Chapter 147 The Powerful Minister Returns to His Youth 1.

In the twentieth year of the Jiahe reign, in the dead of winter, the capital was covered in heavy snow.

Yu Shiqing, wrapped in a fur coat, sat on a low couch, his eyes clouded as he gazed at the silvery white sky outside the window, his expression distant and melancholic.

Hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor. Upon reaching the outer room, the sound paused, and an old servant, speaking through the indistinct landscape screen in the inner room, asked from afar, "Master, the gatekeeper reports that two more high-ranking officials have arrived: Left Censor-in-Chief Ran and Minister of Personnel Zhao..."

"not see."

An old, frail, yet still dignified voice came from behind the screen.

The old servant paused, then whispered, "Master, none of the officials who came before have left. Including these two, there are already more than ten officials waiting in the hall. Are you really not going to see any of them?"

There was no response from inside the screen.

The old servant sighed silently, bowed slightly, and his shadow swayed away in the mountains and rivers.

It was quiet again, both inside and out.

Only wind and snow remain.

The wind scatters shattered jade, snow weighs down the eaves, and another winter has come.

Yu Shiqing has lost count of how many such deep winters he has spent alone.

He lost his father at a young age, and his grandparents were both bedridden due to illness. The entire family was supported by his mother.

Yu Shiqing couldn't remember what life was like before he was six years old, but it was always inextricably linked to hunger and cold. The chilblains that still flare up on his hands every winter are proof of that.

When he was six, his mother saved up a string of copper coins, along with some rice, and begged people to send him to the clan's school. The villagers said his mother had gone mad; the family was so poor, they wouldn't even have enough to eat without the clan's aid, yet she still wanted to send her child to school. The clan's school was free, but the writing implements, the paper, the future travel expenses for the imperial examinations—all of these cost money.

"She's a young lady from town, still dreaming of becoming a noblewoman!"

The villagers ridiculed him.

His mother ignored him, only holding his shoulder and telling him not to overthink things and to study hard.

In the eyes of a six-year-old child, many things are a blur, but no matter how blurry, Yu Shiqing understands the contempt behind the adults' smiles and the ridicule from his peers.

Was he saddened by this?

I forgot.

All he remembered was his mother's words.

He studied with all his might.

He was always engrossed in his books during the day, and at night, when it was pitch black at home and there was no candle, he would sneak off to the vicinity of the clan's ancestral hall to borrow light to recite. When he encountered difficulties, he would ask his classmates and teachers for help, and he would not change his expression even if he was given the cold shoulder. If he couldn't write well, he would wrap a sandbag around his wrist and write on the sand or by the pond, day after day without stopping.

In the sweltering heat of summer, even with sweat pouring down his face and dizziness, he never wavered in his writing; in the bitter cold of winter, even with stiff hands and trembling legs, he never stopped writing.

"When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it first tests their resolve and strengthens their body." Yu Shiqing believed in this saying.

Talent and hard work allowed Yu Shiqing to quickly stand out in the school.

At the age of ten, Yu Shiqing passed the imperial examination and became the youngest student in Feishui County, enjoying unparalleled fame.

The clan placed their bets on him and began to fully support his studies, which greatly eased the family's burden.

At the age of thirteen, Yu Shiqing obtained the title of Xiucai (a scholar who passed the lowest level of the imperial examinations).

In the same year, his grandparents and mother all passed away.

For the next three years, Yu Shiqing almost never left Yujia Village. He regretted that he had neglected his studies and failed to cherish the people around him. So he built a hut in front of the grave and devoted himself to mourning.

At the age of seventeen, carrying his mother's last wish and the hopes of his clan, he went to Huai'an Prefecture.

That year, the banks of the Huai River were filled with the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms, and he emerged victorious, becoming the top scholar in the provincial examination.

It was at that time that he met Ye Zangxing.

Yu Shiqing, seventeen years old, and Ye Zangxing, seventeen years old.

One was a lonely, depressed, and impoverished student; the other was a royal prince, showered with honor and full of vigor.

How did these two people meet and become friends?

Yu Shiqing also forgot.

He is old, suffered a lot in his childhood, had a weak foundation, was injured in his youth, and later devoted himself to the dynasty for many years. At this age, it is normal for his mind to be a little muddled and his memory to be a little worse.

Not long ago, the young emperor he had watched grow up from infancy pointed his finger at him in the Mingying Hall and questioned him, asking if he had grown old and senile and completely forgotten the late emperor.

He didn't respond at that time.

Can.

How could I forget? How could I dare to forget? How could I bear to forget?

That's Ye Zangxing!

He was his king, his close friend, and... the love of his life.

How could he forget him?

