The Loyal Minister's Resolve

The Jade Wave Pavilion overlooked the South Lake.

Upon entering, one immediately saw a half-man-high, ten-foot-long granite wall standing at the center. Etched upon it was Lu Yu’s Classic of Tea, inscribed in ancient clerical script of a dark green hue. The flowing water that constantly bathed the stone gave it a timeless, elegant charm.

Pausing to listen, one could hear the ethereal sound of a guqin, its notes tinkling and flowing like a mountain stream, as if one were in a secluded valley. The lingering resonance seemed to coil above the beams, both gentle and strong.

Behind the counter, the shopkeeper and his assistant were weighing fresh tea leaves when the guest bell rang. They looked up to see two gentlemen. One wore a black strip soft turban and a blue robe, his beard and hair tousled; the other was slightly plump, with a long white beard and mustache, crowned with a Dongpo scarf and dressed in plain clothes. The shopkeeper paused his work and stepped forward to greet them respectfully.

“May I ask if you two gentlemen have an appointment?”

The plump man in plain clothes was Tan Zhi, an Imperial Censor from the Supervisory Court. The man in blue was Wen Shuochuan, the Court Clerk of the same institution. These two were not only close friends but also confidants.

Wen Shuochuan bowed and said, “We have an appointment with the Flower-Top Candidate, Xia.”

Upon hearing this, the shopkeeper sent his assistant to notify the host and personally led the two guests to a private chamber.

At the door, Xia Yunhe greeted them courteously, and they entered the room with mutual respect.

Inside, a bamboo curtain swayed lightly, revealing a bamboo table with four bamboo chairs. Seated by the window, the entire view of South Lake was in sight: rippling water, small boats, and boatmen standing at the prow. The room was filled with the fresh scent of burning pine incense. Three plates of exquisite tea snacks were laid out on the table, each containing eight delicate pieces, bite-sized and arranged in mountain shapes.

Beside the table stood a clay stove with a copper kettle resting nearby, warm to the touch.

After exchanging bows, guests and host took their seats accordingly.

Xia Yunhe rolled up his sleeves and began brewing tea for the two, saying, “This is Mengding Sweet Dew, this year’s new tea. The color is a clear jade green, the shape curled like a dragon, and the taste crisp and refreshing.”

A gentle breeze stirred Xia Yunhe’s sleeves, carrying an air both pure and serene. Wen Shuochuan could not help but admire this flower-top scholar of the fortieth year of the Yuanhua era, truly worthy of his reputation for elegance.

The two men exchanged a glance, and Wen Shuochuan spoke first: “Flower-Top Candidate, you have summoned us here today. What matter do you wish to discuss?”

Xia Yunhe settled back into his bamboo chair and smiled, “There have been many rumors circulating about Chen Haizhou recently—‘He wrongfully kills, is cunning and violent, falsely accuses the good, and fills the land with restless souls. If he is not removed, the world shall never find peace.’”

“Chen Haizhou? What concern is that of ours?”

This was asked by the graying-bearded Tan Zhi, who hummed softly and sipped his tea, frowning deeply.

Xia Yunhe noted this, knowing well that this Imperial Censor, Lord Tan, was known for his temper.

She gently blew away the tea foam and took a sip herself, frowning slightly at the strong brew—no wonder Tan frowned.

Wen Shuochuan noticed a hint of pretended solemnity in Xia Yunhe’s demeanor. He glanced at his friend Tan Zhi, then back at Xia, and said, “Editor Xia, as for Lord Chen, we, as low-ranking officials, dare not speak lightly.”

Dare not speak lightly? Yet these two had directly confronted the court, risking their lives in their objections.

Xia Yunhe sneered softly and asked, “How are your impeachment memorials coming along? When do you plan to submit them to His Majesty?”

Tan Zhi was startled. How did Xia Yunhe know they were writing impeachment memorials? Suspecting ulterior motives, he slammed the table and shouted, “Xia Yunhe, what nonsense are you spouting?!”

Being named directly did not anger her; she lightly dusted off the crumbs from her clothes and smiled at Tan Zhi. “Censor Tan, you are impassioned, but do you understand the consequences of submitting those two memorials?”

Upon hearing this, Wen Shuochuan furrowed his brow and gazed at Xia Yunhe, stroking his long beard in silence.

