With the fighting in the north suddenly worsening, the south was also hit by days of heavy rain. The Emperor was busy handling urgent affairs and constantly met with ministers every day, so he naturally had little time to spare for Yan Yihuan. That unpleasant parting from the other day was tacitly set aside amidst the hecticness.
With the Emperor so occupied, life as Grand Historian was hard for Yan Yihuan. There was hardly a moment to catch his breath each day. He was so dizzy and muddled that he did not even notice that ink had stained his official robes.
The Minister of Revenue was discussing countermeasures with the Emperor over the impending floods in the south. Waiting behind them, Song Weiqian[mfn]Reminder: Song Weiqian is the Minister of Personnel (First appearance: Ch39)[/mfn]’s gaze fell on Yan Yihuan, who was off to the side, anxiously gnawing at the tip of his brush.
Some time ago, Song Weiqian had deliberately asked Hanlin Academy to submit the historical records written by Yan Yihuan to him for review. To his surprise, not only was the handwriting neat and elegant, but while the content could not be called outstanding, it was still quite presentable.
At the time, Song Weiqian had privately concluded that the rumors claiming Yan Yihuan was utterly ignorant were likely spread by someone jealous that he had become a close attendant to the Emperor at such a young age.
Seeing that the Minister of Revenue wouldn’t be done so soon, Song Weiqian took a few steps closer to Yan Yihuan, wanting to see what he had been recording just now.
As soon as he moved, Li Xuanming caught it out of the corner of his eye. He looked over and immediately saw through Song Weiqian’s intention.
Li Xuanming raised his hand to his face and gave a light cough. He glanced sideways at Yan Yihuan, who was engrossed in writing and completely unaware of Song Weiqian approaching.
“Yan Yihuan!”
The impromptu call made Yan Yihuan’s heart skip a beat, and he quickly replied,
“This minister is here.”
Perhaps it was because the war reports and flooding had left the Emperor busy and anxious. In any case, ever since that day, a thin, invisible veil seemed to have fallen between the two of them. Each went about their own business, and even moments of closeness were gone.
Yan Yihuan felt miserable inside, but seeing that the Emperor was so preoccupied with state affairs that he could barely sleep a few hours a day, how could he dare bring up such trivial personal matters.
So when the Emperor suddenly called his name, Yan Yihuan was startled into alertness, and it also brought Song Weiqian to a halt.
Yet Li Xuanming had called out only because he feared Song Weiqian might see what Yan Yihuan was writing and realize that the earlier historical records had not been written by Yan Yihuan himself. In his panic, he called his name.
For a moment, the imperial study fell silent. Even the Minister of Revenue, who had been speaking at length, did not dare say another word. Everyone waited quietly for the Emperor to speak.
“Pack up your things and go out first.”
“Huh?” Yan Yihuan froze on the spot. All his expectations were like a bucket of cold water poured over him. He did not even notice that Song Weiqian was already quite close. He nodded dully in acknowledgment, gathered the things on the desk, and hurried out of the imperial study.
Seeing Song Weiqian step back, Li Xuanming also let out a breath of relief. After withdrawing his gaze from that departing figure, he gave Shen Zhaoquan a look.
Shen Zhaoquan understood at once and went out, only to see Ming Zhang coming in from outside. Yan Yihuan hurried out with his head lowered, holding a stack of booklets, and crashed straight into him, sending everything tumbling to the floor.
An attendant nearby hurried to help pick everything up. Ming Zhang glanced at Shen Zhaoquan, who was about to step forward as well, and signaled that he had things covered. As he bent down to help gather the items, he smiled and asked,
“What happened?”
In the past, Yan Yihuan would have come over to greet him and called him Ming Zhang ge. Today, however, he seemed panicked, his face looking a little pale.
“I’m fine. Thank you, Lord Ming.”
Ming Zhang glanced towards the imperial study. The doors were still open, with several people standing inside. Then he said to Yan Yihuan,
“There are too many people with the Emperor right now. Who knows when it’ll be my turn. Why don’t you come outside and wait with me?”
Not knowing where else to go, Yan Yihuan nodded. The two of them went to sit at the white marble round table outside. At this time of the day, the branches and leaves overhead cast just enough shade. The warm breeze was gentle, making the surroundings feel especially pleasant.
But Ming Zhang could tell that Yan Yihuan was not in a good mood.
“Got scolded?” Ming Zhang comforted softly, “Things have been especially hectic lately. His Majesty is probably anxious as well.”
