Chapter 249: The Cabinet

As evening approached, the northern wind carried snow. The sky outside was dim but not yet dark, faintly tinged with a murky rose hue that settled against the vermilion palace walls and golden glazed tiles. It somewhat softened the heavy solemnity of the palace, which had recently been stained with blood. In the gradually glowing haze of the palace lanterns, a touch of peaceful tranquility was added.

In the Cabinet duty room, fine silver charcoal was burning.

The young eunuch who came to deliver the message was trembling with fear, not daring to lift his head.

The court officials were already in a heated argument.

Xie Wei acted as if he neither heard nor saw them. He simply sat by the window, holding a cup of tea, gazing at the snow falling silently from the high, dark sky. His thoughts wandered aimlessly: Shen Zhiyi is clearly doing this to spite me. Just as my wedding with Ning’er is approaching, she deliberately stirs up trouble.

“This is outrageous, absolutely outrageous! What kind of place is Kunning Palace? Never mind that Jiang Xuening is an outsider with no royal blood—there isn’t even a confirmed heir to the throne yet! Empress Zheng just moved out, and now she’s moving in the very next day? What is the meaning of this?”

“But isn’t this the will of Her Highness the Princess Royal…”

“I don’t care whose will it is. The empire is without a ruler, but we haven’t moved court affairs to the Qianqing Palace just because there’s no emperor, have we? It’s still sitting empty! She’s only supposed to help manage some trivial matters for the royal family. Isn’t the Imperial Household Department spacious enough? I thought she understood the situation. Just yesterday she declined the Princess Royal’s offer—why the sudden change of heart today?”

“Ahem… Lord Yao, please watch your words…”

“Moving into Kunning Palace—does she think she’s going to be empress?!”

…

Things had been calm lately, but a few days ago, out of nowhere, Princess Royal Leyang, Shen Zhiyi, suddenly decided to give Kunning Palace to Jiang Xuening.

An outsider, not even married into the royal family—how could she be allowed to reside in Kunning Palace?

Naturally, all the ministers opposed it.

Jiang Xuening, to her credit, had tactfully declined the Princess’s offer the day before. But unexpectedly, just a few days later, she changed her mind. Without a word, she had her belongings moved in today. Not only that, she even ordered nearby places like Fengchen Hall and Yangzhi Zhai to be cleaned and prepared. No one could figure out what she and Shen Zhiyi were plotting together.

As the argument continued, the words became more and more reckless.

No one knew who realized it first, but someone gave a loud cough and exaggeratedly raised their eyebrows, signaling the others to be more careful—

Xie Ju’an hadn’t said a word, but he was sitting right there.

Who didn’t know about his relationship with Jiang Xuening by now?

They were to be married in just a few days.

And yet here they were, criticizing Jiang Xuening right in front of Xie Wei—were they tired of living?

Sure enough, once everyone noticed, the arguing quickly died down.

Xie Wei gently set down his teacup.

A few of the senior ministers suddenly felt their hearts skip a beat and hang in suspense.

Times had changed.

Just a few years ago, who didn’t praise Xie Ju’an as a “sage of the ages,” a man who made others feel “as if bathed in a spring breeze”? He had the best temper, the best manners, the best character—someone you couldn’t find even among ten thousand.

But lately…

The court officials felt as though they were seeing Xie Wei in a completely new light, almost unable to believe how drastically a person could change.

In the past, during court discussions, Xie Wei always wore a gentle smile. A single remark from him could resolve a heated debate with the ease of “using four ounces to move a thousand pounds.” He mediated with reason and grace, and in just a few words, he could ease tense situations and bring about pleasant, productive conversations.

Even when he tried to persuade others, it was always done in a way that made people feel completely at ease.

But now, though he still sat in on court affairs, his demeanor was entirely different. Whether others were arguing or debating, he couldn’t even be bothered to lift his eyes. Even when a fight broke out in the Cabinet room not long ago—with inkstones and porcelain cups flying—he barely reacted. He simply walked out with a scroll of Buddhist scripture in hand, as if the noise annoyed him.

If someone nervously submitted a national policy or civil proposal for his review, asking for his opinion, Xie Wei would most likely respond with a flat: “Whatever.”

The rise and fall of the nation, the life and death of its people—he truly didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even bother to pretend to care.

Except, of course, when it came to one name: Jiang Xuening.

