AYM Chapter 30

Why would the Emperor come to Hanlin Academy?!

 

Even Liu Qianyi was stunned on the spot. He was an official who wasn’t even qualified to attend court sessions, usually if anything required editing or compiling, the palace would simply send someone with an imperial decree, and he was rarely ever summoned. Since the new emperor’s ascension, he had not yet been summoned even once.

 

But there was no time to dwell on it now. Liu Qianyi quickly ordered someone to tell the others to halt their tasks. They knelt in the courtyard with bowed heads, awaiting the emperor’s arrival.

 

Liu Qianyi thought to himself that he had heard the emperor had gone to inspect the capital garrison and the Twelve Guards these past few days. Could he have come straight here without even returning to the palace? He racked his brain, but couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary that had happened recently. There was no great matter worth a personal visit from the emperor. Hopefully nothing has gone wrong!

 

Hanlin Academy had never been so silent before. Even the faintest rustle of wind, usually unnoticed, now seemed deafening. As Liu Qianyi’s thoughts spiralled, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, each step striking like a hammer against everyone’s nerves, stiffening their backs and making their hearts pound like drums.

 

Most people in Hanlin Academy would never meet the emperor in their entire lives. Some were so nervous they could not stop trembling. Among them was Yan Yihuan.

 

On one hand, he refused to believe the emperor would come to the Hanlin Academy just for him. On the other, a dreadful premonition gnawed at him. He deliberately found a hidden spot, kneeling beneath the corridor of a side room and positioning himself firmly behind a pillar, his head bowed as low as possible.

 

Please, all the gods and spirits, I beg you. Please let the emperor forget that I’m still here in Hanlin Academy. Please, I beg you, please.

 

Amid the resounding cries of “Long live the Emperor!”, Yan Yihuan pressed himself to the ground, eyes shut tight, his mind filled with silent prayers.

 

An accompanying eunuch swiftly brought forth a seat. Li Xuanming’s gaze swept over the assembled scholars before he finally sat down, but the figure he was looking for was nowhere to be seen.

 

Did he not come? No, he wouldn’t dare to be absent.

 

That much, Li Xuanming was sure of. Since he had already come to Hanlin Academy, he delivered a few routine remarks as he would during an inspection, then turned to Liu Qianyi and asked amiably,

 

“Where is the Grand Historian that Zhen appointed? Is he competent?”

 

Liu Qianyi felt a little guilty and cold sweat broke out across his back. Song Qingyan had indeed shown him the writings Yan Yihuan had produced, and truth be told, there was no way he could be ready for the post in just a few days. But how could one openly say that someone appointed by the emperor was not up to the task? That would be a slap to the emperor’s face. After a brief hesitation, he replied cautiously,

 

“Your Majesty, Grand Historian Yan is exceptionally bright, but… but he is still unfamiliar with historical records. It would be best to allow him more training before formally taking on the role.”

 

Li Xuanming had never expected Yan Yihuan to produce some masterpiece. He had merely left him here temporarily while he was away from the palace.

 

“No matter. Since Zhen has already come here today, then let him return to the palace with Zhen.”

 

At that, not only Liu Qianyi but everyone in Hanlin Academy felt their hearts leap to their throats. Yan Yihuan’s writings had long been passed around in secret. In their eyes, it was no better than a child’s scribbles, painful to read.

 

If the emperor were to bring him back and discover the real quality of the Grand Historian’s work, what would happen to them if he vented his anger on the entire Hanlin Academy!

 

No one dared lift their heads, but all eyes strayed to the figure still kneeling low behind the pillar.

 

Yan Yihuan had not heard a word of the emperor’s remarks. He was still muttering prayers, lost in his own panic. Song Qingyan who was beside him was unable to bear it any longer and leaned over to nudge him.

 

“Grand Historian Yan, His Majesty is calling you.”

 

“Wh… what?” Yan Yihuan jolted in fright, his voice slipping out before he could stop it. That was when everyone finally stopped pretending not to look and turned their heads to stare at the panic-stricken Yan Yihuan, their faces a mix of anger and anxiety.

 

“His Majesty wants you to step forward.”

 

Song Qingyan, equally terrified, whispered the words quickly before bowing his head again, not daring to move. Yan Yihuan silently thought: It’s over. He scrambled to his feet and hurriedly brushed the dust off his clothes, then walked forward. He was hunched over with his head lowered, casting a pleading glance at Liu Qianyi.

 

Liu Qianyi met his gaze, but even if he wanted to help, he was powerless. He could only sigh and turn his head away, no longer looking at him.

 

Yan Yihuan walked on awkwardly. He kept his head lowered as he stopped a few feet before the emperor, then solemnly performed the ceremonial greeting required when meeting the emperor. His eyes then fixed on the emperor’s dragon boots, embroidered with golden threads, reflecting flickers of golden light through the mottled sunlight filtering through the tree canopy.

 

Suddenly, the hem of the dragon robe swayed slightly, its intricate cloud patterns obscuring the light on the boots. Yan Yihuan’s heart tightened, and his hands resting on his knees instinctively clutched the fabric of his robes.

 

Why is the emperor standing up?

 

Yan Yihuan’s breathing grew hurried as the emperor approached. Though very nervous, he still knelt with proper etiquette. Of course, it wasn’t just him, but everyone in Hanlin Academy felt uneasy too at this moment.

