Chapter 112: The Joys of the Present (Part I)

At the Taichu Palace, within the Chongxuan Gate, in the Yaoyi City district, lay the garrison of the Northern Office’s Yulin Guard.

Quan Ce arrived right on time to check in. Although he held only a nominal post as a supervisory officer, the title carried the weight of military service, and he believed in embodying his motto: "Strict adherence to orders, leading by example."

The Great General of the Left Yulin Guard was Li Duozuo, a Mohe man not yet forty. With a square jaw, thick beard, and eyes that always seemed wide open, he possessed a heroic and generous air. Having achieved success in his youth through military merit, he had gained the favor of Emperor Gaozong for his bravery and loyalty, earning the imperial surname "Li." Having served in the Yulin Guard and guarded the North Gate for twenty years, he likely understood that as a man of barbarian descent, reaching the rank of Great General was the zenith of his career. Thus, he governed his troops with quiet efficiency, avoiding unnecessary trouble.

"Subordinate Quan Ce pays respects to the Great General," Quan Ce said. Having inquired beforehand, he knew that despite Li Duozuo’s origins, the man valued protocol. He had donned full armor, knelt on one knee, and placed his right hand over his heart in a full salute.

Li Duozuo stood, walked forward, and gestured for him to rise. "General, please rise. I have long heard of your expertise in military command. Since we shall now serve in the same force, sharing the same pot, I hope we can work in harmony to shoulder the heavy responsibility of guarding the palace."

Li Duozuo seemed to have more to say but refrained. Having led the Northern Office for many years, he understood the unique nature of the Yulin Guard. Other troops could be drilled by outside hands, and even the Qianniu and Qianqi guards could be trained elsewhere, but the Yulin Guard, stationed at the very heart of the palace, could never be entrusted to anyone else for training.

"I will strictly obey your orders and serve the Great General with all my might," Quan Ce replied. He was a man who responded well to kindness; since the Great General showed no signs of condescension, he was happy to draw closer.

"Good," Li Duozuo said, stroking his beard. "The Empress has decreed that your duties lie before the Imperial Carriage. During the full and new moon court audiences and ceremonial processions, you must stand guard in full armor. It is a light duty. There are ten patrols and thirty squads of imperial guards, numbering over six hundred men—all elites of our army—and they are now under your command. Since you are new, you need a veteran officer to assist you. I have appointed Commander Ye Huli as your deputy. He is my son-in-law and has served long in our ranks. If you have any indecision, you may consult with him."

Having spent much time in the bureaucratic world, Quan Ce was accustomed to people speaking in half-truths. He found this straightforward, unconventional man refreshing and, after a brief hesitation, saluted in agreement.

Upon hearing the order, Ye Huli stepped forward and saluted Quan Ce. Observing the man’s crisp, professional demeanor—devoid of both debauchery and the arrogance of a second-generation official—Quan Ce was quite satisfied. He decided to return the favor. "Though I am appointed as a general, I have other duties at the Lintai. I shall leave the military affairs to you, Commander."

"At your command, General," Ye Huli replied, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin slightly. Quan Ce was familiar with this posture; if he had clicked his heels and snapped a salute, it would have been perfect. Quan Ce nodded with a smile, his mind drifting elsewhere.

***

After checking in with the Yulin Guard, Quan Ce headed to the palace’s Lintai. Though called an office, it was more like a library. Apart from the chief officials—the Overseer and Deputy Overseer of the Lintai—the staff included library secretaries, collators, and character correctors. Even at full capacity, there were only about twenty people. While they had the right to participate in policy discussions and submit memorials, they held no real administrative power. Their primary job was to preserve and collate ancient palace texts and edit new books—essentially, they were high-ranking librarians.

The Overseer was an acquaintance, Li Qiao, one of the "Four Friends of Literature." The day Quan Ce was released from prison, Li Qiao had visited to share a celebratory drink and had heard the imperial decree brought by Princess Taiping. He looked up from his desk without putting down his brush and teased, "Why so late, Dailang? I had the servants clean the office for the Deputy Overseer, waiting for you, only to have spiders weave webs in the corners before you finally showed up. That was hardly kind."

Quan Ce offered a loose, insincere bow and sat down. "The superior official is quite right. This subordinate will surely reform and become a new man."

