The First Lackey Under The Empress

"Speaking of which, has Grand Tutor arrived? How are the preparations going?" Zhao Du'an skillfully changed the subject.

Mo Chou composed herself and walked inside with him, saying:

"Grand Tutor has already arrived, but that Zhengyang hasn't come yet. There are quite a few people inside."

As they spoke, the two had already followed the main path of the plum garden and arrived at today's "main venue," which was a forest garden laid out with pavilions, terraces, and artificial hills and waters, centered around a huge gazebo.

Many tables and chairs had already been placed around, and servants were shuttling back and forth. The scholars who had arrived formed a neat square "formation" and were currently discussing in low voices.

The atmosphere was heavy and secretly restless. Zhao Du'an's arrival did not attract much attention.

Clearly, the attention of everyone present was focused on Dong Xuan and Zhengyang.

"Brother Zhao…"

Suddenly, Dong Da, wearing a Confucian robe and looking unremarkable, stood up from the crowd and greeted him, indicating that he had saved a seat next to him.

As the grandson of the Grand Tutor, Dong Da was in an excellent position, controlling the seats around him, which were occupied by acquaintances.

The most conspicuous was naturally Grand Tutor Dong, who had already arrived, closing his eyes for a nap, and had not yet taken the stage.

Beside him were Han Zhou, Wang You, and other scholars from the Xiuwen Institute.

"Is Grand Tutor resting?" Zhao Du'an asked softly as he walked to the seat.

Dong Da nodded, explaining with concern:

"Before the start, Grandfather doesn't talk to others to avoid distracting himself. That Zhengyang is hiding in the inn and hasn't shown his face for several days. He must be conserving his energy. My grandfather hastily accepted the challenge and was still lecturing at the Imperial Academy yesterday. He's also old and his energy is insufficient, so he can't afford to be distracted."

Uh… Zhengyang isn't really what you think… Zhao Du'an muttered to himself.

He sat down with Mo Chou, greeted Han Zhou and other acquaintances, and then looked around. As expected, he didn't see Yuan Li, Li Yanfu, or any of the ministers of the various departments.

However, there were several vice-ministers in attendance.

Not long after he sat down, Sun Lianying, the Supervisor of the White Horse Bureau and his old leader, also arrived.

"Supervisor Sun? Are you here to join the fun too?" Zhao Du'an asked in surprise, offering him the empty seat next to him.

The old official, with graying temples and sunken eyes, sat down, nodded to his "colleague" Mo Zhaorong, and then glanced at him:

"You're allowed to come, but I'm not?"

"How dare I…" Zhao Du'an subconsciously wanted to be jovial and joke around, but he restrained himself considering the occasion.

After Sun Lianying took his seat, he used his eyes to indicate some powerful figures in the crowd around the plum garden:

"There are indeed many big figures in the Confucian world here today. Do you see that one over there? The one with the white beard is the head of the West Suburb Academy, Qiu. Heh, the scholars who pass the imperial examinations are no less than those under the Imperial Academy."

"You should have met the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy next to him. Do you see the person talking to him? He's also a Confucian master, a leading figure who has retired and rarely appears in public. He came to the capital specifically from out of town the day before yesterday…"

"And that younger one looking at you, don't underestimate him. He's the Number One Scholar from two years ago. Although he's still in the stage of cultivating his talents and waiting for an opportunity, he's also a great talent on par with Han Zhou."

"Han Zhou is famous because he writes a lot of poetry, but this Number One Scholar is good at policy essays. If his imperial examination hadn't coincided with the late Emperor's death, he would have definitely entered the Xiuwen Institute…"

The old eunuch knew that Zhao Du'an didn't know much about the famous people in the Confucian world of the Great Yu Dynasty, so he took this opportunity to introduce them one by one in a low voice.

Zhao Du'an was greatly surprised to hear this.

Only then did he realize that the standard in the literary world today had reached its peak. It was rare to see so many Confucian scholars gathered together, perhaps once every one or two decades.

