Chapter 8. Chapter 8. He was almost looking forward to it. ...
The dim light struggled to pierce through the clouds.
Lin Yan moved himself into the office of the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of Sacrifices. Just as he slumped into the creaking wooden chair, before Gong Wenshan's shadow had fully enveloped him, a sinister gaze was fixed on the back of his neck.
Without turning around, Lin Yan knew who it was.
Zheng Jing.
The guy was huddled in his corner, occasionally lifting his eyelids to glare at him. His eyes were like poisoned needles, or like a hungry wolf staring at a dog that had stolen its bone. He was also unconsciously grinding his teeth, making a soft "crunching" sound, and his cheeks were puffing out.
Is it because I failed to curry favor with my father-in-law in the Ministry of Justice, and now they're putting the blame on me?
Grinding your teeth here so early in the morning, anyone who didn't know better would think a rat had entered the Ministry of Rites.
Grind, grind hard, grind your teeth until they're broken, then you won't have to eat, saving your family some food.
Lin Yan ignored him and took out a dark wooden box. The box was simple and unadorned, but it had an understated air of nobility. It was the imperial pastry box that Jin Jiu had sent last night.
With a soft "click," the lid of the box was opened.
The sweet, rich, and layered aroma of the pastries exploded like an invisible shockwave in the dull office.
The colleagues in the Ministry of Rites, who had been engrossed in their documents, whether genuinely busy or feigning it, paused for a moment. Several pairs of eyes involuntarily drifted toward Lin Yan's desk.
Even Wang, the steward who was slowly giving the inkstone his final care, paused for a moment while grinding it.
Lin Yan seemed oblivious, slowly picking up a piece of milk cake shaped like a jade rabbit, feeling a cool, delicate touch on her fingertips.
He examined it for a moment, as if admiring a work of art, before politely putting it into his mouth.
With its rich milky aroma, smooth and creamy texture, and just the right amount of sweetness, it instantly soothes the slight irritability that comes with waking up early.
Yes, that's the taste.
The imperial chef's skills were indeed extraordinary.
This should be the standard for compensation for emotional distress.
Lin Yan ate with focused enjoyment, savoring each bite, completely ignoring the fiery gaze emanating from the corner.
Zheng Jing's face was as black as the bottom of a pot, and his teeth were grinding louder and louder.
He stared intently at Lin Yan's leisurely and contented expression, then looked at the dry, hard pancake on his own table, and felt a surge of anger rising to his head.
Why?! Why does Lin Yan get to eat such good snacks? Why is he so carefree? He tried to curry favor with his father-in-law, who was in charge, and got a cold shoulder!
Lin Yan ate openly and even with a deliberate leisure, as if silently declaring: Sharing some of the food from your home before was a favor, but this imperial gift? Don't even think about it, not a chance.
The entire morning was eerily quiet in the government office, with only the occasional soft sound of Lin Yan opening the food box to take out snacks and the suppressed grinding of Zheng Jing's teeth creating a peculiar background noise.
Lin Yan was dealing with those nonsensical documents, and surprisingly, his efficiency was higher—probably due to the brief comfort brought by the delicious food.
Just as noon arrived, the aroma of lunch filled the government office. Clerks carried food boxes, delivering each official's portion of lunch.
Lin Yan also carried her tray and found a corner to sit down.
Two meat dishes, one vegetable dish, and a soup—it's alright.
He had just picked up his chopsticks, preparing to eat, when the heavy doors of the government office were suddenly pushed open from the outside with a dull thud.
The footsteps were heavy and orderly, carrying the cold sound of metal armor scraping against each other, instantly drowning out all the sounds of bowls and chopsticks clattering and chewing.
Everyone looked up in astonishment.
Four Imperial Guard soldiers, clad in black armor and carrying long swords at their waists, stormed in like four iron towers, their faces expressionless.
Their eyes flashed like lightning, instantly locking onto Zheng Jing, who was in the corner picking up a piece of fatty meat and putting it into his mouth.
The squad leader, his hand on the hilt of his sword, spoke in a booming voice that seemed to shake the rafters: "Zheng Jing, Principal of the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of Sacrifices?"
Zheng Jing, his mouth stuffed with meat, cheeks bulging, looked up in a daze and fear, his chopsticks clattering onto the table: "Y-yes, it's your humble servant?"
"Take it down!" The squad leader said without any further words, waving his hand.
Two Imperial Guards soldiers immediately pounced on him, one on the left and one on the right, their iron-like hands instantly gripping Zheng Jing's shoulders and forcefully lifting him off the stool.
"Ah! What are you doing?!" Zheng Jing was terrified, spitting out bits of meat from his mouth as he struggled desperately. "Insolence! I am an official of the imperial court!"
A dirty, tattered rag, pulled out from who-knows-where, was precisely stuffed into his wide-open mouth, silencing all his subsequent shouts and claims of powerful backers, leaving only a series of terrified and desperate "woof woof" sounds.
"We're arresting you, an official appointed by the imperial court."
The Imperial Guards moved swiftly, twisting Zheng Jing's arms behind his back and binding him tightly with cowhide rope. The whole process was as fast as lightning. In just a few breaths, the Zheng official who had been sitting there grinding his teeth and glaring was now a gagged, bound-up, pale-faced prisoner.
The squad leader glanced coldly at the trembling crowd and waved his hand: "Take them away!"
The clanging of armor echoed as the Imperial Guards dragged the still-struggling and whimpering Zheng Jing out of the government office like a dead dog. The heavy footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind a deathly silence and the lingering warmth of the food in the room.
In the government office, you could hear a pin drop.
