Chapter 57: C57. Beyond the Bin: Choosing the Right Bodyguard.

Chapter 57

Under the scorching midday sun, Yunzhu and Cao Xun couldn’t resist the pull of the temple’s cool, inviting guest room, their bodies aching for a break before they continued the long trek home.

Home was calling, and the promise of a long, steamy soak in the bath was the first thing Yunzhu fantasized about—her body and mind in desperate need of the release.

Shiliu, holding a cool compress, glided her fingers over the master’s smooth, flawless shoulder. Sensing the perfect moment, she whispered low and sultry, "Madam Zhongqinbo and the Heir’s wife visited us this morning."

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[  ] 忠勤伯夫人 (Zhōngqín Bófūrén) is a title used in ancient Chinese culture to refer to the wife of a high-ranking official, specifically a Zhongqin Bo (忠勤伯).

[  ] 伯 (Bó): This is a rank of nobility, specifically the lowest among the five ranks of nobility during the Ming and Qing dynasties. It can be translated as "count" or "viscount."

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Yunzhu sprawled comfortably in the bathtub, her posture lazy, but her words cutting through the air with casual indifference. "Since I married, they only bother showing up a few times a month. Not that I care," she quipped, as if their presence hardly mattered.

The Uncle Zhongqin's Mansion, the heart of Pan’s ancestral lineage, had seen better days. With Pan’s parents gone, it was now under the rule of Pan’s brother— the last to hold any real authority in the family. The Pan family once held power, but now? They were a shadow of their former selves. If not for the late emperor's soft spot for Empress Dowager Cao, Pan’s brother would’ve been the final chapter in their storied legacy, with no heir to take up the mantle.

The two women visiting today— Pan's sister-in-law and niece-in-law— were nothing more than sycophants, skilled in the art of flattery and placating Pan Shi. Yunzhu wouldn't bat an eye if they were there every day, kissing up to the family. Yet, she kept her cool, as the situation in the capital was a complicated game, and she couldn’t afford to miss any details about the Pan family’s true intentions.

Later that night, lying in the arms of Cao Xun, Yunzhu lazily asked, "So, what exactly do Uncle Zhongqin and his son do these days?"

Cao Xun, ever the bureaucratic expert, replied, "Uncle Zhongqin's the commander of the Dongcheng Army and Horse Department. He’s got the sixth official rank. His son? He’s the deputy commander, sitting at seventh."

Yunzhu let out a low hum of understanding. "Sounds grand, but they mostly patrol the streets, arrest thieves, handle petty problems. They get rich off the backs of commoners, but they're still beneath the real power players in the capital."

She paused, reflecting on Uncle Zhongqin’s age and position. "He's almost fifty, still holding a sixth-grade military title. Not bad, I suppose."

Yunzhu’s eyes sharpened as she threw the next question out, "Now that the emperor’s on the throne, do you think they’ll climb the ranks for sure?"

Cao Xun smirked, looking at her with a knowing gleam. "Are you asking out of curiosity, or do you want to see them fall flat?"

She didn’t expect him to catch on so quickly. "I don’t care what happens to Uncle Zhongqin's family. If they rise or fall, that’s on them," she snapped, a bit annoyed, though her words lacked bite.

Cao Xun chuckled softly. "You and Pan Shi don’t exactly get along. I had a feeling that’s what this was about."

Yunzhu didn’t flinch. "Pan Shi is one thing. The Pan family? Another. Besides, if I wanted to mess with her, I’d target the one person she holds dear."

Cao Xun grinned, his expression teasing. "Ah, childhood friends, huh? You’re not above being ruthless after all."

Yunzhu raised an eyebrow, the playful banter heating up. "Your brother? Even if I wanted to be ruthless, would you actually help me?"

His smile deepened, a hint of something darker in his eyes. "For you, I would do anything."

The flickering candlelight danced in his eyes, and Yunzhu couldn’t tell if he was serious or just messing with her. Either way, it didn’t matter. She knew Cao Xun well enough to recognize the game he played. He was a master at being both charming and dangerous, and he loved keeping her on her toes.

"You and he are both uncles, and he’s still sitting pretty in the Hanlin Academy, right? But he’s the emperor’s direct uncle. Do you really think you can compete with that?" she teased, turning the tables, pushing him to defend his position.