He rose to hold Tan Zhi firmly by the shoulder, seating him back down, and smiled at Xia Yunhe. “Editor Xia jokes. We have not written any impeachment memorials.”

Xia Yunhe looked at them with a playful smirk. “There’s no need for such pretense. I know you are writing memorials to impeach Chen Haizhou, but what can two memorials truly change? He will still weave his web of crimes, wrongfully kill the innocent, and you two will only lose your lives in vain.”

What she said was based on memories from a previous life.

In that life, she too had written memorials, secretly stashing them in her sleeve, intending to present them to the emperor at the grand court session.

The reality was that before Tan Zhi and Wen Shuochuan could finish speaking, Emperor Hui had waved them off, ordering guards to escort them out. Tan Zhi, refusing to submit, denounced the heavens, earth, and morality, then dashed his head against the dragon pillar in the main hall. Wen Shuochuan, seeing this, did not dare to survive alone and followed after him. After much thought, Xia Yunhe had burned the memorials she had written in the winter charcoal brazier.

She said, “Chen Haizhou’s power is at its peak. How could two memorials bring him down? Why risk your lives in vain?”

“Is Xia Yizhi inviting us here today just to dissuade us from impeaching Chen Haizhou?” Tan Zhi stroked his white beard and snorted.

Xia Yunhe’s eyes were clear and resolute. “Yes. This matter requires careful, gradual handling.”

“With such villainy, if ministers keep silent and turn blind eyes, where does that leave the emperor? We eat the emperor’s grain and serve him loyally. As Imperial Censors, if injustice prevails, how can we remain silent while Chen Haizhou’s ilk run rampant?”

Xia Yunhe replied, “Censor Tan, it’s not blindness, but avoidance of their sharp edge.”

Tan Zhi laughed bitterly, leaving the table to pace by the window. “Avoid their sharp edge? Since the thirty-fifth year of Yuanhua, their power has only grown. Now they dare to let the innocent die on the streets. How long shall we avoid their edge? Editor Xia, your beard isn’t even fully grown yet, and you’re already timid and hesitant. What a disappointment—I once praised your writing as majestic, but you’re just a sycophant.”

This unexpected personal attack stunned Xia Yunhe, who could only smile wryly, lowering her gaze to sip her tea.

Wen Shuochuan glanced around, considered for a moment, then said to Tan Zhi, “Brother Bingwen, Editor Xia means well. Chen Haizhou dares kill openly, and no one can touch him. Perhaps we should think carefully about whether we are worth the risk.”

“Humph,” Tan Zhi swept his sleeve and said, “I, Tan Zhi, have lived upright and fearless of that scoundrel.” Tugging at Wen Shuochuan’s sleeve, he called him by his courtesy name, “Chengyan, let us go.”

He stomped the ground with each step, venting his frustration, reaching the door, then turning back with his index and middle fingers pointed like a sword at Xia Yunhe. “Xia Yizhi, our paths differ; we cannot conspire together. You’re only twenty-one and worry about your future. I, Tan Zhi, am over fifty and have nothing to fear.”

Wen Shuochuan remained seated. Tan Zhi took a deep breath to tug his sleeve but found it unmoving. He looked at his friend, puzzled. “Chengyan, shall we go?”

Seeing the guilt on his friend’s face, he suddenly understood and smiled with relief. “Alright, alright. If you won’t go, I’ll go alone.”

With that, he left in a huff.

The water in the copper kettle had cooled slightly. Xia Yunhe coughed a few times, placed the kettle back on the stove, and slowly ate the snacks from the small plates—these were expensive and could not be wasted.

Wen Shuochuan sighed, “Censor Tan has always been stubborn. Editor Xia, please don’t mind.”

She smiled and looked out the window. Her anger had vanished in the previous life. There was no blame, only acceptance. Each man has his fate; one cannot force what is beyond control.

After a while, Xia Yunhe turned and said with a smile, “Court Clerk Wen, I hope you can persuade Censor Tan when you return.”

Wen Shuochuan knew he could not sway Tan Zhi, sighed, closed his eyes, and nodded in agreement. When he looked up again, he saw Xia Yunhe had finished the snacks, poured herself a cup of tea, and stood by the window watching boaters on the lake.

Her words today had given him a wake-up call.

