Chapter Twelve: Walking the Tightrope

At a moment like this, facing overwhelming power, Zhang Qianhu certainly had no reason to continue deceiving anyone.

Thus, what Zhang Qianhu described was probably true—the trial was indeed fair; Father Bai was neither framed nor unjustly convicted.

Perhaps it was Bai Yu’s persecutory delusion flaring up, refusing to accept reality and stubbornly convinced that his family had been framed and wronged.

Now Bai Yu found himself in an awkward position—he was the very troublemaker who disrupted judicial fairness, the “villain” in this drama.

But then Bai Yu recalled a saying he often saw online in his previous life: as long as you are not embarrassed, the one who is embarrassed is someone else.

Had he done wrong? Not at all.

If he hadn’t caused such a scene and delayed proceedings, how could there have been a chance for a turnaround?

If Father Bai had been formally convicted before Shi Jilu arrived, and he had been sentenced to penal labor, it would have been much harder to reverse the verdict after the dust settled.

By the time Bai Yu finished his mental preparation, Shi Jilu and Zhang Qianhu had nearly finished their exchange.

In short, the shortage of fodder was a misunderstanding; there was no embezzlement or withholding of supplies. The elephant’s rampage and injury to people were due to illness, not hunger from a lack of fodder.

“Is that all?” Shi Jilu turned to Bai Yu and asked.

Bai Yu replied politely, “I leave the decision to Lord Jilu.”

At that moment, Zhang Qianhu genuinely feared that Bai Yu might still be dissatisfied and suddenly leap up to attack him.

This young man had obvious mental issues and might indeed do such a thing; either way, Zhang Qianhu was caught in a dilemma.

Then Zhang Qianhu wisely stood and left, allowing Shi Jilu and Bai Yu to speak privately.

“Thank you, Lord Jilu, for your kind assistance!” Bai Yu bowed sincerely and cautiously added, “I truly did not expect Lord Jilu to intervene personally. This favor deeply moves me; I don’t know how to repay it.”

What Bai Yu hadn’t yet figured out was Shi Jilu’s true motive for saving him.

Intervening in judicial matters without profit was utterly uncharacteristic of a bureaucrat.

Shi Jilu explained directly, “Your last article was excellent; Commander Ti greatly admires your talent.”

As for rescuing Father Bai and Bai Yu just now, Shi Jilu didn’t mention it—he regarded it as a minor matter.

Repeating such small favors would seem like seeking to repay a debt and lack stature, which would be beneath him.

Bai Yu’s mind raced swiftly and immediately suspected that the real person who praised the eulogy about the lion and cat was not Commander Ti Lu Bing, but the Wan Shou Emperor.

Lu Bing had no involvement in cultural circles; what use would such an article be to him? It was meant to be offered to Emperor Jiajing to earn imperial favor.

Shi Jilu, unaware that Bai Yu had already guessed the truth, continued, “Commander Ti values talent and wishes to entrust literary affairs to you.”

“Ah?” Bai Yu was stunned. They had only saved his life, yet expected him to sell himself in return?

If an ordinary person heard Shi Jilu’s words, they would probably bow their head in gratitude on the spot.

Lu Bing was one of the pillars beside the emperor—the most powerful man in the Ming Dynasty!

If there was a chance to latch onto Lu Bing, who would hesitate?

But Bai Yu’s “insight” was different. A few days earlier, when studying the era’s background, he had already been “educated.”

The following decade would be the most intense period of political struggle in the court, with countless great figures falling one after another, until there was no true victor.

So choosing whom to ally with required extreme caution, for it concerned one’s very life and fortunes.

With this in mind, Bai Yu opened his AI assistant and quickly searched for information on Lu Bing.

The AI responded: “In the winter of the thirty-ninth year of Jiajing, Lu Bing gathered for drinks with Minister of War Yang Bo and died mysteriously after returning home.

Rumors say Lu Bing clashed with the Prime Minister Yan Song and his son in his later years. Fearing Lu Bing’s power, Yan Song and his son plotted his death.