 

The emperor’s feet stopped three feet away from him. Yan Yihuan didn’t dare breathe loudly anymore, but he remained relatively calm. After all, the emperor would not take his life in front of everyone. Whatever the emperor said, he’d just nod and agree.

 

“Yan Yihuan.”

 

“Your humble servant is here,” Yan Yihuan answered reflexively, then froze for a moment and his eyes suddenly widened in shock. This voice sounded far too much like Zhao Chufeng!

 

His heart pounded so hard that his temples twitched in sync. It was the Emperor who was calling him, how could it be that person?

 

He must’ve been so distraught that he’d imagined it, mistaking the emperor’s voice for Zhao Chufeng’s.

 

There was a sudden sharp intake of breath from the crowd behind him. The emperor’s feet moved forward a few steps. A slender, well-defined hand appeared before Yan Yihuan’s eyes and gently grasped his arm.

 

“Why have you kept your head lowered all this time, Minister Yan[mfn]燕卿 (Yàn qīng) – Minister Yan. In ancient times, emperors and kings would address close ministers as “Qing” (卿), with some using the term “Ai Qing” (爱卿, literally “Beloved Minister”).[/mfn]?”

 

Hearing that voice again, Yan Yihuan trembled all over. His wildly pounding heart seemed to stop for a moment. He had never felt such terror before. A numbness rose from his spine and spread to his fingertips, until his entire body trembled uncontrollably.

 

That voice had teased him, threatened him, bullied him. No matter how stunned he was, it absolutely should not belong to the man standing before him!

 

The emperor, ever amiable, bent down to help Yan Yihuan rise, but Yan Yihuan was paralyzed with fear, his eyes wide and unresponsive. He didn’t even respond when the emperor called him.

 

Isn’t he the son of King Yan? How could he be this terrified?

 

Those untouched by the fire were quick to spectate. Song Qingyan was anxious but dared not move. Liu Qianyi was sweating profusely and finally couldn’t help but call out to him,

 

“Grand Historian Yan, Grand Historian Yan?”

 

Yan Yihuan snapped back to reality. He raised his head and met a pair of calm, composed eyes, the faint smile on the lips suggesting a good mood.

 

This peerlessly handsome face, he would never mistake it even if it turned into ashes. So not only was this person a scoundrel, he was also a liar!

 

All this time, he’d been sick with worry, even losing his appetite whenever he thought of Zhao Chufeng who might suffer because of him. He had also planned to risk danger just to probe for news about Zhao Chufeng’s condition when he reached the emperor’s side.

 

But he… but he was the emperor?!

 

Yan Yihuan couldn’t tell if he was more afraid or furious. Unconsciously, his eyes filled with resentment. Tears welled up, but he refused to let them fall, not daring to blink.

 

His naturally bright peach blossom eyes shimmered with moisture, reddened at the rims, and the smooth tip of his nose was especially red. This expression overlapped with how he looked when he’d been bullied to tears. Except back then, he wouldn’t hold back and would cry out loud.

 

The two of them stood at the center of attention, their thoughts inscrutable to onlookers. If Yan Yihuan had known what Li Xuanming was thinking at this moment, even his bold flicker of anger would have dissipated.

 

The large hand holding his arm suddenly tightened. The familiar pressure made Yan Yihuan’s heart skip a beat, and he rose unconsciously with that force.

 

“It seems you’ve been well cared for these past days.”

 

As he rose, Li Xuanming whispered the words against his ear. Yan Yihuan was startled, and the tears he had held back finally fell.

 

Li Xuanming felt something cool on the back of his hand and lowered his glance, only to see a tear sliding down his hand. He couldn’t help but sigh softly.

 

He had already been nothing but gentle, yet how had he still ended up making him cry?

 

This scene was seen clearly by Liu Qianyi, who was standing the nearest to them. He was so shocked that he nearly choked on his own breath.

 

The young master of the Yan royal family had been scared to tears by the emperor, and the tears… the tears actually fell onto the emperor’s hand!

 

Liu Qianyi was still wondering how to respond should the emperor lose his temper, when he saw him raise an eyebrow with a smile and gently brush two fingers across the back of his own hand, as if to softly pinch up that tear.

 

“It’s only been just over a month, yet Minister Yan already misses Zhen so much,” Li Xuanming said with a smile. Within his sleeve, two fingers gently rubbed together, letting the dampness vanish at his fingertips as he turned and walked away.

 

Seeing this, Shen Zhaoquan promptly announced the imperial departure loudly. Then he approached the still-stunned Yan Yihuan and said respectfully,

 

“Please, Grand Historian Yan.”

 

The crowd knelt to see off the imperial carriage. Someone had been bold enough to sneak a glance, and was stunned by the sight before them. Grand Historian Yan had awkwardly tried to sit in another carriage, only to be forcibly pulled up by a hand that reached out from within the imperial carriage. The flash of sleeve they saw briefly was unmistakably imperial yellow, the bright hue belonging to the Son of Heaven.

 

Author’s note:

Feel free to follow my Weibo where I share some random thoughts. ID: 莲卿吖

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Little Yihuan[mfn]t/n: does not mean Yan Yihuan as a child.[/mfn]: Wuwuwu, he really will bully me. I don’t want to ride in the same carriage with him…

Li Xuanming: Get in here, you!

 

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Seris: Chapter 30! Yihuan finally knows of Zhao Chufeng’s real identity! I’m going to take a 2-week break here, so the next update should be on 18th May 2025, 8 p.m. (GMT+8).