Chapter 152: Showing Off Brings Down Lightning

How is this going to end!

From Shen Yuejiao's perspective, they had truly blown this matter completely out of proportion.

It was merely a game. One side stubbornly insisted the racecourse belonged to them, while the other brought in an old man to play the emperor.

Did they really have to care so much about saving face? Is a man's pride truly that precious?

Now look at it; they had actually played their way into a major disaster.

Not only was Shen Yuejiao thinking this, but Shen Ancai and the others were thinking the exact same thing.

It was not that they refused to trust their own brother, but rather that the whole affair was simply too unbelievable to accept.

"Are you blind? You cannot even recognize the Emperor's handwriting?" Cao Jinhua and Zhao Zongjing, however, were extremely confident, because that was indeed the Emperor. Zhao Zongjing even rebuked directly, "Are you blind, or are you just shielding your fellow officials? If you dare to engage in official corruption and protect one another, our Prince's Manor will not let this matter rest."

Zhao Zongjing directly revealed his identity and threatened the legal secretary.

"What? The Prince's Manor?"

The moment Zhao Zongjing's identity was exposed, the arrogance of the scholars deflated significantly.

Upon hearing the other party's status, Shen Ancai and his companions felt greatly reassured. At least a dialogue was possible now, and should anything go wrong, there would be someone capable of interceding on their behalf.

Meanwhile, Shen Yuejiao's eyes lit up. She had never expected this unassuming young man to be a commandery prince (though in reality, he was not; his father held that title, and he had yet to inherit it).

"Wonderful! How dare you shield each other? Do you take the Imperial In-law's Estate for fools to be bullied?" Cao Jinhua flared up on the spot.

Zhao Zongjing had fled, leaving her utterly furious. Yet, furious as she was, there was nothing she could do because Zhao Zongjing was the Emperor. But for this damn local official to blatantly tell lies with his eyes wide open—how could Cao Jinhua swallow such an unjust grievance?

Ah! I am dizzy, completely dizzy! I am dying of happiness!

Zhao Zongjing is a prince, and he is also an imperial in-law...

These, these, these are all top-tier, prime gentlemen! I truly have no idea how he manages to know so many noble people!

As Shen Yuejiao looked at Shen Shiyi again, she felt certain that he was undeniably the best brother anyone could ask for.

Yet, as happy as Shen Yuejiao was, Prefect Mo was equally miserable: "Secretary, tell them! I, your master, will back you up. Is that truly the Emperor's handwriting or not?"

"It is," the secretary immediately replied.

"Speak! What is it?"

"It is the Emperor's handwriting," the secretary stated the conclusion first.

"Hmm?"

Everyone was completely dumbfounded. This was completely different from what he had just said.

"Master, do not be afraid! My father is a Minister, and the Emperor heeds my father's counsel even more."

"That's right, my father is a Vice Minister. If they try to oppress us with power, my father will not sit idly by."

"Indeed, absolutely. I shall also inform my uncle and have him submit a memorial directly to the Emperor."

...

To attempt to intimidate them with power right to their faces—did they take them for dead men? The scholars were filled with righteous indignation. Ministers, Vice Ministers, Censors... one official title after another was proudly shouted out.

These titles alone were terrifying enough. Whatever prince or imperial in-law they claimed to be, combined together, they truly stood no chance against this collective force.

Prefect Mo looked toward his secretary, awaiting his explanation.

This time, the secretary felt somewhat awkward.

He was not shielding anyone out of official corruption, nor did it have much to do with being intimidated by powerful figures. It was simply that he was accustomed to this particular style of speaking. He always stated the process before the conclusion—not only to showcase his own meticulous and hard work, but also to deliberately withhold the punchline for a moment to demonstrate his own importance.

He had always done it this way, and the results had previously been excellent. However, this habit was clearly entirely unsuitable for today's situation.

"My lord, please listen to this humble servant's explanation." Finally finding a chance to speak, he no longer dared to withhold anything, rushing out his words: "The official documents are copied out by scribes, so inconsistencies are to be expected. Therefore, I compared them against my lord's official memorials. The handwriting matches the script above. It must undoubtedly be the Emperor's calligraphy."