For the first ten years, he dared not sleep deeply in the dead of night, for fear that if he slept too soundly, his beloved would not dare to disturb him and would no longer appear in his dreams. Later, he gradually stopped dreaming of him, and people said that he had forgotten him. But for twenty years, one after another, the eternal lamps in Huguo Temple went out, but the one that no one claimed still shone like a star, burning brightly day and night.

"Twenty years should be enough, right?"

Yu Shiqing chuckled softly and sighed, "I'm too old for this kind of thing anymore..."

The wind swept through the air, scattering the jade-like petals, and rushed in, leaving the room silent and unresponsive.

Yu Shiqing closed his eyes, smiled again, and then slowly stretched out his withered hands, pulled open the hidden compartment beside the bed, and tremblingly took out a mahogany box.

The box was small, undecorated, and crudely made, and did not look valuable. Yet, for some reason, it was adorned with three exquisitely crafted locks.

Yu Shiqing held the key and slowly unlocked the lock in the still bright daylight.

The intricate lock had just been set when another sound came from outside.

The old servant's footsteps were as fast as a knife chiseling ice. He quickly approached and stopped outside the screen, exhaling large puffs of steam: "Master, His Majesty has arrived!"

The emperor was different from others. He did not need Yu Shiqing's approval or disapproval. He had already stepped through the snow, passed the corridor, and entered the house as soon as the old servant finished speaking.

"teacher!"

The newly-adult emperor, draped in a fox fur coat, turned behind the screen, his face showing undisguised worry and concern. "I heard from the imperial physician..."

The words had barely left his mouth when Ye Chongming stopped abruptly, his gaze quickly sweeping across the window and floor of the inner room. "Someone, close the window, and quickly bring in some charcoal braziers! Teacher, you are ill; how can you make the room so cold? Even if you enjoy appreciating snow, you must prioritize your health..."

Yu Shiqing did not stop Ye Chongming from issuing orders.

When he was young, I stopped him from doing too much; now that he's grown up, I no longer need to stop him.

The guards and eunuchs filed in and out.

Yu Shiqing acted as if he hadn't seen anything, his hands continuing to unlock the door. He only slightly raised his face and nodded to Ye Chongming, "This old minister is dying, and my body is too heavy. Please forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty, and I will not rise to greet you again."

"teacher!"

Ye Chongming's brows furrowed suddenly. "Please don't say such things. You are still very healthy. As long as you take good care of yourself..."

Yu Shiqing smiled but didn't respond; he simply unlocked the door on his own.

Ye Chongming felt a heavy weight in his heart, so heavy that he could hardly breathe.

He looked at the old man in the fur coat on the couch—no, perhaps he couldn't even be called an old man yet. Ye Chongming remembered that the old ministers often said that Yu Shiqing, the Grand Secretary of the Great Qi, was the most brilliant and talented among the Jinshi (successful candidates in the highest imperial examinations) of the thirty-eighth year of the Tianxi era. So, if he calculated carefully, his teacher should be just over forty years old now, forty-four years old.

At forty-four years old, many officials in the court were still handsome men with slightly graying temples and long beards, full of energy and holding their heads high. They would argue with each other in the Taiyuan Hall for several hours without showing any signs of fatigue.

On the other hand, what about this Prime Minister Yu?

Ye Chongming recalled the imperial physician's report from two hours ago, which contained exactly eight words.

The disease has progressed to the point of no return, like a lamp running out of oil.

When Ye Chongming saw the mostly white hair, his eyes widened as if burned. He paused briefly, then looked away in a panic. His gaze fell on Yu Shiqing's hands.

He then noticed that Yu Shiqing was unlocking a mahogany box.

Speaking of this rosewood box, the young emperor, who was raised by Yu Shiqing like a father, had seen it more than once. Yu Shiqing often carried it with him when he was young.

The little boy was convinced that Yu Shiqing's treasure was hidden inside. He always held it in his hands and stroked it, but he never opened it, as if he was afraid that someone would see it and take it away.

Ye Chongming was curious about it and once stole it, intending to secretly open it and see what treasure was inside. However, Yu Shiqing caught him and gave him many slaps on the hand. After that, Yu Shiqing hid the box even more carefully and never took it out in front of him again.

More than a decade has passed in the blink of an eye. If it weren't for the deep impression of that beating he received back then, Ye Chongming would have forgotten about it.

"The teacher still keeps it?"

Ye Chongming spoke softly.

Yu Shiqing's eyesight had deteriorated, and his movements had slowed down. After working for a while and just removing two locks, he heard Ye Chongming's voice and chuckled again, asking, "Why do you think I would lose it?"

When Ye Chongming saw his teacher's smile, he was momentarily dazed.

Yes, the teacher loves to smile.