Everyone still remembered what had happened three days ago. Princess Royal Leyang had a sudden inspiration—she wanted to establish women’s academies across the empire, just like how she had once studied in Fengchen Hall. She hoped to extend this opportunity to all women, allowing them to attend school just like men.

But since ancient times, men and women had been strictly divided, with men superior to women.

Back then, Shen Zhiyi had been allowed to study in Fengchen Hall only because she was a princess—noble and exceptional—and because she was soon to be married off in a political alliance. Her brother Shen Lang had only agreed to please her and keep her obedient. Even then, it had caused quite a stir in court.

So how could the current Cabinet of old ministers possibly agree?

Grand Tutor Yao had immediately frowned and said, “The Three Obediences and Five Virtues dictate that a husband is the guide of his wife. In these chaotic times, if the natural order of yin and yang is further disrupted, who knows what kind of chaos will follow? Women should read only the Nü Ze (Classic for Women), understand filial piety and obedience, master household management, and tend to the inner chambers. How could they possibly be fit to read the books of sages?”

The others were just about to voice their agreement—

When suddenly, a calm voice interrupted:
“Why can’t they?”

At first, no one even realized who had spoken.

After all, Xie Wei had barely spoken these past few days.

He didn’t participate in drafting or voting on Cabinet decisions.

So when they turned toward the voice and saw Xie Wei putting down the Daoist scripture in his hands and raising his head to look at them, cold sweat broke out on nearly every forehead in the room.

Although Grand Tutor Yao held a position equal to Xie Wei’s, after what had happened two months ago, who didn’t know how pivotal Xie Wei had become in court?

Even Yao felt a bit nervous.

But since this matter concerned fundamental ethics and tradition, he couldn’t bring himself to agree with the idea of founding women’s academies. He straightened his expression and said coldly, “The sages have said: ‘Women and petty people are hard to raise.’ Matters of state should be handled by men. If yin and yang are reversed, the world will fall into chaos. The rules passed down by our ancestors must never be broken! If women are allowed to study, they’ll inevitably appear in public—how improper!”

Xie Wei’s eyes were like a deep, still sea, without a ripple. He turned his gaze to Yao and said calmly,
“According to Grand Tutor Yao, there is a strict hierarchy. If women cannot read the books that men read, then by that logic, ministers should not read the books that emperors read; fools should not read the books of sages. Should I then say, the books I read—Grand Tutor Yao, you are not worthy to read them?”

Everyone was stunned.

Yao’s face flushed red, then turned pale. Xie Wei’s words were practically a direct insult—saying he wasn’t worthy to read the same books!

But Xie Wei didn’t seem to think he had said anything inappropriate. He added coolly,
“All people are born equal. If you prefer to kneel, no one will stop you. But if others wish to stand, and you insist on dragging them down—what does that make you?”

Yao was so furious his nose nearly twisted out of shape.

The other ministers were nearly scared to death.

And yet, Xie Wei had already lowered his head again, picked up the Daoist scripture he had set aside, and resumed reading. He left them with one final, indifferent remark:
“Lately, coffin prices in the capital have dropped. Grand Tutor Yao, you’re getting on in years—might as well take advantage of the market and buy one early.”

That was a blatant curse!

For days, Xie Wei had responded to everything with a dismissive “whatever,” showing no concern for the affairs of the world. The ministers had almost forgotten what he had once done in the Hall of Supreme Harmony—how, with just a few words, he had committed acts of terrifying bloodshed.

Now, hearing this, it all came rushing back.

Their faces turned deathly pale. No one dared say another word about how “women’s academies are inappropriate.” Even Grand Tutor Yao, who had just been arguing with Xie Wei, had cold sweat beading on his forehead and didn’t utter another word for the rest of the session.

It wasn’t until noon, when Xie Wei finally left, that the ministers felt as if a great weight had been lifted.

Grand Tutor Yao, however, still didn’t understand what he had done to offend Xie Wei so deeply.

In the end, it was Minister Chen of the Ministry of Personnel who finally helped Grand Tutor Yao realize the truth with a single remark:
“Grand Tutor, you’ve been too caught up in appearances. Think back—when Her Highness the Princess Royal studied in Fengchen Hall, who was her teacher? And who were the other female students?”

At that, Grand Tutor Yao suddenly understood.

Back then, when Princess Shen Zhiyi studied in Fengchen Hall, wasn’t her teacher none other than Xie Wei?

At the time, he was highly esteemed in scholarly circles, even hailed as a “Great Confucian.”

