PCA Chapter 183

When Su Cen arrived at the Dali Temple, it was just the right time—after lunch when everyone was returning to their posts. He had planned to sneak back quietly to create the illusion that he had been at the temple all along, but as soon as he entered, he found himself surrounded by the gazes of everyone.

 

Those gazes contained three parts curiosity, three parts surprise, and a touch of sympathy. Su Cen was completely baffled by these looks. Just as he was thinking of returning to his office first to find someone to ask, he was stopped midway by Zhang Jun.

 

Zhang Jun beckoned to him: “Come here.”

 

After Su Cen entered the room, Zhang Jun said: “Close the door.”

 

As soon as Su Cen closed the door and turned around, he saw Zhang Jun with his stomach protruding, eyes narrowed, examining him with a scrutinizing gaze.

 

Su Cen felt uneasy and cautiously asked: “What’s the matter, Lord?”

 

“You dare ask what’s the matter!” Zhang Jun slammed the table hard. “Tell me, what have you been up to?!”

 

Su Cen mentally reviewed all the things he had done in recent days. Perhaps the only transgression was the two ounces of aged tea roots he gave to Zhang He, but that had only happened half a day ago. Surely Zhang He wouldn’t have discovered it so quickly?

 

Feeling guilty inside but maintaining a respectful exterior, Su Cen replied: “Please enlighten me, Lord.”

 

“Death is at your doorstep and you don’t even know it!” Zhang Jun slammed the table again. “They’ve already come looking for you!”

 

“Surely not?” Su Cen frowned. Would someone really come to the Dali Temple to complain about a bit of tea? Zhang He seemed too petty for that.

 

Zhang Jun sighed: “It’s good that I intercepted you first. Why don’t you go home and hide for a while? I’ll say you’re sick.”

 

“That’s not necessary…”

 

An old man in his seventies or eighties, what could he really do? Besides, it wasn’t a major issue. An apology and some compensation should suffice.

 

“You, you!” Zhang Jun pointed at Su Cen, shaking his finger, then finally lowered his hand in resignation. “So how do you plan to explain yourself to Prime Minister Liu?”

 

Su Cen: “Prime Minister Liu?”

 

When Su Cen returned to his office, he indeed found Liu Cheng sitting in his main seat, holding his moon-white glazed teacup, drinking his top-grade Biluochun tea, with an air of someone about to demand an explanation.

 

Su Cen bowed and stood up, quietly waiting for this superior to pass judgment. However, Liu Cheng also raised his head to look at him. After they stared at each other for a few moments, Liu Cheng put down the teacup and said: “Why did you summon me here?”

 

“I summoned you?” Su Cen was slightly taken aback. “When did I ever summon you?”

 

“The Empress Dowager said you have a case here that involves me, and asked me to come assist you,” Liu Cheng frowned and raised his head. “What? Wasn’t it you who said this?”

 

Su Cen thought to himself that the Empress Dowager really moved quickly—she had just summoned him to the palace in the morning, and by afternoon she had sent Liu Cheng to him.

 

With an outwardly respectful bow, he said: “Indeed, there is a case the Empress Dowager has ordered me to solve, but I never imagined that Prime Minister Liu would personally come. This humble official is truly sorry for the trouble.”

 

“Ask whatever you need to ask quickly,” Liu Cheng said impatiently. “I still have a pile of matters at the Imperial Secretariat. I don’t have time to idle here with you.”

 

“Yes.” Su Cen smiled and found himself a side seat. “Since Prime Minister Liu is so busy, I’ll just ask one question—does Prime Minister Liu remember Tian Pingzhi?”

 

The color drained completely from Liu Cheng’s face.

 

“In the spring of the 22nd year of Yonglong, coinciding with the triennial metropolitan examination, scholars selected from all regions gathered in Chang’an. Among them, two people were the most eye-catching.”

 

“One was Tian Pingzhi from Liuzhou, whose writing style was known for its romantic flair. Whether writing about mountains or waters, all carried free-spirited and lofty thoughts—a rare romantic poet of that time. The other was you, Prime Minister Liu! I just want to ask one question: does Prime Minister Liu still remember Tian Pingzhi from back then?”

 

Liu Cheng’s previously calm pupils trembled violently a few times, but eventually he lowered his eyelids, covering up all emotions. “In the end, you still can’t let go of this case.”

 

Su Cen had secretly observed Liu Cheng’s reactions closely, but he wasn’t sure if this Prime Minister Liu was too deep in his ways or truly unaware. At least from outward appearances, the surprise on his face didn’t seem feigned.

 

If it was true, it meant that Liu Cheng was unaware of his investigations these past days, and the archives at the Ministry of Rites weren’t destroyed on Liu Cheng’s orders.

 

“Tian Pingzhi…” Liu Cheng’s joints stiffened as he pulled back slightly. At this point, since Su Cen had already investigated clearly, he couldn’t pretend to be ignorant anymore, and could only say: “His scholarship was good, his essays were excellent. At the time, there were rumors that this year’s top scholar position belonged to none other than him. But fate is unpredictable—no one expected he would suddenly die in the examination hall.”