This showed how significant and influential this debate between Zhengyang and Dong Xuan was.

"The Venerable Bianji has arrived!"

Suddenly, a shout came from outside the plum garden. The scholars in the field were stunned and turned to look at the same time. Zhao Du'an frowned:

"Why are the people from Shenlong Temple here? Da Bing… cough, Mo Zhaorong, did you arrange this?"

Mo Chou's expression clearly darkened, and she said quickly in a low voice:

"Of course it couldn't be me."

The imperial court was trying to reduce the impact, so naturally it wouldn't ask this famous monk, who represented Abbot Xuanyin, to come.

Then he came uninvited…

"Venerable Bianji has always dealt with Confucian scholars and often participates in literary gatherings, so it's not abrupt for him to come here, but…" Scholar Han Zhou also frowned.

Although there was nothing wrong with Shenlong Temple sending someone at this time, and there was nothing to say, it would undoubtedly add weight to this debate.

"The Venerable is here?"

"Venerable Bianji has also arrived!?"

Many scholars stood up to greet him.

Zhao Du'an didn't move. He coldly saw a monk in white robes, with a string of green prayer beads hanging on his wrist, with a handsome appearance and eyes as clear as a child, arriving like a star surrounded by the moon.

On the surface, the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy, who was responsible for hosting this academic discussion, stood up and asked in surprise:

"Why is the Venerable here?"

The monk Bianji smiled and said:

"This humble monk has always had a lot of interaction with the students of the Confucian world. How could I miss such a major event today? Chancellor Mei, are you not welcome?"

The old Chancellor, whose surname was the same as the plum garden, was stunned and smiled:

"The Venerable's presence is naturally welcome. Someone, bring a chair."

Bianji smiled and thanked him. He saw Zhao Du'an's table, his eyes lit up, and he walked straight over, putting his hands together and saying:

"Amitabha, everyone, long time no see."

Indeed, it had been a long time since the last "Buddhist-Taoist Debate," after which the Empress sent Mo Chou to lead troops to Shenlong Temple and severely suppressed them.

This group of great monks had indeed been low-key for a while.

Zhao Du'an smiled and said:

“It’s been a while since the venerable monk graced us with his presence. This official almost forgot about you. Your timing is impeccable. Oh, by the way, how is the young monk Tianhai's injury? Your heavy-handedness in the arena last time caused some disharmony. I intended to visit your esteemed monastery, but a business trip delayed me.”

There was a barb in his words.

The monk Bianji, known throughout the Great Yu Dynasty for his white robes and the verse “When spring arrives, the grass turns green,” smiled, seemingly forgetting the unpleasantness of the past, and said:

“Tianhai's injury is not serious. On the contrary, he benefited from the life-and-death battle. It was a blessing in disguise. If he makes further progress in the future, he should thank Envoy Zhao.”

“Haha, I'll remember that. Don't go back on your word.”

Zhao Du'an smiled and said:

“By the way, Venerable Monk, which side do you favor in today's scholarly debate?”

“…Grand Tutor Dong’s knowledge is profound, naturally, this humble monk favors Grand Tutor Dong.” Bianji's answer was impeccable.

Zhao Du'an laughed: “That would be best.”

After some seemingly harmonious, but actually sarcastic, pleasantries, Bianji went to the opposite side and sat down.

Mo Chou and the others looked solemn, highly suspecting that Bianji had come to watch the imperial court's embarrassment because the imperial court had embarrassed Shenlong Temple in the last Buddhist-Taoist debate.

Zhao Du'an didn't say anything, his eyes half-open. After a while, seeing the seats in the plum garden gradually filling up, and the appointed time approaching.

Only the seats reserved for the Zhengyang School remained empty.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and heard a near-thunderous roar from outside the plum garden, the clamor of the scholars watching outside.

“Mr. Zhengyang has arrived!”

A herald's voice rang out.

Everyone fell silent, stopped talking, and sat upright, their eyes turned to the entrance of the plum garden.