Cao Xun maintained his half-smile, never breaking his cool. "I will, if that’s what you want."

Yunzhu’s eyes narrowed, the doubt and amusement swirling in her mind. Was he just humoring her, or was he really ready to take on the world for her?

One thing was for sure—if he had to choose between her and anyone else, he’d pick her every time. And she liked it that way.

*

Two days later, Pan Shi arrived at the palace with a singular purpose: to see her daughter and, more importantly, her grandson.

Empress Dowager Cao, knowing her mother’s impatience and longing, wasted no time—she had the Emperor summoned to join them.

The young Emperor, just twelve and barely scratching the surface of responsibility, appeared. But Pan Shi, ever sharp and unsparing, arched a brow and inquired pointedly, “Shouldn’t the Emperor be immersed in his studies at this time?”

The question sliced through the air like a whip.

Empress Dowager Cao, visibly exasperated, let out a sigh that carried years of frustration. “When the late Emperor sat on the throne, he wore the crown and did little else—he played the part. But now that he’s gone, this boy refuses to be molded. I’ve tried gentle words, I’ve tried a firm hand, yet nothing sticks. Nothing moves him.”

It wasn’t for lack of effort. Tutors could drag the boy to lessons under a phalanx of eunuchs, but he’d cover his ears, squeeze his eyes shut, and act as though the world around him ceased to exist. It was maddening. He would much rather be playing, most likely somewhere now, laughing and frolicking with his eunuchs like a child without a throne.

Pan Shi’s expression darkened, her voice dropping into that unmistakable tone of maternal scorn. “How can this go on? A boy of his rank behaving like this… Do you know what they’ll say?”

A boy born to greatness who squandered his early years would never escape the whispers. A fool on the throne. A spoiled, frivolous playboy.

Empress Dowager Cao, clearly wearied by the endless struggle, looked her mother dead in the eye. “Then you talk to him. If anyone can talk sense into the boy, it’s you. If you can steer him away from this path, every official in the court will sing your praises.”

There it was. A challenge and an appeal all at once.

Pan Shi accepted, because what elder doesn’t long for the success of their descendants?

Meanwhile, Emperor Qianxing lounged lakeside with Eunuch Wan and his loyal entourage of eunuchs, lazily fishing under the glaring sun. When news reached him that his mother wanted him to visit his grandmother, his face soured.

Eunuch Wan, ever the smooth talker, glanced at the sky and offered, “Your Majesty, the sun is punishing today. Wouldn’t it be far more comfortable to seek shade in the Empress Dowager’s quarters?”

The Emperor, reluctant but aware he couldn’t resist his mother at every turn, resigned himself. With a sulk and a huff, he boarded the royal chariot to Cining Palace.

When he entered, Pan Shi greeted her grandson with a smile that didn’t waver, though its warmth was calculated.

The truth was, their interactions were few and far between. And while a devoted matriarch might command respect from a young emperor, Pan Shi’s own reputation—tainted by gossip, bruised by her son’s marriage—had made her an easy target of ridicule in elite circles. Emperor Qianxing knew this, and in his youthful arrogance, he judged her for it.

With a thin, practiced smile, the Emperor waved off formalities and sat casually near Empress Dowager Cao, his indifference almost deliberate.

Empress Dowager Cao offered her mother a silent look—the floor is yours.

Pan Shi wasted no time, her voice smoothing into the familiar, coaxing tones of a woman who knew how to work around pride and resistance. She tried to steer the conversation, aiming to nudge the boy’s attention from idle play toward matters of the mind.

But Emperor Qianxing—sharp, mischievous, and never one to be outmaneuvered—interjected smoothly, his tone almost teasing, “The weather’s rather oppressive today. Tell me, Grandmother, what brings you to the palace?”

His question hung in the air, cutting through her careful approach with the careless audacity only a boy emperor could pull off.

Pan Shi could tell the young Emperor was barely paying attention, so she didn’t waste time. Her voice slipped smoothly into a tone of calculated charm, assertive and razor-sharp. “Your Majesty, as someone who ascended the throne at such a tender age, it’s essential that you surround yourself with people you can trust—those loyal to you above all else. And who could possibly be more dependable than your own blood? My nephew, Pan Maocai, is not only fiercely skilled in martial arts but also sharp, disciplined, and born for combat. I propose that he serve as your personal bodyguard. What say you, Your Majesty?”

