Volume One: The Overseer’s Son and the Student Chapter Sixty: The Jiajing Era Has Begun

Thud—crack!

Crack, crack, crack...

Outside, the unending crackle of firecrackers reminded everyone that tonight was New Year’s Eve, the most important night of the year. Yet inside this brightly lit hall, the seven or eight people seated around the table wore none of the festive joy that should have marked the occasion. Each face was grave, and the food and wine set before them had barely been touched.

“Has there been any word from Beijing?”

“There has, but nothing definite. The news didn’t come from him directly.”

“Could it be he failed?”

“It’s hard to say. But the commotion among the Embroidered Guards that night was certainly not small. They say even Zhu Chen and a few others were roused from their beds and rushed back to the Guard’s headquarters in the middle of the night.”

“What’s more, we’ve prepared this move for so long, accounted for every detail, and even risked exposing our most valuable pawn to create this once-in-a-lifetime chance to kill Nie Qingyao. I can’t believe we’ve failed!”

“It’s not about what we believe—it’s about what actually happened.”

“The facts are, there were indeed rumors from the Embroidered Guards that Nie Qingyao was attacked, but only gravely wounded—he’s still alive. They also claim all the assassins were caught, not one escaped.”

“So, we really failed then?”

“Do you trust what the Embroidered Guards say?”

At these words, silence fell once more.

After a long moment, someone finally spoke again.

“What do we do next? Proceed according to plan, or wait it out and watch?”

“Are you still afraid of Nie Qingyao? He’s already at death’s door. What threat could he possibly pose to the great cause of our Sacred Sect?”

“So you mean we follow the plan? Stir chaos from south to north?”

“Exactly. Now’s the time—while the new emperor’s throne is still unsteady and the hearts of the people uncertain, we must quickly accomplish all that’s been delayed these past years.”

Another silence followed, until someone made the final decision: “Then it’s settled. We each head to our appointed places. In two, at most three years, we must take root, stir up as much chaos as possible, and let those high and mighty ones taste the bitterness of a country in turmoil!”

“Agreed!”

“Agreed!”

“Agreed!”

With each word of assent, everyone stood. Someone raised a cup of wine that had long turned cold.

Eight cups clinked together, wine splashing as each man drew back and drained his cup in one gulp.

Suddenly, the firecrackers outside burst into an even fiercer, longer symphony than before, their sounds coming from every direction.

The people in the hall paused, until a smile appeared on someone’s face. “It’s past midnight. A new day has begun.”

“No, a new year.”

“I heard the new era name will be Jiajing.”

“Yes, the Zhengde era has ended. Now it’s the year of Jiajing...”

...

“With this moment, we enter the early years of the Jiajing reign.”

In the Yang residence, Yang Tinghe raised his cup to his gathered family, smiling as he said, “Let’s hope this is a good omen—may the country be at peace and the people prosper.”

“You’re right, Father. I too believe the world will be stable and flourishing in the years ahead,” his eldest son Yang Shen echoed with a smile, raising his cup.

Led by him, everyone at the table smiled and raised their cups in celebration.

“A toast to Great Ming, a toast to His Majesty, a toast to peace under heaven!”

Yang Tinghe added, then drained his cup in one go, the others following suit.

As the cups were set down, his aged eyes fell on his two sons before him. “Yongxiu, Yongcheng—the coming year will be crucial for you both. Don’t relax your efforts in the slightest.”

Yang Shen quickly replied, “I understand, Father. Now that I’ve served as chief lecturer at the classics lectures, it means there may be even greater opportunities ahead...”

But Yang Tinghe gently shook his head. “No rush. The time for you to truly enter court has not yet come.”

“What?”

“You still need to be tempered. The setback at the lectures was a valuable lesson. Your temperament is still too impulsive; you need some frustration and patience.”

Yang Shen felt somewhat disheartened, but answered nonetheless, “You are right, Father.”

“So next year, I plan to entrust you with a more important and meticulous task: you will compile the ‘Veritable Records of Emperor Wuzong.’”

Yang Shen fell silent for a moment, but in the end obediently agreed: “Yes, I will follow your instructions.”

For many scholars, compiling the records of the late emperor was a major responsibility, a coveted task—completing it would be a significant achievement and could lead directly to promotion from the Hanlin Academy to important ministries like the Ministry of Rites.

But for Yang Shen, with a father who was the Grand Secretary, it was hardly a rare opportunity.

Still, since it was his father’s decision, he could not object. He also understood that this would benefit his own steady development, for only by laying a solid foundation could he truly establish himself at court.

“Yongxiu, devote yourself to study and the compilation work for the next year or two. Don’t worry about anything else.”

After instructing his eldest, Yang Tinghe turned to his younger son, Yang Dun. “This year, I’ll have the best tutors teach you for another year. Apply yourself. The imperial examination next year will be your last chance.

“If you pass and become a presented scholar, you’ll stay here with your brother. If not, you’ll return to our hometown.”

Yang Dun blushed. He was not as gifted as his brother; though already a licentiate, he had failed the last metropolitan examination.

In truth, failing the exam was no great shame—most scholars had to retake it multiple times before passing.

But with a genius for a father, and a brother even more talented, he could only reply, “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll study with all my strength and never disgrace you.”

“Do your best. Now that it’s the Jiajing era, things may well be different from before.”

This last, inexplicably spoken line caused both sons’ expressions to change slightly.

...

As the muffled firecracker sounds drifted in from outside, Huang Ming was just finishing the last stroke of his writing.

There was little to do for the vigil, so he had spent the hours practicing calligraphy in his study, losing track of time.

Only when the firecrackers erupted in earnest did he look up, belatedly realizing how late it was. Just then, Huang Zhong entered, carrying a tray. “Young master, have some midnight snacks.”

Huang Ming smiled and nodded. “Uncle Zhong, Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year to you too, young master.”

“Has Yumo and the others had their night snacks?”

“Yumo has probably gone to bed. As for the rest, I’ve sent the food to them.”

“That’s good. Eat yours and get some rest soon.”

Huang Ming took the bowl of dumplings, picked one up, and bit in. It was filled with shrimp and lamb—truly delicious. “Not bad at all. Tomorrow, give the kitchen staff an extra red packet.”

With that, he glanced outside. The dark sky and the cold wind stirred a sense of emotion within him. “Time flies so quickly. In the blink of an eye, we’re officially in the Jiajing era.”

(End of this volume)

I had hoped to match the festive season with this chapter, but in the end, I couldn’t make it in time for the New Year...