From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 137: According to Plan

"Your Majesty, the hour grows late, if you do not rest, Imperial Concubine Yue will worry."

Liu Yao looked up from where he’d been staring blankly at the script the state preceptor had sent to him just earlier in the day. His network of eyes and ears had found the mysterious man wandering the northwestern forests in search of rare herbs. They returned to the imperial city with a message that had consumed Liu Yao’s mind ever since receiving it earlier in the day.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice tinged with fatigue as he leaned back into his seat and rubbed at his temples. The cushioned backrest that Yan Yun had insisted he used to support his lower spine made the red sandalwood chair far more comfortable but it still felt good to stretch and loosen up some of the muscles that had stiffened over from sitting down for most of the day.

"In response to Your Majesty," Head Eunuch Cao Mingbao said, "the second gong has long sounded (1)." He offered up a bowl of warm green bean soup. "Imperial Concubine Yue heard that Your Majesty has not eaten much and has spent most of today cooped up in the stuffiness of Tianlu Pavilion. He made dessert to alleviate some of that heatiness (2)."

Liu Yao smiled as he reached for the spoon. "He’s been thoughtful." He didn’t dismiss Cao Mingbao straightaway, an unspoken signal between the both of them that there was something he wished to discuss.

After a quiet pause, Cao Mingbao murmured, "Is there anything this servant could assist Your Majesty with?"

It was his tentative way of prying, an art that the high-ranking eunuchs and maids who served their masters and mistresses directly had to perfect if they wished to survive in the inner palace.

Liu Yao’s eyes darted to the script from the state preceptor again but after a moment’s consideration, he chose not to mention it.

"Are all the preparations complete?" He didn’t have to specify exactly which preparations he was talking about for Cao Mingbao to be on the same page as he.

"Rest assured, Your Majesty," was Cao Mingbao’s confident reply, his eyes crinkling in a fatherly manner as he accepted the empty bowl back from Liu Yao with a pleased expression. "The details of Yue Langjun’s coming-of-age ceremony were finalised a while ago and as for the night’s arrangements, Supervisor Liu personally took charge of the planning in the Department of Ceremonies and the Department of Inner Affairs has prepared all the necessary materials for the wedding."

The wedding. The night of the dragon and phoenix candles in the nuptial chamber. Years ago, the Ministry of Rites and the departments of the inner palace had arranged the festivities for him but Liu Yao had refused to attend, choosing instead to sit outside in the chilly evening breeze, his heart far beyond the walls of the imperial city.

This time around, the Ministry of Rites had no involvement. His morning court would not permit him to take an ex-slave as his lawful wife, he didn’t hold enough sway yet to promote his first and only choice as empress.

But like he’d told Ziyu so long ago, the promise reflected in the bright glimmer of hope every time he listened to Ah Yun’s opinion or included his Ah Yun in discussions, it was within Liu Yao’s power to marry him like an equal. The rest of the world might not wish to acknowledge such a union yet but Liu Yao was the Son of Heaven; the heavens alone were all the witnesses they needed.

As for their approval...the state preceptor’s message made it clear that he already had it.

He brushed a thumb gently over the state preceptor’s crisp writing. The state preceptor hadn’t sent back any lengthy missives for Liu Yao to ponder over. There was no talk of the unrest on the northwestern borders, no mention of the weird and wonderful flora and fauna that the state preceptor was currently preoccupied with.

Noted down in two neat columns were two sets of the Four Pillars of Destiny, one familiar to Liu Yao because it was his own and another that was hauntingly familiar because once upon a time he had asked Ziyu for his just so he could take it to a fortune teller to check their matchmaking compatibility. Everything apart from the year was the same; both his Ziyu and his Ah Yun had been born on the seventh day of the seventh month during the start of the Hour of the Rat.

This wasn’t the first time Liu Yao had seen Yan Yun’s date and time of birth. Back then, he’d assumed that Wu Shengqi or whoever he was complicit with had bribed one of the eunuchs who kept records on the harem to alter Yan Yun’s Four Pillars of Destiny to mirror Ziyu’s on purpose.

But now he knew that inexplicable ’coincidences’ could occur too.

There was just one other thing on the state preceptor’s message but it was this that Liu Yao had been staring at all day, unable to focus on any of his work due to the fierce bubbling of joy in his soul that he could barely keep from surfacing.

A union of the ’Six Directions’. The coming together of the north, south, east, west, the heavens, and the earth. This was the best matchmaking compatibility that any two people could have, the rarest and sweetest proclamation that these souls should be brought together to complete each other.

He’d had this with his Ziyu once and he had it now with Ah Yun too. Perhaps it was because they were fragments of the same soul at the end of the day. Liu Yao liked to think that they were, just like how he liked to ruminate on the little strange oddities about his Ah Yun that he catalogued with loving attention.

"Does Your Majesty have any final instructions for the departments?" Cao Mingbao’s question cut through Liu Yao’s reverie and he tucked the state preceptor’s message carefully into the folds of his robes before standing up.

Everything was going according to plan. "Just remind them not to include any peanuts on the nuptial bed or the custom with the half-cooked dumplings," he said. The peanuts were a homophone for ’giving birth’, as was the rawness of the dumplings. To have either as part of the traditions would just put his Ah Yun on the spot...since no matter how hard Liu Yao worked, they would not have a child that shared their bloodlines.

Even if Ah Yun’s feelings didn’t get hurt by this, Liu Yao thought wryly, his silent, pointed, polite disapproval was more than enough to make anyone feel guilty, even an emperor.

——————————

Life as an imperial prison guard was fairly uneventful. In the envious eyes of the villagers from Cui An’s modest hometown, moving to the capital and serving the emperor in his palace was a prestige that others could only dream of, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the poor common folk to have a chance at climbing the ranks and elevating the status of their families.

