119 The Down-and-Out Scholar

On the fifteenth day of the seventh month, a grand court assembly was held.

Emperor Ling of Han, Liu Hong, paced back and forth on the dais, his agitation causing the beaded curtains of his crown to clatter like falling beans. He shouted hysterically, his voice thick with rage: "You lot claim to be the great scholars and generals of the Han, yet after all this time, you cannot even suppress a mere handful of rebels! What use do I have for you?"

Upon hearing this, the assembled officials prostrated themselves in a wave, crying out in unison: "Your Majesty, please calm your wrath!"

"Calm my wrath? To hell with calming my wrath!" Liu Hong rolled his eyes, resorting to coarse language. "Lu Zigan is cowering in Hebei, while Huangfu Yizhen and Zhu Gongwei are suffering defeat after defeat in Yuzhou. How am I to remain calm?"

Grand Commandant Yang Biao spoke up: "Your Majesty, please, calm yourself! The rebel forces are formidable. General of the North Lu Zigan is facing 150,000 rebels with only 50,000 men; a frontal assault is impossible, and he must await the right moment to win through strategy. Generals of the Left and Right, Huangfu Yizhen and Zhu Gongwei, come from families of military renown and have served for years; they are masters of warfare. The current stalemate is merely because the opportune moment has not yet arrived. Once the timing is right, they will surely achieve great success."

"Timing, timing! When will the right time come? What if the rebels seize Luoyang and take my head before that time arrives?" Liu Hong fumed, stamping his feet.

"Your Majesty, please calm your wrath!"

"Calm your wrath, calm your wrath—is that all you know how to say? Is there no one here who can devise a strategy to repel the enemy?" Liu Hong scanned the crowd. When no one answered, he let out a long huff and flopped back onto his dragon throne. "I don't care," he said, holding up ten fingers with a murderous glint in his eyes. "One month. If there is no news of victory from Yuzhou and Jizhou within one month, I don't care if they are Generals of the East, West, North, or South—I will have them arrested and punished!"

"Your Majesty, please reconsider..." the officials pleaded.

"My mind is made up!" Liu Hong declared firmly.

Zhang Rang, standing by the Emperor's side, saw the officials attempting to dissuade him and shrieked in his high-pitched, eunuch voice: "Audacious! His Majesty’s word is final. Do you intend to make the Emperor go back on his decree?" He took great pleasure in seeing these pedantic Confucian scholars humiliated before the throne.

The officials were silenced, and the hall fell into a deathly hush.

Just then, a report came: "An urgent military dispatch, delivered at eight hundred li per day!"

"It must be more trouble from Yuzhou," Liu Hong muttered, his brow furrowing. For days, Huangfu Yizhen had sent reports almost daily, mostly bringing bad news. "I cannot be bothered to hear it. Hand it to the General-in-Chief’s office."

"Yes, Your Majesty..." The messenger turned to leave, but Wang Yun, with his sharp eyes, noticed the red cord tied around the dispatch—a sign of a victory report—and that it was written on high-quality paper. He intercepted the messenger. "Your Majesty, it would be prudent to take a look. It is a victory report from the Chancellor of Jinan!"

"Oh?" Liu Hong’s eyes brightened. "Truly?"

The messenger announced: "It is a report of victory sent by the Chancellor of Jinan from Qingzhou."

"Read it at once!" Liu Hong leaned forward, brimming with excitement.

"Yes!" Wang Yun took the task of reading. The report detailed how Luan Yi had led his army into Yanzhou to lift the siege of Shanyang, then marched to aid Qingzhou, shattering the rebels at Changyi, Dongying, and Langya, and finally crushing the insurrection at Linzi.

Liu Hong clapped his hands and laughed. "This Luan Ziqi, winning battle after battle—a true tiger of a general! Or rather... I have heard the world calls him a 'Heaven-Sent Talent,' so he must be a divine general! Hahaha... with a divine general in my service, why worry about the rebels? Convey my decree: appoint Luan Yi, Chancellor of Jinan, as General Conquering the East, and command him to march to Yuzhou immediately to reinforce Huangfu Yizhen."

An elderly official, Zou Jie, interjected: "Your Majesty, the Chancellor of Jinan is but a petty official with a salary of five hundred shi. To jump to a high-ranking general with a salary of fifteen hundred shi—this promotion is too rapid and violates ancestral custom!"

Hearing Zou Jie hinder his future son-in-law’s advancement, Wang Yun fired back: "Which ancestral regulation forbids a promotion of four ranks at once?"

"This..." Zou Jie was left speechless. "There is no explicit provision, but for centuries, things have been done this way."

"In that case, were the appointments of Gan Luo as Chancellor or General Huo’s campaign against the Xiongnu conducted according to your so-called regulations?" Cai Yong stepped forward. He cited the examples of Gan Luo, who became Chancellor at age eight, and Huo Qubing, who led armies against the Xiongnu at sixteen—both examples of young men promoted against convention who went on to achieve world-shaking feats.

The court erupted in discussion; some nodded, some sighed, but none could refute them.

"Your Majesty!" Wang Yun held his tablet and said solemnly: "The Yellow Turban rebels are rampant; these are extraordinary times. In extraordinary times, one must take extraordinary measures. Promoting a brilliant talent out of turn is only right."

"What Minister Wang says aligns with my own thoughts," Liu Hong laughed, stroking his beard. "In that case, Father Zhang, draft the decree!"