They all say that when the teacher became the top scholar and rode through the streets on horseback, his gentle smile captivated countless young ladies in the capital. Operas often used the phrase "a beautiful and refined gentleman, with a radiant and elegant appearance" to describe him. Even some officials who criticized him called him a "smiling tiger," saying he was all talk and no action.

In my memory, the teacher smiled less, especially when the late emperor was mentioned.

A moment of distraction caused Ye Chongming's voice to linger for a beat before he finally uttered, "No matter how precious a treasure is... over the years, as time passes and circumstances change, one will eventually stop liking it."

Yu Shiqing didn't answer, but his smile deepened as he looked at him and said, "I remember you were curious about it for a while when you were little, and you even tried to sneak it out to open it. Are you still curious now?"

Ye Chongming was surprised that Yu Shiqing also remembered this detail. He paused, thought about it carefully, and nodded: "I am still a little curious."

Yu Shiqing raised his hand and handed him the third key.

"Since you're curious, you'll be the one to unlock this last lock."

Ye Chongming was slightly surprised, but he still reached out and took the key.

When the old man and the young man touched hands, Ye Chongming sensed Yu Shiqing's temperature, which was frighteningly cold, almost like heavy iron in the snow.

Ye Chongming felt a jolt in his heart, as if trying to suppress something. He lowered his head somewhat hastily, grasped the key, and inserted it into the lock.

With a click, the lock clicked shut.

Yu Shiqing reached out and opened the box.

Ye Chongming looked over, his slightly widened eyes narrowing, "What...is this?"

The most intriguing item of the emperor's childhood, a precious mahogany box treasured by the prime minister of the country, contained neither pearls from the South China Sea nor glass from the Western Regions, but an ordinary, even yellowed, thin piece of paper.

Who would have thought of that?

Perhaps because Ye Chongming's surprise was too obvious, Yu Shiqing let out a laugh.

"This was left behind by your little royal uncle."

He said.

He did not refer to him as the late emperor.

Ye Chongming suddenly looked up at Yu Shiqing.

Yu Shiqing didn't look at him, but lowered his eyes, gently took out the thin sheet of paper, and carefully unfolded it.

The top part was mostly empty, except for a few dots of ink in the upper right corner. Ye Chongming examined them and realized that it seemed to be an unfinished character "卿".

"Twenty years ago, your young imperial uncle went south, but I was preoccupied with court affairs and could not accompany him. About two months later, your young imperial uncle sent a secret agent with a letter. The letter contained only this thin piece of paper, along with news of his death."

Yu Shiqing's voice has aged and faded, like snow in the wind outside the window, making it difficult to discern his emotions.

His eyes were desolate as he gazed at the snow, at the charcoal, and at a time long, long ago.

“We met at seventeen, went to Dingbei, Annam, traveled to the Western Regions, and stormed the palace gates. It took seven whole years until I was twenty-four…” His lips were pale, opening and closing slowly. “When he ascended the throne, he said that we were young ruler and subject, and our friendship was no less than that of young husband and wife. We would walk together for thousands of years to come. But Chongming, look, in the end… there is only this thin piece of paper.”

He broke his promise.

Yu Shiqing's fingers pressed heavily, yet lightly, on the already faded character "卿".

Ye Chongming held his breath slightly.

Yu Shiqing lowered his head, then smiled again, his brows relaxed, vaguely resembling the young man in red robes and flowers in his hair.

"Your Majesty, you have grown up, and your teacher has grown old..."

He looked at Ye Chongming.

Ye Chongming's breath caught in his throat. As if sensing something, he suddenly threw himself in front of Yu Shiqing. "Teacher... Teacher, I only came of age before the New Year, and I've only been in power for five years. There's still so much I don't understand. Teacher, you are the regent appointed by the young prince. You must teach me... You can't..."

Yu Shiqing was extremely cold and desolate.

This was the coldest winter after Ye Zangxing's passing.

Everything gradually became blurry.

The young emperor's panicked shouts, the imperial physician's hurried figure, and the wind and snow outside the window were all blurred.

Only the thin piece of paper in my hand, with the character "卿" (qing, meaning "you"), became clearer.

So clear, it feels like yesterday.

"If there is an afterlife..."

Yu Shiqing, who always spoke only of practical work and never of empty dreams, uttered the greatest delusion in the world when he closed his eyes.

But if there truly is an afterlife, what then?

Yu Shiqing didn't know.

All he knew was that he was finally going to die.

...

On the nineteenth day of the twelfth month of the twentieth year of the Jiahe era, Yu Shiqing, the Grand Secretary who had served as the chief minister of the Great Qi for twenty years, suddenly passed away.

Emperor Jiahe was deeply grieved and suspended court for seven days to express his condolences. He posthumously conferred upon Yu Shiqing the title of "Duke of Zhenguo" and the posthumous name "Wenzheng".