To remain in the Qianqinggong to serve as an attendant for grinding ink was seen by people of ancient times as an immense favor. In Lin Yuan’s eyes, however, it was like working with one’s head hanging from the belt.
Lin Yuan’s current workstation was located in a corner beside Chongzhen’s imperial desk.
Job description: Human ink-grinding machine.
Working hours: 24/7, no days off.
Job risks: If the boss is in a bad mood, heads will roll—no compensation, only the execution of one’s entire family.
At this moment, Lin Yuan stood meekly at her station, steadily rotating the ink stick in the inkstone with a consistent rhythm. She even softened her breathing, afraid that the slightest noise might disturb the emperor, who was busy reviewing memorials.
[This job is so exhausting! My hands are tired, but my mind is even more so! And if I don’t do it well, I could lose my head!]
[Look at that expression—tch, it’s almost as dark as the ink. The boss must be really annoyed right now. With Wen Tiren’s downfall, the position of Neige Shoufu is now vacant. Those ministers must be fighting tooth and nail for it these days.]
Chongzhen’s brush paused for a moment.
This little palace maid is quite perceptive.
Indeed, that’s exactly how it is.
With Wen Tiren’s downfall, those people didn’t hold back. Instead, like dogs catching the scent of meat, they all pounced madly, tearing at each other.
He casually picked up a memorial—it was a recommendation from the Minister of Personnel for a candidate to the Grand Secretariat: Qian Qianyi.
[Oh my~ Qian Qianyi? Isn’t he the famous spokesperson of “the water is too cold”?]
[He’s the well-known “know-it-all” and spineless figure of the Donglin-dang. All talk of righteousness, but all business in his heart. Making him Shoufu? Wouldn’t he be the first to open the gates and guide the Houjin when the time comes?]
[The boss’s luck is truly something—just picking one at random lands him a traitor.]
[Well, actually, it’s not surprising. It’s the late Ming now, and Da Ming’s talent pool is empty. Drawing such a traitor isn’t strange.]
Thud.
Chongzhen threw that memorial onto the floor.
Water too cold? Traitor? Spineless?
Although some of the words were unfamiliar, the feeling of being insulted and provoked was all too real.
Are all my ministers really so worthless?!
Chongzhen closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down, and picked up another memorial.
It read: Zhou Yanru.
[Huh? Zhou Yanru? Oh dear, a major disaster! An upgraded version of Wen Tiren! Best at making flashy presentations, top-notch at deception, and unparalleled in corruption.]
[If Boss Chongzhen uses him, it’s like taking one step away from the 16-year mark only to willingly take it back.]
Chongzhen: …
He felt that no matter which memorial he picked now, it would be a mistake.
With Lin Yuan acting as a human lightning rod, she always proved that whatever he drew was a disaster.
But he couldn’t just stop reviewing memorials.
Chongzhen took a deep breath, reached out, and selected another memorial.
It was an official evaluation roster.
He slowly scanned it, pretending to tap his finger here and there while actually waiting for Lin Yuan’s inner voice to speak up.
[What a strange habit—tapping like that when there’s not a single usable person on the list. They’re either Wen Tiren’s lackeys or Qian Qianyi’s followers.]
[Actually, it’s not that there were no capable people in the late Ming. It’s just that Chongzhen was blind. Take Sun Chuanting, for example—he’s still eating prison food in jail right now. And then there’s Lu Xiangsheng—capable, yes, but too straightforward. He’s always clashing with the civil officials and will sooner or later be sabotaged and done in.]
[Actually, after much thought, if we really must change the Shoufu, the most suitable candidate at the moment is still that old man named Bi Ziyan. The Minister of Revenue, in charge of finances, famously tight-fisted! Though a bit rigid, at least he isn’t corrupt! In these times teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, a good financial director is more important than anything!]
Financial director? Chongzhen didn’t understand the term, but he grasped the meaning.
Bi Ziyan?
That stubborn and rigid old man?
Every time he appeared before him, eight out of ten times he was complaining about being broke—annoying indeed.
