Chapter 036: Another Battle Report Arrives

Early morning.

Xue Rui headed to his post at the Imperial Observatory and stopped by Chiyue Teahouse on Zhengyangmen Street to buy a box of mooncakes.

In the days leading up to the Mid-Autumn Festival, Chiyue Teahouse was bustling with business, the line for mooncakes stretching out the door. When Xue Rui inquired about the price, he found the most expensive mooncake box cost two taels of silver—about the same as a stone of rice. It was practically daylight robbery.

After the festival, business naturally waned, and the unsold mooncakes were put on discount. Now, the priciest box sold for just fifty copper coins.

This phenomenon was strikingly similar to what one might see in later generations.

Arriving early today, Xue Rui found the Autumn Bureau office not yet fully assembled. With time to spare, he sipped tea and nibbled on a mooncake.

Chiyue Teahouse’s mooncakes were exquisite, with beautiful designs on their thin crusts, generous fillings, and a soft, fragrant sweetness that melted in the mouth.

He had just finished eating when Gao Mian arrived.

“Greetings, Lord Gao,” everyone quickly rose to salute.

Gao Mian nodded, his gaze settling on Xue Rui. “Xue Rui, come with me. The rest of you, see to your duties.”

“Yes, sir,” they all replied.

Xue Rui had no idea why Gao Mian had summoned him but could only follow into the private office.

“Close the door,” Gao Mian ordered once he had entered.

Xue Rui shut the door, a little uneasy. “May I ask what your lordship wishes of me?”

Gao Mian looked at him for a moment before speaking. “The observatory’s monthly records—the Celestial Tables—are always made in duplicate. One copy is kept by the observatory, the other by the archives. The archive’s copy is crucial, always requiring the seals of the Astronomical Officer, the Keeper of Records, and the Director before being stored. Yesterday, Chief Officer Xu went to retrieve the Celestial Table for the seventh month from the archives, but it could not be found. Do you know whose hands it is in?”

A jolt of alarm ran through Xue Rui. The record in question was the very one Master Hu had shown him yesterday!

As Gao Mian and the other officials began investigating the missing record, Xue Rui hesitated to reveal the truth, fearing it would jeopardize Master Hu’s plans. “My lord,” he replied, “since last month, the archives have been managed by Clerk Peng. Though I’ve spent a few days there myself, I haven’t handled that record and don’t know its whereabouts.”

“Is that so?” Gao Mian deliberated, fixing Xue Rui with a severe look. “Let me be frank. That record should have been filed in the archives at the end of last month, as is customary. But yesterday when Chief Officer Xu sought to consult this year’s records, the seventh month’s Celestial Table was missing. Xu asked around and discovered Peng Ying had never seen it either.

“Now, that record concerns the future of many officials in this observatory and cannot be lost. If it is in the Keeper of Records’ hands, you must remind him to safeguard it well. Should the court demand accountability, we would be hard-pressed to defend ourselves.”

“My lord, you mean—?” Xue Rui’s heart skipped a beat, looking at Gao Mian in surprise.

“That is all I will say. You may go.”

Gao Mian would say no more, dismissing him with a wave.

Back at his seat, Xue Rui felt a surge of excitement. Gao Mian’s words, though not explicit, had given him a strong inkling of the truth.

The seventh month’s Celestial Table contained Hu Zhong’s astrological note on the movement of the Purple Star—a note that Hu himself had later refuted, something all the observatory officials were aware of. Perhaps the two disastrous defeats on the thirteenth had given them an opportunity to depose Director Hu Deqing.

Xu Dun’s attempt to retrieve the record was likely an effort to secure evidence, should the court demand accountability in the future. Yet Hu Zhong, exploiting Peng Ying’s laxity, had never submitted the seventh month’s record to the archives, keeping it in his own hands.

When Xu Dun failed to find it and worried Peng Ying might have it, he asked Gao Mian to question Xue Rui. But Xue Rui was tight-lipped, and Gao Mian, unable to press further, could only indirectly warn that the record be kept safe for future use.

On this matter, the officials of the Imperial Observatory shared common interests. Once Hu Deqing was removed, their own positions might shift, so the record’s precise location hardly mattered—hence Gao Mian made no attempt to seize it.

“So this time, Peng Deqing is finished, isn’t he?” Understanding the intricacies, Xue Rui couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.

“Brother Xue, what’s made you so happy?” At that moment, Fu Cong, who had been watching him, sidled over curiously.

Seeing the others looking his way, Xue Rui quickly composed himself. “I wasn’t laughing. You must be mistaken.”

Shi Xiang ventured, “Could it be news of victory from the front lines? Perhaps good tidings are on their way?”

These men seemed to treat him as a barometer for the war, reading significance into even the faintest of his smiles. Xue Rui found it all rather exasperating.

“How would I know? If you care about the war, go to Lord Gao and ask for the job of transcribing the imperial gazettes. You can see for yourselves.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored them, opening a book to read. Seeing him fall silent, the others drifted away, disappointed.

All day, Xue Rui showed no unusual behavior, sitting quietly in his corner with his book. Shi Xiang and the rest, seeing his composure, relaxed as well. As long as Xue Rui remained calm, it meant nothing momentous was afoot; they could be at ease.

After idling away the afternoon, it was finally time to finish work. Xue Rui dawdled until Shi Xiang and the others had left before gathering his things and leaving the observatory.

However, instead of heading home, he turned north.

Once he had gone some distance, several figures emerged from the alley between the observatory and the Imperial Medical Institute—Shi Xiang and his companions, who had left earlier.

“Brother Shi, I told you something was off about him today. Wasn’t I right?” Fu Cong said, looking pleased with himself.

Shi Nan frowned. “He should be heading home through Zhengyangmen. Why’s he going towards the Ministry of Works?”

“He’s usually the most eager to get home. For him to act so differently today, something big must be happening,” Shi Xiang declared.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s follow and see!”

The others agreed, and they set off in secret pursuit.

This district housed most of the empire’s ministries. Xue Rui walked north for several dozen meters and found an inconspicuous corner to sit.

He was now next to the Honglu Temple, separated from the observatory by a single wall; two hundred meters further north lay the Ministry of War. If he remembered correctly, news of yesterday’s disastrous defeat at Tumubao should reach the Ministry of War this afternoon. He was here to witness this historic moment.

In another alley behind Xue Rui, Shi Xiang and the others found their own hiding spot, keeping a close watch.

They had expected Xue Rui to make a move, but he simply sat by the wall of the Honglu Temple, doing nothing—eventually pulling out a book to read.

After half an hour, impatience set in.

“Shi Xiang, Fu, my wife and children are waiting for me at home for dinner. I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer,” Shi Nan finally announced.

“I should go too. If I’m late, my wife will be displeased. Gentlemen, I’ll take my leave,” another said, seizing the chance to depart.

One by one, the group dispersed until only Fu Cong and Shi Xiang remained.

As the sun was about to set, even they could hardly wait. Just as they were about to leave, Xue Rui suddenly sprang to his feet as if startled.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

A series of urgent hoofbeats rang out.

This area was lined with government ministries; those who passed by were mainly officials. Normally, no one dared gallop a horse through the street—if one were to collide with a high-ranking official, the consequences could be severe.

Now, the rapid approach of hooves was highly unusual.

As the sound drew nearer, Shi Xiang and Fu Cong exchanged glances and exclaimed in unison, “A military dispatch!”