 

“He didn’t die suddenly,” Su Cen’s sharp gaze fixed on Liu Cheng. “He suffered from asthma during his lifetime and was deliberately killed by someone who put hazelnut powder in his food. The person who poisoned him must have known about his asthma, and also had access to Tian Pingzhi’s food, so it must have been someone close to him. Old Master Tian was Tian Pingzhi’s biological father, naturally he wouldn’t harm him, and there’s another…”

 

Liu Cheng raised an icy gaze and swept a glance at Su Cen, who also appropriately fell silent. Liu Cheng stood up abruptly, clearly intending to leave, and said coldly: “If you have evidence, feel free to come to my residence to arrest someone. But if it’s just baseless speculation, I advise you to save your efforts. Rather than investigating such a vague case, you’d be better off putting more energy into current affairs, to avoid being criticized that the people of the Dali Temple are idling away day after day without accomplishing anything.”

 

These words were half threat, half warning. Su Cen stood up, composed, and clasped his hands: “Prime Minister Liu’s guidance is correct.”

 

His frustration now was precisely the lack of evidence, which prevented him from acting rashly. Evidence from twelve years ago had long since dissipated like smoke with time—how could it be easy to find? Liu Cheng clearly knew this too, which was why he remained calm after the initial shock, knowing that Su Cen couldn’t produce any evidence.

 

Liu Cheng departed with a sweep of his sleeve. Su Cen escorted him to the door, only then noticing the oppressive sky in the southwest, appearing ready to collapse as if it would press down half the sky.

 

Just as Liu Cheng exited the main gate of the Dali Temple, a drizzling rain began to fall. As he was frowning, he saw a familiar figure hurrying toward him with a round umbrella. As the figure approached, the umbrella lifted to reveal a person who smiled cheerfully at him: “Why are you standing there? Come under here quickly.”

 

Liu Cheng came to his senses, stepped down from the porch under the umbrella, and after walking a few steps remembered to ask: “Why are you here?”

 

Cui Hao said: “The Empress Dowager just summoned me to the palace. After I came out, I thought of going to see you at your place, but didn’t expect you were at the Dali Temple. I knew you definitely wouldn’t have brought an umbrella, so I specifically came to pick you up.”

 

“Neglecting your duties, is this how I’ve taught you?” Liu Cheng reproached with furrowed brows. Cui Hao wasn’t afraid and responded with a smile: “I’ll definitely reflect thoroughly when I get back and tell you the results of my reflection tonight.”

 

“Not a bit serious,” Liu Cheng scolded, then asked: “Why did the Empress Dowager summon you?”

 

Cui Hao frowned slightly, “It’s strange, actually. I originally thought the Empress Dowager’s summons was for some important matter, but she only asked me some trivial questions: whether I’m used to being an official in the capital, if I’m adapting well to being a Remonstrance Official, if my mother is in good health. Oh, and she also asked about you—what you’ve been busy with lately, whether you still visit the examination hall, and finally… whether I’m interested in your position.”

 

Liu Cheng showed no reaction on his face, but his heart gradually grew cold. After fighting for many years in this chaotic court, he had ultimately become a discarded piece. With a slight curl of his lips, he gave a bitter smile and asked: “What did you say?”

 

“I said,” Cui Hao tilted his head and smiled at him, “Prime Minister Liu has immense talent and great strategy, unparalleled in the nation, not someone humble folks like us can compare to. I am willing to follow Prime Minister Liu for life, assist the wise ruler, devote myself completely until death.”

 

“Silly.” Liu Cheng finally smiled after hearing this. “In the future, say that Prime Minister Liu is aging and declining, no longer up to the task, and request the Empress Dowager to choose another worthy minister.”

 

Cui Hao’s eyes flashed with anger: “Who dares say you’re aging and declining?”

 

“Eventually there will be a day of aging and decline,” Liu Cheng murmured, then after a moment raised his head and said to Cui Hao: “You should hurry back to your office, don’t let anyone catch any fault and create trouble. Also, don’t come over tonight. I have some matters to handle.”

 

Even though Cui Hao was normally insensitive, he caught the deeper meaning: “Has something happened? Are the people from the Dali Temple giving you trouble?”

 

“What could happen to me?” Liu Cheng waved his hand, then added in a low voice: “And even if things go badly, isn’t there still the Empress Dowager?”

 

Only then did Cui Hao’s heart gradually ease. He raised the hand not holding the umbrella, and Liu Cheng saw that this hand was holding something—a few fruits skewered on a bamboo stick, wrapped in rice paper, a bright red string of candied hawthorn fruits.

 

Liu Cheng frowned, “What’s this for?”

 

“For you,” Cui Hao handed the candied hawthorn over. “I saw someone selling these on my way here and bought them especially for you.”

 

Liu Cheng lifted his chin, putting his hands behind his back. “Me, a grown man, walking down the street with candied hawthorn? How undignified!”

 

Cui Hao looked aggrieved, “I’m a grown man too, and I’ve been holding it up for quite a while.”

 

Liu Cheng’s heart softened, and he finally lowered his head to look carefully at what the man was holding. Translucent amber, lusciously red, it became the only spot of brightness in this rainy day.

 

Seeing Liu Cheng still being awkward, Cui Hao lowered the edge of the umbrella, first taking a bite himself, then, catching the other off guard, quickly fed a piece into Liu Cheng’s mouth.

 

Liu Cheng stood there stunned with half a red fruit in his mouth. By the time he came to his senses, his mouth was filled with the sweet and sour taste.

 

Cui Hao’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he asked, “Is it good?”

 

Liu Cheng raised his chin and strode forward, “It’s sour.”

 

Cui Hao followed closely, “How strange, I thought it was sweet. Shall we try another one?”

 

 

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