The woman Cui An grew up thinking he would marry thought the same too when he’d first been selected for the job. But after years and years of pushing for him to stand out from the crowd, of forcing her ambitions down his throat by asking him to offer bribes to his superiors for a shot at a promotion, Ah Miao had finally had enough.

Where was she now? Cui An didn’t know. Perhaps happily married to another man who could provide her with the life of peace and comfort he would never be able to afford. As she’d shaken her head at him in glaring disappointment and told him that he was not the man she’d thought that he was, Cui An had wanted to tell her back then too...

Ah Miao, you and I are small people from a small town. You don’t know contentment the same way you don’t know how their greed knows no bounds.

Manning the cells of the Department of Careful Punishment for over a decade might not mean that Cui An understood all the inner politicking and nefarious schemes of the imperial palace but he’d learnt enough that he was aware of what he should and should not aspire towards.

Keep his head down, do his work diligently, serve his emperor with loyalty, and his mother and him–and Ah Miao, except she hadn’t stayed–would want for nothing.

The world wasn’t fair. No matter how good a ruler their emperor was, no matter how prosperous the realm became under his reign, the poor helpless man would always remain a poor helpless man as long as the rich powerful man did his best to keep him there.

Such was the way of life. A man at thirty years should have established his independence from his family and know the path that he chose for himself (3) and Cui An felt like he had fulfilled his duties in that sense. What Ah Miao expected from him, he hadn’t been willing to trade his beliefs and principles to obtain for her, and that was that.

Cui An had much expected his future to continue down the same track, taking his post in the prison every day except for rest days, training the promising new guards like Ah Lu and putting food on the table for his mother just to see a proud smile on her weathered face.

This was why, when his supervisor approached him out of the blue with an indiscernible smile on his face, Cui An didn’t know what to think.

"Cui An ah," Supervisor Qi said, the unique androgynous tone that the eunuchs shared not gratingly smug for once. This was even less reassuring for Cui An, who couldn’t understand the change in attitude. Ever since those months ago, when Cui An had stood up against Supervisor Hong to prevent harm from befalling Lord Yue–no, Imperial Concubine Yue now–Cui An’s reputation for being defiant to his superiors had only been further cemented. Already, he’d had bad blood with Supervisor Qi, whom Cui An knew as a cowardly miser whose favours could be bought in the blink of an eye. Supervisor Qi was the reason why Cui An was going to spend the rest of his life as a low-ranking nobody with no chance of standing out and he made sure Cui An knew it from his every gesture that dripped haughtiness, his every word that was laced with overt gloating.

So why was today different?

"Supervisor Qi," Cui An greeted perfunctorily. "Did you require this subordinate for something?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Ah Lu tensing up; the incident with Imperial Concubine Yue had opened the young man’s eyes as well and Cui An was reassured to see some of his idealism replaced with a far more useful wariness.

Instead of issuing a series of arduous tasks like he was wont to do, Supervisor Qi chose to clap Cui An on the shoulders instead, his manner so overly familiar that it made Cui An’s skin crawl. He took a step back to avoid the touch, refusing to give any respect where it was not due and watched as an angry florid flush crawled up Supervisor Qi’s face. He glared at Cui An but surprisingly, did not blow his top.

"Ha ha, Cui An, you’re going places in life and you’re aware of it too, I see." Supervisor Qi wasn’t even using the self-address ’zajia’ anymore. "Congratulations are in order, when you finally make it out there, don’t forget your roots."

By roots, Supervisor Qi meant the Department of Careful Punishment. But the rest of what he was trying to say was obscure. Cui An narrowed his eyes. "This subordinate doesn’t comprehend," was his cold reply.

Supervisor Qi finally stopped beating around the bush although the gleam in his eye as he regarded Cui An reminded Cui An of the way the beggars around the marketplace would stare at the fresh slabs of meat that the butchers hung up in the morning. It was disconcerting and he didn’t appreciate it.

"I have been informed by the Ministry of Personnel that you are to attend a ’three-panel interview’ tomorrow." At this, Supervisor Qi couldn’t contain the envy that flashed briefly in his eyes.

Although his expression remained deadpanned, Cui An felt his heart pause for a second in disbelief, before starting up again at twice the speed.

The–the Ministry of Personnel? But why? Posts like unranked prison guards and palace maids were governed internally and did not fall under the purview of the morning court. In fact, even the higher-ranking inner palace roles were little influenced by the ministries, with generations of emperors far preferring to keep their powers separated as much as possible for fear of granting too much control to their officials.

A growing unease undercut the frisson of excitement that had run through his body earlier. Ah Lu, who hadn’t learnt to think as far ahead or as deeply, didn’t have the same reservations. As soon as Supervisor Qi realised he was not going to get a bigger reaction out of Cui An and left in disgruntlement, Ah Lu bounded over to slap Cui An on the back in genuine heartiness.

"Congratulations, Big Brother Cui!" Ah Lu said, grinning from ear to ear. "You deserve the recognition! If it weren’t for some petty old geezer–"

"Recognition might not always be a good thing," Cui An interrupted dryly. He’d just lectured Ah Lu a couple of weeks ago on the importance of lying low to remain safe in the inner palace and here Ah Lu was being happy for him for being head and shoulders above the others. Granted, it might mean that he excelled at something–even if he was uncertain as to what this might be–but it also meant that he was an easier target now.

Besides, "Do you even know what a three-panel interview is?" Because he had no idea what that was. The individual characters alone made sense in isolation but strung together, they were meaningless to him.

Ah Lu scratched his head. "Not a clue. What is it?"

Cui An drew in a deep breath.

Guess he’d find out soon enough.