Yan Yihuan lowered his head and gave a dispirited hum in response. He really wanted to ask someone what exactly had gone wrong between himself and the Emperor, but he could not quite bring himself to say it out loud.
Since he remained silent, Ming Zhang’s gaze fell on Yan Yihuan’s notebook instead. Seeing the messy scribbles on the pages, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ve heard that the records you submitted to Hanlin Academy, though not very detailed, were still organized and proper.”
He picked up the notebook as he spoke, “But what’s written here… doesn’t seem quite the same as what Hanlin Academy received.”
Yan Yihuan started panicking, but then he remembered that Ming Zhang already knew of his level, so he didn’t try to snatch it back and just let him look.
After flipping through a few pages, Ming Zhang understood. The copy now held by Hanlin Academy certainly wasn’t written by Yan Yihuan himself. It was clear who must have helped him.
Raising his eyes in slight surprise, Ming Zhang glanced towards the window of the imperial study, then lowered his head to continue reading. He noticed a page near the front filled with dense writing and couldn’t help but read it.
“The Emperor said, the spring thunder has arrived, and told me not to linger under that parasol tree.”
“The Emperor said, in the future, I needn’t wait for him to eat, because I’m not allowed to eat cold food, this was an imperial decree.”
The smile still remained on his face, but the warmth in his eyes now seemed only superficial.
“The Emperor said, he once had a cat, it was a long-haired white lion cat[mfn]t/n: There’s a footnote about this in chapter 9 with a picture of the cat breed.[/mfn]. I asked what its name was, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
Ming Zhang stared blankly for a moment, then let out a small, self-deprecating laugh and said quietly,
“He even told you that, huh?”
“What?” Yan Yihuan was curious and looked over, and immediately blushed. Ignoring all manners, he snatched the notebook back. “Stop looking! I didn’t even know what to record in those first few days, so I just scribbled whatever came to mind.”
Ming Zhang couldn’t help but laugh, “Although it’s written like a child’s scrawl, it’s still rather endearing.”
“I’m not taking that as a compliment,” Yan Yihuan said weakly, carefully putting the notebook away. But then Ming Zhang asked,
“Do you want to know the name of that lion cat?”
“Huh? Ming Zhang ge, you know about that cat too?” Yan Yihuan perked up, curiosity lighting his eyes as he looked at Ming Zhang.
“That cat was actually picked up by me, but it grew closer to the Emperor and ended up staying by his side. At that time, the Emperor was not yet Crown Prince,” Ming Zhang said, lifting his gaze to look into the distance, as if trying to see over the high palace walls. “Although the Emperor kept it, he never gave it a proper name, just calling it ‘White Cat, White Cat.’”
“Pfft.” Yan Yihuan couldn’t help laughing, “Good thing it was a white cat. If it had been black and white, it probably would’ve been called ‘Wuchang[mfn]无常 – Impermanence. A term used in Buddhism. It is the opposite of “cháng” (constant). Its literal meaning is “change” or “variation,” signifying that all things in the world are ultimately impermanent. In this context, Yan Yihuan is talking about the mix of black and white, linking it to unpredictability and change.[/mfn]’.”
If they hadn’t been outside the imperial study, Ming Zhang might have burst out laughing. He reached out and lightly tapped Yan Yihuan on the forehead, then continued,
“That year, during the Mid-Autumn banquet, the late Emperor invited all the kings and their families to celebrate together. Halfway through the feast, the Emperor went out and didn’t return for a long time, so I went out looking for him. Guess what I saw?”
“What?” Yan Yihuan asked eagerly with wide eyes, completely absorbed in the story.
“I saw a pale little child dressed in a pure white snow fox fur coat, holding a white cat tightly in his arms, while the Emperor was standing right in front of him.” Ming Zhang lowered his eyelids, as if recalling the scene. “At that time, I kept wondering, Mid-Autumn isn’t that cold, so why is this child all bundled up, blending in with the cat? Then I heard the child say, ‘It’s so beautiful, how can it not have a name?’”
Yan Yihuan propped his face in his hands, listening intently, “And then?”
“The child said that the cat’s pure white fur was much like his own appearance now, so he was willing to give it his name[mfn]In traditional Chinese culture, people sometimes named a beloved object, pet, or place after themselves, showing affection and personal connection.[/mfn].” Ming Zhang suddenly leaned in a little, lowering his voice mysteriously, “So it’s called…”
Yan Yihuan’s eyes widened in anticipation,
“Called what?”
Ming Zhang suddenly reached out and pinched Yan Yihuan’s cheek, smiling teasingly,
“Go ask the Emperor yourself.”
