look and see if any interest you.”

As he spoke, he handed over a document.

Cheng Chang took it but didn’t even glance at it, placing it to the side. “On my way in, I saw three young women in the courtyard. They’ve been waiting for a while. Shouldn’t the general invite them in first?”

Pei Lan exchanged a glance with Yao Hangshan.

Yao Hangshan chuckled. “Third Young Master must not have looked closely. One of the ladies is my daughter—she came to see me, not for official business.”

“I must have missed that,” Cheng Chang replied, then asked, “Are all three your daughters?”

Yao Hangshan’s smile froze.

He had already heard that the young prince hadn’t quite been the same since his fall into the water—rumors said his memory seemed off, and his behavior had changed.

And now, faced with that very behavior, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Yao Hangshan looked at Pei Lan, who stepped to the door and quietly instructed the guard. Moments later, Yun Xi and the other women were led back inside.

Yao Hangshan didn’t understand Cheng Chang’s motive, but Cheng Chang understood theirs well enough.

Bureaucratic sluggishness, fear of the powerful, favoritism—same story, different dynasty.

Back in his old life at a multinational corporation, Cheng Chang had risen quickly thanks to diligence and talent. The company sent him abroad for executive training, where he learned how to lead, when to hold back, and when to show his edge.

But this wasn’t the corporate world. This was a feudal society, where power flowed from the top. And as Prince Cong’s youngest son, he feared no one.

Still, he didn’t want to offend. So he asked, “Which of them came first?”

Before Pei Lan could answer, he added, “There’s an order to things. Why not handle their business first? Mine can wait.”

He then raised his teacup and began sipping slowly—fully intending to wait.

The Cheng Chang of the past had been wild and restless, never still. But the twenty-first-century Cheng Chang was, by nature, calm and quiet. Though affable, he didn’t speak unless necessary.

Today, he wore a pale blue robe embroidered with faint cloud patterns. Aside from a fine jade ornament at his waist, there were no other adornments—making his face seem even more striking.

As he sat there, composed and expressionless, a sharpness like frost settled over him. But the soft spring light at his brows and shoulders cast a glow that made him radiant, even resplendent.

It was the first time anyone had seen this side of the young prince—and for a moment, the entire room was stunned.

Pei Lan was the first to recover. “Constable Yun, do you have other business to discuss?”

Yun Xi didn’t delay. “May I ask, General—has something gone wrong with my brother’s title claim? Why did Lord Yao say… that the matter has already been settled?”

Pei Lan let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t go into detail earlier because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Three years ago, when Zhao Yuan defected, the court originally intended to hold Yun Luo accountable. It was Prince Cong who feared it would delay the war and shake morale, so he proposed postponing the investigation until after a victory. Now that I’ve returned to the capital, and the case still hasn’t been resolved, naturally His Majesty is asking about it. But as you know…”

He hesitated for a moment. “That urgent letter which could have cleared Yun Luo’s name has never been found. The few soldiers I brought back all gave testimony and statements that were unfavorable to Yun Luo. After hearing it, His Majesty was furious and ordered both the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice to investigate thoroughly. I went to the Court of Judicial Review yesterday—they said this case can’t be delayed. Within a month, they must present His Majesty with a final decision. Based on current evidence… it’s highly likely Yun Luo will be convicted.”

And once convicted, there would be no hope of inheriting the title.

But inheritance wasn’t what Yun Xi cared about. What she feared more was something worse.

“Then my father…”

Pei Lan’s voice lowered, “I fear the late Marquis of Zhongyong may also be implicated.”

“Why?” Yun Xi said, “The Yun family served loyally for generations. Every man gave his life for the country and the people. My brother went to war at thirteen, bled and fought, earning countless merits. And now, after dying for his country, despite having evidence of his innocence, just because the Court of Judicial Review wants to close the case quickly, you’re going to let him—and the entire Marquis of Zhongyong’s family—suffer a false accusation?”

Her words rang with sorrow and indignation. When her voice fell, the entire office went still.

Cheng Chang unconsciously set down his tea and looked toward Yun Xi.

She seemed no more than eighteen or nineteen—perhaps not considered young in this era, but in his eyes, she was just a girl who’d barely reached university age in the modern world.

She was born into a noble house—once proud and powerful—but now had clearly fallen from grace.

He looked at her: though upset, her back remained straight. Her hands, resting at her sides, were clenched tightly into fists. Her clear eyes shimmered faintly with unshed tears, and her lips were pressed together in stubborn silence, full of quiet defiance.

He had thought she might freeze in place or turn to the general in front of her, demanding help. After all, hadn’t that maid earlier hinted that there was something between the two?

But the next moment, Yun Xi released her lips from their tight hold, bowed low, and with a hoarse voice said, “Third Young Master, Lord Yao, General Pei—please forgive me. I misspoke.”

Yao Hangshan said nothing. Pei Lan replied gently, “It’s all right. Since the decision is already made, don’t take it too hard. As you said, your family has long served the country with loyalty. Even if His Majesty does pass judgment, he’ll surely show leniency out of respect for the late Marquis. At most, it’ll be a light punishment. Don’t worry too much.”

Pei Lan added, “Is there anything else?”

Yun Xi lowered her gaze. “No, General. Thank you.”

Cheng Chang glanced at Pei Lan, inwardly puzzled.

That’s it? A case as vague as this—just left at that?

He didn’t believe for a second that a general of Pei Lan’s stature and a Privy Council minister like Yao Hangshan truly had no options left.

Yun Xi took two steps back, ready to bow and excuse herself.

“Didn’t you say there’s evidence that could prove her brother’s innocence?” Cheng Chang suddenly spoke, voice calm and light as he looked at Pei Lan and Yao Hangshan. “There’s really no way to turn this around?”