If the Emperor had been older, Pan Shi would have never dared to approach him with such unfiltered boldness. But Qianxing was still a child—ignorant of the intricate lines adults were too cautious to cross. For her, the timing was ripe.

Qianxing blinked up at his mother, utterly lost. “Who’s Pan Maocai?” he muttered.

The Empress Dowager Cao’s smile was polished and knowing. “My cousin’s son. He’ll be twenty-four this year.”

“Where is he now?” Qianxing asked, a faint flicker of interest rising.

Pan Shi’s reply was immediate, her tone dripping with satisfaction as she detailed her nephew’s exploits. “He currently serves as deputy commander of the Dongcheng Army and Horses Division. Just last month, he single-handedly captured a fugitive—one who had already killed three people and had a kitchen knife hidden on him.”

Qianxing’s brows lifted ever so slightly. “So, he’s really good?”

Pan Shi’s mouth curved. This was her moment. “Your Majesty, he’s exceptional. He’s been training since childhood—swords, bows, horses—there’s no challenge he can’t conquer.”

Of course, the reality was far less glamorous. The palace guards rarely saw action, and Pan Maocai’s skills would likely rot away in ornamental duty. But it wasn’t the truth that mattered—it was the impression she was leaving.

Qianxing rolled his eyes. In his mind, the faces of Li Yao and Li Yong floated up like a bad memory. He didn’t like Li Xian, and by extension, had no intention of relying on any member of that family any longer.

Later that afternoon, Qianxing arrived on time—something rare—at his literary lesson with his uncle, Cao Shao. Unlike the usual gray and stiff officials cluttering the palace halls, Cao Shao was young, sharp-witted, and knew how to engage the boy with humor. His lessons were the closest thing Qianxing had to genuine enjoyment, and today was no exception.

When the lesson ended, Qianxing didn’t let his uncle leave. Instead, he beckoned him to sit nearby, his young face shadowed with something serious. “Uncle,” Qianxing started, brow furrowed, voice low and pointed. “You know I can’t stand Li Xian. I sent him off to Guizhou, but I expect his father and brother are seething over it. I don’t want to deal with that family anymore. Tell me—how can I cut them loose for good? Give me an excuse.”

Cao Shao paused, his mind flashing briefly to Yunzhu. If the Emperor truly did follow through, it would undoubtedly sting her. Still, he tread carefully, weighing his words.

“Your Majesty,” he began, his voice tempered and smooth, “Li Yong—Duke Ningguo—handled the Changyuan case last year with impeccable skill. The praise he received wasn’t just lip service; it resonated across the city. Ever since he joined the Jinyi Guards, the capital’s wealthiest families have started keeping their more arrogant sons in check—fearing the repercussions. Wouldn’t it be wiser to let him remain where he is, serving the court and keeping the balance?”

Cao Shao’s words were measured, but beneath them was an implicit warning—cutting ties with the Li family might stir chaos in ways even Qianxing wasn’t prepared for. Whether or not the boy would listen was another matter entirely.

Emperor Qianxing wasn’t exactly thrilled with the notion, but Li Yong’s tangled ties with the Li family forced his hand. If he rushed to deal with the man, it would only invite whispers of betrayal, rumors of a lack of family loyalty.

“Fine,” the emperor relented with a lazy drawl, his eyes sharp and lingering. “I’ll humor my uncle’s advice. But Li Yao—he’s got to go. The man’s as stiff as a plank, always looming over me with that grim, unsmiling face. Every time I see him, I feel like he’s plotting to snatch my head off my shoulders.”

Cao Shao, the emperor’s uncle, had already bucked his nephew’s wishes once. A second refusal would be treading dangerous ground. He paused, pondering his next move before coolly offering, “Why not shuffle him over to the Jinwu Guard vanguard? Same rank, same prestige, but farther from you.”

The Jinwu Guard, like the Royal Guard, stood watch under the emperor’s banner. A lateral transfer like that would neatly accomplish two things: getting Li Yao out of the emperor’s immediate orbit while preserving his title—an elegant solution.

Qianxing turned his sharp gaze on Cao Shao, his lips curling into something resembling amusement. “Uncle, you’re being awfully considerate of Li Yao. Don’t tell me you still think of him as family?”