Zhang Rang’s eyes darted around, and he gave a low, submissive nod. He had already begun to calculate. It was clear that this youth, Luan Yi, had successfully entered the Emperor’s inner circle through his military achievements and was highly favored. His future was limitless. A pity, a pity indeed... Zhang Rang glanced at Cai Yong and Wang Yun. Luan Yi belonged to the scholar faction. If he were to rise, holding both power and a loyal army, the fate of the court eunuchs would be dire. He had to be eliminated as soon as possible. But not yet—he had to wait for the perfect opportunity.

When the court adjourned, Zhang Rang returned the carriage to the inner palace and went to the Secretarial Office to draft the decree. After confirming it was correct, he stamped it with the Imperial Seal and dispatched an imperial envoy to Jinan.

By the time he finished, it was late. As he was not on duty that night and there were no major crises, he ordered his subordinates to prepare his carriage to return to his private residence in Luoyang.

As the carriage rolled through the empty streets of Luoyang in the dead of night, the sound of the wheels clicking against the paving stones prevented Zhang Rang from focusing on the events of the day.

Luan Yi was only sixteen! Appointed a general at sixteen... he was on par with the great General Huo Qubing. Back then, General Huo had driven out the Xiongnu and achieved eternal glory, becoming an icon of his age. Now, if Luan Yi were to defeat the rebels... hmph...

He was a scholar to the core, and he had Cai Yong and Wang Yun as his fathers-in-law...

The scholar faction had long been suppressed by the eunuchs for two reasons: the eunuchs were always near the Emperor and held his favor, and they had cultivated followers throughout the court and military for years. The scholars had power but no soldiers, so they were no match.

But now, a young general had emerged, and he was the Emperor’s new favorite!

The more Zhang Rang thought, the more afraid he became. His breathing grew shallow. As he lifted the curtain to catch some air, he spotted a scholar standing under the side wall of a grand mansion, looking disheveled and ragged, listening intently to something.

"Stop the carriage!" Zhang Rang ordered the driver.

The carriage halted with a neigh. Zhang Rang recognized the mansion; it was the residence of Cai Yong. He listened closely, and faint strains of music could be heard. "What is this?"

"Do you know who that is?" Zhang Rang asked his steward, pointing at the youth outside the wall.

"Oh, him? A lovesick fool," the steward chuckled. "His name is Wei Ning, courtesy name Zhongdao, a former Imperial Academy student and a pupil of Cai Yong. He had his heart set on the young mistress of the Cai family. Just as the two were growing closer, this 'Heaven-Sent Talent' Luan Ziqi suddenly appeared and stole the spotlight! Not only did he lose the beauty's heart, but he was also humiliated by Luan Yi. He lost face and couldn't bear to study anymore. He quit the academy, but instead of returning to his home in Hedong, he lingers in the capital, pestering the young mistress every day. It’s become the talk of the town, and everyone scorns him."

"Oh? It is him?" Zhang Rang’s expression tightened, then relaxed into a smile. "Bring him to me."

"Yes..." The steward trotted over and called out to Wei Ning several times, but the youth heard nothing. It was only after a few firm taps on the shoulder that Wei Ning reacted, scrambling away in terror until he hit the corner of the wall, shielding his face with his elbows and crying, "Don't hit me! Please, don't hit me! This is the last time, the last time! I will never come to eavesdrop again!"

The steward hurried to explain, "Young master, don't be alarmed. I am not here to strike you."

Wei Ning lowered his arms and looked. Indeed, the old man was not a steward from the Cai estate, and there were no thugs following him. He asked suspiciously, "Then?"

"My master wishes to see you!" The steward gestured toward the distant carriage.

"And who might your master be?"

"You will know once you see him!"

"Very well!" Wei Ning followed the steward to the carriage, peeked inside, and cursed under his breath. Having lived in the capital for so long, he recognized Zhang Rang’s face. Though he was a broken man, he still considered himself a scholar in his heart and felt an instinctive hatred for the Ten Eunuchs. "Wei Ning greets the Honorable Zhang. I have just remembered an urgent matter that requires my attention. If the Honorable has no further commands, I shall take my leave!" He turned to go.

"Wait!" Zhang Rang called out with a smirk.

Wei Ning sighed and turned back. "What does the Honorable require?"

Zhang Rang pulled a book from the carriage. On the cover were the words: *Stories of Liaozhai*, by Luan Ziqi.

Wei Ning felt a surge of disgust and turned away.

Zhang Rang spoke in a mocking, singsong voice: "Luan Ziqi’s works are not only bizarre, but they contain hidden truths that I have always admired. For instance, this line: 'There are three ultimate hatreds in this world: the first is the vengeance for one’s father, the second is the theft of one’s wife, and the third is the humiliation of crawling between legs.' Does Young Master Wei agree with Luan Ziqi?" To drive the point home, Zhang Rang emphasized the words "theft of one’s wife."

Wei Ning’s face darkened instantly. "What is this? Did the Honorable Zhang summon me here just to humiliate me? If so, I must say, you have succeeded." He turned to leave again.

"I have no interest in humiliating you. In fact, the reason I sought you out is quite the opposite—I am here to help you!"

"Help me?" Wei Ning glanced back at Zhang Rang. "I thank the Honorable, but I am fine and require no help!"

"Fine? Is this what you call fine?" Zhang Rang looked Wei Ning up and down and sneered: "Your beloved woman has been stolen by another, and you can only cower outside a wall to listen to her music—and you call this fine? Hmph... a man like you is unworthy of the name!"

"You!"