But…
Chongzhen’s gaze swept over the memorials recommending Zhou Yanru and Qian Qianyi, then compared them to that old man Bi Ziyan. The difference was instantly clear.
What he needed now was precisely someone who could guard his coffers, not someone who would collude with outsiders to empty the state treasury.
“Wang Chengen.”
“Your servant is here.”
“Convey Our decree: Promote Bi Ziyan, Minister of Revenue, to Neige Shoufu, to lead all officials.”
As soon as the words fell, Lin Yuan’s hand trembled, and a drop of ink splattered onto the imperial desk.
[Oh no, oh no. Is Chongzhen-oldie going to kill me again?]
Chongzhen: …
Lin Yuan stole a glance at Chongzhen-di and found nothing unusual. He seemed deeply immersed in thought.
[Phew, phew. He didn’t notice.]
[That was terrifying. Why did the boss suddenly promote Bi Ziyan? What a coincidence! Could the boss possibly know mind-reading? Will I even survive tonight?]
Chongzhen: … I’m acting so hard, what are you still afraid of?!
[It must be a coincidence, absolutely a coincidence! If Boss Chongzhen really knew mind-reading, how could he have been fooled so thoroughly by those treacherous ministers?]
Chongzhen: I really feel offended!
I am ordained by Heaven!
He glanced at Lin Yuan and noticed her little face had turned deathly pale. A mischievous impulse suddenly rose in his heart.
Satisfying. I can tease this little palace maid from time to time, letting her offend the emperor’s dignity in her thoughts every day.
Just then, a Jinyiwei requested an audience.
“Your Majesty! We have found what you described… potatoes, in a small village over a hundred li from Jingcheng.”
Chongzhen perked up immediately and said, “Bring them in!”
Soon, a tray draped with bright yellow silk was carefully carried in. On it lay several lumpy, brown tubers, one of which had even sprouted a tiny, tender shoot.
Commander Han Zhong knelt on one knee.
“Your Majesty, according to the farmer, this crop is cold and drought-resistant, grows when buried in soil, and its yield per mu is astonishing. These initial seeds were obtained by them through trade with merchants from the Western Regions.”
Chongzhen quickly descended the imperial steps, his eyes gleaming as if what lay before him were not potatoes but divine pills to save Da Ming.
“Excellent! Truly excellent!”
He excitedly picked up a potato to examine it closely.
“This is a heavenly blessing bestowed upon Da Ming! Han Zhong, you have rendered great service this time!”
Lin Yuan: ??
[A blessing? Brother, that’s just a potato! Your reaction makes it seem like you’ve never seen the world—and you’re the emperor, for goodness’ sake.]
Lin Yuan secretly looked up, glancing at Chongzhen-di and the discovered potatoes. This glance unleashed another uncontrollable torrent of inner complaints.
[Holy crap! Is the one Boss Chongzhen is holding sprouted?! That’s highly toxic!]
[Ahhh! Sprouted potatoes can’t be eaten! There’s no stomach-pumping technology now, eating them is asking for death!]
[Boss, I beg you, put down your hand! Put it down! Let’s take other ones that haven’t sprouted! Sprouted ones can’t be eaten! Take the sprouted ones for planting! This is seed!]
Just as Chongzhen was about to order Wang Chengen to take this thing to the Yushanfang for cooking, Lin Yuan’s noisy and sharp voice rang in his mind.
Highly poisonous? Can kill people? Is seed?
Chongzhen slowly lowered his head, looking at the potato with a small sprout in his hand, secretly relieved in his heart.
Thank goodness, that was close.
He turned to look at Lin Yuan, his eyes actually carrying a trace of gratitude, grateful that heaven had brought this “Tianji” to his side.
But in Lin Yuan’s view, that gaze falling on her was simply deadly!
[Why are you looking at me? Why look at me? I don’t know anything! Don’t look at me, and don’t ask me! Don’t come over here!]
Chongzhen did not go over, but instead spoke to Wang Chengen and Han Zhong: “This thing… the one in my hand.”
He pointed with his other hand at the sprout on the potato.
“It has sprouted. Sprouted potatoes are not edible, but can be planted.”