At that, Cao Shao’s face hardened, his expression betraying something fleeting before he sighed. “I’ve crossed swords with him a dozen times, and each time, I’ve been forced to concede. I know talent when I see it, even if the man irritates me to no end. It’s for your sake, Your Majesty.”

The emperor, however, had already drifted from the topic, his curiosity sparking to something far more personal. “Come on, Uncle. Tell me the truth—have you really forgotten about my eldest aunt?”

Cao Shao, ever unflappable, merely lifted the book in his hand with an air of indifference. “Some things aren’t meant to be revisited.”

There it was—that rare, biting intimacy that only kin like uncles and nephews could share. Qianxing let his uncle go with a knowing smirk, but the moment Cao Shao departed, he wasted no time summoning another uncle from the Governor’s Mansion—Cao Xun.

Cao Xun arrived promptly, greeted with the emperor’s sulking dissatisfaction. Qianxing didn’t even bother raising Li Yong’s name this time; instead, he grumbled about Li Yao with barely contained annoyance.

Cao Xun took a moment, his lips curling into a slow, contemplative smile. “How timely,” he mused. “Bandits have been terrorizing Fuzhou in Jiangxi for two years now, spreading havoc like wildfire. The local guards have proven utterly useless in quelling the chaos. Why not send Li Yao to clean up the mess? If he fails, we strip him of his rank and demote him for incompetence.”

Qianxing arched a brow. “And what if he succeeds?”

Cao Xun’s gaze sharpened as he looked at his nephew, a flicker of sly satisfaction dancing in his eyes. “If he succeeds, Your Majesty can keep sending him to chase bandits in far-flung, godforsaken places. Sooner or later, he’ll burn himself out. He’ll get so fed up that he’ll have neither the energy nor the gall to return here.”

A grin spread across Qianxing’s face, wicked and pleased. “Uncle, you really are brilliant. Duke Ningguo is all bark and no bite, and Li Yao? He’s no different—just another puffed-up figurehead. Let’s see if he can even handle a pack of bandits. I’ll make sure he regrets ever setting foot back in the capital.”

Cao Xun chuckled softly but waved off the flattery, though he took care to voice a lingering concern. “Once Li Yao is gone, though, who do you propose to replace him, Your Majesty?”

Qianxing didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve heard Pan Maocai—Zhongqin’s boy—is quite the martial prodigy. What do you think of him, Uncle?”

Cao Xun’s expression grew measured. “The Cao family has ties to the Pan family through marriage, but I’ve been away from the capital too long to vouch for the boy’s abilities. Here’s a thought: put Pan Maocai to the test. Select a few men from the imperial guard and have them challenge him. If he proves his mettle, you’ll have your replacement—someone capable and trustworthy to guard your person.”

Qianxing leaned back, a sharp glint in his eyes as he nodded. “Very well. Let’s see if the boy is as good as they say.”

Without wasting another moment, he called Pan Maocai to the palace, his decision swift and uncompromising. As if the scene needed more chaos, he casually plucked one of the imperial guards stationed outside and ordered the two to square off in a martial contest right there, beneath the palace’s gaze.

Pan Maocai—a hulking tower of a man, nearly eight feet of looming muscle and menace—might have looked the part, but that was where the performance ended. Beneath his impressive stature was nothing but the hollow bravado of a coddled youth. Whatever martial skills he’d been taught in his pampered upbringing had long rusted; even the most basic moves tripped him up. Instead of skill, he relied on flashy tricks and feeble illusions, hoping no one would notice how utterly unprepared he was.

The imperial guard, handpicked for the fight, stood dumbfounded at first, as though they couldn’t quite believe the pitiful display before them. But once they struck, it was game over. Their blow landed hard, clean, and unforgiving, knocking Pan Maocai off his feet. He tumbled to the ground in an ungainly heap, clutching his chest like he’d been felled by a dragon’s claw.

There he stayed, splayed out and humiliated, the weight of his disgrace thick in the air. Silent and guilty, he dared a glance toward the emperor, who was watching with a grin so sharp it could cut silk.

Emperor Qianxing’s voice dripped with biting amusement as he drawled, “Well, isn’t this delightful? My dear grandmother has outdone herself this time—such thoughtfulness! Sending me a champion like that… what a gift.”