And among those students…

One of them was none other than the second daughter of the Jiang family—Jiang Xuening, the very same woman who had stunned the entire court in the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

A chill ran down Yao’s spine. He was suddenly grateful he hadn’t said anything even more offensive in front of Xie Wei.

From that point on, the matter of founding women’s academies became a taboo in the Cabinet.

No matter how fiercely they argued over other state affairs, on this issue, not a single minister dared speak up. The policy was quietly passed and publicly announced, and by the start of the new year, it would be piloted in the capital.

As for earlier…

The matter of Shen Zhiyi giving Kunning Palace to Jiang Xuening—and Jiang Xuening actually daring to move in—was something the Cabinet ministers found extremely difficult to accept.

That was why, in the heat of the earlier argument, someone had carelessly brought it up, and the words had already crossed the line.

The Cabinet, which had been so loud moments ago that people could barely hear each other, suddenly fell so silent that one could hear a pin drop.

Everyone’s gaze, whether directly or indirectly, drifted toward Xie Wei.

But Xie Wei simply stared at the tea in his cup, watching the gently swaying leaves floating within, and thought back to that morning during the first snowfall.

Jiang Xuening had held him and said:
“Liking someone means wanting them to be happy, and being happy yourself too—not mutual torment. Xie Ju’an, if something’s bothering you, you have to tell me. I’m slow—if you don’t say it, I won’t know. If you’re good to me, let me know. Otherwise, if you keep everything bottled up and I stay oblivious, you’ll just get more and more upset, and end up hurting yourself.”

But he still didn’t understand.

For many years, Xie Wei had buried secrets deep within his heart—his origins, the Heavenly Sect, and countless intricate schemes. If he couldn’t keep things hidden, it would eventually destroy him.

So he had grown used to doing, not saying.

Xie Wei once asked:
“Do I often make you unhappy?”

Jiang Xuening’s expression at that moment was hard to describe—part pity, part sorrow, and also a gentle, quiet kind of understanding. She leaned in and kissed the corner of his eye.

She said:
“I just want you to let yourself go.”

Her lips were soft and moist. When they touched the corner of his eye, it felt like a flower petal, dewy and delicate, brushing gently against him.

Xie Wei held her in his arms.

But now, sitting by the window, he simply stared at the curling smoke rising from the incense burner on the desk, saying nothing for a long time.

Jiang Xuening had once said:
He didn’t know how to love someone.
She had also said:
If something’s bothering you, tell me.
And again:
She wanted him to let himself go.

But for Xie Ju’an, lowering his defenses and revealing himself to others was a dangerous thing.

It was something he still found hard to imagine.

And yet, in recent days, the way Ning’er looked at him—those eyes, like veiled mist—kept appearing in his mind. It made his heart feel as if it were soaked in strong liquor: burning hot, painfully swollen, and aching with a kind of fullness.

Suddenly, Xie Wei stood up and walked out.

Outside the Cabinet duty room, many umbrellas were hanging.

He picked one up and opened it.

Several of the Cabinet ministers were startled and almost instinctively called out,
“Vice Preceptor Xie—”

But Xie Wei didn’t even turn his head. He simply said,
“An outsider taking residence in Kunning Palace for official duties—isn’t that a good thing?”

With that, he opened the umbrella and walked straight into the swirling evening snow, heading toward Kunning Palace.

Before long, he had disappeared into the distance.

The ministers were stunned by his words, exchanging puzzled glances.

Kunning Palace having a new mistress—how could that be a good thing?

But just as they were about to voice their confusion, a sudden realization struck them.

They had assumed that since Qianqing Palace was empty, Kunning Palace should remain empty too. But now that Princess Shen Zhiyi had given Kunning Palace to Jiang Xuening, didn’t that clearly signal that Shen Zhiyi had no intention of installing a new emperor?

Otherwise, if a new emperor were to be enthroned and married later, wouldn’t it be awkward and troublesome to have someone move in and out of the palace like that?

They had already come to appreciate the benefits of having no emperor.

Though no one said it aloud, in private, they were all quite united in their desire not to see another emperor rise.

Jiang Xuening taking residence in Kunning Palace effectively weakened its symbolic status as the imperial consort’s quarters—and by extension, diminished the entire palace’s imperial significance. Wasn’t that a good thing?

They had simply failed to see it clearly before.

But then… did Xie Ju’an truly think this was a good thing too?

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