Everyone froze in place, some holding bowls, some chopsticks, some with food in their mouths, their faces uniformly filled with huge question marks and fear.
"What's going on?" a young clerk asked, his voice trembling.
"What has Master Zheng done wrong that warrants the Imperial Guards coming to arrest him?"
"Good heavens... this has really blown up!"
The hushed whispers spread rapidly like ripples on water, fear and speculation intertwined in everyone's eyes.
Lin Yan slowly put down his chopsticks, picked up the soup bowl next to him, lowered his head and took a sip, the warm soup sliding down his throat.
That's really efficient.
It seems His Majesty received yesterday's secret report.
He raised his eyes, his gaze calmly sweeping over his panicked colleagues, finally settling on Zheng Jing's empty desk, where even the stool had been overturned.
You can go against anyone, but you can't go against the emperor.
The rising steam from the soup bowl blurred the fleeting understanding in Lin Yan's eyes.
...
Kim Gu's figure, like a ghost disappearing into the shadows, silently returned to the Imperial Study.
He bowed, his voice low but clear: "Your Majesty, Zheng Jing has been apprehended, along with two assistant ministers from the Ministry of Revenue and one director from the Ministry of Personnel's Performance Evaluation Department implicated behind him. They have all been imprisoned in the Ministry of Justice's prison, and the Minister of Justice is personally overseeing the case."
Xiao Che was reviewing a memorial when he heard this. Without stopping his writing, he simply hummed in response, as if he had just swatted a bothersome fly.
Jin Jiu paused for a moment, then continued, "I have been observing outside the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of Sacrifices for a long time. Lord Lin... is acting as usual. Before Zheng Jing was dragged away, Lord Lin was leisurely enjoying the snacks that His Majesty had given him."
His description was extremely precise, even capturing Lin Yan's deliberately crafted leisurely air: "In front of Zheng Jing, he ate a piece of Jade Rabbit Milk Cake with great care, even picking off the tiny crumbs stuck to his fingertips."
The brush finally came to a stop.
Xiao Che raised his head, a distinct interest flashing in his sharp phoenix eyes, and the corners of his lips even involuntarily curved upwards into a slight arc.
That smile was like a pebble thrown into a deep, cold pool, creating ripples that were both icy and mischievous, yet also carrying a touch of childlike wickedness.
"Oh?" He raised his voice slightly, with a hint of amusement. "Eating carefully? Not even letting the crumbs go?"
They have quite a sweet tooth.
Xiao Che felt that the frustration accumulated in his heart by the trivial matters of the court was instantly dispelled by this vivid scene. He put down his vermilion brush, leaned back slightly, and glanced at Jin Jiu's face: "He wasn't frightened at all?"
"Your Majesty, Lord Lin was calm and composed, handling official business as usual. He also ate his lunch peacefully. When Zheng Jing was dragged away, he... was drinking soup," Jin Jiu reported truthfully.
"Heh." A soft laugh escaped Xiao Che's throat, carrying a hint of indescribable pleasure.
He tapped his fingers lightly twice on the imperial desk, his interest growing stronger and stronger, almost becoming tangible.
"Li Defu," Xiao Che called out.
Li Defu, the Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, who had been standing in the shadows with his eyes downcast and seemingly oblivious to his own thoughts, immediately stepped forward and bowed, saying, "This old servant is here."
Xiao Che pointed to the inconspicuous little food box in the corner of the imperial study—the same dark wooden box that had been used to pack snacks for Lin Yan last night.
"Reveal my imperial decree." He spoke casually, as if ordering someone to pour him a cup of tea. "From now on, every day, take the freshest and most delicious pastries from the Imperial Kitchen, regardless of type, pack them into a box like this, and send it to Lin Yanlin, Assistant Minister of the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of Sacrifices."
Li Defu: "..."
Even this old eunuch, who had spent decades navigating the deep palace and had long since mastered the skill of remaining calm even when Mount Tai collapsed before him, was stunned at this moment. The wrinkles on his face seemed to freeze for a moment, and his eyelids twitched violently a few times uncontrollably.
Daily? The Imperial Kitchen? And you're giving me a sixth-rank position as an Assistant Director of the Ministry of Rites?!
This favor... no, this decree... is simply too... unbelievable.
Countless thoughts flashed through Li Defu's mind in an instant: Was it against the rules? Was it overstepping the bounds? What great merit had Lin Yan done to deserve His Majesty's reaction? Or did His Majesty simply think it was fun? The latter thought made his heart tremble.
He opened his mouth, his throat was a little dry, and the question "Your Majesty, is this...?" was almost about to burst out, but when he met Xiao Che's unfathomable phoenix eyes, which were now carrying a mischievous smile, all the words were choked back.
His years of experience serving the emperor told him that at this moment, His Majesty's mind was made up and he was in a good mood, a mood that often carried an unquestionable air of willfulness.
"Yes, Your Majesty, this old servant obeys." Li Defu bowed deeply, accepting this task that was shrouded in huge questions.
He was already quickly calculating in his mind: how to arrange manpower, how to avoid being seen and heard, how to make this "daily grace" less conspicuous yet still sufficiently reflect the "holy will"... This task was much more difficult than serving His Majesty his meals.
"Hmm." Xiao Che nodded in satisfaction, picked up the vermilion brush again, and looked back at the memorial, but the smile on his lips lingered for a long time.
He was almost looking forward to it.
Looking forward to tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and every day thereafter, when that wooden box containing the freshest pastries from the Imperial Kitchen appears on time on Lin Yan's desk piled high with rubbish documents, what expression will that seemingly peaceful but actually prickly young official have?
A note from the author:
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They'd think this was overtime pay [doge emoji]
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