novelSusiti Chapter 20: Undercurrents Approaching, Powerful Minister Enters the Scene
Chapter 20: Undercurrents Approaching, Powerful Minister Enters the Scene
The look of suspicion on Yang Jian's face slowly faded.
He gave Yang Yan a deep look, his gaze complex, containing surprise, scrutiny, but more than anything, a sense of relief and approval.
"That's enough."
Yang Jian waved his hand, no longer asking questions. He turned and walked back to his desk, picked up the cinnabar brush that had just been thrown to the ground, and began to write with vigorous strokes on a blank sheet of Xuanzhou hemp paper.
"Liucheng".
"Yi Wu Lu Mountain".
"Liaoshui Estuary".
Several place names leap off the page, the strokes vigorous and powerful, penetrating the paper, as if each stroke carries the fierce and valiant spirit of war.
Although Yang Yan did not know what his grandfather was writing, he was very clear that his five strategies had been like wedges driven into wood, taking the first nail into the heart of this founding monarch.
The breath that had been hanging in his throat finally sank slowly into his stomach.
This hurdle has been overcome. I ask for little, only that this seed called "usable" may find a crack to take root in the suspicious heart of the emperor.
Just then, a high-pitched, shrill voice of a palace attendant suddenly rang out from outside the hall:
"Gao Jiong, Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel and Duke of Qi, and Yang Su, Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel and Duke of Yue, are hereby granted an audience!"
"The Grand Councilor Su Wei, the Minister of Personnel Niu Hong, and the General of the Left Guard Yuwen Shu are here to pay their respects!"
Yang Su!
Yang Yan's pupils suddenly contracted, and his heart felt as if it had been squeezed tightly by an invisible hand.
That old fox who manipulated history and single-handedly created the dilemma of deposition and enthronement is finally going to be confronted.
Just now, when I was alone with the Emperor, although it was a stormy night, it was still a matter of family and state, and I could speak frankly about it.
If I were to stand before those shrewd and calculating national leaders at this moment, my meager skills would likely be seen through instantly, leaving not even a trace of my bones.
Upon hearing this, Yang Jian stopped writing.
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over Yang Yan. His eyes had softened somewhat compared to their previous frenzied state, but they still carried the unquestionable majesty of an emperor.
He pointed to the huge "Ten Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains" screen to the left and behind the throne.
"You step aside and wait in the shadows behind the screen. You are only allowed to listen, not to make a sound."
"Your grandson obeys the decree."
Yang Yan respectfully agreed, enduring the burning pain in his buttocks and legs, and backed into the dimly lit area divided by the screen.
Darkness enveloped him, with only a few streaks of candlelight seeping through the gaps, illuminating half of his tense face.
He exhaled a breath of stale air and leaned against the cold wall pillar. The stinging pain from his wound made him increasingly clear-headed.
Yeah.
Since we can't play at the table, let's be bystanders.
Let's hear what remedies these pillars of the Great Sui Dynasty will offer when faced with the same problem called "Liaodong".
He held his breath, his gaze piercing through the "cloud-shrouded" carvings on the screen, fixed on the vermilion palace door that was being slowly pushed open.
Five figures, stepping into the heart of the empire's power under the heavy cover of night.
The leader was a slender man with slightly graying temples. His steps were steady as if measured with a ruler, and the distance between each step seemed to have been precisely calculated. He was none other than Gao Jiong, the "firefighter" of the Sui Dynasty and the Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel.
Half a step behind him, an old man in purple robes strode in, his pace extremely fast. In just a few breaths, he seemed to be on par with Gao Jiong. This man had a sinister face, high cheekbones, and a pair of eagle eyes that gleamed sharply in the candlelight, exuding a piercing aura—Yang Su, the Duke of Yue.
The three behind him were Su Wei, who looked worried; Niu Hong, who seemed to be deep in thought; and Yuwen Shu, who lagged behind unhurriedly, his eyes half-closed, yet he took in the subtle distance between the two in front of him.
