Chapter 568: An Actor’s Self-Cultivation

The Shaanxi Qingli Division of the Ministry of Justice continued to operate much as it did on any ordinary day.

Criminal case files from Shaanxi, Gansu, the Rear Military Commission, the Office of Transmission Officials, the Rear Guard of the Capital Prefecture Army, the Hedong Salt Transport Administration, and various other jurisdictions flowed steadily into the division. Clerks bustled back and forth carrying stacks of dossiers, distributing them among the officials seated throughout the room.

There were mountains of paperwork.

But as the saying went, when there are too many lice, they stop itching.

The officials of the Shaanxi Qingli Division had long since developed their own leisurely method of handling an endless workload.

A pot of tea.

A government gazette.

A stack of case files.

Sip tea, read the news, review a case.

Then sip more tea, read more news, and review another case.

Before one knew it, an entire afternoon had drifted by.

Thus, although the work appeared overwhelming to outsiders, the officials themselves remained surprisingly relaxed.

The atmosphere within the division remained one of busy idleness.

Meanwhile, Minister of Justice He Ao had already returned from the Yan residence.

By the time the clerk leaned close to Director Zhai Juntao’s ear and whispered the news, Zhu Ping’an, seated near the entrance, had already deciphered the message through lip-reading.

Neither man acknowledged it.

Zhai Juntao showed no reaction.

Zhu Ping’an likewise pretended ignorance.

Roughly half an hour after He Ao’s return, Director Zhai sent another clerk to seek instructions from the minister.

The clerk soon returned with a reply.

After listening, Zhai waved him away.

Then he turned toward Zhu Ping’an with a warm smile.

“Someone, bring Lord Zhu another cup of tea.”

The order was given almost affectionately.

“Ping’an, make yourself comfortable. Think of this place as your Hanlin Academy. Once Minister He has finished his affairs, he will send someone to summon us.”

“Many thanks, Lord Zhai.”

Zhu Ping’an rose and bowed politely.

Yet as he sat back down, the corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly into a faintly mocking smile.

The others could not hear what the clerk had reported.

But Zhu Ping’an had seen it clearly.

The message had been simple:

Let him wait.

A soft chuckle sounded in his mind.

So this is falcon training? A psychological game?

The phrase referred to the practice of taming a hunting falcon by keeping it awake and exhausted until its resistance broke.

It was a common tactic in officialdom as well.

Indeed, anyone capable of rising to the rank of minister was no simple character.

Sometimes waiting was the cruelest form of pressure.

The Ministry of Justice had repeatedly sent urgent summonses, creating the impression that the matter was extremely serious and required immediate attention.

Yet now that he had arrived, nobody wished to discuss his petition.

Nobody even mentioned it.

Instead, they simply left him sitting there.

Waiting.

The anxiety generated by urgency would gradually ferment during that wait.

The longer the delay, the more unsettled a person became.

Doubts multiplied.

Confidence eroded.

Mental defenses weakened.

By the time the officials finally chose to meet him, they would enjoy the advantage of being fresh and composed while their target was already exhausted.

The result?

Twice the effect for half the effort.

Of course, there was another possibility.

Perhaps Minister He simply did not consider Zhu Ping’an important enough to warrant immediate attention.

Perhaps keeping people waiting had become second nature.

For an ordinary young official newly arrived in government service, the strategy would probably have worked exactly as intended.

Hours of uncertainty could wear down even strong nerves.

Unfortunately for them—

They had encountered Zhu Ping’an.

In fact, Zhu Ping’an appeared even more relaxed than the officials of the Shaanxi Qingli Division themselves.

Seated comfortably at a desk near the entrance, he cut an elegant figure in his official robes. The tailored garments only enhanced his youthful vigor and scholarly bearing.

Resting on the desk before him was a borrowed copy of Emperor Hongwu’s Admonitions for Officials.

From time to time, he turned another page.

Unhurried.

Composed.

As though he were enjoying a quiet afternoon of study rather than awaiting judgment from the Ministry of Justice.

Every so often, he would set the book down and lift his teacup.

His left hand held the cup.

His right hand rested lightly on the lid.

Now and then he would gently sweep the lid along the rim.

The Longjing tea leaves inside danced and swirled beneath the surface, rising and falling in graceful currents.

As they moved, the tea’s fragrance seemed to deepen, becoming richer and more enticing.

Back in his previous life, Zhu Ping’an had rarely paid much attention to tea.

Even when he drank it, he never cared for ceremony.

He used to watch period dramas and wonder why ancient people constantly stirred their tea with the cup lid.

It had seemed strange.

Only after arriving in the Great Ming did he finally understand.

Tea-drinking was considered an elegant art.

One appreciated its shape.

Its color.

Its aroma.

Its flavor.

Using the lid to stir the surface created circulation within the cup, causing the tea leaves to dance much like a formal tea ceremony. This enhanced the infusion and strengthened the fragrance.

Those who preferred lighter tea only stirred a little.

Those who enjoyed stronger flavors stirred more.

There was another practical reason as well.

Modern teacups often contained metal strainers that prevented loose leaves from reaching the mouth.

Ancient cups had no such convenience.