Having his previous suspense-building interrupted by the outraged scholars, he poured everything out in one single breath this time, terrified of being cut off again.

Silence! Absolute, pin-drop silence!

The scholars stopped bickering as well. They were terrified!

Could it be that the old man they had been referring to was truly the Emperor?

If he really was the Emperor, then their actions could hardly be considered friendly. To put it more severely, calling it "lèse-majesté" was not much of an exaggeration.

"Are you speaking the truth? Did you examine it carefully?" Prefect Mo asked.

The secretary's words dealt a heavy shock to him as well. After all, he had never expected—truly never expected—that the sons of these high-ranking officials had actually crossed paths with the Emperor. Judging by their appearance, it was likely not a pleasant encounter.

"My lord, this humble servant examined it with utmost care and even brought the documents along."

As he spoke, the secretary presented the official documents and memorials he had brought with him.

"My lord, please look: these are the routine dispatches copied by scribes, and the handwriting varies. This is my lord's memorial, bearing the Emperor's vermilion annotations..."

The secretary meticulously pointed out the differences between the two.

Upon seeing the characters annotated by the Emperor on the memorial and comparing them with the handwriting on the note, Prefect Mo could essentially confirm the authenticity.

However, once the truth was recognized, the nature of the case changed entirely. For Prefect Mo, his handling of this case was only just beginning.

"This... esteemed official." Prefect Mo acknowledged Shen Shiyi's status.

"I dare not. This humble servant is merely a scholar-official; I am unworthy of such a title from your lordship," Shen Shiyi said, declining to return the bow because his official rank was still too low.

"Ah." Prefect Mo nodded, not pressing the courtesy. His official rank was higher than Shen Shiyi's, and if he had insisted on bowing back, it would have appeared overly sycophantic.

"Official Shen, how do you think this case should be handled?"

Not bowing back did not mean he would not seek Shen Shiyi's opinion.

A scholar-official held a lowly rank and a humble position, but no matter how low the rank, if one enjoyed the direct favor of the sovereign, everything was entirely different.

"Prefect Mo, it is not a matter of how I wish to handle this, but rather what they have done," Shen Shiyi said, looking at Tang Renxian with a faint smile.

"What have they done?" Prefect Mo suddenly understood—or rather, he felt he *must* appear to understand.

Yet, in truth, he understood nothing at all; otherwise, he would not have reacted the way he did.

"What good deeds have you lot actually committed? You had better confess the whole truth," Prefect Mo demanded of Tang Renxian and the others.

Confess? Confess to what?

Were they supposed to admit how they had mocked and toyed with the Emperor, and how they had flaunted their own cleverness and intellect?

Had the other party not been the Emperor, but anyone else, they could indeed have spoken and boasted in such a manner.

Such an "outstanding" performance would have been more than enough to spread their "brilliance" far and wide through poetry gatherings.

How could they possibly fail to understand the importance of public reputation? It was much like Kong Rong yielding the bigger pears—a simple enough occurrence that happened among children all the time, yet only Kong Rong became a celebrated scholar. What was that? That was effective publicity.

Yet the problem now was that in order to display their cleverness, the target they had chosen to mock turned out to be entirely the wrong person.

"My lord, we were merely racing horses..."

Because of the identity of that target, every single ounce of their "cleverness" instantly lost all its value. To put it accurately, the more brilliantly they portrayed themselves to be toying with Zhao Zhēn, and the "smarter" they appeared while doing so, the further they drifted from becoming another Kong Rong. They would not become renowned and romanticized scholars; they would simply turn into the buffoons of a cautionary tale.

No! This no longer had much to do with whether they looked like fools. It was a matter of whether the Emperor would harbor anger and hold a grudge against them.

"Heh, merely racing horses?" Seeing that Tang Renxian was no longer so smug and was even attempting to conceal the truth, Cao Jinhua felt as refreshed as if she had gulped down iced soda on the hottest dog days of summer.

If she could, she truly wanted to blurt out: *Stop putting on airs, or lightning will strike you down!*