AYM Chapter 37

Yan Yihuan suddenly sat up, forced his sleepy eyes open, and looked towards the inner hall. Not far off, several attendants were already gathered around the emperor, nearly finished helping him dress.

 

“His Majesty wished to read for a while first, so he let you sleep a little longer. Once you’re dressed, you’ll have breakfast together,” Li Jiang saw how dazed Yan Yihuan still was, and lowered his voice even more.

 

Yan Yihuan glanced out the window, it was still pitch-dark outside. A silent lament rose in his heart. He had never gotten up so early in his life. Who knew being a Grand Historian would be this difficult?

 

At least he didn’t have to worry about getting ready himself. Although he still looked listless, the palace attendants moved swiftly, washing and dressing him in his official robes in no time.

 

At the table, Li Xuanming was already having breakfast. Yan Yihuan forced himself to sit down across from him and took a few sips of the hot porridge Li Jiang ladled out for him.

 

From the moment he got up until now, apart from the faint sounds of people moving about, not a single person in the entire sleeping hall had spoken. It was so quiet that Yan Yihuan gradually regained his senses, his heart thudding wildly.

 

After a few mouthfuls, he finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. Lowering his head, he leaned closer to Li Xuanming and whispered,

 

“Your Majesty, what is this humble official supposed to do later?”

 

This was court, after all. All the officials attending were the nation’s top ministers. How could he not be nervous?

 

Li Xuanming actually hadn’t expected much from Yan Yihuan. But since he held the title of Grand Historian, people were bound to start talking if he spent all his days holed up in the sleeping hall.

 

“Just record whatever’s said. Did you study this at Hanlin Academy?”

 

Yan Yihuan nodded guiltily. He had studied it, though only for half a day. How was he to know he’d be whisked into the palace so soon?

 

In Fengtian Hall, the ministers entered one by one in their usual order, then stood waiting for the emperor to arrive.

 

But today there was something different by the side of the dragon throne. Looking closely, they found that at some point, a writing desk had been set up behind and to the side, already laid out neatly with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

 

Those who didn’t understand exchanged puzzled looks and whispered among themselves. Those who did merely cast each other knowing glances and kept silent.

 

Although Yan Yihuan’s seat was toward the back, it still faced all the officials directly. Watching these stern, imposing officials kneel before him to shout “Long live the emperor,” he sat as if on pins and needles, with cold sweat running down his back.

 

Very soon, however, he realized that this was not the most mortifying part. Although some of the ministers had cast him a few curious glances, once the court session truly began, not a single one paid him any mind. 

 

But they reported one matter after another continuously, how was he supposed to keep up with all that!

 

Not to mention that by the time he’d processed one line, the next had already slipped by, but even the words they used were things he’d never heard before, just trying to guess them took him ages.

 

Before the dragon throne, the officials were locked in fierce debate, while beside the dragon throne, Yan Yihuan sat drenched in cold sweat.

 

He knew the emperor had made him Grand Historian only as a pretext to keep him in the palace as a hostage. But if he couldn’t even do this well, wouldn’t that mean he was nothing more than a… 

 

Kept plaything?

 

The moment those two words crossed his mind, Yan Yihuan froze. Then, sneaking a sideways glance at the bright memorial in Li Xuanming’s hands, his face began to burn.

 

Li Xuanming was frowning while listening to the argument between two officials below, but when he glanced towards Yan Yihuan, he saw that pale, panicked face now tinged with an unmistakable flush. His thoughts couldn’t help but drift after him. 

 

To be drifting off into such thoughts even on the imperial court, it seems he hadn’t been thoroughly fed yesterday.

 

Then he recalled how Yan Yihuan had been pressed down onto the desk covered with memorials yesterday, his shoulder blades jutting sharply beneath his official robes, so prominent one could see them even through the fabric. A restless heat rose in Li Xuanming’s chest.

 

Li Xuanming stopped the two officials’ dispute below and prepared to dismiss the court. But just then, Ming Zhang stepped forward.

 

“Your Majesty, the grounds for the Spring Hunt have nearly been cleared. Shall we issue an edict to invite the princes and young lords?”