After the demise of the arrogant Lu Bing, his followers were swiftly purged, and his brother Lu Wei was forced to resign.

Years later, during the Longqing reign, the Lu family was further investigated and their property confiscated.”

After reading this, Bai Yu was speechless for a long time. Joining forces with Lu Bing now was no different from joining the Nationalist Army in 1949.

What seemed like a golden opportunity was actually a pitfall, at best lasting until year’s end!

Forget about rewriting fate to save Lu Bing; with his small stature involved, would Yan Song and his son ever spare him?

Since the Chenghua era, political struggles in the Ming court rarely cost lives; everyone tacitly accepted this bottom line—except during the Jiajing reign.

In Jiajing’s time, political mistakes truly meant death.

Just days ago, Bai Yu had witnessed the future literary leader Wang Shizhen’s father beheaded in the Western Market.

Seeing Bai Yu lost in thought, Shi Jilu asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Snapping back to reality, Bai Yu replied, “Ah, well, someone like me with ambition should rely on my own hands to create the future.”

He said this while trying hard to imagine himself passionate and heroic.

Shi Jilu was stunned; he had never expected to be politely declined.

Was Bai Yu foolish? To reject an offer from a powerful figure like Commander Ti Lu Bing?

Bai Yu felt bitter inside but could not voice it.

Afraid Bai Yu was too young to understand, Shi Jilu sweetened the deal:

“Your household registration will be transferred from the Elephant Training Division to the Upper Fifth Division. Your father will be reassigned to the Southern Pacification Office at the General Office, and you may serve as a retainer at Commander Ti’s residence.”

Bai Yu was shocked; accepting such an arrangement might lead to his immediate demise by year’s end—his bones scattered and gone!

He quickly cupped his fists and said, “First, I thank Commander Ti and Lord Jilu for their kindness, but my family has served in the Elephant Training Division for generations; I cannot abandon my ancestral foundation!”

Shi Jilu was speechless. Chapter Twelve: Walking the Tightrope.

Pretending to be noble while a mere laborer at the Elephant Training Division?

Bai Yu continued earnestly, “As the sage said, all work is division of labor—there is no high or low, noble or base.

One can shine and serve Commander Ti wherever stationed. The Bai family is willing to remain at the training grounds as an unremarkable cornerstone.”

He hoped to keep interactions private or help occasionally, but outwardly not appear too familiar.

He mainly feared being misunderstood as a staunch loyalist of Lu Bing.

Shi Jilu listened, astonished, then sighed, “Unexpected for someone so young to have such a scholar’s spirit.”

Bai Yu felt a pang himself. At only fifteen, he hadn’t even passed the provincial exams yet, and now he had to practice the art of political tightrope walking—too precocious, indeed.

He could neither offend Lu Bing nor get too close, lest he become collateral damage.

After returning to the General Office, Shi Jilu reported to Commander Ti Lu Bing, “Though Bai Yu has not yet entered the inner circle, he already possesses a steadfast spirit.

He probably fears being accused of clinging to power with his humble origins, so he refuses your arrangements and insists on staying at the Elephant Training Division.”

Lu Bing sneered, “In recent years, these literati have become difficult—especially the famous ones—pretentious and sanctimonious.

You say Bai Yu wants to take the imperial exams to gain fame and fortune; does he think it’s so easy to become a scholar or official?”

Shi Jilu replied, “Youthful arrogance and talent often come with such quirks.”

Lu Bing, eager for a top-notch ghostwriter, said, “Continue to probe his background. Have him compose a ‘Qingci’ poem; let’s see the extent of his talent before deciding on the future.”

Qingci were Taoist prayers used to communicate with Heaven. Emperor Jiajing valued them highly, believing better Qingci could move Heaven and aid in immortality cultivation.

By the late Jiajing reign, most grand secretaries were masters of Qingci composition.

Thus, Qingci were the true hard currency, directly linked to fame and fortune.