Upon reaching the foot of the imperial steps, the five men, their robes fluttering, knelt in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, clearly a testament to their long-standing tacit understanding.
"Your Majesty, we pay our respects! Your Majesty, we pay our respects!"
"Rise."
Yang Jian's voice was unreadable. He sat imposingly on the dragon throne, his elbows resting on the imperial desk, and did not, as was customary, order that a seat be offered.
This subtle difference caused Gao Jiong, who was standing at the front, to feel a slight sinking feeling in his heart.
Without a seat, tonight's meeting will not only be about deliberation, but will likely involve accountability.
Yang Jian casually handed the urgent report from Liaodong, stained with mud and blood, to Yang Yue, who was standing to the side.
"Summoned late at night, this is about Liaodong." His gaze swept across the crowd below like a blade, his voice low and rumbling like thunder. "Goguryeo secretly colluded with the Mohe and attacked our Liaoxi. Although they retreated, their intentions are clear. I want to hear your opinions."
Yang Yue took the memorial with both hands, hurried down the steps, and presented it to Gao Jiong first.
Gao Jiong unfolded the scroll and read it carefully, his brows gradually furrowing.
He read very slowly, as if he was carefully considering every word in his mind.
Yang Yan, behind the screen, peered through the gap at the first prime minister of the Sui Dynasty.
Gao Jiong was a core member of the Crown Prince's faction and Yang Yong's last line of defense. Historically, it was precisely because Gao Jiong vehemently opposed the campaign against Liaodong, and was later implicated in the unfavorable war, that he fell out of favor and was dismissed from his post as prime minister.
Yang Yan's palms were sweating profusely. "Master Gao, oh Master Gao," he thought, "this time, you absolutely mustn't walk headlong into the line of fire again."
After reading it, Gao Jiong did not say a word, and handed the memorial to Yang Su beside him.
The only sound in the hall was the rustling of pages turning.
Yang Su was the second to finish reading it.
But he did not show the same panic as Su Wei, nor did he sigh and shake his head like Niu Hong.
Snapped.
He closed the folding tablet with a light and powerful motion.
In that instant, his eagle eyes swept across the hall seemingly unintentionally—glancing over the shattered jade paperweight under the imperial desk, over the few specks of cinnabar ink that were not yet dry on the floor tiles, and even glancing at the cup of tea in Empress Dugu's hand that had long since gone cold.
That shadow was shrouded by the "Ten Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains" screen.
My gaze lingered there for less than half a breath.
He then casually withdrew his gaze, as if he were merely glancing over an insignificant decoration.
Behind the screen, Yang Yan felt a chill rise from his tailbone and rush to the top of his head in that instant.
That's not an illusion.
The old fox's gaze lingered for a moment, unmistakably, on this patch of darkness.
Like a hawk circling high in the sky, it precisely locks onto an unnatural stillness amidst thousands of swaying waves of grass.
This is Yang Su.
The words in the history books now transformed into a tangible oppression, a mixture of bloodshed and rusty intrigue, surging in through the screen, almost suffocating.
Yang Yan subconsciously even breathed softer, as if a little heavier would alert the old fox who had already become suspicious.
Yang Su, however, remained calm, as if that glance from earlier had never happened.
He lowered his eyes, waiting for the real storm of this late-night summons to arrive.
The hall was deathly silent.
Yang Jian tapped his fingers lightly on the imperial desk, making a "tap, tap" sound, which was like a death knell, striking the hearts of everyone.
"Have you finished reading it?" Yang Jian's voice broke the silence, carrying a hint of barely perceptible fatigue.
"I have finished reading it," Gao Jiong said first.
This prime minister of the Sui Dynasty still stood tall and straight like a pine tree.
He was the Crown Prince's staunchest supporter, the most steadfast defender of order among the Guanzhong aristocracy, and also the person Yang Yan was most worried about at this moment.