The young man by the window was thin and fragile. After only a moment of tea, he coughed repeatedly. Wen Shuochuan recalled others saying Xia Yunhe was weak in health and found himself believing the rumors somewhat.

Yet, though frail, his spine was as straight as a pine.

He silently admired this Xia Yizhi, recognizing a mind with clear purpose.

Thinking of the impeachment memorials, Wen Shuochuan frowned and asked, “Editor Xia, how did you know about the memorials?”

Xia Yunhe looked back and smiled. Seeing the kettle on the stove boiling, she bent to pour tea for the two, then spoke calmly and unhurriedly.

“I dreamed it.”

***

After parting from the teahouse, Wen Shuochuan next saw Tan Zhi at the Taihe Hall. As in the previous life, Tan Zhi wielded his brush with fearless righteousness, unafraid of the powerful, and struck his head against the dragon pillar. All ministers present were terrified.

But there was a difference: Wen Shuochuan feigned illness and stayed home, not joining Tan Zhi in impeaching Chen Haizhou.

Shortly after, Chen Haizhou was promoted again, reaching the rank of Left Assistant Censor, a senior official of the fourth rank.

His influence was unmatched, and none dared provoke him.

By late April, on a gloomy and drizzly day, Xia Yunhe learned where Censor Tan was buried. Carrying a pot of Mengding Sweet Dew and incense, paper money, and under a blue oilcloth umbrella, she set out alone toward Swallow Mountain outside the city.

In ancient times, there were those who died for truth; now there was Tan Bingwen.

The mountain path was rugged and steep. Xia Yunhe walked slowly, unhurried, resting briefly at a thatched pavilion halfway up.

Fortunately, the rain ceased, and the sun peeked through the clouds. New shoots on the plants were bright green and tenderly lovely. Apricot blossoms looked charming, peach blossoms smelled sweet, pear blossoms pure white. Fallen petals carpeted the path, adorning the landscape.

After asking several farmers for directions, she wiped the slight sweat from her neck and pressed on toward the peak.

After rounding three bends, she came upon a vast apricot grove. The blossoms had long since fallen, and thumb-sized green fruits clustered in twos and threes, lively and abundant.

She walked into the grove and at its end found a gravesite.

There was another person there, his clothes soaked by rain, hair damp and clinging to his cheeks.

It was Wen Shuochuan burning paper offerings for Tan Zhi.

Xia Yunhe stepped through the mud toward the grave.

Hearing footsteps, Wen Shuochuan looked back, surprised, then exhaled and relaxed, rising to greet her. “Editor Xia.”

Xia Yunhe bowed respectfully, placed the incense, paper money, and tea offerings on both sides of Tan Zhi’s grave.

Wen Shuochuan wiped tears from the corners of his eyes and gazed into the distance, seemingly lost in memories.

“Xia Yizhi, do you know? In the fortieth year of Yuanhua, your article was greatly admired by Brother Bingwen. Many at the time said, according to your writing, you should have been the top scholar. But the emperor feared the Xia family too much and would not grant you that title. He even submitted a memorial on your behalf, but alas, there was no response.”

He sniffed and continued, “I had never met Lord Xia before, but when we met that day, he said that if you came to see him after his death, it would prove he had not misjudged you. A person who could write such an article should not be a timid sycophant.”

Xia Yunhe knelt beside him, burning paper offerings together, whispering, “I am ashamed.”

Wen Shuochuan was unusually talkative and flushed, his speech tinged with alcohol. Xia Yunhe glanced at a tipped-over wine gourd nearby, empty of even a single drop, and understood.

“What are you ashamed of? Brother Bingwen said he walked alone, with no attachments, willing to use his life to carve a path. Our paths differ, and we cannot conspire together. Xia Yizhi, there is much treachery in court, and to walk that path will be difficult.”

Wen Shuochuan looked up at her, eyes sharp as a flame, half-drunk but clear.

He asked again, “Are you afraid?”

A thunderclap resounded. The sun that had emerged slipped back behind the clouds, and the world darkened.

Xia Yunhe lit an incense stick and planted it in the earth before the grave, speaking slowly and firmly.

“What of difficulty? What if there is none? The path, though long, will be reached by walking it; the task, though small, will be accomplished by effort. Lord Tan has blazed the trail. With loyal and righteous men like you, though the clouds may be thick, the day will come when the blue sky appears.”