They saw a group of people from the “Zhengyang School” coming in a mighty procession. Leading them was naturally Zhengyang, wearing a cloak, a Confucian robe underneath, and a square hat.

Behind him were his closer students, such as Lu Cheng and Scholar Song.

Many people present stood up to show their respect for this great Confucian scholar of the era, but some also keenly noticed that Mr. Zhengyang looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes.

He didn't seem to be in good spirits, but his eyes seemed to burn with an unextinguished fire.

“Grandfather, they've arrived.”

Miss Dong whispered to Grand Tutor Dong. Seated upright in a high-backed chair, wearing a deep red Grand Academician's robe, the Grand Tutor of the dynasty, Dong Xuan, opened his eyelids and looked sharply at his opponent in the distance.

The two naturally knew each other, but their last meeting had been more than a decade ago.

Dong Xuan exerted force with both hands, supporting himself on the armrests. Veins bulged on the back of his wrinkled hands. The old Grand Tutor stood up, exuding an aura as majestic as a mountain.

Zhao Du'an was slightly surprised, and only now did he first see the aura of this leading figure in the literary world of the Great Yu Dynasty, one of the “Nanyang North Dong”.

The crowd was faintly agitated, but they all tried their best to suppress it.

The disciples of the Zhengyang School stopped one after another, standing in several rows in the reserved seats. Most of them were energetic, even excited.

They had been spreading their doctrines everywhere these days, and had been looking forward to this scholarly debate to promote their school for a long time.

For these scholars, being fortunate enough to participate in today's battle was enough to brag about for a lifetime.

Only Lu Cheng and Scholar Song looked particularly heavy, especially when they saw Zhao Du'an, who was brazenly watching the excitement in the “audience seats,” and a sense of unease arose.

Zhao Du'an also smiled at them, and even waved.

Thus…

The two were even more flustered, with a hint of horror in their eyes.

Because they realized that most of the people present were probably kept in the dark, and did not know that the highly anticipated debate had actually ended yesterday.

Today is the second act…

Then, what exactly was this Yan King Zhao plotting by deliberately concealing everything from everyone and luring their teacher out for this charade? This thought made the two even more nervous.

They couldn't help but look at their teacher's back, wanting to know how he would respond.

Mr. Zhengyang continued to walk, leaving the crowd, and walked alone to the high platform of the pavilion in the center of the crowd in full view of everyone.

Grand Tutor Dong Xuan also came up almost at the same time.

Cushions and desks were placed in the pavilion for the two to sit down and discuss their scholarship.

Seeing the sight of a red robe and a Confucian robe and cloak standing opposite each other, all the literati in the plum garden held their breath, looking forward to the wonderful debate that was destined to be recorded in history.

Autumn wind suddenly blew through the pavilion, blowing the hair of the two great Confucians.

Dong Xuan stared at Zhengyang as if facing a formidable enemy, made a gesture to invite him to take a seat, and said:

“It’s been a long journey, sir. Although I am in the capital and you are in Yunfu, thousands of miles apart, I have long heard of the Zhengyang School’s ambition to ‘continue the lost learning of the past sages’. I didn’t expect to have the opportunity to debate with you today.”

Mr. Zhengyang stood calmly in the pavilion, without speaking.

His gaze was strange, without excitement, solemnity, or the emotions of war or tension.

His state was very wrong, and it had been very wrong since he left Bailu Academy last night.

At this moment, Mr. Zhengyang, who had been sitting blankly in the inn all night until dawn, looked past Dong Xuan, who was facing a formidable enemy.

He looked at a familiar, smiling face in the crowd behind the Grand Tutor.

Mr. Zhengyang was silent for a moment, then withdrew his gaze.

He cupped his hands and said the first sentence, which silenced the entire plum garden:

“I am here to admit defeat.”

After a brief pause, he said his second sentence today:

“But I did not lose to you, but to him.”

Mr. Zhengyang raised his hand and pointed to Zhao Du'an, who was smiling in the crowd.

The autumn wind blew.

The vast plum garden was silent.

… …

Next chapter at midnight.