Chapter 98 Your Majesty, you dare to bestow this reward, but I dare not accept it...
"Your subject has something to report!"
From Fusu's perspective, after he finished speaking, a hundred or so people, all standing upright with only their backs visible, turned to him in unison, abandoning their usual composure and revealing expressions of surprise, horror, and disbelief.
From Emperor Renzong's perspective, the sight of Xu Liao's familiar faces caused him to lose all composure. He looked towards an inconspicuous pillar in the Zichen Hall, where several familiar ministers were whispering amongst themselves, seemingly exchanging information.
Taking advantage of the chaos in the main hall, the emperor covered his face with his sleeve and quietly let out a muffled laugh.
That's interesting, really interesting.
Having served in court for about twenty years, countless arguments have taken place in this solemn and majestic Zichen Hall, the most intense of which nearly escalated into physical violence. Yet, there has never been a moment of "shock to the entire hall," more like a scene from a storybook. It's not a loss to witness one today.
The emperor sat on the dragon throne, unable to see Su'er's tiny figure. But he could guess that his ever-troublesome son was probably trembling with laughter inside.
A good show can't be performed by only one person, so he readily chimed in: "Judging from that voice... could it be Sanyuan Lang? Come before His Majesty and speak, for I cannot see you."
Fusu: "Yes."
He emerged from behind the pillar and walked naturally onto the central avenue, leading towards the Emperor. Along the way, he was bathed in countless gazes, each with its own distinct meaning.
But Fusu's "naturalness" became synonymous with poise in the eyes of others. Who among ordinary people, upon first ascending the Zichen Palace, wouldn't be trembling with fear, as if walking on thin ice, afraid of making a single misstep? Who, like him, stood tall and proud, showing no fear whatsoever?
Those who appreciated him nodded repeatedly, while those who envied him thought to themselves, "He's definitely a treacherous minister in the making." Only a few insiders exchanged helpless glances: the entire palace was his home, so what was the point of being timid?
As for the emperor sitting at the very head of the table, he only had the filter of an old father: his son was adorable no matter how he looked at him.
"Sanyuanlang, what do you have to report?"
His tone unconsciously carried a hint of spoiling the child, which earned Fusu many more glares.
Fusu was stunned by the glare and almost forgot what he was saying. He quietly bit his tongue and said, "Your Majesty... Your Majesty is here to report on your duties."
"Last year, the imperial estate had a bumper cotton harvest. I have already led the embroiderers to sew 37 cotton-padded coats and 56 pairs of gloves. Twenty days ago, I led the students of the Imperial Academy and the National Academy to compile the 'Collection of Snowflakes,' which was printed in 1,360 copies and distributed to the world. I also wrote a story of a strange tale from unofficial history and distributed it to 26 storytellers. Now, no one in Bianjing City is unaware of what 'cotton' is."
Fusu rattled off a string of data in one breath, fully demonstrating to the Song Dynasty officials what "visualization" meant. Wasn't this much easier than memorizing parallel prose?
He looked around and, after receiving a series of astonished stares, nodded with satisfaction: "What does Your Majesty think of my performance as the agricultural envoy?"
"Of course..."
"Wait!" Suddenly someone jumped out: "Zhao Xiaosanyuan, how can you guarantee that what you're saying is true? If it's just empty talk and nonsense, I can also make it sound amazing."
Who was this man? Fusu didn't recognize him. But he spotted Sima Guang nearby, who was secretly rolling his eyes. Oh, he understood. So he was one of the censors—the main force impeaching him.
Fusu had anticipated this. Rather, using data to present his performance was a pre-prepared contingency plan to avoid being proven wrong. He smiled and countered, "May I ask, sir, how many impeachment memorials have you submitted since the fifth year of the Qingli reign? Compared to your colleagues, is it a high or low number?"
The person immediately fell silent.
If you only ask how many impeachment charges there are, they can easily make up a story, and no one can expose them immediately. But if you ask how they compare to their colleagues? If they say they are too high, they will offend people. If they say they are too low, they will be accused of being incompetent.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted: "He is far inferior to his colleagues."
Sima Guang said, "Even if it is the average, it is far inferior."
The man turned around in disbelief, never expecting to be betrayed by his colleague. But Fusu bit his lower lip, trying hard not to laugh out loud.
"Ahem!" He cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to himself: "You can't give me a definite answer, but I can."
"The number of cotton-padded clothes and gloves is kept by the Ministry of Revenue. Whether they match or not can be found with a simple inquiry."
"The publication of 'Pengxue Ji' was handled by the Imperial Academy's Zhongshu Bureau, and the amount was personally told to me by the Chancellor Yang."
"The twenty-four speakers in Bianjing were people I personally contacted. As for the claim that everyone in Bianjing knows about 'cotton'... that may be an exaggeration, but I visited more than a dozen streets in Bianjing and asked fifty people, including merchants, idlers, women, and children, and they all said they had heard of cotton."
"Well, is that enough to dispel any doubts?"
When Fusu looked at the man again, he had already retreated back into the ranks of the censors, his face flushed red, his lips moving for a long time but unable to utter a single word. In the end, he only cupped his hands in a respectful gesture, without even offering an apology.
Sigh, he was defeated in just one round; his fighting ability is lacking. He thought he would encounter a stronger opponent.
Fusu sighed insincerely, glanced around, and finally fixed his gaze on the person at the head of the table: "Your Majesty? Is there anything you wish to ask?"
"Sanyuanlang truly lives up to his name."
My son is indeed my son.
The Emperor said, "Even the way they perform their duties is refreshing. In my opinion, this method can be promoted among all my ministers. It's clear at a glance and doesn't need any other empty words."
Upon hearing this, everyone in the court trembled.
Tonics, Your Majesty—
You see it all so clearly, but what are we supposed to do?!
It was Fusu who, sensing the unfavorable situation, promptly defused the predicament: "Your Majesty, please reconsider. Not all government affairs can be represented by numbers. If this encourages people to be impatient for quick results and achieves the opposite of the desired effect, it will not be good. Besides, numbers are easy to fabricate."
Among the officials of the censorate, the one who had tried to remain hidden swayed again, seemingly on the verge of collapse. Wasn't there already a ready-made counterexample to the so-called "fabricating numbers"?
Fusu: Oh ho.
He's utterly innocent: it was truly an accident. He didn't even think about this person when he said it. Does anyone believe him?
Most people probably don't believe it anymore.
This scene left a deep impression on all the officials present, both high and low: Sanyuanlang's tongue was incredibly sharp. If you offended him today, he wouldn't wait until tomorrow to ridicule you. He would settle scores on the spot.
As luck would have it, the emperor thought the same thing.
But through the lens of paternal love, he naturally saw nothing wrong with it, only thinking with relief: "Ah, with such a silver tongue, Su'er will surely not be bullied by his ministers when he ascends the throne. His life will definitely be better than his own."
His smile deepened: "I understand everything Sanyuanlang said. Anyway, let's get back to the Agricultural Commissioner. You've exceeded my expectations. What reward do you want?"
Fusu was stunned: Wait, the script doesn't seem to be arranged like this, does it?
But Emperor Renzong didn't care and added his own drama: "Those who have made contributions should be promoted and rewarded. You were originally a fifth-rank agricultural commissioner, and according to your merits, you should be promoted to the first rank."
"But you are only four years old this year, a prodigy sent by heaven, a child prodigy. I will take the liberty of adding another rank to your title and appointing you as a fourth-rank Hanlin Academician. What do you say?"
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Author's note: A little today, but much more tomorrow. [Dog head with rose in hand]
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