By sweeping the lid across the surface, drinkers could gather the leaves and sediment to one side of the cup, avoiding the embarrassment of swallowing a mouthful of tea leaves in public.

Hmm…

A thought suddenly occurred to Zhu Ping’an.

Ancient teacups lacked filters.

And just earlier at the Hanlin Academy, after contributing to the wedding collection, he had been considering ways to make money.

What if…

What if he borrowed the idea of a tea filter and introduced it to the Ming Dynasty?

His eyes brightened slightly.

The more he thought about it, the more promising it seemed.

In the modern world, filtered tea cups were practically everywhere.

The market had already proven the concept.

If it worked in modern times, why shouldn’t it work here?

If anything, tea consumption was even greater in the Ming Dynasty.

There were no soft drinks.

No coffee.

No bottled beverages.

Tea was practically the nation’s universal drink.

The market was arguably larger than the one he had known in the future.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Perhaps there’s potential there.

For now, however, it remained merely a passing thought.

There would be plenty of time to explore it later.

While Zhu Ping’an leisurely drank tea and contemplated the commercial prospects of tea filters, Director Zhai Juntao occasionally glanced in his direction.

The more he observed, the more astonished he became.

From Zhai’s perspective, Zhu Ping’an sat comfortably in his chair, sipping tea with refined elegance and reading intently.

He naturally assumed that the young scholar was completely absorbed in Emperor Hongwu’s writings.

What Zhai did not know was that half of Zhu Ping’an’s concentration was currently devoted to inventing tea accessories.

As a result, Zhai reached a conclusion that left him deeply shaken.

Extraordinary.

This young man had entered officialdom only recently.

He was facing an uncertain investigation involving a memorial directed against Yan Song.

Yet under such circumstances, he remained as calm as an immovable mountain.

Many veteran officials who had spent decades navigating political storms could not maintain such composure.

And yet this youth possessed such astonishing self-control.

His ability to cultivate inner calm was truly remarkable.

By the time Zhu Ping’an had finished three cups of tea and browsed through two volumes of Ming legal statutes, Director Zhai finally stood.

“Come, Ping’an.”

“At last, it is time to meet Minister He.”

The two left together.

However, before proceeding to Minister He Ao’s office, Director Zhai first brought Zhu Ping’an to the Ministry of Justice’s Zhaomo Office to collect the case dossier concerning his memorial.

Three officials worked inside the office, each holding ranks around the eighth grade.

In addition, there were over a dozen clerks busily copying documents.

When they saw Director Zhai and Zhu Ping’an enter, everyone immediately set aside their work and came forward to pay their respects.

The Zhaomo Office resembled the administrative offices of later government agencies.

Its responsibilities included organizing and archiving records, receiving official documents, reviewing departmental files, verifying paperwork, and recording fines and confiscated property.

The moment he entered, Zhu Ping’an was greeted by the rich scent of ink and paper.

The smell permeated every corner of the room.

Throughout the visit, Zhai Juntao wore the same gentle smile.

He greeted the officials by name with practiced familiarity.

His manner was so approachable and friendly that the staff appeared genuinely flattered.

Had Zhu Ping’an not already learned the man’s true nature through lip-reading earlier, he too might have been deceived by such effortless charm.

But now?

He merely smiled inwardly.

Nothing more than an actor displaying professional excellence.

The highest level of official performance.

After leaving the Zhaomo Office, they proceeded directly toward the office of Minister He Ao.

To Zhu Ping’an’s surprise, He Ao’s office was perhaps the most dilapidated room in the entire Ministry of Justice.

The walls were old.

The furnishings were plain.

The surroundings lacked even the slightest hint of luxury.

If one judged solely by appearances, Minister He seemed every inch the incorruptible official—selfless, hardworking, and wholly devoted to public service.

But appearances were only appearances.

A man willing to join hands with Yan Song and become part of the Yan faction—

How upright could he truly be?

He Ao was a famous figure throughout the empire.

His reputation came largely from two beatings.

Specifically, two imperial floggings.

The first occurred during the reign of the Zhengde Emperor, elder brother of the current emperor. When Zhengde wished to travel south for pleasure, He Ao submitted a memorial urging him to reconsider.

The result?

An imperial beating.

The second occurred during the early years of the Jiajing reign, during the Great Rites Controversy. He Ao opposed the emperor’s wishes and again suffered a severe flogging.

That time he had nearly been beaten to death.

Two encounters with the imperial rod had earned him immense fame and admiration.

What a pity.

In his younger years, He Ao had indeed possessed integrity.

But now, having become one of Yan Song’s followers, that integrity had long since deteriorated.

A faint sigh escaped Zhu Ping’an’s lips.

“Why do you sigh, Ping’an?”

Zhai Juntao’s hearing was exceptionally sharp.

He immediately turned and looked at him.

Secretly, he assumed the young man had finally become frightened.

Still too young, Zhai thought with amusement.

Now you know fear?

If you were going to be afraid, why submit that memorial in the first place?

“It’s nothing.”

Zhu Ping’an smiled gently and shook his head.

“Merely a passing thought.”

Director Zhai responded with a knowing smile.

Clearly, he had interpreted the answer according to his own assumptions.

And seeing no need to probe further, he simply led the way onward toward Minister He Ao’s office.

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