 

Spring Hunt?

 

Yan Yihuan’s eyes lit up at those words. This he knew well: every year at the time of Jingzhe, the young lords and noble sons who had reached sixteen would gather at the hunting grounds. It was said to be for strengthening brotherly bonds, but in truth, it was nothing less than a contest in disguise.

 

His elder brother, being heir apparent, had taken part a few times after turning sixteen. Back then Yan Yihuan had still been young, always hoping that one day when his brother attended again, he might join in the fun. Who could have guessed the late emperor would abruptly stop holding them? It had left him quite disappointed.

 

However…

 

The moment he remembered his eldest brother secretly plotting rebellion with Jing ge, all of Yan Yihuan’s delight was instantly swept away. Could it be that His Majesty intended to use this as a pretext to bring them down?

 

Li Xuanming watched as Yan Yihuan’s face went from red to pale and back again, his gaze darting about. He held the brush in his hand, yet the paper before him remained completely blank.

 

“Your Majesty?” Ming Zhang’s eyes flicked over the two of them, a soft reminder that pulled Li Xuanming’s attention back.

 

“Approved.” Before any other minister could step forward to make a petition, Li Xuanming raised his hand, “For the remaining matters, submit memorials. Court is dismissed.”

 

Back in the imperial study, Li Xuanming did not immediately turn to the memorials. Instead, he picked up a stack of papers at his side. The moment Yan Yihuan saw it, he hardly dared breathe, standing there with hands lowered, as uneasy as a student waiting to be scolded by his teacher.

 

It was what Yan Yihuan had recorded during the court session earlier.

 

Li Xuanming didn’t have any expectations for him to capture every detail, but when his eyes fell on the pages, which only had broken and scattered lines that were utterly incoherent, a faint throb pulsed at his temple. By the time he looked up, his gaze had unconsciously turned sharp.

 

“This is what you managed to write down?”

 

That look made Yan Yihuan’s heart jolt. For a moment, he felt exactly as though he’d returned to his school days, facing a teacher both exasperated and helpless at his hopelessness.

 

But he truly didn’t know how to record it. Even if someone held his head down and forced him, he still wouldn’t know how!

 

Compared to his eldest brother, who was steady and astute, and his second brother, who was sharp and adaptable, he was well aware that he was nothing more than a young master idling his days away, a frivolous, pampered son of a noble house. He’d never had any right to serve as Grand Historian. No wonder the scholars in the Hanlin Academy always looked at him with such thinly veiled disdain.

 

But it wasn’t as if this was something he wanted. At the end of the day, he’d been forced into it.

 

Yan Yihuan lowered his head and quietly pouted. Compared to getting up at the crack of dawn every day, spending the morning terrified in court, only to come back and be scolded, it would be better to just give up and let himself be locked away as a hostage.

 

The person before him seemed to be bowing his head meekly, but that stubbornly stiff neck and the fists clenched tight at his sides betrayed the defiance churning inside him.

 

It was hardly surprising that Li Xuanming was annoyed. The only men who could stay in the palace openly were either imperial physicians or guards, and Yan Yihuan was fit for neither.

 

Other than that… there was always the role of a consort. Li Xuanming had certainly considered it, but after all, he still had to take the Residence of King Yan into consideration.

 

In the end, it was Ming Zhang who spoke up, mentioning that in a former dynasty there had once been the post of Grand Historian, a position that kept one at the emperor’s side. Given that the Third Young Master of the Yan family was, after all, of noble birth, there should be no issue in having him record some historical records.

 

Who would’ve thought he’d do such a wretched job?

 

To be fair, his calligraphy was rather graceful. That was about the only praise one could give.

 

Yan Yihuan snuck a glance at him, thinking to himself that he probably wouldn’t be asked to keep records ever again. But contrary to his expectations, Li Xuanming turned around and pulled a book of historical records from the bookshelf behind him. He handed it over, then shot a look at the small side table by the desk.

 

“Have it copied in three days.”

 

Huh?!

 

Author’s note:

Little Yihuan: Your Majesty, have you ever considered that compared to being an imperial physician, a guard, or a grand historian, perhaps being your consort would actually suit me best?