Li Qiao scoffed. "Though you have a great literary reputation and have composed melodies, very few complete masterpieces have emerged." He gritted his teeth at the word "complete." This man was a supreme talent-waster; every so often he would spout a line of brilliant, heaven-sent verse, but he refused to recite the whole piece, which was infuriating. "The Lintai is a place of quiet scholarship. I hope you will settle your heart and not betray the talent bestowed upon you by heaven and your parents."

"Overseer, you are overly attached to form," Quan Ce said, shaking his head. "Poetry and prose cannot be forced; they must be left to fate. A gem discovered by chance, as if crafted by heaven, is the only true masterpiece. Once human effort is mixed in, it becomes tainted with the mundane. It is unbearable." Seeing Li Qiao’s darkening expression, he quickly pivoted. "Rest assured, Overseer, this subordinate will do his best."

"Enough, enough," Li Qiao waved him off. "The only tricky task in the office right now is the redrawing of the maps. You have campaigned against the Turks, so you should have some insight. Being a consultant for this is acceptable."

Quan Ce accepted the order. Not wanting to stand out, he drew the maps of Inner and Outer Mongolia from memory, handed them to his subordinates, and considered the job done.

In the days that followed, he stood like a wooden post during the full and new moon audiences, and acted as a bureaucrat the rest of the time. Writing books was out of the question; he spent his time copying calligraphy scrolls by Shuangli to kill time. Once he grew familiar with everyone at the Lintai, arriving late, leaving early, and skipping work became common. After all, the Lintai was a quiet backwater; no one was watching.

This new post spanned both civil and military duties, yet he had more free time than when he was an investigating censor. With his homebody tendencies, he spent much more time with his family.

He wandered into the study to observe his second brother, Quan Zhu’s, primary education, suggesting a schedule of two incense sticks of study for one of rest. Ge Hui nodded repeatedly, praising the wisdom of it, before politely ushering him out.

"Mother, let me help you with the accounts," Quan Ce said, sneaking into the main hall to fawn over Princess Yiyang.

***

"Stop playing around with those ghost-drawn symbols of yours. Don't just hole up at home; your aunt's new residence is almost ready. Go see if you can help," Princess Yiyang said, pushing his forehead away with her arm. She had once trusted his "reliability" and let him handle the accounts, only to be met with twisted, bizarre shapes. When he explained them, his reasoning sounded like gibberish. Although she recalculated with counting rods and found the results matched his strange symbols, she was certain it was just a coincidence.

Quan Ce retreated sheepishly. He mounted his horse and went to Princess Gao’an’s new residence in Jingxing Ward, two streets away from Shanglin Ward. It was a scene of total chaos as they settled in. Unfortunately, as soon as he arrived and stated his intentions, he lost his freedom. Princess Gao’an pulled him into her embrace, joyous. "My child has a filial heart; your aunt knows. Let the servants handle this drudgery. As for the general management, your uncle and cousin are on it. Come inside, child, the sun is getting hot. Someone, quickly stew a bowl of snow frog soup!"

After the soup came bird’s nest porridge, and then deer blood soup. By the time Quan Ce left, his stomach was as bloated as a woman nine months pregnant. He could barely mount his horse, and he had spent the afternoon moving his mouth more than his hands.

For the sake of his waistline, he decided he couldn't visit Princess Gao’an’s mansion for a while. He stayed in the Weiming Courtyard, trying his hand at poetry, but gave up after a few days. His standards were too high, and his own works were unreadable—barely doggerel. Chisu was kind, grabbing his topknot and laughing without comment, but Shuangli was less charitable, pouting and rolling her eyes.

On the morning of the first of the fourth lunar month, Chiju and Liujin helped him dress. "Dailang, today is the new moon. Are you going to the palace for duty?"

"The Empress has issued a decree; there is no court audience today. No need for duty," Quan Ce said, his eyes bleary but his mind sharp.

"No duty again?" Liujin asked as she placed his golden crown on his head, her tone filled with genuine disdain.

Quan Ce craned his neck to look at Chiju, seeking comfort. She smiled gently, wiping his face with a cotton cloth. "Dailang," she said softly, "Lady Fuqu is talking about reopening her business. Why don't you go take a look?"