Ning Rushen stepped out of the palace gate, finding the Ning family's carriage already waiting outside.
A middle-aged man in his forties leaped down from the carriage, a trace of joy lighting up his honest face as he greeted, "My lord!"
The person opposite was taken aback, "My lord! It's Yan Min!"
Ning Rushen eyed his attire and ventured, "Oh... Steward Yan?"
With a slight smile, Ning Rushen said, "You look different today; I didn't recognize you at first." After saying this, he climbed into the carriage, leaving Yan Min standing there, touching his old face in total bewilderment.
Inside, the carriage was prepared with snacks and tea, and incense had been lit.
He casually grabbed a handful of walnuts and started cracking them open, meanwhile urging Yan Min to "Get going."
They had only moved a few meters when a sharp, thin voice suddenly called from behind, "Lord Ning—Lord Ning, please wait!"
A sense of foreboding crept over Ning Rushen.
He rose to his feet and banged on the carriage door, urging, "Uncle Yan, hurry, speed up!"
"Uh, my lord. But it seems like I heard..."
"Lord Ning... Lord Ning! His Majesty summons... His Majesty..." The voice from behind grew closer, its breathy tremor intensifying.
Taking a deep breath, Ning Rushen swiftly lifted the carriage curtain and poked his head out, only to meet the flushed face of De Quan, panting from his run.
De Quan caught his breath, elegantly lifting a finger in a delicate gesture towards Ning Rushen with a playful complaint, "Oh my, Lord Ning really knows how to wear someone out."
Ning Rushen responded with a polite smile, the silence between them speaking volumes.
---
Walking from the palace gate into the depths of the imperial palace, the path was lined with golden tiles and vermillion walls. Taking a detour through a side gate, they found themselves on a winding path, beside which stood a grove of pear trees, their blossoms as pure and white as piled snow.
Ning Rushen looked around, a thought quietly crossing his mind:
In the spring courtyard, beneath the pear trees, a fine place to bury a body.
This journey, he feared, might be one from which he could not return...
"Why does my lord sigh?" De Quan asked with a smile.
Ning Rushen shook his head, pointing at the most flourishing pear tree, "I like this one." If there was to be a burial, he might as well claim a spot.
"Within these imperial palace grounds, every blade of grass and tree belongs to His Majesty," De Quan said with a smile. "If my lord likes it, perhaps on a day of favor, you could ask His Majesty for a branch or two."
Hearing this, Ning Rushen felt a surge of emotion.
To think he might still have "another day."
"Borrowing your auspicious words," he replied.
---
T/N: The phrase "lifting a finger in a delicate gesture" refers to a traditional Chinese gesture called "lanhua zhi," joined thumb and middle finger, the rest extended. Btw this is just my speculation.
The conversation quickly led them to the exterior of the Royal Study. De Quan stopped at the entrance, bowing deeply, "Master Ning, please enter. I shall not accompany you inside."
YOU ARE READING
This Official is so Weak
Historical FictionIn the fifteenth year of the Chenghua Dynasty, the usurper Ning Chen finally died. The youngest left minister since the founding of the dynasty, his power extended over all the realm, and his methods were as ruthless as his heart. He formed a party...
